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Last Login:
June 24th, 2024



Gender: Male
Age: 119
Sign: Capricorn
Country: United States

Signup Date:
May 13, 2023

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03/17/2024 04:24 PM 

Have you heard about the Paleman?

Before Lestat found himself summoned from the music of the 2000s, he was awake around the 60s to 70s. Although rock music was something that had touched Lestat's black heart even at these times, he did not pursue a career as a singer in public, no...he was still hesitant to get out to the public and share his true nature with those of his kind and the humans. The desire was always there though, crawling slowly with the years, and the added disappointment throughout the decades would make him burst in the age of millennials when the supernatural element had become something fancy...

Late at night in the city that never sleeps...a silver Plymouth Barracuda stops outside the well-known pub with colored letters on its name. Lestat gets out of the car; he was alone. Short hair to the end of his neck, a leather jacket, a fine silk shirt, and then casual pants accompanied by some loose boots. He takes a few steps and then places a cigarette between his lips, lights it, and takes a deep draw. You see, he could not go along the 70s without following the trends of humans, and why not? He was enjoying all the bad habits and decay around the streets of this era so much. He looks at the partly cloudy sky above the city lights and smirks, then he starts walking towards the club. Once the door closes behind him, everyone looks at him and greets him with their glasses raised up.
Oh yes, he was known in that part of town, but no one really knew his real name; he was going around by nicknames that he did not even create. The most common to address him was The Pale Man; nobody knew when or from where he came, but he entered the Mafia family and rose up the hierarchy quite fast. Yet Lestat was not aiming to be a Mafia boss; he loved to be sent on the most complicated missions and put himself out there when things with the gangs would go bad.

Most gangs would fear him but also get rewards if they were able to ever kill him and remain unknown, which gang did it, otherwise a phenomenal war would burst once more against the families and their leaders, something that had been going on for a long time and was finally peaceful since 5 years. Lestat's head on a plate was an ongoing challenge... He was so unpredictable for them all, even for the members of his gang, and his boss was not always able to find him either. They said that the guy was crazy, a psychopath, and a maniac when it came to hunting down and killing. Hence some other not-so-popular nicknames: the crazy hound, the reaper, and the unseen killer.

He went and sat behind a table, placing his hat on the table. The drinks started coming, landing on the old wooden table before he even took a seat. Happy faces, drunk faces, doped faces around...and the smoke rising from every corner. The Boss was informed by a waiter about the man's arrival, and he was going to meet with his crazy right hand. He sat at the same table with him and ordered only a few special people to stay, the five that would accompany him on tonight's mission. The boss told him that the second-in-power new gang members stole a truck from them last night to show their worth, but that would have terrible consequences and a lesson had to be delivered to all of them to remember not to mess in someone else's territory.
Lestat was looking at him with a dead cold expression yet eyes that were sparkling for action and more...blood. "Consider it done," he said as he blew a good amount of smoke upwards and took a sip from his whiskey.

"Will you need more guns? You can come in the back and pick any babies you like." Lestat smirked and pulled out his own custom shotgun with a three-digit number engraved to make it differ from the rest. "Oh, I am good with this one...don't worry, I work efficiently." The gun was mostly for demonstration; he was using the bullets wisely since his aim was perfect by being a vampire. Also, he could not go unarmed and show his powers; otherwise, every case would be a matter of minutes...but where is the fun in that all? To shoot was something more intriguing to him; the way the blood would spray the asphalt or the walls, the adrenaline and the heartbeats of everyone around, the fear in their breaths...and of course the strategy on how to catch them all. For Lestat, it was a game and a great feeling to be seen and be important to something.

However, he could not predict something else; there was a traitor from the inside, a spy, and he knew they were going to the other side of the city, enough time to warn the other gang on time, and they were pretty much prepared now. They brought more guns and people from the neighborhoods. Lestat and the rest of his companions were trapped in the middle of the gunfire, and they could not move; whoever would try to shoot was getting killed. Lestat motioned to the hidden ones that he would go out to end the matter and at this distraction, they would be able to escape and ask for help back at the base. And so he did...armed, he jumped outside and started running to the corner, then pointed his gun upwards and was shooting the men that were on the roof of the warehouse altogether, but there were too many, and the others came out too from the back...at that time, the noise of the bullets was non-stop, but some of them found his body and made him fall....he seemed dead for quite some time, when the men loading their guns and laughed at his failure, he suddenly came to life and ran towards the paddock's wall, climbed up, and then fell on the other side, escaping.

