#tag rant again

[tryingtimi]

45 for the spotty ask game!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques <3

Hôtel du Soleil Couchant

The song that I could listen to for a thousand years without getting tired of it. Also, the sole inspiration for Selys's whole backstory lol. Anyway, here's a little more Selys x Léon with a kinda rushed ending. Bear with my tired brain please.

Tiny Context: Selys's backtstory will build around this vampire hotel where mortals get trapped. (no specifics yet) That's where he meets Léon (faceclaim in the border), the mortal who'll steal his heart.

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF AND ANGST I GUESS | WC: 1,504

The Biessean wind burned through the hotel’s poolside, bright sunshine glowing on the lounging folks and illuminating their form like petroleum a room. Besides three or four warmbloods, there wasn’t much of a crowd on the sunbeds. Instead, the tumult resided in the shadowed passage that occupied a big chunk of the curving, tiled pool. The hotel’s own troupe performers mingled with other guests, some staff members active among them, too. Continuous conversations and the soft rock on the radio crittered in the warm winter air. Selys paid only half a mind to them under the artificial shade far beside the water. He gently grazed his sharp nails along Léon’s umber skin, enjoying the goosebumps that trailed the touch. 

“You're a tease,” Léon scoffed in a purring voice. He turned his head towards him, the short coils of his dark hair tickling Selys’s exposed chest between the half-opened shirt. 

The vampire kept grazing his arm. He revelled in the warmness of Léon’s body pressed to his, the Biessean fever nothing compared to the sensation. Selys found the weather’s temperature insignificant, lacking the senses to shiver in cold or shed a drop of sweat. Besides feeding, only another being could bring him the phenomenon of heat again. 

Selys slowly drew his nails up on his shoulder, through his neck where fingertips glided over Léon’s sweetly throbbing artery, only to roll some of the midnight ringlets over his forefinger. 

Léon hummed with a half-smile. “Don’t go existential on me now, mon cher.”  

“I’m not,” Selys chuckled, burying his finger in his hair. “I have no quarrel with life when you’re in my arms like this.” 

A mischief-fueled curve tugged upward Léon’s lips, Selys’s ghost touch running through the thin darkening of coming stubble over them. He gently bit on the pale finger, releasing it when Selys pulled it away. 

“Perhaps, but you are drifting. Otherwise, you would have remembered that this old man devotion didn’t rub on me yet.”

“I am old, my sweet. How do you wish me to speak to you?”

The placid look on Léon’s face brightened by the gentle light in his onyx eyes. It was a seriousness that framed his curiosity, and his unshakable life-loving that made him immune to the fact of Selys’s true nature. Or the casually frightening span of his existence. 

Léon blinked up at him, thoughtful, the scent of chlorine omitting from his figure. “No different, I suppose. It was just a simple reminder. But,” he said, turning back to the pool then snuggling higher on Selys’s front, freckled, evenly throbbing neck in close proximity. “I’d appreciate it if you’d talk more about what you’re ruminating on all the time.” 

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want me to be existential.”

“Now I do.” Selys could feel Léon’s smile when he himself chuckled again. “If that’s all you’ve got, then go ahead. Talk to me, mon cher.” 

“You’re so fond of mere words.” 

Selys brought his sharp nose to his jawline, the pool’s and Léon’s own scent intoxicating like one too many glasses of fine wine. He enclosed him in his embrace, enveloping the sinewy body with his.

Once, Selys kept mortal lovers for this — the pulsating warmness that enthusiastic veins could conjure only. A meat blanket that could provide what he lacked, and missed occasionally. 

He could keep them replaceable; up until Léon showed. 

Selys licked at the tempting, painfully tantalising neck. The taste of the pool was sour on his tongue, and the urge to sink his fangs into the flesh clicketing in the back of his mind. It was always there, but Selys did not care. He’d have rather starved for a thousand years than to feel the warmth of Léon’s blood in his throat. 

But, he nibbled on other’s neck, licking and sometimes poking his skin with fangs without barely even touching flesh, just to make him giggle. And he let him — without an inch of alarm, Léon slightly rolled his head to the side, giving way to Selys’s whims. It was an innocent love affair to tease what one couldn’t have, a serene play Léon taught him to cherish.

