#silent suicide

[acheterdupentobarbital]

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[kaitropoli]

"The Silent Voice"

By Gerald Edward Moira

Oil Painting, c. 1892-93

Private Collection.

Just found this painting, and I had to post it because it's so gorgeous. Look at that BLUE!!!!!! UGHAAHHHHH.

There's a lot going on in this painting, but I'm somewhat busy atm, so I will be reblogging sometime tonight or tomorrow further information on this painting.

Other than that, it's popularly believed Moira was inspired by the poem "The Two Voices" by Alfred Tennyson. Tennyson says that he wrote the piece while dealing with depression after a friend passed, which is then brought into the poem, noting thoughts of suicide.

Moira's title echoes,

"Thereto the silent voice replied; / ‘Self-blinded are you by your pride: / Look up thro’ night: the world is wide."

(Tennyson, lines 22-24).

The poem was definitely controversial, and responses to it varied. How are you going to respond to a Victorian suicide poem? I'm not a poem freak--I know nothing about them, despite making my own (especially in my emo days)--but from what I read, I thought it was good. But I also live in an era of TikTok poems, so what would I know💀 N E Wayz, it did seem to spark inspiration, as we can see a young woman out in what appears to be a night-ridden forest, her dress matching the sky, as an apparition (the silent voice) whispers into her ear, holding her wrist.

I don't believe the apparition to be a demon because if we're following the lines of the poem, it wouldn't make much sense. If the voice were saying the quotes, they'd be talking her off the ledge. Her eyes are speaking realization--recognizing her pride (suicide is sometimes seen as a selfish act... been down this road before, so don't misinterpret what I'm saying: you're taking your own life because you're sad, but you don't realize that sadness will be inflicted on those around you. It's about being the stronger person and helping to take care of yourself and your loved ones after losing someone, which is more so the context present in the poem itself... or the afterthought of it because we're given a repeated line saying that there's one way out (suicide)). They say pride is rooted in selfishness, and basing that reasoning, which a lot of religious folks have, the lady is being told there's more to life, more to come. The night sky, though dark, still has light that shines (okay, I made up this part, but who says I can't make it sentimental? This is my damn interpretation on it👹👅).

[reverintherevery]

Your silent ghost Cole au is so interesting to me I’d love to hear more abt it if you wouldn’t mind

You want to hear about MY AU???? hehehe [brushes hands evil-y]

(TW: Suicide Imagery)

okey so. Silent! Ghost AU is basically:

How would the events of the show play out if Cole is forgotten the moment he turns into a ghost aka he is forgotten the moment he dies?

His “Turning into a ghost” happens way more violently in this scenario. Yang cuts his throat, and hangs him, making it look like a suicide, Cole is disoriented for a few days, not really aware of what happened. When he makes it to the bounty everyone thinks he is a ghost working for Morro. When Morro goes to attack the Ninja, noticing that the rest of the Team doesn’t remember Cole, he pretends Cole is with him, going as far as to call Cole “His beloved”.

Morro’s Plan? If the Team thinks Cole is important to him they will attack Cole to get to Morro. Cole will have no option but to defend himself in return… Besides, an earth Ninja on his side? The Preeminent would be pleased with him if he got the Earth Master on their side.

And since Cole was made Mute when he died, there is no way for him to ask for help. His plan is flawless.

The story is a rewrite of Possesed, Skybound, DotD, and hands of time. And is meant as a slow burn redemption Arc for Morro, in which he slowly realizes the error of his actions and stars falling in love with Cole.

Sadly for him, it might be too late when he realizes all the damage he caused, and Morro might end up having to ask for help to save Cole from the path he sent him in.

sorry for taking so long to respond. Also feel free to ask more questions! 🫣

[crimescrimson]

James Sunderland in Silent Hill 2 compared to Silent Hill 2 Remake

Silent Hill 2 (2001) | Silent Hill 2 (2023) [1 2 3]

[neproxrezi]

got round to making another texture mod for this game

[cramenjoyer]

imagine a beautiful world where spn only lasted three seasons BUT s3 follows sam actually getting worse and worse and doing more and more terrible things in an effort to save dean. he leans hard into his powers, even without ruby's influence, and starts drinking demon blood to get stronger. in the end, he learns that killing lilith won't free dean from his deal, and he does the only thing he can think of to do.

he walks into the devil's gate, drunk on lilith's blood and brandishing her little child-sized head, and declares himself the new king of hell. his first order of business is to save his brother. his second is to ensure there's no one strong enough to stop him.

it ends with dean in the cemetery, talking to the air, telling someone he doesn't think he's strong enough to live without sam. when sam climbs back out of hell to meet him, they close the doors to hell together and dean removes the colt from the lock. he looks toward where he'd been standing earlier and the audience finally sees john's ghost, and sam follows his gaze. he isn't looking at his brother. dean raises the gun... it cuts to black. bang. you never find out which of the three of them he aims for.

