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“You look good to me, you damnable little devil! Good to embrace and good to love”

Interview with the vampire (2022) // The Vampire Lestat, Anne Rice

brought to you by that baffling Twitter take about book lesmand - see it on this post by @lesbians4armand

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Anar Khalilov Gifs [1]

Here you can find 16 gifs of Anar Khalilov, a russian actor, in Naslediye (2022).

- Do not steal - Do not use without credits - Like or reblog if you use

I do not support the use of any of my avatars with disrespect over their ethnicity. Please considerate the ethnicity of the faceclaim you chose before making any mistake.

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credit:whitecerberus

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Chinese male model and actor Tang Shi Hao

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Stars Who Listen is a jcink premium roleplay, set in an alternative universe of acotar with entirely original characters. Characters have unique abilities according to their court ( spring, summer, autumn, winter, dawn, day, night & now the continent, with rask, montesere & vallahan ) with different species & sub-species purchasable in the shop. Inner circle roles are very encouraged & wanted! We’re active, with plenty of events planned & have been open for over a year! We use a profile app, have lax activity requirements for general members & are exclusively 18+. Stop by our discord for character help, other wanteds or simply to find out more!

✧˖° home - guidebook - discord - wanted ads

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GENESIS

When he was 14, he <i>thought</i> he killed his father.

He is still not sure who did it, but he remembers vivid glimpses of that night. The flickering bulb that had gone out when the electric bills were not paid in time, his mother’s scream in the hallway, his father’s drunken shouts, and the slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh. He remembers picking up the bottle of whiskey still peeking out of its brown paper bag on the living room couch. And he remembers the sound of glass shattering, of walls being smeared with blood and bits of brain, of a choked scream and then silence.

For years his mother would insist that she was the one who had taken the bottle from his hands. But the truth came to him in dreams. His muscles would remember the sordid pleasure that ran through his nerves at the precise moment when his father’s skull shattered, like tasting communion wafers for the first time. Body and blood mingling together in a beautiful mess.

EXODUS

After his father’s barebones funeral, they left the small Irish fishing village where he was born and left for London, where his mother’s brother worked as a plumber. The transition was not smooth. His mother, a devout Catholic, often suffered violent fits and spent sleepless nights praying with her rosary. He knew she felt she was damned to hell and it was slowly eating her up inside bit by bit. If only, he thought, if only it was him instead who had dealt that last final blow. In his mind, he replayed the memory of that night over and over again, relishing the sick pleasure that passed through him each time.

This is when Cian first started creating the very beginnings of the mask that he would later master. He had to hide every bit of Irishness about him in order to seem respectable, to be able to survive in school without suffering blows to the face or return home without a black eye. Slowly, his vocabulary changed. And then his accent. Suddenly, he was bitterly aware of his position in this new society. The only option left was to claw his way out of poverty and reach the state of respectable middle-class. No, as a poor Irish transplant, he would have to push through twice as hard, expend twice the effort, and expect only half the reward. The world was heavily skewed against him.

His second kill was unceremonious. Artless. Amateurish. He simply held down his bully’s head under water till the life was slowly sucked out of him. Cian closed his eyes and plunged his face into the water and sipped it in, tasting death on his tongue and on his cheeks and through his nostrils.

This was also the time when the Supernatural first came out of their closet. It felt as though the world had erupted into chaos. Cian hardly had time to process the implications of this life-altering news as his mother’s fits and seizures increased in frequency and intensity. She would fervently read out passages from the Bible and insist that God had damned the world entirely. If creatures of the night and sinful beings like vampires were allowed to feed on human blood and walk the earth along with God’s chosen, it meant there was no salvation at all.

Then one night, she crawled into Cian’s room and begged him to take her life, for she was too afraid of committing the cardinal sin of suicide. Cian looked at her and realized that she was long gone, or perhaps she was never there to begin with.

He felt no pleasure, but neither did he feel any pain.

LEVITICUS:

There were two surefire roads to respectability that the poor or the middle class had access to: becoming a doctor or a lawyer. Cian chose the latter. He had predicted, correctly, that the field of law would go through massive changes with the advent of supernatural crimes. Besides, he had made a name for himself in debate competitions in school, and he relied on his oratory skills and natural charisma. Being a barrister would put his particular skills to good use.

When he received a coveted scholarship to study law at Cambridge, he found himself an outcast in the elite university. The student body mainly comprised of rich, upper-class people; people suited to lavish, carefree life styles who maintained connections with the upper echelons of the society. Cian realized that in order to blend in seamlessly with the crowd and take advantage of the connections, he would have to fake a completely different identity. He ditched his accent for a clipped version of RP English, he rented a few suits and bought a couple of neutral cardigans, and he invented a backstory of being raised in Southern Ireland by British businessmen. Not quite old money, but presentable.

It did not take long for his roommate to notice. Cian was always suspiciously running out of money, in spite of his assurances that he wanted to live an independent life free of his parents’ interference. He cycled through three outfits at all times and repeated the same suit at social settings. Worst of all, his roommate caught wind of the fact that he was, in fact, a scholarship student. A scandal was imminent.

To quell the rumours, Cian forged his roommate’s handwriting and wrote a carefully constructed suicide note. Then, he injected his drunk roommate with copious amounts of heroin. A tragic death by overdose.

When the grieving family of his roommate turned up at campus, Cian made sure to lend them a shoulder to cry on. He was at the family’s beck and call at all times, helping them through their grief, consoling them, taking care of paperwork and funeral duties. The father, impressed, agreed to provide Cian with a hefty monthly allowance as well as gave him recommendation letters to various law firms for internships.

REVELATIONS:

As Cian grew more and more successful as a Barrister, representing high-profile cases of corruption and wire-fraud, the more disillusioned he grew regarding the farce of the justice system. He knew the law inside and out, knew every loophole, and tragically, he knew every possible way to make even the worst criminals walk free.

The world was a stage, after all. And the courtroom was one of the greatest and fakest stages. He grew obsessed with staging the perfect crime, a series of homicide that would boggle law enforcement’s minds but would also expose the large gaping holes of the justice system. It was a far greater use of his knowledge of law than to argue for most corrupt of society.

He sought out rich, powerful closeted men on dating apps. He would arrange clandestine rendezvous, and after a night of passion, begin work on his masterpiece. Each murder referenced a famous play, either from Shakespeare or Molliere, sometimes even Chekov. On his way home, he would mail a distinct letter written in the hand of each victim to the tabloid, often quoting a few significant lines from the play in question.

The press dubbed him the Theater Killer. With every fearmongering news piece about him, he would laugh and egg on the law enforcement using the press.

He posed one question to society. If England boasted of one of the most advanced justice systems in the world, how could one murderer go unnoticed again and again?

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