obviously an industry plant.

𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙 ━━ 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 crow

[vienamoi]

WERE YOU SENT BY SOMEONE WHO WANTED ME DEAD ? did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed ? were you writing a book ? were you a sleeper cell spy ? in fifty years will all this be declassified ?

a⠀private⠀&*⠀mature⠀roleplaying blog for amc's ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ⠀, as written by crow. ( 30 , they/he , cst ) while some book canon is taken for backstory , as well as a bit of inspiration from the movie , the show is the main source of canon , along with personal interpretations. minors not welcome. non-roleplay blogs will be blocked on sight ! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 &* 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 ; 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. heavy focus on romantic relationships.

a study of hedonism , the corruption of ones soul , the distance between man &* immortal , of wolves , of sinners , of salvation &* damnation , of confronting ones demons , of clearing ones name , of love's bonds , of fathers &* daughters , of the crushing weight of solitude , of symphonies , of soft hands turning cruel , of abandonment , of the abused dog who knows not why he bites.

BLOGROLL.    ⊰    @griefseason /  @apologizelater  /   @hopesguard  /  @screwhope   ( carrd. ) ( prompts. ) ( thread tracker. )

[vienamoi]

til june -- @griefseason

[lioncourtz]

"It wasn't all anguish," I said, my fingers digging into her little shoulders. "It wasn't hell. Tell me it wasn't. Tell me there was happiness. Can devils be happy? Dear God, I don't understand." - The Tale of the Body Thief

[dakilangdiwata]

THE METEORIC RISE OF A VAMPIRE ROCK GOD!!! 🤘🎸

Prints HERE!!

[endiness]

18th century → 20th century → 21st century

[licanthropic]

strong,  capable  hands  roam  along  the  seams  of  the  leather  dress,  the  barest  hint  of  claw  scraping  along  the  fabric.   bianca's  careful  not  to  slice  through  it,   though  she  doubts  lestat  wouldn't  have  minded  if  she  had.  perhaps  he'd  think  it'd  add  to  the  dramatic  flair  --  perhaps  he'd  adore  any  excuse  to  show  even  more  skin  than  necessary.   with  one  last  touch  of  her  warm-blooded  palms,  bianca  slips  away  from  lestat's  body  to  position  herself  upon  his  dressing  room's  couch.   on  second  thought,  maybe  she  shouldn't  --  who  knows  how  many  groupies  have  found  their  way  sprawled  out  along  the  black  leather  cushions.     ❝    the  vampire  lestat.    ❞     bianca  intones  with  a  bored  drawl,   stretching  her  arms  out  along  the  back  of  the  couch.   she  tilts  her  head  as  she  appraises  him,   dragging  her  gaze  up  from  his  heeled  feet  to  his  messy  curled  blond  hair.     ❝    you  probably  have  a  line  going  out  the  door  to  get  the  chance  to  see  your  coffin,   don't  you?    ❞ 

eyes  narrow  as  lestat  twists  and  turns,  and  his  desire  for  accessories  is  where  he  loses  her.  bianca  might  wear  her  fair  share  of  jewelry,  but  she's  no  means  an  expert.  not  in  the  way  lestat  is.  she's  not  nearly  as  dramatic  as  him.   with  a  red-painted taloned  finger,   she  gestures  for  lestat  to  twirl.      ❝    give  me  a  show,  then.  try  on  different  things,  let  me  see  what  looks  best.    ❞

[vienamoi]

❛    they  consider  it  𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆  𝒂𝒏  𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒓  when  they're  chosen  to  come  to  my  dressing  room.     i  tell  them  the  truth  –  i  am  a  vampire  &*  i  am  going  to  drink  their  blood.       some  of  them  think  it's  a  gag  ,  but  they  still  let  me  do  it.    kinky  little  freaks  in  this  century.    ❜      a  leg  up  on  théâtre  des  vampires  –  willing  humans  had  never  come  to  be  in  those  plays.          ❛    would  it  not  draw  the  police  to  every  show  ,  i'd  drain  them  dry  ,  but  ticket  sales  would  plummet.   ❜        an  scoff  of  laughter  ,  as  if  it  is  so  trivial.     an  inconvience. 

he  turns  to  look  at  her  ,  a  hum  given  as  he  tracks  the  motion  of  her  finger.     a  wry  grin  tugs  at  his  lips  before  he  does  as  asked  ,  looking  to  his  collection  of  jewlery  &*  baubles  on  his  dresser.      he  finds  his  signature  piece  –  a  red  choker  ,  to  reminisce  on  his  murder  –  &*  slips  that  on  first.     with  a  hum  ,  he  drags  pale  fingers  along  a  few  necklaces  before  selecting  one  with  a  gaudy  ruby  that  would  hang  into  cleavage.     he  holds  it  up  as  he  looks  to  her  ,  resting  it  against  his  chest  as  he  arches  a  brow.        ❛    do  the  reds  clash  ?   ❜

[vienamoi]

armand started the plague of 1720. 😞 this is not slander or fake news. pass it on.