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[pearlcaddy]

locklyle week 2023 🍞 colors

To be honest, the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be. And really no one would have cared. But now?

[polkadotjohnson]

Do you sometimes think David is trying to create his own cinematic universe, trying to link all his characters like some sort of Pixar theory? Proof one:

Nelson and Abner

And then there's Morgan (I call Morgue Worker Morgan) and Nerv (I call Nervous Cop Nerv)'s hyperfixation with

(BONUS:)

...Nah, probably just a coincidence.

[aingeal98]

I like to think there are two types of mind controlled Cass emergency codes based on the regular Gotham villains that use mental attacks. So for the first instance say the Mad Hatter gets control of Cass. That's a big oh shit moment. If Batgirl is down thanks to a Code Hatter that means every batfam member needs to be calling their superpowered friends for backup because no one is taking any chances after last time when Bruce was all "Let's keep this private and handle it ourselves." and ended up getting kicked around the city by a bloodlusted Cass while the rest of the family either chased after them or Hatter.

But at the same time a Code Hatter is much more preferable to the alternative, which is when she gets hit by Fear Toxin or something similar. Regular mind control they can sort of handle because the villain tends to have a plan for the person they're puppeting. But fear toxin Cass is something else, it's a "Drop everything and find her, yell for Superman if you have to. Just find her and stop her as quickly as possible." situation. It's is a Code Red emergency, batfamily member near the brink of death and needs immediate assistance. Because if left alone with fear gas in her system there's no way Cass doesn't fall back on all her worst mental health moments. Her greatest fear for too long was her own potential as a monster, but she's also very decisive and unafraid of making extreme moves in any battle. This would be no different.

And ultimately they'd all rather deal with a few broken bones than be on 24 hour suicide watch.

[samgirl98]

Wail of the Silent 4/?

Prev | Next

TW: Brief mention of suicidal ideation

Jason woke up strangely well-rested.

He didn’t have any more nightmares after the first one. If anything, he had a pleasant dream of an angel hovering over him. Jason sat up and noticed that he must’ve made it to bed somehow last night.

Jason looked out the window and saw that, while it was cloudy, the thunderstorm had stopped. Good. He hoped there wouldn’t be another one later. Thunderstorms reminded him of clawing his way out of his grave.

Jason got out of bed; it was chillier than usual. Hmm, was the thermostat broken or something?

Jason went to the living room and noticed he wasn’t alone. He got on the defensive and took out a gun under the coffee table. He pointed it toward the figure.

Jason let his gun fall a bit when he saw it was the angel from his dreams…God, that sounded corny.

Jason studied the…man. He was asleep, floating three feet in the air, his legs crossed. He was tall, maybe 6’5”. Definitely taller than Jason or even Bruce. He wore a black and white hazmat suit with a stylized ‘D’ on his chest. He had pale blue skin, white hair that seemed to defy gravity, and green freckles.

(Jason hadn’t been imagining it last night, they were in the shape of constellations.)

Jason got closer to the man, his steps silent. He put the gun up to the man’s temple, and the man opened his eyes.

Jason almost dropped his gun when he saw Lazarus' green eyes staring back at him. Jason wished he could still talk so that he could yell at the man.

Who the fuck are you? He wanted to ask, what are you doing in my living room?

(Jason didn’t notice that chirps were coming from deep in his chest and came out of his mouth.)

The man raised his hands and floated in a standing position.

“It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m Danny; I’m here to help.”

Jason sneered; no one could help him. He raised his gun again and pointed at the man’s, Danny’s, temple. Jason wished he could growl; he wished he could quip and cuss the man out. But he couldn’t

(Dad took away my voice.)

The pain he felt last night suddenly overwhelmed Jason, and he fell to his knees. The gun in his hand looked like a pain reliever.

Danny’s face went to a sneer, and he snarled as he felt Spectra’s influence in the room. He didn’t see her, and his ghost sense hadn’t been triggered, but Danny knew she was somehow causing the man’s backslide to his negative emotions.

