#((but i thought i'd run it by you anyways!))

[aquickstart]

ok sure i'll talk about farleigh start. i'll talk about his tragedy of never being enough as it were and then having to deal with fucking oliver. sure. disclaimer: it's about class (and race) and the horrible reality of the rich. the horrible reality of living as farleigh.

another disclaimer: i'm white! and poc definitely pick up on everything i'm talking about here as it is, and better. i was and am specifically interested in farleigh vs. oliver but it's impossible to examine without considering race. definitely let me know if anything abt this sucks!

farleigh and oliver are similar. it's annoying because every intruder that is not himself is annoying, partly because felix's attention swaying from farleigh is dangerous; there is always a threat of being discarded, even if no precedent existed. the potential is terrifying.

but you'd think he's seen this before, every summer (if venetia is telling the truth) or at least often enough to learn to recognize it fast, so he should know this will pass. part of it is i think still the deep anxiety, and i think he hated every boy that was there before, and it is sort of routine.

but definitely a huge factor in farleigh's annoyance is the fact that he's a biracial (black for cattons, that's all they see) man in a white rich household. he's alert and exhausted all the time. of course he's angry at oliver, regardless of whether he's the first to crash at saltburn for the summer or the fifty-first.

but the important thing is this.

farleigh is very jealous of and angry and pissed at oliver because farleigh sees all the similarities between them. outsider, in financial trouble, whatever it is, in need of cattons; and yet oliver is preferred. and farleigh seems to be the only one to really consider it. felix does not pick up on the hint when farleigh brings up the birthday party vs. his mother. felix's clumsy "different or... anything like that" is as much about race as it is about class, of course. the "we've done all that we can" bit is felix absolving himself of guilt because surely they had, surely the mysterious collective cattons that he's not really part of had tried all they could do. to him, farleigh is different from oliver, because farleigh has been helped. felix is rich and white and twofold uncomfortable with farleigh, even if he's nice about it, even if he genuinely enjoys his company; he doesn't look too close at farleigh because he feels too guilty to come too close. and farleigh can't do anything about it. he can't nice himself into it. the fucking tragedy of him is that he's never enough in the world of the ultra-rich white, even if (especially because!) he's born into it.

farleigh is very pissed at oliver because farleigh also sees all the differences between them. you know who can be nice poor white enough to fit in? fucking oliver. felix says "just be yourself, they'll love you" when oliver first moves in. farleigh was also probably told the same thing, and felix also probably believed that farleigh could just be himself, but even if the cattons were magically not racist at all (impossible), it wouldn't make a difference to farleigh. he would still self-censor, keep in check, be in dangerous waters (because racism is not just about the individual, but about the system). we see that he'd won himself leeway by years of trial and error by the way he speaks to the family, but it's still within the boundaries of acceptable, built by the cattons. he's part of them because they allow it, and farleigh is very, very aware.

the annoying thing is oliver can be himself. like, truly, genuinely, he can just be. and farleigh can't help but envy that.

as a side note, oliver is obviously jealous of farleigh in the beginning as well, because regardless of the reality of farleigh's situation, he was born into it, and hence, at least in oliver's mind, has his position solidified. oliver's whole thing is unquenchable thirst and hunger for whatever and everything the cattons have (including themselves!). he wishes to have been a catton from birth. to oliver, at first, there's nothing farleigh can really do to lose it. and until he figures out the cattons completely, he can't help but envy that.

but i think farleigh senses something different about oliver early on. at least on the level of the text, we have "you're almost passing [for] a real, human boy", which is so important because farleigh is the first to point out oliver's weirdness. the next to do so is venetia in the bath scene calling him a freak, but it's too late. farleigh is too early.

and i like to think he clocks oliver too early because he sees the jagged edges that he recognizes in himself. i think that one other thing that farleigh envies is oliver's freedom to let go. freedom to let go is very similar to freedom to be, but not quite the same.

to be is about perception: farleigh knows he cannot fall out of line, but would like to, and oliver does not have to worry about it at all (i mean, he does, because oliver also performs for felix, but farleigh doesn't know that).

to let go is about the self: farleigh is too scared to even want what oliver eventually does, to even consider the possibility. oliver can let himself want. oliver can let himself act. oliver just can do things and want things. i'm not sure farleigh can.

and so in this scene, when oliver's wants and actions have landed him nowhere with farleigh, felix, venetia, the cattons, of course farleigh gloats. he can let himself do that, because if the cattons are slowly discarding him, farleigh can allow himself this one small victory. he's relieved because despite the dangerous similarities, oliver is, thankfully, not really the same as farleigh, right?

