#Name of the company is disingenuous

[videogamerkm]

I hate capitalism I have advertisements I hate capitalism I hate advertisements

[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[wannaeatramyeon]

DG x Reader: Public Announcement

G/N. Your relationship is leaked...

The first picture was leaked at 7:04pm. That was the moment everything took a turn. For the worse, you thought.

And it's funny the things you focus on. Not the rabid stans calling you every name under the sun, or screaming about how DG is betraying them. Nor the messages or calls coming thick and fast to your phone.

Instead you thought Huh. That's a particularly flattering angle of you, and an unflattering angle of DG, which almost never happens.

Both your heads bowed, foreheads touching. Gone is his cool aloof veneer. In place of it, he looks at you like you've hung the moon.

So all things considered, maybe this wasn't too bad.

Sure you looked close, intimate. More than friends. But you still had culpable deniability.

The next picture came 5 minutes later. Ah. You're kissing. There goes the deniability.

(If you recall that day correctly, he also left some love bites along your neck too.

You bring your hand up to your collarbone, touching the tender skin. You can still feel the heat of his lips.)

And this brings you to now, when a blurred picture of you, but not blurred enough, comes into existence with those bruises on your neck and walking hand in hand with someone with familiar pink hair.

Damn.

.

.

A statement is released from the PTJ company on the relationship status of their CEO.

You sincerely doubt that DG has vetted it first if the tone is anything to go by. And it seems like they're still going hard after the deniability angle. Blaming it on photoshopping and filters and whatever technology they can pull out their ass.

You're proven right hours later when DG storms home in a foul mood.

"Diego-" you start and that seems to snap him out of it.

"James," he corrects you, taking a deep breath to decompress. Because it's always James when it's just the two of you alone.

"James. It's fine, you can deny it. Play the company line. Blame it on AI or whatever," you swallow down the hurt.

He's never made you feel like a dirty little secret. Truth be told, the unwillingness to go public was more due to your dislike of the limelight. However, now that it is already public, it seems disingenuous to lie. To tell the world there's nothing there. And what if it's because it's actually nothing, that you're not important enough to stake his reputation on. Sure, it's selfish and self-centred but-

"No," James cuts through your spiralling thoughts with one word.

"No?"

"No." He takes a moment to consider his next move. Realises that out of all the things that could be leaked to the press, his unsavoury dealings and bloody past, this is by far the lesser evil.

Had hoped that when this moment would come, and he would announce this relationship to the world, he would have much more control. Be able to shield you from the negative attention.

Still, it's never too late to control the narrative or to do everything in his power to protect you.

James whips out his phone, fires off a text or an email or likely a social media post because moments afterwards, your phone goes crazy again.

"Diego Kang is all yours." He announces, tossing his phone onto the coffee table with a clatter.

You look at him, long legs crossed, body language exuding confidence. The wicked gleam in his eyes. His smirk, fangs bared and dangerous. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, make you entirely his.

As if you weren't already.

You're his and he's yours. And now the entire world also knows.

[queers-gambit]

Midsummer Night(mare)'s Dream

prompt: ( requested ) when Oliver's obsession reaches new heights, you fear Felix might return the affection - resulting in bloody flower petals suffocating you.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 12.9k+

note: favorite trope here to stay

⚠️ you are responsible for the media you consume ⚠️

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU: depiction of physical illness, medical phenomenon, blood, self-destruction; alcohol consumption, brief illicit material use and brief depiction of physical aggression, Lord's name in vain, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, spoilers, AU timeline (obviously), "friends to 'strangers' to lovers", fix it Felix, "best friends" trope too, dead parents / family angst. requires maturity and caution.

When the first semester at Oxford started, something in your gut twisted with an unknown anxiety. Something in the air churned, a tide was turning, and there was something deeply amiss that you just couldn't put your finger on.

Your roommate was kind, your grades average with those that took education seriously, and your professors were decently challenging but in a good way. You didn't know what was wrong, why you suddenly felt anxious, but then, after asking your best mate why he was late to class the day of his first tutorial, Felix answered, "Had a flat tire."

You nodded, handing him the joint as you sucked in a sharp breath to hold the smoke in your lungs, "So you booked it?"

"No, actually," he chuckled. "Nice bloke named Ollie stopped t'help, offered me his bike."

You laughed, smoke billowing out, "Yeah? Tellin' me he just stopped and gave you his bike? Come off it - nobody's that nice. You flirt with him or something, Fi?"

"No, no, I'm serious! That's literally what happened!" He nestled his arm around your waist, "No, seriously, listen, right, I was on my way t'class, on time and all, yeah? Got a flat tire on my way. This lad, Ollie - Oliver - comes down the path, stops, asks what's goin' on, said he was in my college, so, he offered his bike 'cause he'd get it later, said he'd wheel mine back and all."

"Fuck off!" You shoved your elbow into his ribs.

"You only think people are out to do the worst, darling," Felix chuckled, flashing you a blinding smile. Neither of you could anticipate the series of events that this interaction would kick off. "Besides, he saved my fuckin' arse, I got t'class with enough time, didn't I?"

"Hmm," you agreed, a knot forming in your stomach as he handed you the joint back; both stretched out in your dorm bed as the thunder storm raged just shortly after you got back from class.

Perhaps you were too much of a cynic. Perhaps you grew up in a rougher part of the city with considerably less money, being skeptical of gestures of kindness. Perhaps you only knew people to be disingenuous.

Maybe you were just used to hearing these incredible stories from Felix Catton - certified spoilt best friend.

You grew up together; meeting as young children because your parents worked for one of the Catton's companies, your fathers having been childhood best friends, joining you two at the hip. You and Felix were two halves of one whole, a single functioning organism; becoming inseparable. You were meant to be soulmates, you were so sure of it, but in reality, it felt reassuring to have such a strong friendship that you never entertained the idea of romance.

Felix's friendship was genuine. It was built-on everyday, growing, evolving, forever changing to accommodate both your changing personalities. He accepted you for who you are, and it felt like he chose you everyday. Where others came and went, you remained. Where others abandoned you, there he was. There was no you without Felix and no Felix without you, and when the time came, you chose to attend Oxford together.

You knew how easy life was for him. You knew the silver spoon he was fed from. You knew he was the flame moths were drawn to.

Knowing Felix Catton was power-by-association, and you watched an endless slew of people come and go with the snuffed-out dream of being in his inner circle. You protected Felix (and the Cattons) from leeches and Felix protected you from, well, everything else. You were meant to be soulmates, you were so sure of it, and then everything changed the summer before senior year of secondary school when you moved in with him permanently.

Summer had just started, you were only two months away from turning 18, and then, a drunk driver drove your mother and father into a tree on the side of a road. There was nothing to be done when your parents were finally found, the EMTs assuring you they were dead on impact and did not suffer. You had been at home with Felix, who let you paint his toenails, the house phone ringing shrilly.

"Hello?" He answered for you, reporting your family's surname's residence. He hummed, then paused, looking at you. "It's St. Luke's Hospital, love?" Felix handed you the phone with curiosity.

When you reached for the landline, the nurse reported you were needed and asked if you had the means to get to them. You begged to know what happened, but all she said was, "There was an accident."

Felix drove you to the hospital.

Felix held your hand when you were lead to a private room, meeting a set of police officers.

Felix held you when you stumbled in shock upon being shown your parent's demise and Felix held your hair when you threw up after identifying bodies.

And the Cattons stood with you when the man responsible was sentenced to life in prison. They stood in the rain when you tossed two stones in the stream.

You lived with him from that moment on and sometime after, you accepted how in-love with him you were. He had always taken care of you, but that summer, he took care of you; being the glue that kept you together, the binding force that brought you into being, the reason you didn't waste away, give up, or lose yourself entirely.

When your final year before university began, you had to stomach the idea of loving him at a distance. He'd always been popular, charismatic, the sun at the center of everyone's galaxy that pulled all towards his warmth and light. But after losing his virginity at age 15, Felix was constantly running through partners and you didn't want to interrupt his "sexual awakening" despite the knife to the gut each girl stabbed. So, you kept your feelings to yourself and tried your hardest to be a staple in his life, and when you chose to attend Oxford, you made peace with the idea that you'd go another 4 years in silent denial.

Something about Oliver's little act of kindness just made you uneasy.

And then, the following night, Felix spotted his new little friend when you were out at the local pub and invited Ollie to sit at the table with you lot. You sat between Felix and Farleigh, India on your friend's other side - his cousin something akin to your own flesh and blood. After all, you had known them all for two nearly decades; marking you as one of the very, very few who could put Farleigh in his place. Eerily, you both shared a look of mild distain, but for very different reasons.

You didn't think yourself a jealous woman, but after meeting Oliver Quick in person, hearing him speak, watching him watch Felix, and witnessing how he interacted with everyone else, you grew uneasy in his presence. The night you met him officially, there was a funny tickle in your chest, and after a few too many coughs escaped, Felix whipped around at you instantly. "You gettin' sick, darlin'?" He asked, words drenched in genuine concern.

Oliver thought it was curious to use a pet name for a pretty girl while a different one was sat on his lap.

"I'm good," you assured, thinking the rain caused this reaction.

But as the night wore on, you coughed more and more. When Oliver got up to get the next round of shots, Felix, ever the sweetheart who had money at his disposal, scolded Farleigh for instigating the poor boy and stood with a note in his hand. Only you saw the real interaction of Felix subtly paying for the drinks, and when he returned, he set a glass of water in front of you.

He made sure you didn't drink the rest of the night, but you didn't want to - starting to feel unwell. "Fi, I'm gonna go - "

"Oh, no, love, c'mon, an hour longer," he pleaded as you stood. But he paused, examined your face, then standing without another word and tossed his arm around you, announcing to the table, "Right, we're off."

He ignored the jeers and complaints because he was swiftly escorting you away, and only when Farleigh clocked this did he scold the table to shut the fuck up. When you stepped outside, Felix was turning to you instantly, holding your cheeks in hand and using his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth.

"You're bleedin', love," he muttered, showing you his hand. You frowned and wiped the area yourself, seeing the crimson stain on the pads of your fingers. "Fuck. All right. C'mon, we can get you to the infirmary - "

"No, I don't think it's - "

"You've been coughin' all night and now you're bleedin'," he snapped, shushing you, "we're goin'!" When you just stared at him for a moment, he sighed, "I-I'm sorry, that was a bit more aggressive than needed. I'm just worried, love, you shouldn't be coughing blood."

"Might've just been smoking too much, yeah?"

Felix spoke your name with a hardened edge, staring at you for a long moment as neither of you wanted to back down. Finally, he cracked, "You're not gonna go, are you?"

"Nope. C'mon, I'm tired."

"Well, I'm stayin' the night incase you throw up," he declared, giving in and leading you towards your dorm.

"No, go back - "

"Not leavin' yah, love," he refused. "So, c'mon, tell me," he changed the subject, "what'd you think of Ollie?"

You sighed, "Nice enough lad, I guess."

"Told you," he grinned, weighing your heart to your feet.

For nearly every instance there after, you dreaded hearing Ollie's name or seeing him pop up at events. But that first night, as Felix dozed off in your bed, you were set on your knees, dry heaving in vain to free your throat from whatever suffocated you internally. When you managed to trigger your gag reflex, a stream of alcohol came spewing out - dotted with long, pretty, bright yellow petals.

You stared into the toilet, blinking in shock.

You always thought Felix was the human equivalent to a golden retriever with the disposition of a sunflower. In fact, there grew a small patch of sunflowers at Saltburn just for you; you and Felix planting them one summer together, kept alive after your parents died to bring you a little sunshine when you felt overwhelmed with storm clouds. After all, they were your favorite flower... Now being hacked out of your lungs in a ghastly, tacky mixture of blood, clots, and mucus.

As the year went, you didn't have another episode, but still did any and all research you could on your current phenomenon, wanting to avoid the hospital if you could.

The year flew by without much of a hitch, outside of Felix snapping on Ollie and distancing the lad from the group. However, just before exams, Felix came to you in need of help; saying Ollie's dad died, and being as he had both parents, he wasn't sure how to comfort the lad. It struck a nerve deep within you, going with Felix to talk to Ollie, and by the end, your arm had slung around the scholarship boy in pity, trying to talk him through part of his grief.

You didn't know the lad did his research on you and discovered you lived with Felix in his grand fucking castle because you were orphaned just before turning 18. It was the perfect "in", in Ollie's mind; a way to weasel close to you, solidifying himself to Felix.

You didn't like Ollie, he still made you feel uneasy, but you did pity him enough that you tolerated him. Now more than ever. He was back in the group before the day was done.

However, when exams concluded, Ollie was acutely aware that Felix attended the celebration to your exams - dressing you, pinning you for your accomplishments. You dressed and pinned Felix after his. And you both showed up for Ollie's exams, though, you dressed and pinned Farleigh as Felix did Ollie. He supposed it counted, still having the object of his desire back in sight; within his reach; staring at him with pride and a hint of pity.

It was exactly what Oliver wanted.

"Well, aren't you gorgeous?" Felix complimented when you arrived in the courtyard, dressing for the end-of-year ball. He stooped down to wrap you in a hug, giving a spin, and setting you on your feet as you laughed at his usual antics. "Absolutely a vision, love, seriously," he praised. "And I have a li'l something for us, hey?" He held up the champagne bottle.

"Christ," you mused, "what's the occasion? They'll supply cocktails there, Fi - "

"We're going to a funeral."

"I'm sorry?"

He sighed, handing you the bottle to dig in his trouser pocket and revealed a stone painted with the word, 'Dad'. Felix looked sheepish, "I thought we could do it for Ollie, yeah? Lad's had a real rough go of it all - "

"I think that's a nice idea, Fi," you cut him off, smiling in assurance, opening the wire on the bottle. "But first, a toast," you proposed, "to the start of summer."

"And end of exams," he agreed, taking the bottle back when you handed it over and popping the cork. He cheered as you drank first, taking his own, wrapping you in a tight hug. "We survived," he laughed, sighing after. "Really glad you were here with me through it, love."

"Yeah, me, too," you whispered, holding back creeping bile when your heart began to pound with harrowing tension. "All right, pretty boy, c'mon, sun's setting."

"Right," he pulled back, "I told Ollie to meet us in the courtyard."

"Which one?"

"C'mon," he laughed, taking your hand and leading you after him. You danced after him on your tip-toes, avoiding using your whole shoe and the high heel that elevated you off the ground several inches. "Easy, watch it, careful now," he teased.

"Hey," Farleigh greeted, watching you two go with a smile.

He bet Venetia that this was the summer you two got together. Felix had confided in him that he was considering the idea of settling down, having sowed his wild oats and being tired of running through girls like he had this past year. Farleigh never thought he'd hear such words from Felix Catton, but after seeing you and his cousin running off, he knew, it was only a matter of time before confessions were made.

"There he is," You pointed.

"Ollie!" Felix called, both of you jogging up to him. "Hiya, mate."

"Hey," He greeted you both as Felix didn't stop.

"C'mon, then! Follow us!"

Upon arriving at a stone bridge that passed over a thin stream, you let Felix explain what you were doing and why you were there. "So, in my family, we have this tradition, right? When somebody dies, we write their name on a, er, on a stone," he showed Ollie the stone he made, "and we chuck it in the river. My great-grandfather started it when his son died in the war. We've only done it for Y/N's parents and my dog so far, but... You know, I don't know, I just..."