As much as Danny wanted to go after Spectra, he couldn’t the other halfa alone, especially since Danny didn’t like how he was eying the gun in his hand all of a sudden. Danny went up to the man and took the gun. The other halfa’s core hummed in sorrow and disappointment.

Danny let his core hum out feelings of peace and hope.

It’ll be fine, Danny chirped.

I’m so tired, was the answer.

Danny took out the bullets and threw them away from them, and threw the gun in the opposite direction of the bullets. Danny looked around the room while watching the other halfa until he found a pad and a pen.

“What’s your name,” Danny asked while giving him the pad and pen. The other halfa took it.

Jason. What are you doing here? How did you get in?

“I heard your screams last night, so I came to help.”

Jason looked at Danny in disbelief.

I’m mute. You didn’t hear shit. What the fuck are you really doing here? What are you?

“I’m not an angel if that’s what you’re asking,” Danny said, amused.

Jason felt his cheeks warm up before he thought of something. There was no way in hell the guy should’ve known what Jason had been thinking. Unless…

Jason got up abruptly and stood as far away from Danny as possible. Danny had his hands back up.

 “Jason, what’s wrong?”

Jason was angry; he saw green. The thing in front of him was in Jason’s mind. Who knew what he had seen?

Jason’s core suddenly let out a strong feeling of anger that felt like a sucker punch. What had Danny done to make the other halfa so angry? Danny slowly picked up the pad and gave it back to Jason. The other halfa ignored him while his nostrils flared.

Danny knew he wasn’t in any danger, but he didn’t want to chase Jason away.

“Jason, what did I do?”

Jason took the pad and pen; how do you know I thought you were an angel? Are you a mind reader? Have you been screwing around in my brain?

“What? No! You told me!”

Liar, liar, liar! Jason’s core chirped out, hurt. Pain. Lies! He’s here to hurt me. Kill him!

Jason, I need you to listen to me. Really listen, what do you hear?

Jason let himself calm down. That’s when he heard it. There was a weird humming in the air.

Do you hear that?

Jason was surprised. Danny had just…chirped. What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Jason’s eyes widened even more; he had just chirped. The chirps didn’t come from his throat but somewhere deep in his chest. What was going on?

The humming in the air got louder.

Peace, calm, understanding. Calm, calm, calm.

Are you doing that?

“Yeah,” he spoke this time, “I’m using my core to communicate with you. You have one, too. That’s how I heard your scream last night. I came to make sure you were okay. I’m honestly surprised you’re still here. Very few beings or humans would be able to survive that type of pain.”

Jason frowned, remembering the anguish he was in the night before. He remembered wanting to make the pain end, one way or another. Then the angel, Danny, had appeared, and things had felt…better.

Tell me everything.

“Okay, first thing first, and I hope you don’t take any offense, but did you know you died?”

Amusement. Anger, acknowledgment. Anger. Anger, anger!

(Now that he was looking for it, Jason felt an energy deep in his chest that translated into humming.)

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jason gave a sharp nod.

 “Well, when you came back, you didn’t come back all the way through. You and I are the same.”

Suddenly there was a bright light. When it died down, instead of a blue-skinned, green-eyed, white-haired man, there was a blue-eyed, tanned, handsome man in front of him.

Damn, it must’ve been a while because Jason felt the sudden urge to climb the man like a fucking tree.

Danny smirked, and Jason’s cheeks warmed up. Had he somehow projected that with whatever the fuck was going on in his chest?

Danny’s smirk grew bigger. Yep, apparently, he was. How fucking embarrassing.

What are you? He asked instead of dwelling on his libido.

“We are halfas. Half ghost, half human. We are what happens when we don’t die all the way. We’re half alive, half dead. There’s only four of us in the world, including yourself.”

I’m not a halfa or whatever it is you call yourself.

Danny smiled sadly, “That core in your chest says differently. Honestly, if I hadn’t come to Gotham, I probably would’ve never found out about you.”

Why ARE you in Gotham?

Anger, fury, disgust, disgust. I have to stop her!

Jason fell on his ass at Danny’s intense humming and chirping.

“Spectra,” he spat, “She’s a ghost that feeds on misery and pain. I followed her to Gotham. She was feeding on you last night. That’s why you felt those negative emotions. They were probably stronger than usual, right?”

They were stronger. The strongest he had ever felt them. But if what Danny was saying was true…

ANGER, RAGE, REVENGE! KILL HER, KILL HER, KILL HER!

Calm, calm, I’ll get her, I promise.

No! Revenge, revenge! I have to get her!

