Nicolas de Lenfent
@nicolasdelenfent.bsky.social
🐦⬛~The bird sailing on through the darkness over the barren shore, the seamless sea.~🕊️
IWTV: 📺📚🎻🎼💓🩸💀🖤🌌♾️🎶🎵🎹
IWTV: 📺📚🎻🎼💓🩸💀🖤🌌♾️🎶🎵🎹
So this is for you Tiff. I bring you here - into a realm where nobody ever knew you. And here, too, I say: You ARE. Let the world know you were, you are & you existed, and that is eternal.
November 20, 2025 at 7:14 PM
So this is for you Tiff. I bring you here - into a realm where nobody ever knew you. And here, too, I say: You ARE. Let the world know you were, you are & you existed, and that is eternal.
And finally everyone who remembers her will be gone as well, and her memory will be lost.
And I couldn’t talk about this truth so openly in a space where people know her. (Maybe I should be able to? But I couldn’t.)
And I couldn’t talk about this truth so openly in a space where people know her. (Maybe I should be able to? But I couldn’t.)
November 20, 2025 at 7:14 PM
And finally everyone who remembers her will be gone as well, and her memory will be lost.
And I couldn’t talk about this truth so openly in a space where people know her. (Maybe I should be able to? But I couldn’t.)
And I couldn’t talk about this truth so openly in a space where people know her. (Maybe I should be able to? But I couldn’t.)
I am beyond all pain and sin.
This one is dedicated to Tiff. It was a year ago yesterday that she died.
People posting about her made me realise:
This year people will post about her, remember her.
Next year, less people will remember her.
One year, only those closest to her will remember her.
This one is dedicated to Tiff. It was a year ago yesterday that she died.
People posting about her made me realise:
This year people will post about her, remember her.
Next year, less people will remember her.
One year, only those closest to her will remember her.
November 20, 2025 at 7:14 PM
I am beyond all pain and sin.
This one is dedicated to Tiff. It was a year ago yesterday that she died.
People posting about her made me realise:
This year people will post about her, remember her.
Next year, less people will remember her.
One year, only those closest to her will remember her.
This one is dedicated to Tiff. It was a year ago yesterday that she died.
People posting about her made me realise:
This year people will post about her, remember her.
Next year, less people will remember her.
One year, only those closest to her will remember her.
A rare time I composed something (as we were asked to!) For Dracula. (The version we had to work with didn’t have any actual spoken sound…) 1/3
November 19, 2025 at 8:20 PM
A rare time I composed something (as we were asked to!) For Dracula. (The version we had to work with didn’t have any actual spoken sound…) 1/3
Pocket Nicolas for the chaos…
With an uncharacteristic flicker of uncertainty, quietly, he had taken his thought back, “Perhaps it is not the world that is chaos,” he had said, “Might it be the mind itself? If a man perceived only disorder in himself, would that be his essence? Or only his fear?”
With an uncharacteristic flicker of uncertainty, quietly, he had taken his thought back, “Perhaps it is not the world that is chaos,” he had said, “Might it be the mind itself? If a man perceived only disorder in himself, would that be his essence? Or only his fear?”
November 19, 2025 at 4:26 PM
Pocket Nicolas for the chaos…
With an uncharacteristic flicker of uncertainty, quietly, he had taken his thought back, “Perhaps it is not the world that is chaos,” he had said, “Might it be the mind itself? If a man perceived only disorder in himself, would that be his essence? Or only his fear?”
With an uncharacteristic flicker of uncertainty, quietly, he had taken his thought back, “Perhaps it is not the world that is chaos,” he had said, “Might it be the mind itself? If a man perceived only disorder in himself, would that be his essence? Or only his fear?”
New Orleans-ed my fairy cage. (That sounds like a euphemism! 😭😭😭😭😭)
November 19, 2025 at 3:23 PM
New Orleans-ed my fairy cage. (That sounds like a euphemism! 😭😭😭😭😭)
Two for this beautiful art! Check them out on Instagram.
November 18, 2025 at 6:03 PM
Two for this beautiful art! Check them out on Instagram.
commingling of tiny movements and indefinable colours as if you haven't a body at all, but are a collection of heat and light. You are light itself, and what am I now?
Eternal as I am, I curl like a cinder in that blaze.”
Gorgeous art by @chicalepioptera (all other platforms!)
Eternal as I am, I curl like a cinder in that blaze.”
Gorgeous art by @chicalepioptera (all other platforms!)
November 18, 2025 at 5:24 PM
commingling of tiny movements and indefinable colours as if you haven't a body at all, but are a collection of heat and light. You are light itself, and what am I now?
Eternal as I am, I curl like a cinder in that blaze.”
Gorgeous art by @chicalepioptera (all other platforms!)
Eternal as I am, I curl like a cinder in that blaze.”
