BOUNDLESS HUNGER.

godㅤ 〳ㅤ less.

[undecadent]

# UNDECADENT the      𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔶      𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡      revelation      of      cassiel      leclair-park, dependent     portrayal      as      scripted     by      kay. 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴      the      things      we      keep      hidden ﹠ the      weight      of      keeping      them      buried, what      it      is      to      be      both      a      god ﹠ god-killer      and      surviving      the      terror      that      is      the      𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔡      𝔥𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔫      𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫.

dossier. skeleton. musings. pinterest.

[undecadent]

# THE MAKING OF A PREDATOR: THE TELL-ALL.

After months of non-contact with those close to him, billionaire son, Cassiel Leclair-Park returns to France for treatment following involvement in a deadly fire. Details remain sealed behind ongoing proceedings,   yet fragments have emerged:   a betrayal that escalated beyond control,   a moment of irreversible violence,   and a chilling calm that witnesses say followed. Prosecutors argue that the act was not a sudden loss of control but the logical conclusion of a life built on unchecked hunger.   Defense attorneys maintain that the man was shaped by forces larger than himself,   molded into a persona that blurred the line between survival and cruelty. Now,   as the trial approaches,   Park sits at the center of a narrative he once commanded.   Observers say he plays his role carefully,   guarding against any thread that might unravel the story he has constructed.   Yet beneath the composure lies an unspoken question that haunts the proceedings:   if ambition made him powerful,   did it also make him dangerous? And if the truth fully emerges,   those closest to the case fear one thing above all—that the appetite which built him may not yet be finished. The trial proceeds next month.

WHAT ELSE ARE YOU HIDING?

[thiscoldheart]

frankenstein (2025) + the gothic bridal carry

[undecadent]

# DEATH CANNOT DO US DEPART, can it?

a couture assessment of the haunted trappings of one: CASSIEL LECLAIR-PARK.

with a knife to the back and twice the barbituates in his system, this man happens as nearly the perfect spectre. tall, pale, and utterly devoted⸺cassiel has come dressed as VICTOR VAN DORT, in perfect tandem with his heart of hearts, clementine. dressed by arturo obegero, he flaunts all the coy tailoring of the unwilling groom, with twice the torment. all the less, awaiting his bride.

[dailyflicks]

The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman dir. Fredrik Bond | 2013

[undecadent]

IF I FELL THROUGH THE FLOOR I WOULD KEEP FALLING. THE ENORMITY OF MY DESIRE DISGUSTS ME.

it is a smaller feat to take things when you pretend yourself devoid of want. when you stave yourself the embarrassment of have-not. ask cassiel, and he will tell you that this task took root two decades ago. taking resulted both of absence and obscene abundance. he was a child with the world as his dominion. he had everything, except his mother didn’t love him— she performed love. she peeled it, cut it into clean eighths, removed the skin, the seeds, the bruises. she arranged the pieces on porcelain, plastic-wrapped it like grief. that’s how he knew she was still there. not in the doorway. not in the noise. but in the absence of labor. in the way he never had to do it for himself. being given to is but one of the many ways a child might end up soft, rotten at the core. taking, however ..

the aquiring itself had been a polite enough task. find a knife, steal it. this is how it began: a lie small enough to fit between the teeth, sweet like a seed, something round and red and ruined before it’s even bitten. he takes the knife and he takes the apple and he walks out of the kitchen like it isn’t a betrayal of his character. like it ever could be for a man presumed wicked until proven otherwise. cassiel only took the knife to slice the apple. he tells himself that. he ends up outside. not on purpose—there’s a misstep somewhere. a detour. a parasol. clementine. she was barefoot and wearing sunglasses, a beautiful mirage in the sun. they make squinted, sumptuously lit conversation. and then cassiel kisses her once, and then once more for even measure; tasted the wet heat of her mouth, forgot entirely that he'd only gone outside on accident. he left the knife just as this, stolen but still surrendered. a gesture meant to be invisible. a crime without hunger. yet. the special guest was already en route, silk-wrapped and expectant. cassiel knows this. knows he should be preparing. knows the table is being laid with better silver than before, knows they will be expected to perform when another pair of eyes is set upon them. and still—he left the blade behind in the garden's babbling fountain. his only utensil. his only weapon.

[undecadent]

# I LOVE YOU / I WANT US BOTH TO EAT WELL.

even the starving know the difference between a lamb and the one who chooses not to eat it. you love her worse than famine loves feast. that tender, ravenous, unyielding thing. you had not yet known the full breadth of your heart until she showed you & you take her most undeservingly into your proximity with all the hallmarks of a hungry thing allowed it's first meal: trembling, grateful. @lambentine

[undecadent]

THEN / fool me thrice.

he didn’t fall for you—he outmaneuvered you, clean and cruel, like a blade slipped between ribs. you should’ve walked away, but now it’s a fixation: you’ll find a way to break him, because some people don't bend, and that makes them worth shattering.