Jason paced the length of the living room, livid. Some bitch had fed off him. Had used him! He needed to get her, to kill her, make her regret she ever crossed his path!

Where is she? He chirped.

(A part of him marveled that he could ask questions, could express his anger with sounds.)

“I don’t know. I’m looking for her. Look, I understand wanting to get revenge, but you can’t kill a ghost.”

How? How? How do I get my revenge?

Calm, calm, I’ll explain, calm.

“I capture ghosts and send them back to the Infinite Realms, the land of ghosts when they come to our world to cause havoc. However, she’s killed, that’s forbidden by ghost law. The Observants, the council of the Infinite Realms, have asked me to capture her so they can punish her. That means eternal imprisonment.”

Not good enough, not good enough, NOT GOOD ENOUGH!

Danny sighed, “It’s almost impossible to kill a ghost. Trapping them in eternal torment is the closest we can get to punishment.”

Almost didn’t mean it was impossible.

Danny sighed, “Why are the cute ones always the crazy ones?”

Jason blinked, and his feelings for revenge were suddenly gone. Danny thought he was cute?

Jason got off the floor and sat on the couch. He patted the space beside him. Danny got the message and sat down, too.

“Let me help you,” Jason signed.

“Sorry dude, still don’t know sign language,” Danny said, amused.

Jason rolled his eyes and picked up the notepad; he still didn’t know how to consciously make the noises with his…what was it, core?

Let me help you.

Danny looked deep into Jason’s eyes and saw determination shining through. He knew if he said no, Jason would go off alone. That would be dangerous. Besides, Jason needed to learn what it meant to be a halfa. And if Danny liked looking at the man, well, no one else had to know.

[whumpshaped]

would you ever write a vampire with catholic beliefs? Who is struggling between his beliefs and his reality? 🍬🧠🍬🧠 I forgot my zip mouth emoji...Idk where it is...

so originally i wanted to write about isabella, but well, she's not a he, nor is she catholic (she's lutheran). so have this sad wet cat

tw vampire whumper/whumpee? i'm not sure what this man is- death, murder, religious themes, religious trauma, religious guilt, suicidal ideation, (self-imposed) starvation, self-blame, memory loss, abandonment, lady whumpee, noncon drugging, dehumanisation (of self)

It was cold when he awoke. The winter breeze bit into his twitchy body and made him curl up for a moment, but it paled in comparison to the ruthless hunger gnawing at his stomach.

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar scene, but recognising the terrain wasn't necessary for him to follow the scent of blood. It was all he could focus on, torn clothes and the cold long forgotten as he struggled to his feet and began following the trail.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He wanted it. He needed it. He had to have it, no matter the cost.

He didn't have the presence of mind to stop and wonder about his heart that was no longer beating, nor the speed with which he was pursuing his prey. He didn't think about the fact that he could see all too well despite it being the middle of the night, he didn't even consider that normal people didn't usually hunt. Not in a town. Not like this.

He pounced on the man without hesitation. He pumped the body full of venom so he would be silent, then drank and drank and drank until–

"Holy shit," someone said quietly. Then, louder this time, "Holy shit. Vampire! There's a fucking vampire–"

He bolted before he could've heard the end of it. He didn't think about the man he left behind. He ran back to where he'd woken up, collapsing to the ground as soon as he got there. He felt exhausted, he felt... dead. More alive now that he'd had something to drink, but...

He lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest. Nothing. Of course, this should've been more than expected, having drained that poor man dry–

Oh dear. He'd likely killed someone.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't remember a thing from before waking up, but the past few minutes had already thrown him for a loop on their own. He was dead, a dead man walking, and he'd just killed someone. And another human had even seen him do it!

He tried to take a couple of deep breaths to ground himself, but the taste of blood in his mouth negated any effort he put in. He was a monster. He was a murderer. He was going to be hunted and killed.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The scent of blood clung to him like a ghost, and he desperately wished for a warm shower to get it off. Alas, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a discarded coat on the ground. He should at least look through that to see whether he could piece together who he used to be. He didn't even... remember his own name.

And where was his sire? The bloodthirsty monster who turned him into one of them? Had they not even waited for him to wake up? Had they not cared at all about the life they'd ruined?

Touching the coat brought back memories of his last minutes, the way the vampire had slipped it off his shoulders and threw it on the ground. He remembered being dazed and helpless, baring his neck for the demon to feast on. At the time, it seemed like the most important thing in the world, to be able to feed them.