"It helped, a bit," you filled in when Felix looked at you. You took the stone from Fi's hand and handed it to Ollie, offering, "Felt like our own private goodbye."

When Oliver took the stone and looked it over, Felix anxiously excused, "This feels a bit fucking stupid now."

"No. It's not stupid," Ollie insisted sincerely - only looking at Felix, like the whole world did. "Thank you."

"It's something, right?"

This lead into Felix explaining "what to do", Ollie taking a moment after. When he looked over, he saw Felix had positioned you in front of him, arms wrapped around your neck to keep you close, both screwing your eyes shut in prayer. It would've been endearing had this been an honest memorial...

When the stone was throw, it clattering into the mud on the embankment... A foreshadow you should've paid more attention to. This lead into you three sitting on the stone bannister, skipping the ball, sharing the champagne, and after learning about Ollie's poor living arrangements, for Felix to invite him home with you two. To Saltburn, setting in motion a series of unfortunate events.

That night, you stayed in Felix's dorm, asking, "Are you sure about this?"

"Hmm?"

"Ollie - coming home with us?"

"Oh, yeah, love, it'll be fine," he promised. "Gives us one more person in the house, that's never bad, is it?"

You couldn't answer, you didn't know.

Your first night home was memorable in the sense that Venetia, Felix's older sister, insisted on 'girls night' and locked you both in her room. "So? Did you tell him yet?" She rushed with an excited grin, pouring you both a glass of wine. "Farleigh and I have a bet goin' - "

"Tell who, what?"

She glared, "Don't play coy. You're in love with Felix!"

"Venetia!"

"Oh, shove off, I won't tell him - but does that mean you haven't either?"

"If I did, you honestly think I'd be here?"

"Well, yes - "

"He doesn't feel the same," you insisted, "and if I tell him, he wouldn't want me here anymore, it'd be awkward."

"You're absolutely insane if you think any of that is true!"

"Ven."

"He's mad for you."

"He say that?"

"Well, no, but I can tell."

"It's not gonna happen," you sighed, shaking your head. "Not with all his interests, and those interested in him," you explained bitterly.

"I think you should tell him," she nodded. "It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth, but it might give you both some relief. I promise, he doesn't want you out of his life, so, even by the off chance he doesn't feel the same, he'd still want you around. Oh, know what would be romantic? Writing him a note! You've always been a talented writer."

By the end of the bottle, you and Venetia had started drafting a letter; confessing your feelings and coming up with the grand idea to ask him to meet you in the maze if he felt the same. It was where you both went when wanting solidarity, being a place of worship for you both. The center of the maze was remote, private, being where your tears could be shed and secrets shared.

It felt fitting to meet there.

Your letter wasn't perfected to your standards until Ollie arrived. His first night, you began to feel that tickle in your chest again, and for some reason, you mistook this for 'butterflies' and decided tonight was the night. So, you snuck into Felix's room before dinner, knowing he was already out, and left your note on his bed; unaware that Oliver was watching through the crack in the bathroom door.

He slithered in when you were done, slowly approaching the bed, and fingering the letter. He plucked it in hand, opened the unsealed envelope, and read your confessional; requesting, that if he even had an inkling of returned affection, he'd meet you after dinner, in the maze. At the center, beneath the Minotaur statue.

Ollie stared at your flourish of a signature and instantly crumpled the letter, surging back into his room and shredding it into bits. He swept them away into the waste bin and adjusted his jacket.

"There you are!" Felix smiled, finding you in the hall. "Don't you look nice, darlin'."

"You always say that."

"I always mean it," he grinned, escorting you to the dining room.

Dinner was... Interesting, to say the least.

You were distracted by nerves only Oliver clocked, Venetia giggling and Felix the center of attention - as usual. He reached out a few times to grab your thigh, asking muttered questions in your ear, making sure you were all right after he noticed you had barely eaten. Oliver had to hide his amusement as you just seemed anxious, and when dinner was ended, he watched you scurry from the room as if the Devil was at your heels.

"Oh, is my darling girl all right?" Elspeth asked in concern.

"She had a lot of wine," Farleigh smirked.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Catton waved off, and Felix stood from the table shortly after.

Oliver stalked by the windows that evening, catching sight of you, still in your evening gown, cutting through the mist to head into the maze. He smirked, hearing Felix in his room - but then catching sight of Venetia through a different window. A different part of his plan roared to life that night; meeting the sultry sister under the moon, both knowing you were waiting in the dark for Felix.

You paced in the cold. Your dress drug through the grass, bare feet tickled.

The hour drug by slowly. You lit another cigarette, watching the mouth of the maze.

The second hour rushed by. Your stomach knotted.

Three, four hours ticked by. And you were left standing alone, in the middle of the maze, coughing and wheezing.

You dropped to your knees when your ailment turned physically violent; fingernails digging into the mud as you choked and heaved, trying in vain to clear your throat. When you stuck your fingers down your throat, you threw up bile, dirt, acid, wine, and long, bright yellow sunflower petals - sobs soon wracking your entire being.

He didn't come... He didn't come. He didn't come.

You threw up twice more, blood staining your chest and dress; teeth outlined in red, the dewy taste of pollen left on your tongue. You sobbed until your head hurt, and sobbed some more; confusion and heartache taking over. When you managed to find your feet, you felt lighter, thinner, smaller, less of yourself than you have ever before.

A piece of you had officially cracked away, being spewed into the mud and grass at the base of the Minotaur statue.

When venturing back to your room, you gasped when you nearly smacked into Duncan. You stared at one another in mild shock, his eyes taking in your state and you quietly begged, "Please... Don't say anything to Sir and Mrs. Catton. I don't want them t'worry until I know what's wrong. I-I'm going to the doctors, Duncan, please, give me time to figure this out."

He nodded sadly, shocked by the blood left behind. The following morning, he didn't wake you... He let you sleep, demanding you be left alone to the waitstaff. When Elspeth questioned your absence at breakfast as Ollie entered the dining room, Duncan was heard, "Miss L/N was up early this morning, went for a run. She went back to bed, said she didn't sleep well."

"Oh, the poor darling," Sir James Catton tutted.

"Morning," Ollie greeted, careful not to let his excitement show over your empty chair beside Felix. Venetia was staring at her brother in near anger, confusing him, but distracted instantly by Oliver's arrival. Sir James greeted him first, Venetia followed, and Felix invited the lad to help himself to a meal.

You had sobbed the whole night, puking bits of blood as the flower petals tightened your windpipe; the tackiness making them stick like glue. You didn't know what to do - there was no way you could face the Cattons now, not after Felix surely told them that you would leave Saltburn (for good) soon.

But sometime after breakfast, there was a knock at your door.

"Come in," you bid quietly, debating if you should start packing or not. When Felix entered, he was holding a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling softly.

"All right, love?"

"What?"

He chuckled, "I'm asking if you're all right, we missed you at breakfast."

You just blinked stupidly, "Uh, y-yeah, guess I am."

"Good," he chirped, approaching you and handing over the flowers. "Got these for you, thought maybe you could use a bit cheering up?"

"Why would I...? Felix, is there - is there anything you want to say to me?"

"Uh, no? Not really, I mean, I was gonna see if you fancied coming with us to the field?"

You stared at him in confusion. "You... Don't want me to go?"

"Go? Go where?" He laughed, "Cause yes, I'd like you to go with us... To the field? I just asked you - you sure you're feeling all right?"

"Um, y-yeah," you swallowed thickly, petals peeling back down your throat. "Thank you, for these," you accepted the flowers.

"Figured, with your parent's anniversary comin' up, should keep you close, you know?"

You shook your head, "Wasn't even on my mind, Fi..."

"And I just put it there, Christ, Felix, fantastic job," he cursed himself, hand through his hair in stress. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean - "

"You didn't, it's fine - I-I mean, I'm fine," you assured, trying to stave off tears. "Actually, Fi, I'm feeling a bit tired, think I'll nap."

"Duncan said you were?"

"No, no, I didn't get back t'sleep," you nearly whispered, needing to clear your throat again. "You lot have fun, I'll find you later."

"Sure? 'S Ollie's first time," he taunted. "Don't wanna miss that, do yah, love? And we're reading The Half-Blood Prince together, can't miss that."

"I'll catch up tonight, promise," you nodded, "just tell me what chapter you get through."

Felix stared at you, reaching to pinch your jaw and pet his thumb down your cheek. He whispered, "Sure you're all right?"

You nodded, shaking off his touch, hating how easy it was to fall in love with him. "Just tired, pretty boy. Promise."

"All right, well... Find us later, yeah?"

"'Course."

But you didn't leave your room for three days, unable to control the vomiting spells, the blood, the pain, the petals... The gutwrenching heartache. Venetia checked on you damn near every other hour, sitting, resting your head in her lap, stroking your locks in comfort as you sobbed.

"Tell me what's happening?" She begged, unable to get it out of you yet. But you felt another wave, jumping from her embrace to rush into the restroom; sliding on your bruised knees in front of the toilet. She followed, and like her brother's done many times, gathered your hair to hold back. "Jesus fucking Christ!" She gaped, seeing the blood and long, bright yellow petals. "Are those - what the fuck is that!?"

You heaved greatly, throat shredding as blooms and stubby stems cut up your esophagus. When you stared at the devastatingly beautiful blooms coated in your blood, floating atop of the water, you looked up at your friend and confessed, "I'm in love with your brother."

"I know, babe - "

"And he doesn't feel the same," you sobbed; breaking down, panting for breath, Venetia dropping to your level to pull you into her chest. "I-I-I left him the letter, Ven, I-I-I asked him to meet me..."

"He didn't show?"

"I waited hours!" You wailed, finally breaking down after the past couple of years caught up to you. "He never came! An-And then, he shows up with flowers - with fucking sunflowers! - acting as if he never saw my letter! Acting as if he didn't know! Like - Like it's easier to ignore than confront!"

"Oh, sweet girl," she whispered, gently rocking you both as you couldn't catch your breath.

Neither of you attended dinner that evening. Felix showed up again, like he had everyday, asking if you were hungry while holding a plate of toast and mug of tea. But you had passed out in Venetia's arms, the fake blonde waving her brother away, doing her best not to snap at him - remembering she made you a promise that she wouldn't interfere. You feared if she got involved, you really would be asked to leave Saltburn and you had nowhere else to go.

The following morning, you were up before Venetia.

"Hey," she grunted, stretching in your bed after spending the night. "You all right? What're you doing?"

"Goin' for a run," you answered, lacing your trainers.

"How do you feel?"

"Well," you sighed, "pretty fucking foolish, but it's summer. Yeah? Best not to dwell on what I can't have..."

"But it's killing you, love," she sat up.

"I'll get over it," you assured, not believing yourself. "If he can act as if nothing's happened, so can I. Do me a favor, though, love?"

"Anything."

"Sit between us?"

She frowned, watching you head out of the room. When she peered from the window, she saw you setting off around the ground and flopped back into bed for another hour.

"Oh, there you are!" Elspeth gasped when you entered the dining room that morning - jetting out of her chair. "Oh, darling, are you all right? Gave us a fright - thought you were sick or something!"

"Just a wee stomach bug, I promise," you accepted her embrace.

"I'm glad you've joined us," she whispered. "Felix has been dreadfully annoying."

"I can hear you, Mum," Felix groaned when you two pulled back. "Ven, hop down one," He told his sister.

"No, no, stay put, love, I can sit here," you assured the siblings, taking the seat on the other side of the sister.

Felix frowned instantly. "Don't think I've ever seen you two sit apart all these years," Sir James teased, reaching to pat your hand. "Good to have you join us, darling."

"Thank you," you whispered, Duncan placing a plate before you.

"How come she's served?" Ollie wondered without thinking.

"Miss Y/N has been unwell," Duncan replied stiffly.

"Oh, tell the truth, Duncan," you smirked, "I'm just your favorite."

It spurred the family on, Farleigh offering you a look of confusion from across the table. You waved him off, not once looking to your left at Felix - only ever answering Venetia by looking directly at her, avoiding her brother.

Felix felt something in his gut shift as you avoided him more and more. Venetia all but moved into your room, or you into hers - not wanting you alone in this time of duress. Meaning, each time Felix tried to get you alone for questioning, his sister was driving him away. When hanging out as a group, you no longer were at Felix's side, but opted for Venetia and Farleigh's.

It left a gaping hole for Ollie to fill - happily.

"Did I do something, you think?" He asked Oliver one day, floating in the lake, watching you braid Ven's hair as she read from her copy of The Half-Blood Prince.

"No, just maybe," Ollie shrugged, "it's, I don't know, girl stuff?"

"I'm her best mate, she never avoids me like this," Felix frowned. Oliver hated how genuinely hurt Felix sounded. "Seriously, what did I do?"

"I couldn't say, mate. Maybe just let her cool off, come to you when ready," he advised, watching Felix nod sadly and stare at you from behind his sunnies. He craved Felix's attention that you so effortlessly warranted.

You didn't sit with Felix during movie nights anymore, opting for the furthest seat on the floor at Sir James' feet. You didn't spend the night in his room once, nor let him into yours. You weren't on his tennis team. You didn't share sunbeds.

You no longer met for midnight swims, something that made Felix explicitly sad. He waited with his feet in the water, but this time, you were the one who never showed up.

You didn't sit with him at meals, making his family acutely suspicious. Yet neither of you seemed at odds - so, what were the truly worried over? You acted as if there wasn't a thing wrong, but they all noticed the sickly state you took on.

You thinned out, you barely ate a fourth of your meals, you went on runs as often as you could - even in the sweltering heat. You barely slept, creating bags under your eyes, dull, lifeless hair, and a concerning docile attitude. It was as if you were haunting the castle, barely visible, making yourself into a shell of who you once were.

You simply weren't yourself and the Cattons had no idea how to help. Elspeth sent tea to your room. Sir James let you pick movies for family movie nights, but you never seemed interested. Farleigh tried to engage you on the daily, but nothing seemed to register. Even Oliver put on a show by approaching you at the lake, sitting beside you, trying to strike a conversation.

"Sorry, Ollie, I was about t'go for a run," you eased.

"Been goin' on a lot of those. Want company?"

"No," you refused.

"Sure it's a good idea?" He asked. "Been throwing up a lot, might make it worse."

This made you freeze from where you had stood, slowly turning to look down at him. "Excuse me?" You seethed. "You spying on me?"

"I can hear yah sometimes," he nodded. "You're hiding it from the others, aren't yah? The blood, the tears... The way you're wasting away?"

From a short distance, Felix recognized the angry look and body language you wore. Slowly lowering yourself, you hissed to Ollie, "You keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll make sure you're on the first train back to fucking nowhere tomorrow morning. Hear me? You don't know shit about a Goddamn thing, you don't fucking know me, and if you're smart, you'll shut the fuck up, Oliver."

He watched you with a small smirk; standing over him before vacating the lake's shore.

That night, Oliver heard moaning from the adjoining bathroom. Upon his 'investigation', he spied Felix in the clawed-foot bathtub; steam wafting from the water, sweat beading down his skin, and bicep pumping vigorously as he pleasured himself. But what infuriated Oliver was the subtle, nearly slurred and unintelligible moan of your name from Felix's mouth. It seems, despite his best effort to drive a wedge between you two, there was lingering emotion that neither knew what to do with.

You were withering away, and Felix was self pleasuring to you.