[floripire]

for a moment there is nothing but silence, though the younger of the two smiles, clearly amused as well. and then something occurs to her (and perhaps it should have occurred to her earlier, but oh, well): "did you live through that too? how many---how many lives did you... how many lives have you lived?!" there's something akin to reverence, there. it's almost palpable when she speaks the words. "i mean, i can definitely imagine you at the court of the sun king or something."

[vienamoi]

a  sneer  of  distaste  touches  the  damned  lips.         ❛    do  you  think  me  so  ancient  ?      here  i  thought  i  looked  pretty  good  for  two  hundred  &*  sixty  six.    ❜         a  dramatic  sigh  ,  then  his  head  shakes  ,  displacing  blonde  strands.        ❛    the  last  french  plague  was  fourty  years  prior  to  my  birth.     i  was  born  in  1760.      became  as  i  am  in  1794.   ❜        a  little  flare  of  his  wrist  is  given  in  a  lax  gesture.        ❛    the  parisian  covens  were  living  in  the  sewers  when  i  came  upon  them.      i  have  no  doubt  they  were  the  reason  for  the  plagues  ,  though.     grubby  little  things  …    ❜

[7mplications]

" well , i would . but it'd be a great pleasure to do it myself rather than have someone else do it , considering how much i enjoy poison in my veins , " more of a metaphorical standpoint - but he knows that lestat gets the gist of his words , paying mind to the smirk worn on lestat's face , scoffing slight . " & if i were to confirm those words , then what , hm ? it is not my fault that you still have this sickened , lasting impression on me . "

[vienamoi]

❛     then  i  would  say  you  need  a  better  hobby.     didn't  your  mother  teach  you  not  to  chase  boys  who  don't  like  you  ?   ❜         he  snorts  quietly  as  he  leans  forward  ,  elbows  resting  on  knees.         ❛    it  must  kill  you  to  know  you  couldn't  beat  me  if  you  tried.      nor  could  you  have  me.  is  that  what  keeps  you  awake  at  night  ,  armand  ?      considering  it  is  most  certainly  not  your  conscience.    ❜

[floripire]

"unexpected." though she probably should have expected it, nevertheless. "very mrs lovett." a beat and then: "wait, did you see that movie? it's kind of hit or miss with people getting my references these days, i'm sorry to say."

[vienamoi]

❛    oui  ,   the  one  about  the  demon  barber  ?      as  detestable  as  human  meat  is  ,  i  do  give  them  points  for  creativity.     ❜       a  laugh  ,  amusement  clear.       ❛     the  art  of  disposal  is  wasted  on  our  kind.      the  french  leave  it  to  the  rats.      &*  they  wonder  why  the  plague  ran  rampant.   ❜

[like2playndraw]

a song for you

[skyrigel]

[eldr1tch-wh0re]

“Lestat is so silly” “Lestat is so unserious” SILENCE! That man is actually so dead fucking serious 24/7, he just so happens to also be a FOOL

[vienamoi]

❛   i  think  it  is  important  for  each  of  us  to  remind  ourselves  that  there  are  those  out  there  living  𝒇𝒂𝒓  𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆  𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔  than  our  own.      no  ,  i  think  of  you  as  a  pest  that  has  an  affinity  for  digging  his  nails  into  my  life  &*  pulling  it  from  it's  roots.    ❜        a  hum  ,  then  the  blonde  turns  sideways  on  the  piano  bench  to  properly  face  armand  ,  his  head  quirking  to  the  side.         ❛    to  be  charity  ,  i'd  have  to  give  you  something.       is  there  something  you  want  ,  armand  ?   ❜

[7mplications]

" a pest with an affinity for digging his nails into your life & tugging at its' roots , how disgustingly poetic , " nonetheless , armand slinks a bit - watching as the other shows his face to ember hues , a steadied moment as a scoff leaves his lips - scowl forming on his facial features . " from you , lestat ? for your head to be produced on a fire roasting spit , however .. we can't have everything we want in this lifetime , i'd have to resort to placing my nails right into that porcelain skin of yours . "

[vienamoi]