He looked through the pockets and found an ID for Jude Flanagan, born 1998. The picture was... him? He gingerly touched his own face, as though his fingers could ever work as well as a mirror. Was he really the Jude on the card?

He was. His fingers brushed against the cloth of an eye patch, the same one the man on the photo was wearing. More memories flooded his mind: his mother calling him, his father yelling for him from downstairs, the priest scolding him.

Priest?

He found a Bible in the next pocket, a small one. He dropped it out of fear, afraid it would burn his hands like silver, but nothing happened. The book seemed harmless, apart from the implications it brought along.

He used to be a man of God.

"N-no... No, no, no, no. You were supposed to protect me," he choked out, picking up the Bible again. "How could You let this happen? How– how could a vampire– why would You let a vampire..."

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

"I killed a man!" Jude cried. "First You deny me Heaven, and now– the temptation was all I had! I couldn't control it! I didn't see a way out!"

He curled up with the book in hand, sobbing like he was the one to be pitied. Like he was the victim and not the murderer, like he was deserving of any kind of sympathy.

"I didn't see a way," he repeated brokenly. "I didn't... I don't... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Please, forgive me..."

-

Jude never quite managed to get used to the hunger. Nor the isolation.

The abandoned shack he'd found was good for shelter, but it was not a luxury abode, and the little money he managed to scrape together every other evening while disguising himself as a human beggar was not enough for much. The coat had become his most prized possession along with all the treasures it held: the Bible, the rosary, and the wallet with all the documents.

He bought new things, too. Some soap so he could wash himself well enough in the river, some candles to combat the suffocating darkness. Every little thing was precious, bought with the goodwill of humans who didn't care to look too hard at the creature they were giving their change to.

Jude could've charmed them. He could've tricked someone into inviting him inside, and he could've enthralled them to let him stay. He could've lived a more comfortable life, with a soft bed, a clean bathtub, and a belly always full of the warmest blood.

But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to take any of it.

He'd thought about getting a stake and finishing the job his sire had started. He wanted so badly to be put out of his misery, to be greeted with kindness and compassion at the pearly gates before being allowed in — but he didn't deserve that either. His life wasn't his own to take, and nor was his unlife. God would make that decision when He saw fit, and until then, Jude could do nothing but atone.

He took no blood from humans. He lived on the blood of pests and small woodland creatures; roadkill sometimes, when he got lucky. He hated killing anything, but at least it was allowed, or... or he hoped it was.

Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.

God had given the creatures to the humans, not the wretched monsters of the night. He could only hope and pray that his past humanity was something to be taken into consideration.

He was kneeling on the floor with his elbows resting on his borrowed bed, hands clasped together in prayer, when he caught the scent. A human. Was this the night he would finally be purged from the Earth? Or was the human the real owner of his makeshift home?

His stomach rumbled as the scent got stronger and stronger. His mouth was watering despite his best efforts to keep a level head, and he buried his face in the covers, trying to tune it out.

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

Jude was shaking by the time the human reached the door of his temporary dwelling. He stayed on his knees and listened to the sounds of the lock being picked, preparing himself for the blessing that would be his permanent death.

If only he hadn't been starving. If only the human hadn't smelled so good.

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.

He lunged like a wild animal as soon as the door was pushed open. His fangs sank into the poor woman's neck easily, and she let out a groan as the venom took hold. Blood, so much blood, fresh, delicious, rich, so much better than the squirrels and rats–

Jude pulled back with a start, eyes wide with terror. No, no, no, not again, not again. He wiped his mouth and even his tongue with the back of his hand, trying to get rid of the proof of his sin. The woman was still alive, letting out soft sounds of satisfaction as she lay there.

Her neck was still bleeding. He ought to close the wounds.

Jude licked his lips, then took a step backwards. No, he wouldn't lick her. Hadn't he done enough damage? He could– he could find something to bandage her with–

In truth, he didn't trust himself. There was no telling whether he'd have the self-control to stop for a second time, were he to get that close to her neck again.

"Don't you want a little more?" she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I'm still bleeding so much... You don't want to waste it, do you?"

There was a mask covering the lower half of her face, and judging from that and the all black attire, she must've been a hunter. This woman could've staked him. God had given him an out, and he'd let himself be blinded by his selfish hunger.

"I'm s-sorry," Jude stammered, quickly rummaging through all his belogings to find at least a band-aid. "I'll, I'll help you– I'll patch you up, I just need a moment–"

"Can't you lick the wounds closed?" She got to her feet and ventured further into the cabin, grabbing onto the back of his shirt to steady herself and making him flinch. "There's so much blood... Is the flavour not to your liking?"