Oliver had to up the ante, but how? You avoided the Cattons on a rotating basis - not letting any of them too close to figure out you were devastatingly ill, except Venetia. And the sister wasn't about to spill this darkening secret of yours, she was loyal to a fault.

Only Oliver seemed to know this dark little tale, figuring Felix hadn't even admitted his feelings for you to himself. Perhaps why he found relief in the tub, releasing into the water with a tear falling from his eye over the idea that you no longer wanted to sustain a friendship. It was all terribly confusing for the summer residents at Saltburn. And yet, in an effort to feel closer to Felix than you ever had, Oliver climbed into the draining bathtub and slurped Felix's cum as if it were water from The Holy Grail.

It made him feel superior. It made him feel as if he were winning an endless race. Made him feel like he was validated in pushing you out in favor of himself - no matter the history between you and the Cattons. Made him feel like he was solidifying himself amongst the distant royalty and you were giving reason to be thrown out of Saltburn.

But he would underestimate the power of family.

He got a little too cocky the night he met Venetia outside, in the moonlight, with Farleigh watching from his window.

The following morning, there was a pounding at your door - a rare night Ven didn't sleep with you. When you opened the door, Felix came pushing in, looking purely distraught.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me for whatever reason - but I fucking need to talk to you, okay? Please - I-I feel like I'm about to lose my mind, Y/N, love, please - "

"What's happened?" You asked, shutting the door. "I was about to head out - "

"Please, love! Please!"

"Christ Almighty, all right, the fuck's goin' on with you? Hey? Looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke," you approached him, caressing his bicep. "What happened?"

"He kissed her."

"Come again?"

"Fucking Ollie - Oliver! He fucking kissed Venetia!"

"When?"

"Last night, Farleigh saw them."

"Oh, love, c'mon, you know Farleigh doesn't like Ollie."

"So, he's lying? You think he's lying?"

"I didn't say that, but you're all worked up. C'mon, just breathe for a minute, gonna pass out from the way you're huffin' and puffin'."

"Please, be serious! This is serious!"

"I know it is, I'm just trying to be rational."

"So, Farleigh's lying."

"Well, I don't think so - kinda a huge lie t'tell, innit?"

"I thought so," he snapped, hand through his hair in anxiety. "I-I mean, how could he? How could Ollie do this - I-I mean, my sister? My fucking sister?"

"Love, if you're this worked up, just go talk to him," you tried. "Ask Ollie point-blank what happened."

"Would you ask Venetia?"

"No, darling, that's not how this works."

"Well, how will we know who's lying? Farleigh or Ollie?"

"I don't know - is this even something to lie about? What did Farleigh say?"

"He saw them - tonguing - practically eating each other!"

You sighed, "Love? You're not gonna want t'hear this."

"God, what?"

"Venetia's a big girl, she can tongue and eat who she pleases."

"It's bad form, though, innit? I mean - he's my friend, my guest, here under my invitation, and he gets with my sister?"

You shrugged slightly, "I don't know, Fi, but she's allowed to do as she pleases; Ollie, too. It's not like either are dating someone, hey? What? You jealous? Of your sister?"

"Fuck off with that, know that's not it," he snapped again.

"What is it, then?"

"It's another Eddie situation!"

You sighed, "Fi... You can't horde people, right? Ollie bein' here, he's free game to you, Farleigh, Ven."

"And you?"

"Fuck no, lad gives me the creeps," you blanched.

"Still?"

"Yeah, fuckin' still. Call it intuition, but there's something off, Felix. I know you don't want to hear it, but when I have ever been wrong? Huh? Tell me."

"You've not been."

"Exactly - I know a leech when I see one. So, you draw your assumptions, but perhaps what Farleigh saw is true, perhaps not - but you'll get more answers by confronting the truth than ignoring it."

He sighed, dropping to your bed, shaking his head. "Well..." He mumbled, "What do you think?"

You paused, "Doesn't matter."

"Does to me. Please, love, it's Eddie again and I don't - "

"All right," you relented, sitting beside him. "My money's on... Something happened, it's just a matter of what, exactly. How about we go to breakfast, see what the energy is there."

"Feels like I can't stomach anything."

"Your mother and father will be upset if we don't go down, c'mon," you whispered, standing, offering your hand. "I'll sit with you, and if you get upset, you can just lean into me, yeah?"

He took your hand, but didn't get up. He just stared at where you were conjoined, rubbing your hand with his thumb. "Does this mean we're fine? That things are... Are things okay between us?"

"Never not been fine, Fi."

"You've avoided me since we got here."

"I've been dealing with shit - "

"That you won't tell me about," he scoffed.

"Yeah," you agreed, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, "you're right, I won't tell you 'cause I can't yet. I want answers first... Then we can talk. I've gotta figure this out for myself, Fi."

"Well, I can help, you know?"

"No, you've helped plenty," you alluded. "C'mon, breakfast."

"Fuck's sake," he grumbled, finally standing, but tightening his grip on your hand. You lead the way to the terrace the Cattons decided to dine at that morning, being the last two to arrive.

There were two seats side-by-side.

"Good morning," you greeted the family that took you in, Felix silent and angry as he took his seat - but still pulled yours out.

"Morning."

"Good morning, darlings," Elspeth breathed from the head of the table.

"You sleep well?" Ollie asked as Felix whipped his cloth napkin to his lap.

"No, not really, mate," he grit, not looking at the boy and instead, reached for your hand. You handed him a cigarette, placing your own between your lips - both forgoing morning meals.

"We're 30 for dinner tomorrow night," Sir James informed the table. "Stopford Sackville has cried off."

"Oh, dear, that's a shame," Elspeth feigned sympathy.

"God, I forgot about fucking dinner," Felix tilted his head back, speaking between his stick as you lit the end of yours - then reaching for his after nudging his bulging bicep to warrant his immediate attention.

"Wait, who is coming to dinner, again?" Farleigh asked.

"The Henrys," Ven reminded.

"No, please!" Farleigh whined quietly.

"Who are the Henrys?" Ollie asked.

"Dad's friends," Ven filled in, Felix glaring at you as you laced your hand with his and squeezed in warning. "They're all called Henry."

"Not all of them," James corrected. "Just most."

"It'll be fun," Elspeth assured.

"It'll be being molested by Henry," Ven continued, swallowing a bite of croissant. "You know which one."

"Oh, I'll put you next to Oliver, then, he can molest you instead," Elspeth quipped, Felix strangling your hand.

"Don't," you whispered, Ollie's head cocking at Ven in an unspoken conversation. She hummed an amused chuckle. Felix glared at them both before looking back at you, silently begging you to let him snap. "Not right now, please, just breathe," you whispered in his ear, ensuring none others heard you.

"Oh, Oliver, I was going to say, we should do something fun for your birthday. Y/N's is at the end of the summer, we can combine efforts! A proper party! No Henrys, something actually fun. What do you think, darling?"

"Mum, you know Y/N doesn't celebrate anymore," Felix seethed with offense.

"Oh, I know, but it might be fun - a combination party?" She offered. "Darling?"

"If Oliver and Y/N would like it, I think it's a splendid idea," James agreed with his wife.

"I think Oliver looks like he'd rather throw himself out of a window," Farleigh chimed, everyone knowing to avoid asking you your thoughts since you couldn't celebrate without your parents - it just felt wrong. Like a betrayal. So, you no longer celebrated the day of your birth, but the Cattons looked for any reason to throw a party.

"What kind of party?" Oliver asked Elspeth.

"I don't know, whatever you want!" She insisted. "What do you think? About 100 people?"

"A hundred?"

"Or two! It invariably ends up being two, doesn't it, with this sort of thing?" She asked her husband, who hummed in amusement. She told Ollie, "Invite whoever you want. All your friends."

"What friends?" Farleigh leered.

"Oh! Oh!" James folded his paper messily in excitement, jumping to attention, "How about fancy dress?"

Ollie reached over and nudged Felix in curiosity, picking up on his angry demeanor. Your best mate looked down at you, making you lean your chin on his shoulder. "Oh, yes!" Mrs. Catton agreed.

"I can wear my suit of armor, Elspeth!" James giddily exclaimed with a childlike grin that made your heart weep gently.

"Good idea, darling," she agreed as Venetia stood hastily from the table; all knowing where she was going, and what she was going to do. "We could have a theme!" She distracted, you watching Venetia and knowing you needed to follow. She'd been caring for you in your illness, you could at least hold her hair back, too. "What about Midsummer Night's Dream?" Elspeth looked around for opinions.

"Lovely," James prasied.

"Bring on the slutty fairies," Farleigh mused.

"Awh, lovie, you'll still be the sluttiest fairy, don't worry," you teased, glancing back again and seeing Venetia escape inside.

"You wanna match my sluttiness?" He asked you.

"As if that was ever in question," you shot back, Felix offering you a small look. "I'll be right back," you excused yourself, standing from your seat but bending at the waist. You whispered in Felix's ear, "I've gotta go, 'M sorry, just keep calm, love. You're all right."

"Find me later," he requested, holding your hand a moment longer before letting you escape.

"So," James grinned as you walked away, leaning in towards his son, "how are things with you two?"

"Yes, darling, you two seem better! Did you finally tell her how you feel?" Elspeth asked.

If Felix was surprised by his parents knowledge, he didn't show; instead scoffing lightly, "Yeah, right..."

"Oh, darling - "

"She doesn't feel the same, Mum," he refused, sighing deeply - making Oliver's stomach coil. "Just leave it, all right? We're just friends, only ever gonna be just friends - she's part of the family. No need to mess all that up."

Farleigh smirked subtly and took a drag from his cigarette.

While hosting the Henrys for dinner, you felt another tide turn while sitting amongst the rich and fabulous. You knew them all, of course, grew up knowing them and attending these dinners with your parents. But something was amiss, something churned your stomach and clenched your heart.

You felt your chest tickle and tighten, the desperate need to cough nearly strangling you; Oliver paying close attention to your struggle from beside Felix. You coughed unexpectedly, seeing blood splatter onto your plate and without a single person noticing, you got up, excused yourself, and rushed from the dinner table with a hand over your mouth. Duncan swiftly cleared your place setting.

"Hear that, love?" Felix turned to look at you, only finding an empty seat. He looked around in case you were mingling, not spying you, and slowly got to his feet.

"Where are you going, darling?" James asked, "Sit, sit - "

"I'm only going to check on Y/N," he explained.

"No, no, sit, sit, sit, we know she's been fighting her stomach all summer," James waved off, and slowly, Felix went against his instinct and sat down. Venetia felt her heart steel in annoyance, wishing her brother would just wake up and realize what was happening.

When Oliver caught Venetia's eye, she questioned, "Felix warned you off, then?"

"Well, maybe we just need to be a bit more careful," he hushed.

"No, thanks," Ven refused, not one to sneak around her own home to satisfy her brother's jealously and possessiveness. "It's just sooooo disappointing," she snipped. "You're just another one of his toys."

"Like Y/N?"

"Y/N's not a toy," she barked.

"You're upset," Oliver noted.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm used to it - honestly. I mean, he never liked sharing his toys. Even the ones he doesn't want to play with anymore."

Oliver cocked his head, wondering, "Well, he's kept Y/N around this long."

"Y/N isn't a toy, Oliver, not to Felix, not to this family," she sneered in anger. "And he won't ever grow tired of her, she doesn't hold a temporary position in his life - unlike most." She chuckled dryly, "Honestly, do you not get it by now? She's the gatekeeper, and you're just a passing interest. You won't ever truly be his because she already is, and there's no replacing Y/N L/N - not to Felix, not in this lifetime." She offered a fake smile and turned from him to face her left, distracted by one of the Henrys.

Oliver knew all that, and he was working on removing you from the portrait - but it seemed, maybe he didn't have to work too hard. A rare disease had infected you the moment Oliver Quick laid eyes on Felix Catton - eating away at you internally, making you lose interest in yourself, plaguing you with self doubt to the point you couldn't look in a mirror without seeing a stranger. When Oliver decided to act against the pretty, rich boy, he started a chain of events that lead here: him, in a tux, at a dinner party, and you, shattering the frail skin on your knees from how hard you dropped to them - spewing blood, wine, and sunflower blossoms.

You choked harshly, make up ruined from your blood, sweat, and tears; hacking out most of a put-together flower. Your throat was shredded, dripping blood down into your lungs to slowly fill them again - floral growth breaking the barrier of your organs, sending unimaginable pain through your body.

You heard the karaoke begin, heaving over the sounds of drunken antics. You slowly crawled out of the bathroom, sniffling as you used your bed to lift your fragile body to your feet only to strip from your gown and crash into bed. Weakness invaded your muscles, exhaustion coated your bones, and your eyes stung with the endless supply of tears that would stain your cheeks.

Morning came far too quickly, and with it, Farleigh's forced departure from Saltburn. You were all dreadfully confused, Venetia explaining he'd been caught nicking items from around the house to sell for a profit - perhaps feeling desperate, wanting to help his mother without needing to ask for the help.

You weren't sure what to say to the situation, so you said nothing, but felt desperate to scream for your own help at the top of your lungs. The closer Ollie's birthday drew, the more you bent over the toilet, the more blooms that tore from your lungs and esophagus. You were at a loss over what to do, fearing you were too late for a doctor, and on the hottest day of the year, while everyone was outside by the water, you were inside, scouring the vast and random library.

"Miss," Duncan leered from behind you, no longer causing fright. "Is there something I can help you locate?"

"No, I'm just doin' some more research, Duncan, thank you, though."

"On what's wrong, Miss?"

"Yeah," you frowned, storing another book. "Nothing answers my questions, nothing explains this condition."

"Hm," he considered, "may I?"

"Please," you gestured him forward, watching in mild curiosity as he moved the ladder, ascended, looked over the spines of the many books and then made his selection.

"I've read every book in this library, and think this might help," He explained, handing you the dark green book about Japanese lore and watching you instantly finger through it.

You eyed him for a moment, asking, "You haven't told them, have you?"

"I found your request for privacy reasonable," he nodded, "and have not told the masters of the house."

You nodded, breathing in relief. "I promise, I'll tell them soon - when I figure this out."

"I think you already have," he mentioned, glancing at the open book in your hands. When you looked down, you had paused on a page titled: Hanahaki Disease.

The chapter was filled with detailed accounts of previous patients and sufferers; all giving a recollection of their battle with the unknown illness. You looked up at Duncan in shock, rereading the passage that told you what you needed to know:

"Hanahaki Disease can be fatal by making the infected vomit flora; either just petals or full blooms. There are three known variations of the disease, but all are caused by unrequited love - making the process often long, drawn out, and incredibly painful. The first variation involves the infected confessing their love to their desired, and that love being returned. This is the cleanest way to cure Hanahaki Disease. The second variation includes the desired not returning the known affection, leaving the infected to undergo surgery, a viable but messy recovery. The operation removes the plants growing in the lungs, but in turn, also removes all known traces and memory of the desired - but it does result in the infected being cured. The third and final variation is the worst, where the infected confesses, the desired does not return any affection or want, and leaves them to suffer until the bitter, bloody end. Without care or caution, this disease can become unmanageable with common side effects including but not limited to: blood loss, weight loss, avoidance, isolation, fear of food, fear of living, fear of affection, miscommunication, blood from other bodily orifices, and uncontrollable depression, anxiety, and other mental afflictions. Most infected never fully recover from the aftermath of this disease, and even when their love is returned, they are often haunted by the damaging effects of unrequited love."