“I can’t read minds, mon cher, so words are all I have.” 

“That, I still doubt.” No one could know so precisely, or trust so fully in Selys without invading his mind. Even those who did had never left their guard down. 

“Hm, well.” Léon hummed along to the music on the radio. “You’re right. I can also dance and do acrobatics. Which are not much help in learning what is playing over in your pretty white head.”

Selys chuckled into the sensitive spot behind Léon’s ear. Half-opened eyes watched his pale arms around the beautiful amber boy underneath. His bleached skin looked like a cage built from bones compared to the mortal lover, yet Léon was far from a prisoner. He’d absorbed the laughters, the tears, the awes, the horrors, the celebrations and the struggles. He rode the freeness of his finite existence, fully embracing the mortality of the ever-passing time. Out here in the semi-calmness, or on the roaring stage — everywhere he went, he’d been the only one that truly coloured the world with life. 

Selys pulled the slowly dozing off Léon closer. 

“You are. That’s what’s playing in my head; your performances, your interactions with others, your routines before bed. I am unable to ruminate on my dreary existence anymore because you’ve tainted it with hope and fondness for all the living. So, excuse me my crudeness, but shame on you, my sweet,” Selys whispered in his ear, and finally earned a throaty laughter. The sound brought some gazes towards them from the crowd, yet Selys kept ignoring their surroundings. 

Until a soft tug on his thoughts made him freeze.

A most subtle sensation, a phantom stir, really — but an unmistakable change, nevertheless. Like a soft, morning haze, it came to blanket his mind in a momentary disorientation. Then, a silk of a voice tickled alive within his skull. 

“I, too, always favoured playing with the meal.” 

Selys’s body ran colder than before, and he dragged the sudden dread into a corner where she wouldn’t find it. His eyes flicked towards the crowd, the glinting eyes of his peers smug among the tumult. Their wordless hunt echoed in their sparsely joined mindfield.��

“But you should be careful, my darling,” her voice prickled within his ears. “They spoil fast.”

The gathering around the pool morphed before Selys’s eyes, the silhouettes — every staff member — that shouldn’t have been outside in the day sharp and wicked. The shade that had been put all over now revealed to be an oily darkness, an unearthly creation that deceived the rest. His peers’ gazes were on the prey, while they were also on him. 

On him, and the man between his arms. 

The unending hunger set alight in Selys’s insides tenfold, urging him to feast and devour. It wasn’t his blight only, but the mob’s, all pushed down his throat to make him submit; to warn him. He forced his jaw to relax before he’d pierce flesh inside his mouth. “Worry not, my lady. I’m only savouring, but my attention is set. I have not forgotten my duty.” 

A pause, while the craving built and built, sharp nails itching to puncture the inviting, deliciously pulsing vein on Léon’s lean arm. Through gritted teeth, Selys inhaled the sweet-candy scent of his hidden blood. 

“I believe you.” 

The sensation released its grip, leaving him without air for a moment. The presence lingered in his mind, but only so much like a small slit in an almost closed door. He could still sense the others’s eyes, and their search, their seduction. They were hungry for the troupe, the guests — Léon, too. 

Selys flicked his gaze at the crowd, releasing a telepathic grip towards them much like his Lady’s. Those who were around him tended to forget the years he had behind him — and the power he claimed by them. 

“He’s mine,” Selys hissed, venom lacing his words. 

His peers stiffened in body and shrieked in mind. His Lady once said he had a talent for finding the mortal in their kind; the last bit of desires, longings, fragile feelings. He knew she was right. And that was how he twisted those around them to their knees. 

Selys knew it was time to release Léon. To drift back to his original objective, yet he did not plan to leave him on his own. To leave him to the mongrels of a hotel that was built to trap his kind. 

Many of Selys’s peers excused themselves, others falling deathly silent on their conversational partners. With cold, hard grief and the anger of a caged animal, he gripped them harder, cracking their minds, and squeezing their hearts. All the predators around them quieted, and through their link, they begged in unison.

In the distant haze of his mind, Selys felt the thrilled approvment of his Lady. 