but like. this movie is a love letter to all things gothic. oliver is a white man. he prevails. the brief performance that oliver put on did eventually end up more effective than farleigh's lifetime of constraint. my heart fucking breaks for him to be honest.

the issue that remains is the fact of farleigh's survival. i like to think that oliver came to respect him. oliver is smart, but farleigh is clever. he picks up on everything oliver does (to refer back to the karaoke scene, farleigh immediately retaliates in the cleverest way, in the moment), and he's the only one to do so consistently (venetia, again, for example, comes close, but too late; oliver doesn't like that, there's nothing to work with). hence, stay with me for a little longer, the paradox: farleigh survives because he was never enough for the cattons, but he is very worthy of oliver's attention. in his own freaky way, oliver wants him. look at that.

so. farleigh. farleigh might come back. he always comes back. and i think oliver wants to try harder next time.

[willowser]

gaining all those new followers from plagiarizing poc and running them off tumblr you're a terrible person and i hope you rot

so this is another really heavy accusation that i take very seriously.

who is it that i've run off, exactly ?? if you are said person or know them personally, i would love to have the ability to speak to you/them one-on-one, like grown adults, so that we can clear the air or discuss whatever issue there seems to be.

i doubt that you'll respond legitimately but this has always been my stance on your issue with me, that has kept you coming back to, not only my main account but also my nsfw account, daily. sometimes multiple times a day. you've also never once given me any kind of definition on what it is exactly that i've "plagiarized" — which, again, leads me me to believe you're just choosing to be hateful for no reason ?? the ONLY reference that's been made in the last few weeks that this has been going on, is the love island bakugou concept, and if that's what you're still sticking by, then — again — i urge you to understand what plagiarism actually is.

[lee-minhoe]

bias slot machine - pick a siyuan bias!

happy birthday @ambivartence 💖🥰💚💞🥳

[averlym]

HI I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE INTO ADAMANDI HOLY SHIT. Can’t believe so few people know about this masterpiece of a musical

:OOOOO hai i agree it is criminally (haha yknow bc there are crimes..) underrated!! and really brilliant!!! discovered it literally midway through the week and akdfjgsjhdsjhjgdf

have a doodle of the saints :3

[roxyandelsewhere]

Angels’ trueforms in their most memorable moments [25/?] - Cas and Lucifer in the "What a peculiar thing you are." scene in 5x10 Abandon all hope.

inprnt | society6 | redbubble | ko-fi

[jadedbutler]

back when i'd first read dark rise, i'd written this little moody rescue au oneshot for Will & James (KempClair? What're we calling them lol),

I'd started drafting a James POV + continuation of it, which was left marinating in my gdocs until i read dark heir last weekend and had my brain chemicals once again reactivated.

below is a sample of that WIP which i am feeding you directly from my stupid little hands ;;

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

All draped in black and gold, crystal and white, wearing lavish masks over their eyes, unable to obscure their covetous little stares. Appraising James like he’s one of the cracked marble busts or stolen baroque oil paintings laid out on the lobby floor to be admired, but all too rich for their blood.

Another era, another gilded cage.

James St. Clair, on display again, an objet of virtu presented by yet another man drunk off conditional loyalty and borrowed prestige. Surrounded by vermin that think themselves his followers.

Well. Not untrue.

James tips his crystal drinking glass to his lips, itching to stain the crimson carpeted floors of the Hotel with a much darker red. It would be sooo easy; with a twitch of his fingers, he could turn this stupid masquerade into a massacre. But what he lacks in temperance and humility, he makes up for with patience. So he lets the wine soothe his nerves and sharpen his tongue instead. Biding his time.

Waiting. Always waiting. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, my jewel?" James' current "patron" whispers, close enough to disturb the pendant dangling from his earlobe. A diamond-encrusted silver cross, clamped painfully onto James' ear, since his invulnerability makes piercings impossible to hold. It's not a relic, but like most jewelry designed in his honour, the earring is... troublesome.

"Oh, positively euphoric," James drawls in reply, inspecting the cuticles of his free hand to showcase exactly how much fun he's not having. But his sarcasm is lost on his patron, the dleusional swine, who returns a satisfied hum as he swirls his own champagne glass thoughtfully.

"As you should be. After all, tonight will be the marking of a new era - a new king. And what is a king without his crown jewel?"

Hah. Derision peals out of James' throat before he can swallow it back. How violently laughable. It's like this every fucking time.

But his laughter falters a moment later, as a subtle murmur ripples through the throng of cultists surrounding him. No, not a murmur, no one has stopped talking, not for a second.