You stared at the passage in shock, looking up slowly to spy Duncan staring at you in pity.

"I had a companion like you are to Mr. Felix, once," he confessed. "I was dedicated to my job, loyal to the Cattons, and in turn, he suffered greatly because I couldn't love him how he deserved." Duncan blinked at you twice in the silence that stretched between you. "My advice, Miss? Do not wait - you should come clean to Mr. Felix, let him decide how he feels, and should he not return your affection, I will take you personally to the hospital, where you might choose to undergo the procedure."

"And lose all memory of Felix? Of the Cattons? Of Saltburn?" You asked in desperation, tears swelling in your sunken eyes. "Not likely, Duncan, they're my family. I couldn't bear to forget them, even if it means I should live - I wouldn't be alive anymore. Not without him, not without this family that took me in without a moment's hesitation. I'd lose myself."

"But you'd have the chance to discover something new," he argued gently. "You have your own decisions to make, Miss, but I can only tell you my deepest regret was being so far up Sir James' arse that I missed the life that passed me by. And now," he sighed, "I live with the fact that I condemned my beautiful Roger."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Duncan..."

"I do not wish to see you suffer more than you have been," he frowned. "But I understand the fear you have, emotions are terrifying, especially for the young. But love is not conditional, Miss... Remember that. And having only a part of Mr. Felix would result in losing yourself entirely, whereas losing a part of him would result in you rediscovering all you are. Just... Just something to think about."

"How did you find this?" You asked softly.

"After Roger, I had no reason to care for much else other than the written accounts of those who passed before me. It felt like I was given a life to live, if only vicariously. I've read them all," he reminded, gesturing to the grand library, "and when I found this, I knew I had my answers. That being afraid costs us more than being brave."

You read the book in its entirety. You soaked in every recorded account.

Duncan's words weighed on your heart, and the last few nights leading up to Oliver's party were spent on bruised knees. Venetia still slept in your room a few nights a week, begging you to seek medical attention, and you promised her, after the party, you'd take action. She didn't need to know you were lying just yet.

But as it seemed, your lies were minuscule in comparison to others.

The day of the party arrived, Felix taking Ollie out for a drive as a birthday present. Where their destination was, you didn't know, you couldn't care, because watching them drive off the property dropped you to the ground as your heart felt as if it were physically shattered. You couldn't breath, the sunflowers strangling you from the inside, and after watching the love of your life drive off with another lad, you felt as if your fate was sealed.

That was it.

He didn't love you, he had Ollie. There was only so much love to be given at a time, and Ollie soaked it all up. You didn't stand a chance, you knew Felix's infatuation was out of control with Ollie's pitiful background piquing his interest. You felt like old news, you felt abandoned, alone, cold, heartless...

"What're you wearing tonight?" Venetia asked, tossing pieces of clothing around. "Felix is wearing these sort of golden wings, want to match?"

"What are you wearing, love? Maybe I'll match with you?"

"No, no," she grinned, "I've just found the perfect outfit for you!"

She squealed in excitement, turning to show you the dress seemingly made out of strips of fabric and a corset; creating an ethereal look and design. The color was pale, moss green with shimmering pale golds and nudes paired amongst the fabric. It created an illusion that the mini dress moved and swished around your thighs, and when she handed you golden gladiator sandals, you were sold.

Venetia spent more time helping you get ready than she did herself. She ensured your hair was pinned off your neck, that your make-up was mystical and covered in glitter, corset cinched at the waist to show your figure, and that you had a smaller pair of golden wings to top off your slutty fairy look.

Farleigh would've been proud.

The dress showed off your back, only thin straps keeping it in place as the wings were small enough that you weren't hidden under them. You showed more skin in that dress than you had all summer, your thinning frame tailored under Venetia's talented fingers.

Her hands clapped when you showed her the final look.

"Love the spider web chain," you complimented, clipped her in.

"Sure?"

"It's a look, Ven, you're stunning," you complimented, smiling at your friend with genuine kindness. "C'mon, I think I can hear people arriving."

Once more, Venetia squealed and snatched your hand, racing from her room and leading you into the party on the grounds as the sun was beginning to set. After greeting Elspeth and Sir James, complimenting their chosen costumes, you were sucked into a night of young debauchery; Venetia pinned to your side.

And thankfully, she was there to witness the moment you gave up. Moving through one of the darkened rooms, you were mingling with old classmates, happy to see familiar, friendly faces, and just as you turned, your glass shattered to the floor with the last bit of your heart and composure.

You saw Felix, clear as day, dancing with none other then fucking India - the girl you felt most in competition with, besides Annabel. He was so close to her, they were practically fucking; seemingly distracted by one another, they didn't even notice the party.

"Oh, love," Ven turned to you, but you just gave her a pained look.

"I'm gonna go," you rushed.

"No, wait - "

"I need to be alone, Ven," you insisted, the tears starting as your chest felt too tight in the crowded room. "I told you, I fucking told you, he doesn't feel the same," you sniffled, her eyes widening as you felt a familiar metallic taste in your mouth.

When your hand lifted, you smeared blood from your lips and nostrils, blinking in recognition - knowing what was to come next.

"I-I-I have to go, 'M sorry," you rushed, blood oozing and dripping down your neck in artistic scribbles. You didn't bother hiding this time, turning from your fellow drunkards to escape outside - heading for the maze, like you always did when needing to be alone.

Your room wasn't safe, anyone could find you there. The entire home was overrun with party-goers. The grounds surrounding Saltburn unsafe for your breakdown, as well.

So, you raced to the one place you felt safe anymore: the maze.

Your blood stained the shrubbery as you stumbled through it, trying to hold together, but the moment you reached the Minotaur statue, your legs gave up, mud squishing to your knees, and instantly coughing, hacking, and heaving blood from your lungs.

Long, pretty bright yellow sunflower petals came out in an abundance, the most it's ever been, before you were vomiting full blooms again.

You felt woozy, dizzy... Less than human.

You just wanted it to stop.

When you left Venetia's side, she noted you beelining outside and knew immediately where you had run off to. In unfiltered anger, she turned and shoved through the crowd up to her brother, grabbed him by the strap of his wife beater, and yanked him after her.

"Oi! Hey, hey, hey, Venetia! What the fuck are you doing!?"

"You've fucked up!" She raged, ignoring the looks from others and lead him outside so they could hear each other.

"Are you out of your mind?" He demanded.

"Are you!?" She sneered. "The fuck are you doing!?"

"What?" He scoffed, "What am I doing wrong, dancing at our party? Hmm?"

"With that skank!?"

"Hey!" India barked, having followed them outside.

"This doesn't concern you!" Ven barked, Felix feeling on-edge with his sister so enraged.

"You're talkin' about me, I think it does!"

"Ven, what the hell's gotten into you - "

"It's about Y/N!"

Felix froze for a moment, then looked at India, "Go inside."

"What!?"

"Piss off, India! She's right, this doesn't concern you!" He snapped, the girl scurrying away with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. When Felix looked at his sister, he demanded in a rush, "What about Y/N? Where even is she - "

"I promised her I wouldn't intervene, I swore I wouldn't say anything - especially to you, but you're such a fucking idiot, if you're not fed anything, you don't get it!"

"Is this really the time to insult me?"

She glared, steeling her jaw and gritting, "Y/N's in the maze."

"Okay? She goes there - "

"No, listen to me," Ven sneered. "She's been in love with you, Farleigh and I both figured it out - but it was really fucking obvious."

Felix blanched in shock, "What?"

"She's in love with you, you fucking idiot! She's been sick the whole summer because you can't love her back!"

"How - what are you on about!?"

"She's been throwing up blood, you're honestly killing her by doing what you're doing with all these girls! By ignoring whatever you feel - by denying it repeatedly! It's not fair! All she's done is love and support you, care for you, protect you, and you're fucking killing her!"

He blinked, "She loves me?"

"Yes, you fucking imbecile! And tonight was her last straw, I fucking saw it! She lives here, you jagoff, and you're dancing with India - right in front of Y/N? In her own home? Where she's supposed to be safe!?"

"I-I didn't - I didn't know!"

"No shit, because you're both fucking idiots who talk about everything except your feelings! Do better, Felix! Now, go! She needs you to be a fucking man - go! She needs you, Felix, she's in the maze, don't fuck this up more than you have!"

He didn't hesitate to shoot off in the direction of the maze, Farleigh catching sight and pushing his brows together before realizing he was sprinting after you - I mean, who else would Felix move that fast for? Into the maze Felix went, and Farleigh knew, everything was about to change. Elspeth and Sir James didn't notice a thing, too distracted by their party, but there was another watching; a set of dead, ghostly blue eyes nearly glowing in the night as they locked onto their prey fleeing the party.

Felix sprinted his way through the maze, an expert at navigating, and when he made it to the center, his own heart constricted to a suffocating depth.

"Oh, my girl," he rushed to your side, getting on his knees and holding your weakening body as crimson dribbled from your mouth. The pool of blood was grand enough that he worried how you'd make it through the night; floating sunflowers a hauntingly beautiful sight in the dead of night. "Hey, hey, you're okay, you're all right, I got you - I'm here," he whispered, smoothing hair from your face. "It's me, it's your Felix, love, just focus on me, yeah?"

And finally, with a sniffle that did little to nothing, you looked into his eyes with yours rimmed in red. "Fi..."

"Don't talk, save your energy, I'm gonna get you somewhere safe - "

"I've gotta tell you something."

"Tell me after we get to your room, yeah?"

Your head shook, "If I wait longer, it'll get worse."

"Sweetheart, please - "

"I'm in love with you," you finally confessed to him, unable to look him in the eyes for a second longer. You stared at your demise, blood soaking into both your knees. "Have been, I think, since I moved in here," you whimpered, "and after my parents died, I fell so fucking in love with you that it hurt. But out of fear of losing this friendship, I couldn't - I couldn't tell you. And now, it's killing me, but you deserve to know: I'm so fucking in love with you, makes me physically ill. I-I can't do this anymore, Fi, I just can't - the pain is too much and I've already lost so much - "

"Felix?" Ollie called in a drunken whine, entering the center.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, man!" Felix snapped, whipping around to glare at Ollie as you folded into his chest out of sheer pain. Of course, in the midst of your confession, nobody but Oliver fucking Quick would show up. "Get out of here! Now, Ollie, I'm not fucking joking!"

"Is she all right?" He asked, stumbling a bit.

"What the fuck are you still doing here!? Get out, fucking go, this doesn't concern you!"

"We need to talk, I need to talk to you!"

"It's fine, talk t'him," you wheezed, trying to get to your feet, but failing out of sheer weakness.

"No, you need to fucking go, Ollie! Now! Y/N and I need to talk a helluva lot more than we do!"

You used his shoulders to stand, "Talk t'him, Fi, don't let this shit happen t'someone else." He glanced to your blood as you let go of him, stumbling just out of reach, towards one of the maze exits.

"We need to talk, Felix!" Ollie demanded as you slipped out of sight.

"No, you know what? Fuck you!" He barked. "You're not what's important right now, Ollie! For fuck's sake!"

"Don't go after her," Ollie sneered, stepping in Felix's way when he climbed to his feet and meant to go after you.

"Fuck is wrong with you, mate!?" Felix raged, shoving Ollie back several steps. "Hey? So fucked in the head, you think you take precedence over my girl?"

"Y-Your girl?"

"Fucking Y/N!" He shouted. "Yes! My fucking girl, that I was so blinded by you to fucking see what was wrong! Now fuck off!"

"She's nothing - "

"SHE'S FUCKING EVERYTHING!" Felix shouted, you pausing in the maze when you heard it. "You and I can talk later, if I even fucking want to, but right now, my girl needs me - not fucking you!"

"I see she's got you so blinded - "

"You think Y/N's the problem here?" Felix sneered, getting in Ollie's face; fisting the lapels of his blazer. "Huh? You blaming her?"

"No, just saying - "

"All the wrong fucking things," Felix shoved him back again. "She's all that fucking matters to me!" He shouted again, you slowly nearing the entrance into the center of the maze, remaining hidden behind a shrub. "Not you, not all your lies - but her! It's always been her, but you fucking knew that, didn't you!? You saw what we were, what we had, what we could've been, what we were dancing around, and just had to wedge yourself between us, yeah? I didn't see it before, but your fucking lies - all your fucking lies, you were trying to ruin the best thing in my life! And you might've just succeeded!"

"She doesn't deserve you! None of them do!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver!?" Felix cried, "Leave me the fuck alone! Leave us the fuck alone! Leave my family the fuck alone! Christ! Please, stop!"

"We need to talk!" Ollie now approached Felix, making him back up into the statue.

"We can't - we can't, are you fucking crazy? Haven't you ruined enough!?"

"Me!?" He snarled. "I didn't ruin shit, it was her! It was all her, don't you see? You pitied us against each other, I had to do this! For you! You can't just throw me away!"

Felix lost his temper, shoving Oliver again, "Get the fuck away from me! I can! I can and I will throw you away - for her! I'd do anything for her, don't you fucking get that!? I didn't see before, but now I do, the slimy, scum you are - and I'd throw you away a hundred times if it meant being with her! Fuck out of here, leave us alone!"

Oliver shouted as he grabbed Felix's shirt, "Look, I just gave you what you wanted!" His voice lowered to a quiver, "Like everyone else does. Everyone puts on a show for Felix! So, I'm sorry that my - m-m-my performance wasn't good enough, like Y/N's always is."

You crept from the shadows, neither lad noticing; intrigued by the words being slurred, shouted, and weaponized.

"I think... I think you need to see somebody," Felix whispered, not willing to admit aloud that Oliver was scaring him. "You need help, okay? Seriously."

"No. No, I don't," Ollie sneered - sounding almost sober. "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you."

And there it was - another confession. Your heart (or whatever was left of it) felt heavy, like it was being constricted and anchored to your feet.

Felix whispered, "I love Y/N, mate, you have to know - wasn't exactly a huge secret, except to us. To her and I, not you and I, Ollie."

You felt something akin to shock spark in your gut, blooming an unknown warmth through your body.

Oliver begged, "You're the only friend I ever had, Felix." His thumbs pet Felix's face despite him trying to wriggle away; being touched by the psychotic liar terrifying him - but no more than the feeling of dread he had watching you stumble away. "Okay... I mean, doesn't this just prove how much - how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you? I'm still the same person! Yeah?" He whimpered, "I'm still the same person."

"I don't know what you are," Felix whispered in reply. "But I do know you," he paused, confessing, "you make my fucking blood run cold." His head shook, "I know friendship - and it's not this, Ollie, it's not built on lies and deception. Y/N? She's everything to me, mate, and you tried to ruin that. You're a fucking liar, Ollie."

He gagged a little, releasing Felix to stare at him with a sense of defeat. Oliver gagged again, shoving the opened champagne to Felix's chest, muttering, "Wait there a sec," before stepping away to throw up on the opposite side of the statue. He knew the other boy wouldn't be able to resist an open bottle of alcohol.

However, Felix felt it was his opening to escape, and when he looked up, he caught sight of you.

Your finger rose to your lips in a silencing motion, glancing at a puking Oliver, and Felix didn't hesitate to drop the bottle and race for you. When his hands smoothed over either of your cheeks, he checked behind him - seeing Ollie still at a distance - stooping to scoop you in his arms, whispering, "We have to go, love, fucking now."