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[rosvosektori]

fiery steps

[sameboot]

Simon petrikov coping FAIL compilation

[darlinglute]

i think it's extremely fun to pair rook and solas together in any regard, no matter if he previously was being romanced because as clear narrative foils, having an enemies to lovers (and in tandem, bitch4bitch, hater x hater) dynamic feeds into that delicious 'whenever I see you I see myself and I hate that' and 'you are everything I hate about myself' soup.

I once saw a post with a collection of quotes that had this certain vibe, in the 'you and I are the same' (negative) way. if i had a quote to represent them it would be:

so shipping them feels very complex and interesting to think about, because, like in that one dialogue

(first of all, like c'mon) furthermore it's the cycle. rook is to solas what solas was to elgar'nan, there are several times in the game, especially the end, where they can see each other in each other. even if you dont see it in a shipping lenses (which you dont have to!) this is a juicy story.

moreover, at the end of the game if rook outwits solas by giving him the fake ritual dagger, solas not only recognizes that he was out played by 'wits alone' he also says that he's met his match. this mimics the several stories of fen'harel who uses his wits, wisdom etc to get out of a situation

(example: the story of fen'harel, andruil and anaris, solas goading them both into fighting each other so he could get out paralleling solas making rook fight the gods and in addition a thousand other enemies in order to get himself enough time to get out of the fade prison without rook getting ahead of it)

the betrayal too, i don't have much to say that hasn't been said already about the prison switcheroo, (evokes solas's betrayal of felassan yada yada) other then it's really tasty.

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[stealingyourbones]

Never will I stop with the steadfast notion that folks in the DPXDC fandom should interact with at least some form of canon DC media.

There are comics, tv shows, radio dramas both old and new, podcasts, movies, magazines, so much shit that intentionally avoiding the media is simply preventing yourself from spawning new ideas and gaining a new appreciation for a fandom that you’re already in.

The Superman Radio Show has episodes 11 minutes long. A lot of the TV shows don’t have episodes that surpass 30 minutes and most are nearly fully clipped on the official DC YouTube channel. The amount of fan made motion comics is astounding. The amount of fanmade animations is equally as incredible.

[eloiseyybish]

Does anyone else think about how kinda problematic it is for people to just assume that Eddie is gay because of how he has treated his wife and gfs?

He was a bad husband to Shannon, but I'd always assumed (based off we know from canon) that he felt guilty for getting Shannon pregnant and married her due to the pressure he felt from the Church and both their Catholic families (THIS is where the Catholic guilt comes is friendos - not exactly related to latent homosexuality).

Not to mention, Eddie needs THERAPY and a lot of it to deal with his unhealthy relationship with his grief. Like, the whole point of the Kim arc is to show that he has unresolved feelings for Shannon. Ultimately, he knew she was going to leave him, and then she died before they got the chance to actually talk further about what that meant. He never got that closure from the relationship that he may have gotten from her if they managed to go through with the divorce she wanted. At the end of the day, Eddie looks back on his time with Shannon with rose tinted glasses because his memory is being selective (something that happens in grief a lot, you remember what you want to remember and forget the...less good times), and sees her as the big love of his life because of that. Not to mention, he started having panic attacks with Ana because (and they actually say this in the ep) it was becoming a ready-made family (which ties back to his unresolved feelings for Shannon and her role as both Eddie's wife and Chris' mother...). It felt like Ana was stepping straight into Shannon's place, and Eddie struggled with that whole concept.

Not to mention, Eddie has been a terrible boyfriend to every single woman he's dated and it's so deeply problematic to say that he's treated them badly because he's gay. Like, do you see how bad that is?

It's actually super misogynistic to say that if he suddenly started dating Buck that he would treat him so much better and be a great boyfriend to him... just because... he's a man. Eddie (in his current state) would be a terrible partner to anyone!

Also, just a little note here, I'm not saying you can't have headcanons for characters, but the insistence that Eddie is a gay man because "there's no other explanation for how he's treated the women he's dated" is actually so harmful, not just to women but also to gay men.

I just wish people would think a bit more about the things they say and what the meaning behind what they're actually saying.