Jude spun around, and found himself trapped between the wall and his victim. She pulled her mask down and gave him a smile, eyes sparkling with unabashed want.

"You don't want this," he choked out. The smell was so strong. She was so close. She was offering, if only because of the venom, but she was offering nonetheless.

"Oh, but I do. I want it so badly."

Jude stopped breathing entirely, closing his eyes for a moment to think. "What's your name?"

"Pia Gravenor, Master."

"D-don't call me that, please."

"I can call you whatever you want, sir, if you just spare me one more bite..." Jude's eyes snapped open when she grabbed his hand and guided it to the wound, pressing his fingers against her skin slick with blood. "The bleeding isn't stopping anyway..."

He swallowed hard, and her smile widened. She was so desperate for just a bit more venom. He could give that to her, and close the wound after. He could take just one more sip. Just one more.

He was leaning in before he could fully process that he was doing it, lapping up the spilled blood trickling down her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and kept him there, murmuring soft reassurances and pleas for him to bite again.

Please, forgive me. I'm so hungry. I've been hungry for so long.

Let me have a full meal, just this once.

~

link

[adhdbuckley]

god the scene when chris calls buck for help because of eddie’s breakdown, how buck makes sure he shields chris from seeing in the room and his second “eddie?” It’s so scared, he definitely thought he was going to walk into find eddie had attempted suicide.

[hella-amberpricefield]

A Silent Voice (2016)

[ultra-baklan-the-ovosh]

ah yes they’re bringing back that game about sexual frustration 

[thatswhatsushesaid]

more salty commentary about.... salty fandom commentary, but for a fandom i'm not really involved with

ftr this is about the gay-ass (affectionate) vampire show

squinting at some of super vitriolic anti-armand commentary that tumblr's algorithm keeps throwing at me like 'this? you want this one bestie? no? what about this one instead?' when in fact i want none of these takes, actually. "i don't believe a word that comes out of that lying liar's mouth!!" "of course he could have stopped claudia and madeleine's murders, he's the most powerful vampire in the world!!" (uh, i'll come back to that one later. maybe. if i feel like it) "he was onboard the 'let's murder claudia!' train from the very beginning!!!" etc. if you're even peripherally keeping your finger on the pulse of this fandom's discourse, you've probably seen some of this, too.

and... okay. bearing in mind two things:

it's been about 20+ years since i read the original novels, and

the show's relationship to the original novels, as well as the 1994 movie, is both conversational and subversive,

two seasons into this delicious mess, how are we still collectively failing to recognize that the central conceit of amc's retelling is that, intentional or not, all recollection of louis' past is both catharsis (for louis) and performance (for ???)? that all of louis' recollection of his own actions, as well as the actions of the other vampires in his orbit, is filtered through the lens of his own feelings about those vampires in that moment? like this isn't a subtle storytelling device, this is something the show is repeatedly bashing us over the head with again and again and again: louis' reliability as a narrator of his own experiences can't be trusted even when he isn't so consumed with rage that he tries to drain twenty year old daniel molloy dry for the unforgivable crime of /checks my notes, mouthing off at him like a dumbass, or goes into vulgar detail describing to lestat precisely how he is going to kill him, cut his head off, and then feed his decapitated head to lions at the zoo. which, it bears mentioning, is not the version of events that we were presented with during s1, but it is the version of events that louis himself comes to reluctantly believe is the more accurate recollection of the past.

does that make lestat into The Real Victim™️ who did nothing wrong to louis or claudia, ever? please tell me you're not actually asking me this question. be serious.

the point is that louis is right in the thick of feeling his intensely passionate vampire feelings about armand in real time, in the present day, while looking backwards through time at the 77 years they have spent together, and he is questioning everything. justifiably so, for the record! why wouldn't he question the actions and motivations of the supposed love of his life after discovering that such an important memory from his and daniel molloy's shared past was erased from his mind? but seriously, if you have reached this point in the story and your takeaway from the last episode boils down to "THIS TIME louis' recollection of the past is definitely 100% accurate! the rose-tinted glasses are OFF and we can see the TRUTH about you now armand!!!" then i just. i don't know what to say to you. lmfao.

anyway rather than getting into the weeds with anyone actually in the fandom about which of these diva vampire daddies is right, actually, find me hanging out with claudia and madeleine's ashes giving all of them the proverbial finger. because honestly, fuck all these vampires (affectionate).