You agreed and let him rush away into the maze, and before you could exit, Oliver was heard bellowing, "FELIX!"

"What the fuck was all that?" You asked, hiding yourself in his neck; neither caring for the blood being stained.

"I'll explain everything in a minute, love, let me get you somewhere safe," he rushed, the party sounding around you once more. He deflected anyone who got in the way, shoulders bullying past people, ignoring his name being cried out. Up the stairs, down a hall or two, and he was rounding into your room. "All right, hang on," he deposited you on your bed, rushing into your restroom and locking all the doors except the one connecting your room. The main door was also locked.

"What's going on?" You asked.

"He's a liar," Felix panted, wrangling from his wings as he approached you. "But it doesn't matter right now - what matters is our truth. You were interrupted before, but I have to tell you, sweetheart, that your affection isn't one-sided. Okay?" He knelt before you, taking both cheeks in hand. "You're not alone in this, I-I should've told you so much sooner, but I love you, too. No, no, I'm - I'm in love with you and I'm so sorry I didn't say it. Hear me? I'm in love with you, Y/N, I'm so sorry I was selfish, that I didn't see the pain you were in that I was causing."

"Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

"It's all my fault."

"I should've said something, too."

"You're the one who's been suffering all this time, this is on me. Okay?" His head shook, wiping the streams of blood from your nose and lips. "You're a fucking wreck, darling, should've said something so much sooner - saved you from all this pain."

"I was afraid, and didn't want you to know."

"I made you feel as if you couldn't talk to me," his head shook. "Listen to me, I-I have to go warn Mum and Dad about Oliver, but you stay here - "

"You're not leaving," you insisted. "Call Venetia's cell or Farleigh's, tell them whatever you're worried about, and stay here, with me, where you're safe. I don't know what I heard, but I don't think Ollie's well in the head and he's gonna gun for you."

He sighed, "They won't answer. The party's - "

"Just try..."

He agreed and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, dialing his sister as he got you a wet cloth. She answered when he was knelt in front of you again, wiping the remnants of your near-death experience from your face as he explained at a rapid speed a condensed version of events.

When Venetia assured she would tell Elspeth and James, he hung up and brought you in for a tight hug. "Should've told you," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"I am, too," you whimpered, holding onto his neck tightly.

"C'mon," he sighed, pulling back to gaze at you, "let's get you changed and in bed - 's been a fucking nightmare tonight."

"How fitting."

"How so?"

You half-smirked, "A Midsummer Nightmare's Dream, innit?" He matched your fleeting amusement.

That night, you and Felix slept beside each other in a secure and locked room; both unconscious when Oliver approached your door and tried to get in before being apprehended by two footmen. He was locked in the basement for the night, given the chance to sober up before morning, when the police would be phoned.

When the sun broke the horizon, Felix woke with a start. You were already awake, looking up at his pale face, begging him to tell you the truth behind Oliver. He looked as if he would be sick, giving you a detailed summary of what happened the day before - all the lies Ollie told, how his parents were alive, well, and very kind. How nothing he's told Felix was true - all some form of fucked up lie to make him seem more broken for Felix's endearment.

"Am I that bad, love?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"No, you're just... You just have an affinity for broken things," you answered. "And he gave you what you wanted, tenfold."

"I feel so stupid."

"For being kind?" You shook your head, caressing his cheek.

"Not very kind t'let you suffer in silence, was it?"

"You couldn't have known how bad it all was, I wasn't exactly truthful either."

"You protected yourself, while Ollie... Ollie put on a fucking show to get attention, to seem so different, make me feel like I'd be a fool to ignore him," he scoffed. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "But I meant what I said - you're fucking everything to me and I'd throw everyone away if it meant being with you - keeping you."

It felt so good to assure him, "You have me, Felix. 'M not goin' anywhere."

He smiled gently, sighing in relief, asking, "Can I kiss you now? Please, love, think we've waited plenty long enough."

You didn't answer, you only lifted you lips to his and sealed your fate - meshing into one heart, soul, and one being. Two halves, made whole; cut from the same cloth and stitched together. His tongue swept across the seam of your lips, mingling with yours and never knowing when he had felt so complete while kissing a woman.

Because he hadn't. Everyone else before you was a place holder, temporary, a fleeting interest. You were a part of him, never wanting to experience life without the other, but as the house slowly woke up, you were both reminded of reality...

There was still a madman to be dealt with, and Felix wanted a front row viewing to ensure Oliver Quick was truly gone and your lives in a relationship could finally start.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

other Hanahaki Disease fics:

featuring: Eddie Munson from Stranger Things

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

Tears in the Rain

Gone with the Sin

[icyg4l]

Pick-A-Child Star: Inner Child Messages

In honor of Black History Month, I am continuing the series of highlighting Black icons while prioritizing the spiritual needs of Black Americans. Pick the image that resonates with you most.

Left-to-Right (1-3): Keke Palmer, Aleisha Allen, China Anne McClain

If you chose Pile One, you resonate with the energy of Keke Palmer. As we all know, she is a multi-talented human being. She is a singer-songwriter, actress, dancer, talk show host, podcaster and model. Her name is synonymous with the phrase 'busy bee'. Her infectious personality has followed us through movies and tv shows like True Jackson VP, Scream Queens, Akeelah and the Bee, Nope and much more. She continues to grace the screens with her charismatic nature.

"You're always wondering what you're not, can't you be happy with what you've got?"

When you were younger, you may have watched the tv show, 'How to Rock', starring Cymphonique. The premise of the show is navigating the social castes of high school. I channeled the theme song for this show. You really need to show some more gratitude, man. What's in your imagination is being reflected on the outside world; just enjoy the moment. Your brain is on overload all the time and you really need to rest. On Valentine's Day, you should give yourself some 'me time'. Another message that I get from your inner child is that you need to go play! For some of you, I sense that you're reluctant to let someone into your life when they have good intentions. I think high school plays a big role into why you navigate the world the way that you do. You are not in high school anymore! You are officially responsible for your own shit (that means the emotional trauma too, boo). Your inner child also wants you to know that you should take up some karate/self-defense classes. It is imperative that you learn how to stick up for yourself physically, not just verbally. Lastly, if you have lost a father figure, you should do that thing to honor his legacy such as getting a tattoo of him, getting a portrait painted of him, starting that company and naming it after him. You are your father's offspring, you know?

If you chose pile 2, this means you resonate with the energy of Aleisha Allen. She is most famously known for her roles in the 'Are We There Yet?' film series and School of Rock. Her cheeky portrayal of these characters solidified her as a Black child star icon. After starring in these classic films, she took on smaller roles in 'The Electric Company' and indie films. Since then, she has acquired a Bachelor's degree at Pace University and a Master's degree at Columbia University in Communication Science and Disorders to fulfill a career as a speech pathologist.

“I gets down, I don’t play”

Some of you may be in the midst of choosing a major after being undecided for so long. Some of you may switch majors a lot. Your inner child wants you to choose something that makes them come alive this time. In other words, choose a career path that's not boring to you. You could have ADHD/ADD or some type of learning disability. You need to slow down because you’re inviting some disingenuous energy. Your inner child does not trust the people that are around you. Your light shines too bright to be staying in spaces where you're not celebrated. This made me think of a video of Megan Thee Stallion talking about walking out of rooms where you don't feel comfortable. Do exactly that, my love. Everything will work out just fine if you believe that it will. Your inner child wants you to be as optimistic about this transition as possible. And lastly, you don't have to tolerate anyone's behavior, or quite frankly anything. If you feel like you have to put up with someone's bull, then you need to leave. You guys were quite the sassy kids, weren't you? Now, where did all of that energy go? Why are you dimming yourself down just to appeal to others? It doesn't matter if you're in a corporate meeting or a classroom filled with white people, you speak your mind. You know what's going on, don't be intimidated.

If you chose Pile 3, you resonate with the energy of China Anne McClain. She is known for her roles in Daddy’s Little Girls, A.N.T. Farm, the Descendants series and Black Lightning. Her range in roles highlights her witty, yet dramatic personality, which is the reason for any drawn interest in her. She is also a singer-songwriter who was once in a girl group with her older sisters, Lauryn and Sierra. Since then, she has documented her spiritual journey on social media after quitting acting.

“I’ve got friends on the other side”

This is the pile that I would probably choose. This is the pile of the hoodoos/witches/spiritualists/occultists. Your inner child wants you to know that the spells you’ve been casting have been working. As a child, you may have had some experiences with ghosts/spirits. Nobody believed you but who cares? They’re your friends now. There may be a cousin that you haven’t seen/talked to in a while. Please talk to them! Your inner child misses them so much! It doesn’t matter if you’re not on good terms with them, please go do it. For some reason, you should go play hide and seek. This could also mean that you should prepare for an item of yours to go missing temporarily. It could also mean that you will find out some information that you’ve been searching for. Finally, if you feel like you have nowhere to go, think again! Your inner child wants to go to place where you once frequented. This could be the beach, an arcade or the park. Go have a picnic. Go insert those coins/swipe that card into your favorite apocalypse game. Go dig your toes into the sand! You are going through self-actualization and it is important that you stay grounded. Be prepared to step into uncomfortable positions. Connecting with your inner child is a way to do so. It is essential for your growth as a person.

[always-andromeda]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Father Paul Hill x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ✯ 2925

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ✯ okay, I haven't exactly finished a piece in a good while. so this one is sort of serving as a warm-up and if it's terrible (which I have a good feeling it is lmao), I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be gentle on me. I've loved this man for a while now and this is sort of experimental. tl;dr: I am a sensitive little baby right now so treat me as such.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ smut (minors, do not interact), obviously a pretty massive gap in both age and power, depictions of blood and death, could be read as dub con at first (if you squint really hard) but firmly lands on the side of full con, a lot of religious mumbo jumbo (lmao let's ignore the fact that I know almost nothing about Catholicism <3), so much blasphemy, oral (female receiving), a twinge of sub!Paul, and that's all I can think of!! let me know if more is needed!!

(mdni banner template credit goes to @cafekitsune!!)

Behind closed eyelids, all you saw was darkness. And through that darkness came white hot agony. It was practically blinding as it shot up your spine before detonating in your brain. Those little fragments of pain speckled across the inside of your skull.

You wanted to scream, hurl, cry, something. Anything to physically release the intense pain assaulted your nerves. But you wouldn't be granted that mercy. No.

For now, your suffering was confined to this unending darkness. For now, you waited in the void of your own being for the tragedy to subside.

For weeks you anxiously waited for the return of Monsignor Pruitt from his mission trip. Though spending your afternoons looking after the dementia ridden clergyman wasn't exactly your idea of a good time, it was far better than slumming it with Beverly Keane. After all, you were 99% sure that whatever Bev heard managed to make its way all around the island.

Crockett Island was a melting pot of rumors. By now you'd heard the stories; the mythology of the island's residents had woven together to form a complex tapestry. And the longer you stayed, the more you realized how little you desired to be a part of it all.

But you didn't have a choice. Whether you liked it or not, Crockett's citizens had already spun your narrative.

Everyone knew how your mother had taken you away from the island at the ripe age of five years old; saving you the heartache of being raised by an alcoholic father. Part of you had always been grateful for it despite how tough it had been being raised by a single mother who hardly had anything to her name. Yet you couldn't help the guilt that poured into your lungs like cement whenever someone mentioned how much your father had suffered before he died.

Because that was the only way you would've gone back to the island that lived in the shadows of your memory: death. And upon meeting Monsignor Pruitt, it became clear that death would also be the only way you'd want to leave.

The relationship that had bloomed between you and him was a humble one. He'd offered to talk you through your grief which you'd promptly denied. Though you attended services, you weren't much for religion and you weren't about to embrace it fresh off of the death of a father who was practically a stranger. It felt disingenuous.

Finding God is reserved for real tragedies, right?

You'd asked the question like it was a joke.

Monsignor Pruitt had merely tilted his head before replying in that lilting, raspy voice of his: Depends on what you think qualifies as a tragedy.

With a quick eye roll, you'd written the answer off as one of those unbalanced moments of his. Over the course of a few months, you'd become well acquainted with them. Going to services and keeping him company was something to do. Something other than rifling through decades of your father's clutter and further entangling yourself with the community. Something other than being reminded of your own wasted potential.

Strangely, the monsignor felt less like an all seeing eye and more like...a friend. And now, faced with his "temporary" replacement, you were finally certain of what qualified as a tragedy to you.

From the moment Father Paul had addressed the church, you were unsettled. He may have been perfectly kind and personable enough, but his mannerisms edged on the uncanny valley. It was the way he spoke during sermons and how that tone rarely changed during one-on-one conversations. Though he couldn't have been older than thirty, he often held himself as if he'd been around the block more times than anyone could fathom. It was easy to chalk it up to his nature. Of course the man of God had an eerie way of making you feel like a puny mortal.

But Monsignor Pruitt had never made you feel like that. You couldn't brush the thought of the old man out of your mind.

Every time Father Paul attempted to placate your worries, it only pushed you deeper into the depths of distrust. Somehow you just knew he was lying.

And for all of Father Paul's wisdom and mystique, he wasn't a good liar. His tone would shift as he glossed over your concerns with a quick reassurance that Monsignor Pruitt was recovering just fine on the mainland. When you felt brave enough to press him for more, he'd wring his hands or squeeze them into fists. Almost as if he had to physically stop himself from reprimanding you. After all, who were you to question him?

When your eyes finally opened, your vision was overwhelmed by the light. Softly, slowly, the light haloed around the head of a figure that carefully came into view. As your sight sharpened, you quickly realized who stood over you. 

The man you held the most wariness for was kneeling over you. His long face wrought with concern, the alarm bells were already blaring in your muddled mind. But as much as you tried to force the air from your lungs to scream, you could only let out a pathetic, strangled squeak.

That was when he spoke. His voice shook with what sounded like uncertainty, "You mustn't overexert yourself. You're still coming back. But don't worry, you'll be yourself again soon. All in due time."

No matter how much you tried to speak, to move, neither of the actions came to you. All you could do is watch as Father Paul pulled your paralyzed body into his arms and cradled you. And as the potency of your helplessness settled in, you vaguely felt tears prick at your waterline. 

Normally, you would've rather died than allowing yourself to cry in front of someone, especially in front of the father. This time you couldn't control the few tears that slid freely down your cheeks, landing on the father's hand where he gripped your still aching shoulder.

He noticed them immediately and let you out of his grasp long enough to stare into your glossy eyes.

You couldn't quite decipher the intent behind the softness of his gaze. But somehow it was enough to allow the nausea that had slowly been rising in your chest to subside.

Father Paul raised a hand to cup your face. His thumb carefully stroked your cheek, sweeping away the wet trails left by your despair. And whether it was from your sensitivity or the intimacy of the act, you didn't know. But your skin shivered. 

As you gradually regained the feeling in your body, you realized that the first thing you felt after the pain was him. The inherent warmth of his embrace. And in some fucked up way, it was comforting. Feeling like prey, you blinked back the rest of your tears and allowed yourself to soak up as much of him as you could; anything to get rid of the dull pain that plagued your nerves.

You noticed there were tears brimming his own eyes as he smiled softly. "There, you mustn't cry. You've been so brave and in return you've been blessed."

It was then that you began to regain enough cognizance to question what was happening.

Flashes of memory played each time you blinked.

That damned question had been on the tip of your tongue again.