Gorgeous art by @chicalepioptera (all other platforms!)
“Yet I wanted so to touch him -- his hands, his arms, his face. I wanted to feel his flesh with these new immortal fingers. And I found myself whispering the word "Alive." Yes, you are alive and that means you can die. And everything I see when I look at you is utterly insubstantial. It is a…
November 18, 2025 at 5:24 PM
“Yet I wanted so to touch him -- his hands, his arms, his face. I wanted to feel his flesh with these new immortal fingers. And I found myself whispering the word "Alive." Yes, you are alive and that means you can die. And everything I see when I look at you is utterly insubstantial. It is a…
…The child fighting and kicking as he was caught and thrown over the saddle of a rider who bore him away beyond the end of the world. Armand was this child.
And these were the southern steppes of Russia, but Armand didn't know that it was Russia. He knew Mother and Father and Church and God and
And these were the southern steppes of Russia, but Armand didn't know that it was Russia. He knew Mother and Father and Church and God and
November 17, 2025 at 3:16 PM
…The child fighting and kicking as he was caught and thrown over the saddle of a rider who bore him away beyond the end of the world. Armand was this child.
And these were the southern steppes of Russia, but Armand didn't know that it was Russia. He knew Mother and Father and Church and God and
And these were the southern steppes of Russia, but Armand didn't know that it was Russia. He knew Mother and Father and Church and God and
I have a capacity for enduring (rubbish one is rubbish.)
November 16, 2025 at 2:46 PM
I have a capacity for enduring (rubbish one is rubbish.)
This prison of empathy.
1/2
1/2
November 15, 2025 at 1:02 PM
This prison of empathy.
1/2
1/2
Please ignore/enjoy the rain accompaniment.
With thanks to Daniel Hart in this one, as I feel quite explicit in referencing For A Young Violinist? Though we’re in a different key… and… I mean, I am only playing it to the degree that memory serves me (and as I enjoy twisting it… 😇)
With thanks to Daniel Hart in this one, as I feel quite explicit in referencing For A Young Violinist? Though we’re in a different key… and… I mean, I am only playing it to the degree that memory serves me (and as I enjoy twisting it… 😇)
November 14, 2025 at 6:58 PM
Please ignore/enjoy the rain accompaniment.
With thanks to Daniel Hart in this one, as I feel quite explicit in referencing For A Young Violinist? Though we’re in a different key… and… I mean, I am only playing it to the degree that memory serves me (and as I enjoy twisting it… 😇)
With thanks to Daniel Hart in this one, as I feel quite explicit in referencing For A Young Violinist? Though we’re in a different key… and… I mean, I am only playing it to the degree that memory serves me (and as I enjoy twisting it… 😇)
Dull tremor of the old secrets between us, the love, the things that only we had known, felt. Dancing in the witches' place. Can you deny it? Can you deny everything that passed between us?
(Nearly didn’t do one today… but I claim these minutes as ours, as The Storm rages.)
(Nearly didn’t do one today… but I claim these minutes as ours, as The Storm rages.)
November 14, 2025 at 6:58 PM
Dull tremor of the old secrets between us, the love, the things that only we had known, felt. Dancing in the witches' place. Can you deny it? Can you deny everything that passed between us?
(Nearly didn’t do one today… but I claim these minutes as ours, as The Storm rages.)
(Nearly didn’t do one today… but I claim these minutes as ours, as The Storm rages.)
The Devil’s Child
November 13, 2025 at 7:41 PM
The Devil’s Child
Please Wicker Man this, Rolin. 🙏
November 13, 2025 at 7:26 PM
Please Wicker Man this, Rolin. 🙏
Nicolas is 16. Is he The Devil’s Child?
The story is/will be partly inspired by reading in Anne Rice's draft of the Vampire Lestat at Tulane University that she once had considered Nicolas attending the Louis-Le-Grand school as a boy...
archiveofourown.org/works/741059...
The story is/will be partly inspired by reading in Anne Rice's draft of the Vampire Lestat at Tulane University that she once had considered Nicolas attending the Louis-Le-Grand school as a boy...
archiveofourown.org/works/741059...
November 12, 2025 at 10:02 PM
Nicolas is 16. Is he The Devil’s Child?
The story is/will be partly inspired by reading in Anne Rice's draft of the Vampire Lestat at Tulane University that she once had considered Nicolas attending the Louis-Le-Grand school as a boy...
archiveofourown.org/works/741059...
The story is/will be partly inspired by reading in Anne Rice's draft of the Vampire Lestat at Tulane University that she once had considered Nicolas attending the Louis-Le-Grand school as a boy...
archiveofourown.org/works/741059...
“I sit there thinking, ‘Light yourself on fire, see if he would notice…’”
November 12, 2025 at 11:56 AM
“I sit there thinking, ‘Light yourself on fire, see if he would notice…’”