This incident and how the Pale Man got shot but he got up and ran away with such speed was going around. "Have you heard about the Paleman?" The rumors started getting wild; the news even reached the cops' ears, corrupted and not, they would investigate his case to find out more about who this man was. His men started looking at him a bit weird too, just wondering what had happened. Some of them that were at the gates running to leave saw clearly that he was shot directly and they knew he was not wearing any protective cloth underneath. Was he a demon...a devil...? Feeling the pressure, Lestat knew it was time for this nice story to come to an end...you see...everyone needed answers but was too afraid to ask. Sooner or later, someone would see him feed from the victims or use his powers, and then...that would attract the court of his own kind...bad news.

And so the Pale Man had to die for good. Lestat had to set up his death in public for all to see and stop the rumors from spreading further. One night he pretended to be very drunk and was calling everyone to follow him home to keep the party going, but of course, no one was taking him seriously in this state....giving out the address, he would be going now, everyone knew, surely the spy among them too. He stood up, stumbling, he headed to the exit, getting in his car and driving home now. The hints were delivered, the assassins would follow him home or find him the next day.

The night passed in silence, nothing happened, not even a suspicious move in the yard, but...the information reached the antagonist's family. He sensed now that there was a scent of hatred in the air and danger. He took his time, wore his best clothes, and picked up his pistol for one last time...this metallic thing had become a friend over the years. Funny to think that he would be bonding more with an object than a living person because sometimes the objects, if not broken, would be able to be kept safely until the time he would find them again...just like his precious violin.

As he was walking outside slowly, he looked around; his ears caught the wheels spinning in the road coming from the next block...yes...his course of death would be arriving in seconds....He reached the fence and he pulled out his gun to "defend" himself and show that he would make an effort. As the black car sped from the corner of the street, they stopped shortly outside the Pale man's house...Lestat opened his arms wide open and smirked at them as they started emptying their guns on him until he was down...
The car sped again, abandoning the crime scene.

And like this, the death of Paleman happened in front of everyone's eyes, and no one questioned it.
They checked him and found no heartbeat; time and date of death: 13th of February at 9:00 am. The body was collected from the yard, and no one ever spoke about this case again.
Just a known human gangster who got in someone's eye and was killed...
And so Lestat came out of the shallow ground and sank himself in sleep back in his family's mausoleum until 2001.

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01/27/2024 11:39 PM 

A mysterious acquaintance

~Even before he became a vampire, Lestat had a profound love for the arts, especially music. He practiced extensively with the violin, and people would stand and stare when he played a melody on special occasions. He wasn't as famous as others, and he had no interest in being among those who would harm fellow artists to gain recognition. His music was mostly for himself, to calm his soul and ease his troubled mind. Whenever he was stuck in research or on his travels, music would guide him home or push him closer to discovering a solution.

After his transformation, the results of his talent for playing the violin led to another level of attraction. Humans were mesmerized, wondering how another being could reach such high notes and change speed with his fingers. The difference now lay in the vibration of his music. The notes flowing from his violin reached places hidden even from other creatures on Earth. These vibes could reach gods, awaken, and summon the forgotten and lost. This ability was something Lestat wasn't acknowledging, not even by his maker.~

The weather was good today on the beautiful island where Marius and Lestat lived. Marius, Lestat's mentor, always delayed parts of Lestat's education, believing they had all the time in the world. Lestat was eager to learn more, and Marius believed that giving information gradually would be more effective. It wasn't easy to find a man like Lestat, open-minded, well-studied, and belonging to the new world that was rising, leaving behind the ashes and dusty stereotypes of the dark age.

Lestat opened his eyes as a small noise was added to the melody. A shadow was moving behind him, visible under the light of the many candles surrounding the chamber. He lowered his hands and turned around. "Marius? Are you going to paint on the beach again?" The older vampire held a canvas and all the necessary tools. "Ahh, true. This is where I am heading, Lestat. What would you say if you tried it too? Come join me and accompany me with your music. It's a lovely night, and the sea is exactly how I like it, with mild waves and a breeze that brings new scents from the nearest lands." Marius then turned and kept going but sensed the younger one's hesitation. "Lestat, I know that you never approached the beach since that poor girl's accident, but you really shouldn't feel pity and mourn for a human you had to end due to circumstances. Life goes on for us and always will. You cannot survive ruled by regrets." With that, Marius exited, heading down the path to the beach.

A few minutes later, Lestat found the courage to follow his mentor. What happened would forever be his mistake, but it was now part of him, a hidden burden among all the past mistakes. His boots sank into the silver sand, painted by the newly merged moon. Marius smirked at his presence but kept silent. He was pleased with him just being there. Lestat gave a look at Marius' painting; his friend had a mysterious way of making paintings look much more alive and sometimes even scary. As the cold breeze caressed his face, making his locks wave a little, he placed his violin onto his arm and started playing. He didn't need sheet music anymore; he could translate the sounds from nature into notes—the waves, the crickets, the wind, the underwater motion of the fishes, and the sea moss. This was a full composition.