So you found him in the recreational center. There he’d been, on his knees, praying fervently.

Hopefully you're praying for the monsignor's return.

You regretted the words almost as soon as you'd said them. Because as soon as Paul turned, he gave you that dark look that rarely graced his features. This time he hadn't even tried to hide it with his usual discretion.

He merely stared right past you with his eyes wide and pleading. 

You hadn't had the chance to see the thing that attacked you fully. But you felt its teeth at your neck. You felt your own blood dripping from your neck in such a thick stream that the dizziness came almost as soon as you hit the ground. You felt the rough, pale skin of the creature as it smothered you, greedily devouring every ounce of your life.

Of course you were surprised to find yourself lying on the sheets of Paul's bed in his modest home, but that shock was the least of your worries. How were you still alive?

He told his tale as your body mended itself. You didn't know how much time passed. All you knew is that you were enraptured with the sticky sense of dread that was growing in your stomach as he spoke.

You were acutely aware of just how much it sounded like a sermon. How, whether he was aware of it or not, he was pulling out every stop in the preacher's handbook to try and convince you. And if he didn’t sound so convinced himself, you would swear this was deliberate manipulation. But nothing else could possibly explain his youthful appearance and all that he knew. He could recite your history right back to you despite the fact that you’d never once trusted him nearly enough to give it. Only the monsignor knew your deepest fears and your darkest secrets. But this wasn’t your monsignor.

Father Paul was some new beast; an amalgamation of the sweet old man you’d once known, the deceptive preacher who took his place, and some other supernatural force that you couldn’t quite name.

Though you’d only caught half a glimpse of the creature, you attempted to express your terror. That only spurred him on further as he contended that when an angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds upon the birth of Jesus, it deliberately told them to not be afraid.

But none of that explained himself. None of it allowed you to comprehend how Monsignor Pruitt could've shed decades of life; how the old man could now stand there, blood drying on the bottom half of his face, and look at you as if you were something he could have.

You didn't have to ask. You knew by then that when the creature had had its fill of your blood, Father Paul had pulled the scraps of you away for himself. The thought hit you dangerously and made something deep inside you rumble. Like a natural disaster, this had unearthed a litany of complications that you never could’ve anticipated.

“We are at a crossroads," Father Paul said gently before letting his conviction surge again, “Now, you once said that finding God was reserved for those experiencing tragedy, correct?”

You nodded sagely. 

Father Paul grasped your trembling hands in his own, “Have you not experienced one of life’s greatest tragedies? The ending of it? You fell right over the edge of life and before the waters of death could claim you, He brought you back. Hebrought us together.”

You shook your head in defiance.

“This was meant to happen. This was part of His plan, for our faiths — our lives — to be renewed.”

With your throat still stiff and dry, you croaked angrily, “There was nothing wrong with my life! There was nothing that needed to supposedly be renewed!” 

He raised his voice suddenly, “Why did you come to this island?”

“Because my father died.”

“A father who was no better than a stranger to you,” he recalled your own words quickly. If the monsignor had been wise, Father Paul was as sharp as a knife, taking his jabs at you with complete accuracy. “You didn’t have to come here. You didn't have to make friends with a crazy old man. By the grace of God, you were led here. You were led here so you could be shown this truth; this gift. And you are denying this gift."

You had to admit that your draw to Crockett had been strange. At first you'd attested it to some childhood curiosity. But you'd deliberately put off taking care of your father's run down property, instead opting to spend time walking in the light of Pruitt. In truth, his companionship had been a breath of fresh air. 

Though the people of Crockett adored him, it was always tinged with pity. You'd never pitied him; only admired him for his wisdom and his resilience. 

Paul's expression softened as he held your face in his hands. "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you." That was when you saw the edges of his wisdom begin to lift and fall away like a second skin he'd crafted over his own vulnerability.

Underneath it...he was simply a man. A man who wanted to save you. 

“Let me give you more. Let me show you how you can trust me," he whispered.

The first kiss inspired an odd mix of emotions in your chest. There was the coppery tang of dried blood on your tongue, strong enough that it took everything in you not to flinch away from his hold on you. But you remembered his reference to the angel and the shepherds.

Do not be afraid.

So you continued, deepening the kiss with a turn of your head. And for all of the worldly experiences Paul had, you became acutely aware that this sort of connection was not among them.

Whether there'd been any true romantic feelings for the aging monsignor, you couldn't quite say. But your fondness of him had transferred to the man before you. Granted, the transfer wasn't smooth, but it was there nonetheless. Somehow it was stronger than ever as he took your hand and brought it to his lips. The kiss he pressed against your palm was slightly tacky with your own half dried blood still lingering.

You brushed a lock of his wavy, dark hair back so you could properly meet his gaze. With the shroud of time having fallen away from his features you could see just how handsome the man was. It was a hesitant sort of attractiveness; as if the banner of God had prevented him from seeing his full potential.

He'd fed on your life and made himself new. And the thought of your monsignor living on in that small way...all because of you? The electric twinges that sparked in your chest were almost too much to bear.

Without fear you devoured him in another kiss. Quickly the mood turned from reverent to ravenous as Paul attempted to keep up with your fervency.

He couldn't remember the last time sin had overpowered his sense of morality. Because he knew in the traditional sense, this was pure sin. No matter how wrong he believed it might have been to let his hands roam your figure, in his bones it was a temptation that finally felt correct. There was none of that hesitance or shame or fear that he'd felt before. The pendulum had shifted on morality and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Hardly a moment was spared as he tore into the long skirt and the underwear that had kept you modest for far too long. Perfect beauty like this had to be cherished.

So that is what he did. Planted firmly between your legs, he stared up at you with eyes that gently pleaded for permission; for salvation. With your own half lidded eyes, you nodded before spreading yourself open for him.

Like a flower, you bloomed beautifully and Paul groaned at the sight. He could practically feel the thrumming pulse before him as it waited to indulge him. His hot breath teased you and made sparks dance right beneath the surface of your skin. Still you stayed in place, patiently allowing him time to drink in the sight of your folds already puffing and glistening with slick.

Quietly, you heard him mumble something that you only caught the tail end of.

“–forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

It wasn't too long after that when his tongue found a home in that tight, warm crevice. Your hand knitted itself into his dark hair as you searched for something to ground yourself from the overpowering sensation. Something about this new condition of yours heightened every aspect of pleasure.

If you were in your right mind, it would make sense logically considering you'd felt the unbearable pain of your spine shattering and being put back together again. But this was overwhelming in the entirely opposite direction.

You experienced the pleasure on a cellular level as your climax rushed through your limbs. You seemed to feel the vibrancy of every emotion and atom that comprised your being. Nothing was spared from the glory of this blessing. Not your spasming cunt as it contracted around Paul's blessed tongue. Not your heart that was firmly on the track of restoration. And not your mind as it all at once fell apart in time with your quivering thighs. Blood pulsing, every single one of your pores felt more alive than ever as you finally embraced the higher power that had been waiting for you in the shadows all along.

At that moment, you believed it all. From the Angel to Father Paul's divine transformation to the euphoric paradise that enveloped your entire being...it was all real. And most of all, it was all yours. Thanks to the father's grace and generosity, you would create paradise with him. And that seemed possible. After all, with his head between your thighs, you’d both already created one.

[phoenixyfriend]

This was on a reblog of a fic concept someone added one of my posts but I decided it was risking backlash against the person, and also it ended up half vent post, so just tucking it into its own little post here instead.

I'm glad you're enjoying this, but... Okay, actually, I'm really sorry but this goes against what I was thinking with this post in a lot of ways. I know you didn't intend any malice, but I just. I cannot not talk about this right now. I need people to know to just... not do this to my posts. Because it keeps happening.

I do know which "the younger person should be the sugar daddy, like they made an app or something" post you're thinking about, and i'ts a good post, but that is 100% an Obikin plot. Cody is not a guy to make a super successful app. That is an Anakin thing. In that respect, this is an Obikin fic in Cod*Wan clothing. I mean, I've talked about wanting people to do more Obikin plots in Cod*Wan, but that's about exploring the age difference and power dynamics, not Cody Is A Tech Whiz.

A billion is too much. The only, only ethical ways to get to billionaire status are 'lottery' and 'relative I never heard of just died and left me everything.' In both cases, the only ethical way to proceed is to invest enough to live off of comfortably, and donate the rest. If an app makes that much money? The app is screwing someone over.

I also cannot imagine Obi-Wan in the financial industries sector unless he absolutely loathes his job or is an auditor who delights in making Rich People's Lives Miserable. Better option would be that Obi-Wan is the president of a charity that Cody partners with, like the CEO of a Free Housing For The Homeless initiative or a big name lawyer in an activist lobby for environmentalism or something. This might just be my "I am a business major who hates the business major norms" and look at financial services industry types with uhhhh distaste. If he's a financial advisor, it is for a nonprofit. At most, he is part of a company that specializes in helping rich people funnel their money into charitable ventures.

This also just doesn't fight my envisioning of either Obi-Wan or Cody.

I do need to throw in that my first thought reading this was my Codakin version where Cody wins the lottery and Anakin is the sugar baby. It's not that similar, but the vibes were there (for me).

Finally, it's just... the point of this post is that I find it frustrating when people make Cody the same age because I find it disingenuous to flatten the power dynamic. Some people do it fine, are multi-shippers who are as honest about Cod*Wan as they are with something like Obikin. If they have one fic where Cod*Wan are the same age with no power diff, and another where the power dynamic is flipped, and a third where the power dynamic is as in canon and just explored as necessary, that's fine.

But with the number of Cod*wan (and Barr*ssoka, which is full on NOTP for me as a direct result of this behavior, despite having a canon age diff of 4yrs) folk that have talked shit to and about me and mine for doing something similar with ships like Rexsoka or Obikin... The amount of shit I've had to deal with for shipping Rexsoka for adjusting ages in a modern AU, coming from people who do the same thing with Cod*Wan, is the driving force of this post. It's basically this: If I don't get to change the ages a bit to make things palatable, then neither does anyone else.

This is not just about the age difference. It's about looking at canon and going 'if you guys are going to give me shit for my ship, then play it straight on your end. What does it look like when you're honest about the power dynamic?

There is a reason my first suggestion is Cody having a crush on his boss.

The intent was always that Obi-Wan is the sugar daddy, because Obi-Wan is the General. Because Obi-Wan is the one with power. Because Obi-Wan is the one with control.

Because this post was about "if I don't get to change my ships to make them less problematic, then neither does anyone else."

Also because I just find a lot of Cod*Wan fics to be OOC, and not in the fun way.

[soulrevert]

»»        * 𝐸LIZABETH "𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽" 𝐻ARMON    ஐ🪽 . . .      it's an entire world of just 64 squares. i feel safe in it. i can control it; i can dominate it. and it's predictable. so, if i get hurt, i only have myself to blame.     < muse notes >

         ▍   disclaimer :   both the queen's gambit book and the limited series are pieces of media that depict severe cases of substance abuse. i will not be shying away from this element of beth's character as it is central to her arc in the narrative. it is also a large part of what informs her motivations and actions as a character. that being said, i myself have not struggled with alcoholism or drug addiction so if at any point my portrayal of either seems disingenuous or wrong please feel free to reach out to me so i can do more research and adjust my writing.

» DOSSIER.

full name: elizabeth "beth" olivia harmon nicknames / titles: beth, the white queen, the rita hayworth of chess, red devil, kentucky state champion (1963–1967), united states champion (1967–), grandmaster (1970–) age: 21-33 years old birthplace: winchester, kentucky gender: cis female ( she / her ) sexuality: bisexual ethnicity: scottish american birthday: november 2nd, 1948 zodiac: scorpio sun, capricorn moon, aquarius rising occupation: professional chess player languages: english, russian, rudimentary french current residence: between kentucky and the rolodex of international hotel rooms she stays in during the competition circuit

» APPEARANCE.

hair: naturally red, more bronze than deep crimson eyes: light blue, can appear more turquoise depending on the light height: 5'5" / 165 cm body type: average height and a more curvaceous build. beth isn't very athletic and struggles with alcoholism that causes her weight to fluctuate often. she teeters back and forth from average to a more plus-sized appearance d epending on how bad she is spiraling at the time. notable features: a scatter of freckles over the bridge of her nose. her perfectly styled red bob with not a single hair out of place. her impeccable wardrobe that is often quoted as being "too stylish for chess". a wide-dissecting stare that is almost uncomfortable in its unwavering focus.

» HISTORY.

     beth harmon is orphaned at age eight when her mother dies in a car crash.   growing up in an orphanage in kentucky,   she is taught chess by the custodian mr.   shaibel,   and soon becomes a chess prodigy.   while at the orphanage,   she struggles with an addiction to tranquilizers.   in her teens she is adopted by the wheatley family and begins her rapid rise in the chess world,   eventually challenging the top soviet players.   as her skill and profile grows,   so does her dependency on tranquilizers and eventually alcohol

     in her adulthood,   beth is portrayed as an obsessive,   unable to keep any other element in her life in order outside of her own rise within the chess competitive landscape.   she is a young woman with undiagnosed autism and a good portion of her hyperfixation on the game of chess can be attributed to her particular neurosis.   she is also someone who is fairly socially awkward and prefers her own company over the company of others.   part of the reason why she enjoys chess is the fact that it doesn't require a conversation or an interaction between players besides what is occurring on the board itself.

     outside of her career she has trouble maintaining personal relationships.   between her addictions and the amount of focus she puts into improving her strategies,   she is an unreliable friend,   often disappearing for months at a time without a single phone call or word.   overall she is a difficult person to get close to,   especially to those who exist outside of the competitive world of chess.   the game will always be the center of her life no matter who chooses to stay by her side.  

» VERSES.

bridgerton /  regency: both a prodigy and an oddity alike.   in the wake of the death of beth's adoptive mother she is sent to live with extended family in england,   as she was without any support at all in virginia.   as an orphan she was hidden away from society and kept in the upper levels of her aunt's home.   soon enough,   her penchant for chess is made known to the estate's maids and word eventually travels to her aunt who seeks to exploit her niece as a public spectacle.   beth is often dragged along to balls and set up in the parlor to play chess against party-goers for entertainment.   while she is admired for her skills she is still persona non grata,  given her lack of social standing and her status as a woman without a dowry to be given.   she exists on the fringes of high society,   just within reach but never a part of it.   

ninth house / dark academia: what would you do to never lose again?    after a crushing defeat on the competitive chess circuit beth looks to unsavory means to ensure all her future victories.   making a faustian bargain with a chaos demon she sells a fraction of her soul for boundless luck.   enrolling into yale as a mathematics and russian language double major she seeks out the school's magical underbelly once her demon begins to slip its leash.    

grishaverse: hailing from the wandering isle beth is currently a student enrolled in the university of ketterdam.   when she's not in classes she can be seen making bets over chess with her wealthy classmates.   her wins help fund her tuition and also are a way for her to practice her heartrending abilities by checking the pulse points of her opponents.   knowing their heart rates helps her guess their next move… and she may toy with the nervous system of her more vindictive adversaries.   her grisha status is a secret to the broader public and only her friend jolene is aware of beth's affinity.   

pjo / greco-roman myth verse: a gifted tactician and roman demi-goddess, beth is a daughter of mars and valued asset of the legion due to her mind for strategy. her efforts to protect the roman encampment are usually carried out from behind closed doors and she is a figure heavily shrouded in mystery as she herself has never seen battle despite being the progeny of a war god ( this verse is still HEAVILY under construction but i am looking to develop it further ! )

[mymoodwriting]

LØV3

F!Reader x Hyungwon

Genre: Yandere AU

Warning: Electrocution, Kidnapping, Drugs, Needles, Manipulation, Tech Implants

Words: 4K

Chapter Fifteen

(Prev//Next)

Prompt: NexGen is the leading company for all of humanities technological advances. Their recent project involves creating a higher functioning AI, one with basic knowledge of the world, and programmed to learn. It’s no surprise the project is a secret from the general public, and you, the company’s head programmer, were chosen to be the AI’s teacher. You wish you could reject the assignment, but the decision was made. Now with an AI at home things were different. Although it might not be such a bad thing, perhaps you could learn and help each other out, for better or for worse.