Not a flicker, either, the chandelier lights overhead glittering bright, winking starlight into his eyes.

A shiver, then. A sudden drop in temperature that only he seems to feel. And it was so sickeningly hot just a moment ago.

And then --

Found you.

Robbed of his breath and his heartbeat and every thought he's ever had, James lifts his eyes and finds himself pinned, under that dark endless gaze he's felt a thousand times in his dreams.

There, in the crowd, separated by a dozen or so false followers, a pale face looks regards him, shrouded in black lace.

James' lips part by a fraction of a centimeter, and he feels himself about to say. You found me.

The spell remains unbroken, even as James' patron pulls an arm around his waist, announcing his latest conquest to the thrall before him. "A toast--" he says, or maybe he doesn't. James isn't listening. He can't hear a thing.

He swallows back the rest of his wine, untangles himself from the unwanted grip.

"Where do you --"

"Breath of fresh air," he mutters, tearing himself away.

Away, away and up the empire steps to the mezzanine, up the next few floors of the Hotel until he reaches an empty hall, void of false followers and prying eyes. He's vaguely aware that he's shivering hard. Not because his thin white shirt leaves his back exposed. Not because of the wine in his blood.

Absently, he grabs a forgotten coat draped over the bannister, and pulls his arms through. But the shaking does not stop.

In the Hotel, his steps are muted against the carpeted floors. But as pushes through the glass doors leading to the balcony. the ground beneath his boot heels is more solid. Still, he feels as though if he takes another step, he'll fall right through.

Will is waiting for him by the marble-wrought railing, still and beautiful as a sculptor's depiction of Lucifer. God's beloved, fallen.

"You came for me," he breathes, bathed once more in Will's beckoning gaze. With impossible yearning, James reaches out, not with his hands but with his magic, to assure himself this isn't a spectre, a cruel trick, the kind that fate has played on him over and over and over -

"You can come closer,"

A gloved hand reaches toward him. Not begging to touch. Not commanding.

It's too much. James had spent this entire lifetime cultivating a wall of ice and iron around himself, only for it to melt from a single gesture from Will. He practically pours himself into Will's arms, pressing his cheek against his hand.

"I wasn't sure," he sighs, dragging his fingers, his real ones, along Will's armdf;lskdf;lka;lkfsdlkjdf idk to be conitniutend ?????? bY e

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[elytrafemme]

i think i played sims 4 with my sister for six hours straight today?

[ghostlygunk]

man this game is great

[mythicalartisttm]

Today I learned that there's people who do tag with the search results in mind, and those who don't. Which is something I never considered before but this is interesting to learn nonetheless!

[the-acid-pear]

I was going thru old screenshots and I found this one and I'm going to blow up I'm going to-

[chenpire]

my post series recommendation is that if you've never listened to the orchestral version of hero by faouzia while thinking about Wilhelm and Simon's utter trainwreck of a romance, you should. I think you should.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

A slew of toasts followed Mr. Gracey's, some from other members of families in the upper echelons of New Orleans high society who knew the Gracey and de Clair families, others from old schoolmates of Dorian who, despite having not talked to him in years, had still turned up to the party to celebrate his impending wedding, less to celebrate an old friend's happiness (they were less friends and more acquaintances at the end of the day) and more to enjoy the copious amounts of food and drink and rub elbows with other like-minded folks, those with as big of bank accounts as them.

It was then, after a string of these, that Randall built up the nerve (and all without any "liquid courage") to get to his feet, lifting his glass of apple cider as a hush fell over the room, all eyes on him as he began, in a quivering voice:

"I-I just want to say," he said, squeezing his glass a little as he swallowed back the dryness, determined to get through this speech. "How...very, very happy I am, for my oldest and dearest friend. Tomorrow is...a huge day in any man's life, it's...the start of a new life for him. It's...exciting, it's...terrifying. But...it's most of all, it's...wonderful. And I...I couldn't be happier for him, and his bride."

Shyly, he lifted his glass with a little grin (knowing in his heart that this speech was just as much for him as it was for Dorian) as he declared, "To new beginnings!"

There was a little murmur of "to new beginnings!" as well as everyone took their drink, and Randall slumped back down in his seat, heart pounding as Dorian clapped him on the shoulder, saying warmly, "That, my friend, was the best speech of the whole night."

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I just got Shinon for the first time in this file. 🤣

[mwagneto]

im finally done with all my exams this was literally the most exhausting month/2 months of my fucking life. and i get one day off bc im doing something on literally every other day but that's gonna be fun im not complaining