On the horizon, a sudden form of water rose above the surface, not too high. It was transparent and clear like crystal but slowly formed the face of a woman. While Lestat was playing, he became ecstatic, closing his eyes to enjoy the melody to its fullest. Within the darkness, a woman faced him. He couldn't resist, speak, or react. And the woman stared at him inside his mind and then she spoke directly to his mind..
"Little young lord, I meet you again. I left you and your ship escape a long time ago as you roamed the seas, and I am glad I did now. Your songs called me to these shores. Oh, you are like a siren of the land, yet your song is much deadlier than mine. Have you noticed it or not yet? I am sure you will, eventually. You bring a beautiful death, a lyrical death, and that does not always mean the end."
With that, she bid him farewell as she dove again to the bottom of the ocean, leaving him free to open his eyes.

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11/18/2023 07:04 PM 

About Donations and Charities

Good day, fellows!
I am very aware that some of our people here on the site as well as people and families from your real life start to struggle even more now that the holidays are coming.
I am not a religious person anymore however I feel what is out there and how the market or the "spirit" of the holy days make you feel. Some of you also need to fulfill some obligations.

I have done research through YouTube, Google, and personal experience to find platforms for USA and non-USA citizens that help raise funding. I posted it now and I hope there is still time for you to raise some money for your loved ones until Xmas and New Year!

Please, keep the purpose of your funding for serious reasons, be kind, and have a good pitch, with sincerity.
Spread the word, share, copy/paste i don't mind, I do not mind giving me credits or anything, just go out there and help even by word spreading you can do a lot.
If you know more valid platforms and info, add them here.

This is for clear funding
https://www.modestneeds.org/index.asp

This is for funding projects and ideas
https://www.awesomefoundation.org/en

This is for getting back lost funds
https://missingmoney.com/

This page is only for fundraising, any purpose or charity
https://fundly.com/

Clearly funding site too
https://www.justgiving.com/

Another funding website
https://www.gofundme.com/en-ca

Funding for financial hardships
https://www.beggingmoney.com/

Fundraising for startups and ideas
https://www.indiegogo.com/

Charities and personal causes
https://www.justgiving.com/

Personal fundraising
https://gogetfunding.com/

Small businesses, startups, and ideas
https://www.fundable.com

EUROPEAN FUNDRAISING SITES

For charities and personal causes
https://whydonate.com/en/crowdfunding-fundraising/?gad_source=1

Crowdfunding or collective financing platform (monetary contributions) and distributed collaboration
https://en.goteo.org/

DONATION PLATFORMS (MIGHT INCLUDE FEE)
Can be added as links to blogs, websites, and social media

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/
https://donorbox.org/
https://www.patreon.com/en-GB
https://giveahand.com/
https://ko-fi.com/


(All links have been tested by me and their functionality is valid, none is a scam or virus)

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10/15/2023 05:29 PM 

Where all the lost socks go (Narnia)

When we do our laundry we often discover that we lost a sock, the incident varies from time to time but the only item that ever is missing is....a sock, we know it well when we try to find and match all the pairs that we receive after the laundry is done and we are ready to set our clean clothes back to the drawers or closets.

But in all those years of searching and looking around the washing machine the chances that we found the lost socks are narrow. Perhaps, these socks were not lost, perhaps they wanted a path on their own....perhaps they wanted a divorce from their abusive sock partner...shocking, I know! What of the socks from the teenagers? Maybe they wanted just a little adventure. Let's go and see with a spy camera that I tangled among the socks that are about to enter the washing machine.

As the washing machine whirred, a mysterious vortex formed within its depths. Some of the socks tangled in the swirling currents, and found themselves escaping through a sudden opening portal, leaving behind the familiar world of laundry and entering the enchanted land of Narnia. They were thrown in a land where talking animals wandering around and beneath of ancient trees. 

In Narnia, the lost socks took on a life of their own. They became tiny, fabric creatures, capable of exploring the hidden realm. Some joined forces with woodland creatures to enter the magical forests, while others sought shelter in cozy cottages nestled under the roots of colossal trees, making their own home in freedom. The socks soon were welcomed by the talking Beavers, and Faunus who were sharing the tales of their origins.

But, as with all adventures, there were perils in Narnia. The lost socks encountered wicked witches and kings, princesses and all the the righteous residents of this enchanted realm. And so, in the mystical realm of Narnia, where some of the lost socks became heroes, their tales were written in the legends, ensuring that the laundry room remained a place of wonder and mystery for generations to come.

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