…Okay not yet, but, a big proper thank you message coming, when I can. It may not be until after the New Year, as I’m still visiting with family and there’s some RL stuff keeping me offline and I don’t have access to make the last few delivery badges, but! KNOW THIS:
@wicked-felina and I are overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone who participated this year, this was amazing and so medicinal for all of us, after all, the gifts are ultimately for everyone
I hope this Christmas morning surprised you with all kinds of gifts and happy moments ☺️
One of things I have been looking forward to the most this Christmas was the @vcsecretgifts ! It’s my first time participating or even seeing anything like it in a fandom and I think it’s super thoughtful and amazing ❤️
I would like to thank the fabulous @wicked-felinaand@i-want-my-iwtv for putting it all together. You rock! As a token of appreciation, I have made you a silly little gift (please disregard the silliness of it lol), with a few edits using @0junemeatcleaver0 ’s face claims.
The event will be held at the Chateau De Lioncourt in Auvergne, France. Lestat has been informed that you cannot fly on your own so he has arranged a private jet to come pick you up. Louis had plates set up for you, but they forgot that actual food needs to go in them lol No worries though! Armand has a chef on call, cuz he read that that was a status symbol.
The models are: Matthew Clavane as Armand, Ton Huekels as Lestat, Gerhard Freidl as Marius, Gabriel Marques as Louis and Niclas Gills as Daniel. Credit to @0junemeatcleaver0 for finding these models, credit to Faceapp for making this possible.
THIS IS SO SWEET I’m so flattered we were invited to this wedding! ❤️❤️❤️ And I will not disregard the silliness, it would be a ridiculous event, I’m sure there would be a (heated) blood fountain AND a chocolate fountain (for the mortal guests), for one thing…
I’m sorry, all lovelies, to have vanished from this fandom. To say that the Vampire Chronicles didn’t have a place in my daily life would be an outright lie. I respect, and admire those of you who interact with the text and film on such a consistent basis, keeping these pillars standing. I’m not someone who could do that, who could live and breathe it any more than I already did without it being worn out. Maybe I am! But I’d rather not know, I’d rather not risk loving this monster any less or any differently than I have for the past decade.
I AM THE VAMPRIE LESTAT.
I am immortal, more or less. I am immortal. I am.
I…
I am the sum of my existence. I am the monument to each life I have devoured. Some have deserved it; judge, jury, executioner, I have always wanted to believe my own myth. I have forgotten the taste of communion. I have tasted God on the dying breaths of murderers and the holy offer bargains to hell. I have wept over the skull of Adam and I will, should none stop me, witness the death of the human race.
I am.
I am driving over cobble streets almost too slowly, the balance of the motorcycle disrupted by the terrain and the rain and I am stepping into a bar that used to be a smoky bar, but the mortals do not smoke indoors anymore. I used to sing my songs. I am singing my songs tonight—they do no know that I cover my songs—
The rock star Lestat, yet another singer vanished from the face of the earth in the demonic nineteen-eighties. Does it mean anything? Does someone still keep my records pristine and my books all tidy on a shelf? I don’t care. I am in the pages of every cheap airport paperback novel I have ever written, I am, we are, the coven of the articulate under a collective pen name more proud of the books we see with age, the proof that for all the centuries worth of history and confession we have grieved onto paper that even the days since doing so are numerous.
There are mortals who have lived their entire lives after we have committed our own to the page, and who have died many years since.
I will lower my teeth to the throat of a young man in a dress, hear him mutter we are the dead, and in less time than it takes for me to see if I have influenced his path, he is an old man, another artist dead on the evening news that we watch with such morbid fixation.
The walls of the bar are a different color. I remember this place in candlelight. I am going to live forever in a city that will be underwater before those living in it have reached the end of their own lives.