Anyway, sorry for the rant (and you can disagree with me if you want, that's what fandom is for, but don't start sending me hate because you will just be blocked, I don't have the energy)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

🧙‍♀️🐈‍⬛

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

AAAAA FORGOT TO FEED YALL OMG

part 3 offfff the thing!!!! the. yea

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

ITS CARROTS TIME BABEYYY!!!! legendary fic series by @crowned-ladybug 99999/10 would read again WILL read again will never shut up about it aaaaaaaaahghghh!!! GO READ IF U LIKE SOFT & COLORS

[lotus-lamps]

tysm the weekly light for giving me motivation to draw LMAO

a lil messy but thats ok. it was a lot of fun so thats all that matters haha (I LOVE RENDERING AND DO THE LIGHTING AND ALL THAT SHIT ITS SO FUN) rip mothy gilbert also had too much fun ig lmao

[evilwizard]

I do want to say, my views on AI “art” have changed somewhat. It was wrong of me to claim that it’s not wrong to use it in shitposts… there definitely is some degree of something problematic there.

Personally I feel like it’s one of those problems that’s best solved via lawmaking—specifically, AI generations shouldn’t be copywrite-able, and AI companies should be fined for art theft and “plagiarism”… even though it’s not directly plagiarism in the current legal sense. We definitely need ethical philosophers and lawmakers to spend some time defining exactly what is going on here.

But for civilians, using AI art is bad in the same nebulous sense that buying clothes from H&M or ordering stuff on Amazon is bad… it’s a very spread out, far away kind of badness, which makes it hard to quantify. And there’s no denying that in certain contexts, when applied in certain ways (with actual editing and artistic skill), AI can be a really interesting tool for artists and writers. Which again runs into the copywrite-ability thing. How much distance must be placed between the artist and the AI-generated inspiration in order to allow the artist to say “this work is fully mine?”

I can’t claim to know the answers to these issues. But I will say two things:

Ignoring AI shit isn’t going to make it go away. Our tumblr philosophy is wildly unpopular in the real world and most other places on the internet, and those who do start using AI are unfortunately gonna have a big leg up on those who don’t, especially as it gets better and better at avoiding human detection.

Treating AI as a fundamental, ontological evil is going to prevent us from having these deep conversations which are necessary for us—as a part of society—to figure out the ways to censure AI that are actually helpful to artists. We need strong unions making permanent deals now, we need laws in place that regulate AI use and the replacement of humans, and we need to get this technology out of the hands of huge megacorporations who want nothing more than to profit off our suffering.

I’ve seen the research. I knew AI was going to big years ago, and right now I know that it’s just going to get bigger. Nearly every job is in danger. We need to interact with this issue—sooner rather than later—or we risk losing all of our futures. And unfortunately, just as with many other things under capitalism, for the time being I think we have to allow some concessions. The issue is not 100% black or white. Certainly a dark, stormy grey of some sort.

But please don’t attack middle-aged cat-owners playing around with AI filters. Start a dialogue about the spectrum of morality present in every use of AI—from the good (recognizing cancer cells years in advance, finding awesome new metamaterials) to the bad (megacorporations replacing workers and stealing from artists) to the kinda ambiguous (shitposts, app filter that makes your dog look like a 16th century British royal for some reason).

And if you disagree with me, please don’t be hateful about it. I fully recognize that my current views might be wrong. I’m not a paragon of moral philosophy or anything. I’m just doing my best to live my life in a way that improves the world instead of detracting from it. That’s all any of us can do, in my opinion.

[markscherz]

tumblrs being transphobic, with the ceo himself starting an actual harassment campaign against a transfem & also banning transfems who post abt it.

Oh shit, I had not heard about that.

I would like to say I don’t understand why this shit keeps happening, but I actually do understand it way too well. It just makes me so sad and angry. Especially on a site where people find and make their communities.

So much of this is about ego, and the people with power wielding that power to protect themselves and failing to protect others with it. A mere hint of negative sentiment towards them is harassment that is dealt with immediately and harshly, but a dozen complaints about discrimination or threats or bullying take ages to process and frequently come to unsatisfactory moderation decisions.

Whatever the sentiments of the people running this hellsite, you are always welcome in my corner of the internet, wherever you find it. You are all wonderful, and we all deserve to feel that part of this space belongs to us and those to whom we can connect.

Transphobia has no place on tumblr, period. Or anywhere else in society for that matter. It is that which should be being rooted out.

[dovesick]

mothman in the glittering night

[xxlady-lunaxx]

pen doodles bc i rlly want to draw but idk what