NOW / i've got my eye on you.

you can’t stop circling him, can’t stop sharpening yourself on the idea of his end—because if you can’t have him, maybe you can at least haunt him. obsession is just another way of staying close, isn't it?

@cogitxre

[undecadent]

THEN / o brother, my brother.

you and lachlan carved a kingdom of excess, a brotherhood bound by pleasure, chaos, and the unspoken promise to spiral together into oblivion. you are aware that dying stars burn out. if you must fall from the sky, you will go together.

NOW / all is not well.

the pair of you move like apparitions through the same haunts, but something broke after vincent—something neither of you wants to name. you joke like you used to, drink like you used to, but now there’s a flinch beneath the grin, grief beneath the silence: one of you has to lose.

@clubgambit

[lestateur]

source via @brian-kinney-apologist

[bustrkeaton]

ANTHONY PERKINS in PSYCHO (1960), dir. Alfred Hitchcock.

[undecadent]

# IF YOU CANNOT BEAT THEM / BECOME THEM.

you want him like hunger wants a mouth—desperate, shapeless, all need and no mercy. yet, he will not yield. you will have to ruin him, because what is unreciprocated must at least be understood, and nothing clarifies like conquest. @cogitxre

[plumnote]

@300ver

[jamiietartt]

Interview with the Vampire (2022-) 2.07 | 2.08

[undecadent]

# A HAUNTING, CAPTURED IN LOVING MEMORY.

italy is good for letting the time pass, but not much use for forgetting.

the camera found him. not the other way around.

cassiel had only meant to look for a clean towel. something dry and laundered the evening prior. but the linen closet gave way to rot and wood and a latch that stuck on the turn. and then the villa opened up to him and unveiled a camera. as if the walls themselves knew of his inclination for the analog. the labor in having to do the smaller things for yourself. and then— the shape. he doesn't remember lifting it. only the moment after: standing in the hallway, the afternoon light thin and watery, everything edged with last night's glamour. he raises the camera to the nearest window, just to see if the lens saw what he had.

blurred by the smoked glass, half-obscured, backlit by nothing but downlighting and memory. a figure leans in from the other side. one hand pressed to the pane. not knocking. not asking to be let in. waiting.

the shape is wrong in all the right ways.

he wants it to be vincent. he knows it isn’t.

[undecadent]

# ALL IN THE FAMILY, INTRODUCING THE SPECTACLE OF THE LECLAIR-PARK DYNASTY.

i am the shape you made me / filth teaches filth.

FATHER   ( jun park,  sixty-one yrs old. )   you don’t know him in the way most expect a son to know his father.  there is something in his presence that you’ve learned to mimic over time—gathering that if you cannot entirely be yourself in his presence,  you will simply be him.   you drunkenly profess that you’d like to tear him down someday,   rather,  you want to prove yourself worthy of standing in his shadow.

MOTHER ( isolde leclair-park, fifty-four yrs old. ) retired covergirl, should not have been a mother but alas. had many faults but above all, she ensured that her children were looked after the best way she knew how. you love her in your own way, never stop to wonder if she loves you back. it doesn’t matter. she raised you, kept you. that will be enough to call a truce.

THE ELDEST  ( hana leclair-park, twenty-nine yrs old. )   you learned ambition by watching her pick it clean like a carcass—elegant, merciless, the family name lacquered onto her like armor. you were not raised beside her so much as beneath her. still, there are nights when your jaw aches from wanting her approval and mornings where her voice rings in your head. she does not need your love to know she owns you. she already does.

THE SPARE ( sue-ah leclair-park, twenty-six yrs old. ) you orbit each other like rival saints, each with your own gospel, each ready to gut the other in the name of truth or attention or neither. if you hate her, it is because you recognize her—your same hunger, your same fire, just sharper, dressed better, and never asking permission. you don’t trust her. that might be the closest thing you have to love.

THE FAVORITE ( mina leclair-park, twenty-three yrs old. ) she was the child no one watched closely enough. quiet, pink, lovely—until you looked her in the eye and saw the storm tucked behind her iris. you taught her to people apart with all the delicacy of a surgeon, hands clean, smile warm, no one ever quite sure where the bleeding started. she used to sleep on your shoulder, thumb in mouth, and ask you if the moon ever got lonely. now she knows. you would kill for her, though you suspect she'd never ask—and if she did, she wouldn’t truly need you.

[asraeas]

La Chimera (2023) dir. Alice Rohrwacher

[undecadent]

@lambentine