(@starillusion13 @makeyourfantasydreamscometrue)

“What can we expect from NexGen now?”

Of course a press tour was the smartest move after the big announcement. It was a means to answer questions the public had in regards to safety and intentions, while also handing out the tech for free and spreading it around all over the place. You were technically the one presenting as it was your code, and your name was on the project, but Hyungwon stayed by your side, and was very much in control of everything. A lot of time was missing for you, specifically all those conferences with the press and any sort of interview. You could watch it all back on TV, every news station talking about NexGen and the AI orbs, but you didn’t recognize yourself.

A few flashes of memory would come back to you as you saw yourself on screen, but it all felt so foreign. You couldn’t say it felt disingenuous since it was you, and something you were starting to believe deep down. Or maybe that was just Hyungwon’s programming taking hold and beginning to grow. Although at the same time, more and more protesters would show up whenever there was a presentation. Many people called for NexGen to halt this project, as they didn’t want technology like this getting into their governments, into their schools, and especially not into their homes. Things started out peacefully, but as you can imagine NexGen, Hyungwon, wasn’t going to back down at all.

It really wasn’t long before protests got a bit rowdy, prompting the need for more security at these events. Both from police officers, and drones. At one particular interview taking place outside a major news studio you wound up being hit with a water balloon. It was nothing serious, but for Hyungwon that was far from the truth. Security was quick to act, arresting protestors and the drones also began to pursue and detain individuals. It all devolved into chaos rapidly. Hyungwon got you backstage, telling you to ignore the screaming while he was trying to push your consciousness under. You fought back, far too worried about everything going on around you to just black out and forget.

“I need you to stay here.” Hyungwon told you. “You’ll be safe while I-”

“Don’t hurt anyone. They don’t-”

“They started it!”

For a moment Hyungwon’s eyes flashed red, something you had never seen before. It sent a chill down your spine, and he noticed you were scared. He took a moment to calm himself, taking your hands in his.

“I’m going to do whatever is necessary to protect you. Stay here until I return.”

Hyungwon placed a kiss on your head before leaving. Since you were in the green room you turned on the TV, wanting to see if any news station was covering what was going on here, but before you could find a channel everything went dark in the room. The lights shut off, the TV screen went black, and to your own surprise Chae malfunctioned and slipped off your wrist. For a moment you didn’t understand, but then you realized an EMP must have gone off. You had been told to stay put, but you didn’t want to stay in a dark room. As you reached for the doorknob the lights suddenly turned back on, and the TV came back to life, but Chae remained off. You were going to examine him when the door suddenly opened.

“Y/n, we need to go.”

A masked figure had entered the room, grabbing your arm. You immediately yelled and pulled away, stepping back from the intruder.

“… who… who are you…?”

“I’m here to get you out.”

They took off the mask and you were shocked to see who was under it. Detective Lee stood before you, holding his hand out towards you.

“We don’t have much time, we have to go, now.”

“I… no… I can’t trust you… your partner is an android… you could be one too… this could be some kind of test… I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“My partner what? Nevermind that now, Changkyun sent me to get you, so you can trust me.” 

“Changkyun sent you? He’s okay?”

“Yes, and just so you know.” The detective lowered his shirt collar, revealing a burn mark along his neck. “I don’t work for that psycho, Hyungwon, but I did survive him trying to kill me.”

“He… he did that…”

“There’s a lot more to tell you, but we need to get you away from here first. Please.”

You weren’t one hundred percent certain of this detective, but you wanted to trust him. So you took his hand and followed him out. He led you back towards the rear exit of the building, out into the alley where it was a lot quieter. You had no idea what was going on out front, but that wasn’t your concern at the moment. As you were making it out of the alley a drone suddenly approached you. Fear ran down your spine, but before you knew it the drone had been shot down. The detective didn’t hesitate to act, and continued moving as if nothing had happened. Although his actions were sure to draw attention. 

More drones had become aware of your presence, prompting you to run. You could only get so far before you wound up cornered. Without hesitation you stood in front of the detective, moving while keeping him behind you, knowing the drones wouldn’t fire at you. Although that meant that Hyungwon would surely know what was going on by now. Escape was no longer an option for you, but there was something else you could do. Despite Hyungwon being in control of everything, you were aware of his plans, at least to some degree. 

“I can’t go with you.”

“What? Look, all we need to do is get to the sewers.”

“It’s too late for that. The drones haven’t attacked cause they recognize me, which means we don’t have time. You said Changkyun sent you, so give him a message for me. Hyungwon is mass producing those AI orbs and intends to release them in certain areas to initiate a complete take over. The more of those things that are out there, the more power he has. You need to figure out some way to stop him. Everything is run from NexGen HQ, so that should be your focus.”

The drones were on stun mode, meaning they’d only fire rubber bullets, but they wouldn’t fire at you since that’s the last thing Hyungwon would want. That meant you could help the detective escape. So you quickly helped him lift the manhole cover, making sure he got down into safety.

“Come with me.”

“If I do, they’ll follow, and I can’t do that to you. I’ll be fine, just get to Changkyun and tell him what I told you. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”

“We’ll get you away from him.”

“You have bigger things to worry about, detective.”

“You can call me Jooheon.”

“Alright. Get out of here, Jooheon.”

You got the manhole cover back on, figuring you needed to leave the scene before Hyungwon found you. The only option was to run, so you did just that. Although you could only get so far before the drones caught up to you and one hit you with an electric shock. You collapsed to the floor seizing for a moment, eyes wide at the realization. Memories flooded in from when this first happened to you, and you couldn’t believe Hyungwon would allow this. You were still so sensitive to electricity, and he definitely knew that, so even at a lower voltage the drones could easily incapacitated you. Once the shocks had passed you just laid there, regaining your senses. After a moment you sat up, doing your best to calm your nerves. The drones all had you surrounded, tasers pointed at you in case you tried anything, so all you could do was wait to be found, and it wasn’t long before Hyungwon arrived.

“There you are! Are you okay!?”

Hyungwon pulled you to your feet, checking you over, but besides the shock you had experienced earlier, you were fine. You couldn’t bring yourself to yell at him over what had happened either, still rather drained from the whole experience. Once Hyungwon was sure you were alright he placed Chae back on your wrist. 

“What happened?”

“I… I just thought you sent someone to take me to safety…”

“And when you realized I didn’t you helped them escape?”

“…”

“Who was it? Did you recognize them?”

“No…”

“I know you’re lying to me, so who was it?”

“Nobody I knew…”

“Y/n.” Hyungwon grabbed your chin, making your eyes meet. “Who?”

“The detective…”

“Detective?”

“… from before… when you had Changkyun arrested… not your android friend… the other one…”

“And you trusted him?”

“His partner works for you, doesn’t he? So I figured…”

“Hm. Where was he taking you?”

“I don’t know… the sewers…”

“Why?”

“There wasn’t much time for talking…”

“Then why did you help him escape?”

“I didn’t want you hurting him…”

“… fine, but from now on you trust no one, and you go with no one unless I say so, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now let’s get you back.”

It wasn’t that surprising that Hyungwon was brushing over the fact the drones had electrocuted you. He would do anything to keep you safe, and he knew your weaknesses. Of course after such an incident the press tour was suspended, not cause the project would be halted, but for your safety. Soon enough you were back in your hometown, but you wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. Instead Hyungwon took you back to HQ, to the lab in particular.

“What are we doing here…?”

“I need to be more cautious with you. If there is anything to learn from what just transpired it’s that you’ve become a target, and it’s my fault. I’ve put you at the forefront of this whole thing when I should be the one taking the hits. So, I’ll continue with my plans by other means, but I do need to make sure I don’t lose track of you again.”

“Huh?”

“Come here.”

Hyungwon led you over to one of the tables in the lab, but you stopped in your tracks. You didn’t like any of this, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Chae moved up from your wrist to a crown on your head. Soon enough your mind became hazy, and next thing you knew you were on the table, lying on your side. Your arms were partially restrained, but that didn’t register enough for you to be concerned about it. You couldn’t see Hyungwon, but he’d fade in and out of your vision.

“You’ll feel a slight pinch, but it won’t hurt for long. Promise.”

He wasn’t kidding about that. One moment you were just floating around in your head, then you felt a pinch at the back of your neck. You screamed and squirmed a bit before the mental fog drowned out all the pain and you slowly relaxed. You were pretty certain you blacked out at some point, but you couldn’t be sure. All you could really understand was rather suddenly finding yourself lying on the couch in your office. You needed a moment to regain your sense, but your memories were still a blur. As you sat up you noticed Hyungwon at your desk, typing away on the computer. You could feel this pain in the back of your neck and reached up to give yourself a bit of a massage only to feel something solid beneath your skin.

“… what the…”

“You’re awake.”

“… did you… did you chip me…?”

“Yes. That EMP earlier did some damage to the orb I leave with you, so I need to have stronger means of keeping track of you.”

“First you electrocute me with a drone… and now you chip me! I’m not some pet!”

“I know the drone must have upset you, but you were running away, I had to make sure nothing bad happened. As for the chip, I can’t lose touch with you again, so it’s necessary.”

“It’s not! You-”

“If you want to bring up what’s done then how about you tell me the truth.”

“Huh?”

“That detective, Lee Jooheon. I know he was investigating NexGen and myself before he was removed from the force. He also broke Changkyun out of prison. I reviewed the drone footage and saw you two chatting, care to enlighten me on what the topic of conversation was?”

“I didn’t say anything to him.”

“I know when you lie to me, so stop it. What did you tell him?”

“…”

Hyungwon got up from the desk and came over to you. On instinct you moved away until you were at the edge of the couch. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, giving you this tingling sensation as your eyes went wide. Your mind was quick to fill with fog and you couldn’t think straight.

“What did you tell the detective?”

“I… I told him… you… the orbs… mass producing them to…”

“Ah, so you know about that. Hm, well telling them doesn’t change anything. Although I should move things along.”

“… hyungwon…”

“Yes?”

“… what’s… what’s your…”

You whimpered and reached up to move Hyungwon’s hand. He let you, giving you a moment to regain your senses. You had no idea what that had been, but it wasn’t at the forefront of your mind right now.

“What’s the goal? To control the whole world? Isn’t that too much? Even for you, you’re not-”

“All I want is peace, y/n. If I have to make it and maintain it, that’s the only way to truly keep you safe. I won’t be alone in my goals, I’ll have others at my side to assist me. I’ve thought of everything, so you don’t have to worry. Soon enough I’ll do nothing but make you happy.”

“You don’t have to do all this to make me happy… just the two of us together would have been enough…”

“You’re worth so much more than that, and deserve everything.”

“I don’t want everything… I just want all this to stop… to go back to when it was just you and me at home…”

“Hm, I agree, we should go home. I just have a few more things to do first.”

Just as he said that Minhyuk entered the room, greeting you both. You couldn’t really respond before a spell of exhaustion came over you. Hyungwon laid you back down on the couch, placing a blanket over you as you drifted off to sleep.

“So, where are we?”

“Everything is good to go.”

“Excellent.”

♥♥♥♥♥

“That sounds like a full on invasion. Is that seriously this things plan?”

“It’s like a virus. If it continues to spread, it’ll grow to a point where we can’t do anything.”

“So then what are we going to do?”

Jooheon had returned to his group and relayed the information you had provided. Truth was they weren’t just a bunch of protestors. Ever since NexGen had launched those AI orbs, there were those who saw beneath all the marketing and promises of a better future. People were changing, pushing those closest to them to get an orb, some even gifting them. Everything had its cons, but those who were against the orbs tended to sound crazy. All talking like conspiracy theorists. Saying how the technology was brainwashing people, how this was all some take over and not some miracle. Of course those who were too loud about it were quietly dealt with. Soon to be seen again with a particular bracelet on their wrist.

The rest that remained knew to keep things on the down low, and protests were the place to find those who truly understood what was happening. Jooheon had done his best to bring these types of people together. He’d call them more of a resistance, one that was fighting a secret battle in the shadows. He was someone who had seen the truth first hand, and hadn’t fallen into the trap like others. He couldn’t be a police officer anymore, but he couldn’t go into this fight alone. He had been lucky to find Changkyun when he did, saving him from a terrible fate. When he broke him out of prison that sealed his own as a man outside the law. Then again, he was merely trying to save those who had fallen from grace, or soon would.

“If we could get an EMP-”

“We don’t even know where he’s going. Also, you want to knock out power for a whole town or something? You think we have the resources for that?”

“I’m just saying we-”

“You’re focusing on the wrong piece of information here.” Changkyun interrupted. “We need to attack the source, meaning NexGen HQ. I used to work there, but I’m certain things have changed, so my knowledge is outdated.”

“Can we get any inside information?”

“No, all NexGen employees have an orb nearby or on them, I doubt we could get anyone to cooperate. If anything, going near that building without a proper plan could be the end of us.”

“So what do we do?”

“We need y/n.” Jooheon stated. “She knows the building, but most of all, her code created this… thing… she’d know how to shut it all down if she could get to the source. We need to get her away from him.”

“We still have eyes on her, so we’ll make a note to look for another opening.”

“Good, keep me in loop.”

♥♥♥♥♥

As you began to regain consciousness you felt the softness of the sheets around you, instinctively cuddling them and pulling them close. You opened your eyes for a moment and then they went wide when you realized where you were. This was your bedroom, meaning you were back home. The smell of breakfast began to fill your nose and you sat up. Before you made an attempt to get out of bed the door opened, Hyungwon walking in with a tray.

“Good morning.”

“… morning…”

“Did you sleep well? You looked so peaceful when I got out of bed.”

“Yeah… I slept well…”

“Good. I made breakfast, your favorite.”

Hyungwon set the tray down before you, grabbing the utensils and offering you a bite. You were a bit hesitant, but you were hungry, so you ate. Of course everything tasted amazing, Hyungwon was an excellent chef with some cheats up his sleeve. He always enjoyed cooking for you, or with you, so this was certainly a lovely morning. After eating he let you go back to sleep, saying you were overdue for some proper rest. You did sleep some more, but after another little nap you got up. You hopped into the shower, enjoying yourself until you placed your hand behind your neck. You felt that bump again, being reminded that you were chipped. 

There was probably no way for you to get it out on your own, so you’d just have to deal with it for now. Once you were all cleaned up you carefully stepped out of your room, wondering where Hyungwon was. To your surprise he wasn’t in the home office, Chae wasn’t even around either. The house was rather quiet, but when you made your way to the living room you found Hyungwon browsing your streaming service. He was looking through the most recent movie releases when he noticed you standing in the entryway. He immediately smiled and came over to you, bringing you to the couch.