❛    &*  you'd  hate  that  ,  wouldn't  you  ?      getting  your  nails  in  me.    ❜       his  smile  turns  seductive  ,  gaze  flickering  over  the  other  before  returning  to  his  face.       ❛     you've  always  gone  out  of  your  way  to  get  my  attention.     in  fact  ,  if  i'm  being  honest  ,  i  think  all  that  time  with  my  family  was  a  scheme  to  see  my  pretty  face.    ❜

[floripire]

she's glad lestat takes it in stride. (also, does it count as 'knowing a french person' if the person in question - a witchy pen-pal named gabi rodriguez - actually lived in belgium for a while?) "seems messy," hums the younger of the two. hilarious, considering her hands aren't the cleanest, either; her hands have hurt people, too. "i mean, who does the clean-up, then? respectfully, and i do mean it, you don't strike me as the type to stick around and wait for all of that."

[vienamoi]

❛     on  the  contrary  ,  mon  petit.       i  am  quite  thorough  in  my  clean  up  methods.    ❜        a  whimsical  flourish  of  his  wrist.         ❛     not  so  much  when  i  was  new  to  this  life  ,  but    …     in  new  orleans  i  owned  an  incenerator  on  the  property  !    ❜

[molloyed]

the french really flares when lestat spirals into one of his seething moods. that, and the surge of cigarettes, one after another until the stench of smoke is so strong he’s grateful his lungs are already long dead. ❝ don’t shoot the messenger, pal, ❞ daniel’s brows raise, though it’s only half truth. the writing is his. ❝ louis’ words, louis’ story, remember?  ❞

with a little, although begrudgingly so, additional flare from the talamasca. lestat’s comment on armand go unanswered, molloy—frankly—afraid if he says too much it might make him remember. only one of them needs to turn to chain smoking tonight. ❝ look at it this way. now you don’t have to wonder what he thought the entire time, ❞ louis, he means, ❝ and the whole truth will be out there. just write a better story. ❞ a shrug accompanies it, which then transforms into an amused expression. ❝ and they said—what was it again? that they wanted to lick lick lick armand? ❞

[vienamoi]

❛   louis'  words.      please.   ❜        a  huff  of  laughter  leaves  the  blonde  as  he  grins  now  ,  near  feral.        mania  dances  in  those  sea  glass  blues.       he's  spent  too  long  wondering  what  louis  thought  –  of  his  own  mind  filling  in  the  pieces  as  hallucinations  of  his  husband  &*  daughter  spit  venom  at  him  from  the  dark  corners  of  his  home.        that  book  was  bitter  &*  loving  &*  confounding  &*  enraging  all  wrapped  together.        it  cracked  his  psyche  into  little  bits  &*  pieces  –  though  it  hadn't  been  whole  when  it  shattered  further.       

he  leans  forward  ,  squinting  a  bit  as  he  rifles  thoughts.       he  wonders  what  this  one  was  like  as  a  human  ,  for  louis  &*  armand  both  to  take  such  an  interest.        ❛    louis'  words    …    &*  your  flare.       i'm  afraid  you  find  armand  more  intriguing  than  louis  ever  did.      what  was  his  description  ?      BORING  BEIGE  PILLOW  ?     i  liked  that  bit.    ❜       grin  turns  to  amusement  once  more.         ❛   -----------      ugh  ,  now  you  have  me  thinking  of  licking  that  little  pest.      he  tastes  of  the  sewers  still.       but  you'd  know  that  ,  wouldn't  you  ?     ❜

[vienamoi]

@occultologist ▐     »     ❝    i  never  knew  so  many  books  even  existed.

a  disinterested  little  noise  leaves  lestat  as  he  thumbs  through  a  book  absently  ,  blue  eyes  hardly  registering  a  word.        ❛     humans  have  always  had  an  interest  in  the  written  word  –  no  ,  being  remembered  --  no  matter  how  trivial  &*  inept  their  writing  may  be.    ❜      he  speaks  as  if  he  is  not  the  same  –  as  if  he  does  not  compose  music  just  to  leave  a  mark  on  the  world.        as  if  he  does  not  value  music  &*  theater  !       no  ,  his  disdain  is  truly  only  for  books.        of  course  ,  knowing  he's  hardly  able  to  be  considered  literate  makes  perfect  sense.          ❛    there  are  more  books  than  could  ever  be  read.        most  of  it  is  a  waste  of  perfectly  good  trees.    ❜       a  tsk  ,  then  a  book  is  tossed  with  reckless  abandon  over  his  shoulder.        ❛    i  do  not  bore  myself  with  it.   ❜