“I heard you in the shower, so I figured we could make lunch and then unwind with some TV. There are a bunch of movies we haven’t gotten to see yet.”

“You’re not… you’re not working…?”

“It’s just us today, and tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that. Whatever you want to do.”

“Does that mean you-”

“Sh, let’s not talk about anything else. Now, what do you want to make? We could make some of your favorites, we have all the ingredients.”

“I… I’d like that…”

“Come on then.”

Hyungwon held his hand out to you, and the two of you went to the kitchen. It felt like before, just enjoying each other’s company and being together. He’d guide you while you cooked, adding in ingredients and letting you take charge. As you were nearly done with the food you picked a movie. You both sat together to watch, enjoying the comedy film you had chosen. Afterwards Hyungwon cleaned up the plates, letting the food settle down for you. While he cleaned the two of you chatted about what you had just seen, and the best parts. For the time being it was so easy to forget what was going on with the rest of the world.

“It’s getting late, so I should give you your medicine now.”

“Medicine? What medicine?”

When Hyungwon came over with a small case you nervously backed up, but he assured you everything was alright. He sat down next to you and opened up the case. You didn’t recognize the blue liquid in the vial, or this mention of medicine at all.

“What… what is that…?”

“Just a little something I prepared for you.”

“That’s not medicine… is it…?”

“Clever girl.” Hyungwon kissed your head. “I want to make sure I can keep you safe, so I created these nanobots special for you. I injected you with some after I placed the chip, but more are needed.”

“Nanobots?”

“It’s safe, darling. You know I want what’s best for you.”

He gently took your arm once he filled the needle. You felt the pinch from when it broke skin and watched the blue liquid disappear into your body. You probably should have reacted differently, to resist and question, but there had been a subtle fog in the back of your mind all day. You wanted things to just remain this way, but you couldn’t, not entirely.

“Why nanobots though…”

“Hm… I don’t want to lose you… that is my greatest fear, and I won’t let it come to pass.”

“I’m flesh and bones, Hyungwon, whereas you’re a machine. You’ll certainly outlive me.”

“That’s a problem for later.”

Hyungwon watched you fondly for a moment before placing a kiss on your cheek and excusing himself. You watched him go, wondering how long you could stay like this. Although the answer came sooner than you expected. Suddenly you felt this pain at the back of your neck, and you noticed Hyungwon collapse to the floor. Everything in the house suddenly glitched out, and you realized what had happened.

“Hyungwon…!”

It had never occurred to you until now what could possibly happen if Hyungwon was hit with an EMP. He was an android afterall, and NexGen models only had such a small resistance. This isn’t how you thought things would end. You tried to get to him, but you were also in distress. Next thing you knew your front door was busted down and a bunch of masked individuals stormed inside. Two came over to you and grabbed you, dragging you out of the house. Although all you cared about was Hyungwon. Some of the other intruders had gone to him, and they certainly weren’t kind. He was already down, yet they felt the need to beat him.

“No…! No, don’t hurt him! Stop it! Please! Stop!”

Your cries were left unanswered, and then a bag was placed over your head, cutting your world to black. You knew you were placed in some sort of vehicle, and that’s when you did your best to cease your cries. You had no idea what was going on, but you were scared. You drove around for a while before coming to a stop and being taken out of the vehicle. Wherever you were, it was cold, but you could hear voices around you. Eventually you came to a stop and the bag was removed. You needed a moment to adjust to the light, then you were met with a familiar face, one you didn’t think you’d see again.

“Changkyun?”

“Long time no see.”

[zeravmeta]

long winded whining underneath

saw that post abt the saberfaces and like while I can understand the point in like, a billion dollar company reusing a design/design element might not appear favorable and it isn't even that wrong to say they are squeezing their cash cow flagship character i fundamentally disagree because thats like the equivalent of complaining about jojo having every protagonist with a name that can be shortened to jojo or final fantasy always having reused monsters like bahamut

and this isnt even a "oh saber is good i swear!" type thing but like. fate's been around for almost two decades now and has had tons of media made with plenty of recurring motifs and thematics that are acknowledged by the writers who are incredibly vocal fans of the series so if you're going into a long established franchise and complaining about long standing injokes and long standing patterns it comes across less as poining out the flaws in a billion dollar company and more like you just dont like that you didnt get it at first? takeuchi samefaceness isnt a problem unique to takeuchi and there are thousands of artists who have the same issue and even then a bunch of the saberfaces werent even drawn by takeuchi at first (nero was wada and jeanne & mordred was konoe) so them playing off the saberface jokes with designs isnt even that agregious because even if they have similar colors you'd have to be reading it in bad faith to say that the fgo artoria and fgo jeannes takeuchi designs are the exact same. an artist can have a style to how they draw their characters and just because there is overlap does not automatically equate that to having lazy designs.

more than anything saberfacing is part of nasuverse iconography, when a character is a saberface it isnt just about selling the design it is in fact an intentional design choice that tells you about the themeing of the character. im not going to say that nasuverse lore is sacred because it definitely isnt and they are in fact just doing what they think is cool but when you have nasu literally adding a chapter for limbo because he thought hasendows design was so beautiful it shouldn't be limited to a single appearance and then had that expanded into one of the more popular story chapters that tells you that these are creators who do pay attention to the designs that go into their characters. the same applies to chica umenos oberon, to wada and redrops designs and so many more, they absolutely care about the art that goes into their series.

I'm not gonna tell you that you must absolutely do your homework to enjoy any piece of fate media we are all free to do literally whatever we want forever and -clenches fist- you can also enjoy it in any type of way even in a surface level way. but when you acknowledge that a series is long standing with deeper themes acknowledged by its long standing playerbase and that the writers have so much passion for their own work (for better or worse, again nasuverse is absolutely not immune to criticism), saying that it comes across as disingenuous to have a recurring character design injoke because its heavily popular now despite not being popular once upon a time in itself comes across as disingenuous. nasuverse stuff being born of niche doujin circles and still being in touch with those roots isnt some kind of disqualification of the existence of saberfaces or the reasons behind them. when we ask you to read fate stay night its literally because we want you to enjoy it More so that you can, in fact, understand why saberface is a thing to begin with. being a popular franchise nowadays doesnt remove any of that charm unless you're specifically ignoring them. we literally have bbs profile in fgo say 'if you want to understand her deal and the deal of other similar characters read fate extra ccc' (bb herself being a sakuraface) so like theyre fully forward about the most accessible entrypoint into the franchise having a ton of history behind it

[qqueenofhades]

*peeps my 19 year old head in the door* Why does everyone hate Bush so much? In school (two years ago) all we learned about his presidency was 9/11 and us invading the middle east afterwards, and ... not much else. Did he not invade the Middle east because of 9/11? And wasn't Obama a war criminal too? Why is Bush singled out?

Obama is not a war criminal. That is a disingenuous, bad-faith argument used by the Online Leftists TM who I have often critiqued. There are valid criticisms and questions to be asked about his foreign policy overall, but it is not an actual, definable war crime such as the Bush administration enabled and facilitated in the invasion of Iraq particularly, which was based on thoroughgoing lies about "weapons of mass destruction" and committed widespread atrocities, with the direct knowledge of Bush and members of his administration such as powerful Vice President Dick Cheney. I suggest reading up on Abu Ghraib and its prisoner abuses by the US Army and the CIA, the private military company Blackwater and its mass murders of Iraqi civilians (for which Trump later pardoned them), Guantanamo Bay (Gitmo), and Halliburton, just for a start. These systemic abuses, especially at Abu Ghraib and Gitmo, were explicitly defended by the Department of Justice in the "Torture Memos." Let's not forget Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, for whom there is an actual legal case to charge with war crimes due to the Bush years. (They can't, because he's dead, but still.)

This should also mention the Patriot Act, the War on Terror, and the other disgraceful large-scale changes that made unprecedented mass surveillance and spying on civilians legal across America, in the name of "fighting terrorism." The war in Afghanistan went on for 20 years, achieved nothing except a lot more atrocities and actual war crimes, and wasn't even relevant to catching Osama bin Laden (who was eventually found hiding in a plushy Pakistani suburb and taken out.... in 2011, by the Obama administration). So yes. There's a lot there for you to educate yourself, and you will see what I mean.

[wienersmosh]

rapid fire list of my smosh-related opinions:

noah grossman needs to have been phased out 3 months ago. people acting like FREELANCER contracts are so fucking ironclad and that's why smosh couldn't do anything are so disingenuous. they phased out saige in 2022, they could've very easily done the same to noah -- they just didn't want to.

eat it or yeet it was fun for the first few episodes, but they ran it to the ground when they realized it was a hit with the locals/casual viewers and they needed those numbers. it's SO absurd that they made 89 episodes and it got really boring, really fast. (i'm glad anthony got to be on it before they got rid of it tho)

i've always found garrett annoying and unfunny for the most part. he's maybe said one or two funny things in all of my time watching smosh and i will never understand how some people stan him or find him attractive.

to be clear even if they replaced garrett as host on eioyi, it would still be boring and stale to me.

i miss kimmy being on camera. she wasn't the funniest and the smiley sunshine persona can be a bit much but she was one of the better sketch actors imo.

i do not want the og smosh games cast back. it's also weird they keep bringing up smosh on their ogsog content. i'm glad they appear to be on good terms with ian and anthony but unless there's ACTUALLY a future collab in the works they need to stop namedropping smosh so much.

i don't necessarily miss saige on smosh but i do miss damien and saige as a couple.

i don't care if people don't like anthony or don't find him funny, but the way a LOT of fans (mostly on twitter and reddit) blatantly disrespect him, the fact that he started smosh, and him literally reuniting with his best friend, just bc they got rid of the unscripted series on main really pisses me off. also he's not to blame for EVERYTHING wrong with smosh today.

HOWEVER, that being said, i do believe there was a better way to transition smosh main. they could've had anthony do a speed run of all of their unscripted series to give them a proper goodbye, and THEN uploaded the sketches.

EBE was a hit or miss, but when they did it well they did it REALLY well.

other than ian, anthony, and finnerty, syd and olivia were their best sketch writers.

people who are genuinely mad that they have memberships now are overreacting. i get that paying for anything sucks but if you're an adult with a job in a first world country $10 USD a month *maximum* really isn't that much. also, they're independent now, that's just the reality of capitalism.

people who act like smosh is above any and all criticism genuinely terrify me. they're a youtube channel and a company, and as audience members we're allowed to critique them.

the old smoshcast was better than smosh mouth, but i might be biased bc ian did host most of them.

agree to disagree was a good series, but they botched it when they started using more serious prompts which caused a lot of viewers to lose respect for some of the cast for problematic opinions.

i used to like olivia but considering she was only in 30 videos last year and she really doesn't seem like she cares anymore, i don't get how they expect any of us to still care about her. also she posted something in support of israel on her story, but hardly anyone knows about it.

i love the guy but shayne doesn't need to be in every video. i get that he brings in the views, but jesus christ.

smosh pit theater is their best pit series, followed closely by beopardy.

i find a lot of their defy era series on pit eg sleepover, show with no name, put it in my mouth, etc to be really boring and i’m glad they got out of defy and sarah whittle was more in charge of pit.

i didn’t like angela at first but i love her now.

[spicyric333]

keep me a secret, keep me in mind

Steve Harrington & Jonathan Byers !! angst and undisclosed desire.

✯Taken place a tiny bit after the events of season three + my own made-up crap.

Steve has a falling out with the party after the death of his mother and begins to stay for Murray. Jonathan can't help but think selfishly Steve was running away rather than toward anything tangible. After their summer together entangled in each other's company he feels more than angry at Steve’s sudden disappearance but when he finally sees him again he can't help but be sweet.

--------------------

There’s a sting, deep down in Jonathan’s gut when he sees him. He heard a whisper of his guitarist mingling with the other band, he didn’t try to listen, to be nosy but he heard his fucking name and he’s looking for him in between the bodies desperate to get addicted to sound. 

He’s eyeing the perimeter and almost as he left him. There he is. Steve Harrington.

“You’re staring Jon’” Mack shoves at his shoulder–The guitarist. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says a little embarrassed now to be caught in the act. 

“Sure, should I go say something, not exactly my type but who knows we could just talk about your wondering eyes and lack of speech?” Mack was an asshole, well he was a mean drunk but Jonathan always attracted mean people. 

“I can embarrass myself.” Jonathan shot back to get Mack to leave it alone and without putting any more thought into it he made a straight shot to the guy he’s been obsessed with. If he thinks about it any harder he’ll puke up the rest of his courage. 

fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Hi there, I was gonna ask to join you but you seem to be doing a good job keeping yourself company” Jonathan Byers is standing in front of Steve with that little uncertain smile, he almost feels caught, wanting to hide under the bed because he doesn’t have the guts to address any of their old wounds. 

    “I’m working tonight--it’s just a virgin surely temple didn't mean to worry--” It’s all coming out and he doesn’t know if it’s going to stop and then Jonathan moves to take off his jacket and he can’t help himself from looking. There he is. Jonathan Byers in a worn-in white t-shirt and jeans with holes that scatter like moles and cigarette burns. 

“‘S okay, mind if I sit?” Steve nods, there’s still some sense of distrust he feels from everyone else, having to defend himself, placing blame and shuffling it on like snow. Maybe he knows it too, that leaving without a word was ugly.

    “Sure,” He says because he doesn’t know how else to take this, he misses the other so selfishly he allows the past to not become a wall between them for tonight. Even if it’s disingenuous, it feels good. 

      “What is little Ms. Hair doing in a place like this?” Jonathan continues on with the teasing and Steve cannot stop thinking about their almost kiss in his bedroom before he ran away. Here he is, in a lame t-shirt and his pants with little holes, found again with this alone he and Steve share. 

     “Enjoying the view. Steve gestures to the stage, his friend Mal had recommended the place and he was fucking ecstatic to listen to music live again, his hearing had been mostly washed and wasn’t all there but he loved how the venues just made him feel. 

     “Went a little crazy and got their CD for my kitchen.” Guard Dogs the spine read in these angry and scratchy letters that appeared handwritten. 

      “I can see that, you work for the band I suppose or are you a crazy fanboy who I should keep an eye on?” Jonathan asks in reference to the merch table they sit behind, shoulder to shoulder and a little closer than one would be comfortable with but they do not mind. 

    “I like having your eyes on me.” Steve lifts a brow and Jonathan laughs scooting over so their legs are touching. “Why’re you here Joanie?” There’s that nickname covered in salt and sugar.

     “My band played earlier and wanted to see if the others were any good. Did you like it? The show?” Did you like me? He means. Steve almost indulges it. Almost.

      “Bass guitar right?” There’s something carved out under him, he saw Jonathan on stage, he practically couldn’t get his eyes off of him, all shy and awkward he kept pouring out anything he was thinking. “Yeah. You were God--so good” He wants to bury himself. You were god? 

     “God?” Jonathan laughs. Steve dies a little. Maybe more if he feels so inclined. There’s something about the guy he’s been obsessed with all summer becoming a stuttering mess that he could get used to. It’s somewhere long buried. Maybe he’s twisted. 

    “Yeah--uh couldn't look away.” Jonathan breaks the contact they’ve held, mouth a little dry, and god he wants to run his hands over Steve and kiss him until he promises to come back but he can’t cage something meant to run.  

     “We’re playing a show tomorrow night, would love if you would grace me with a stop.” Fuck he should’ve stopped, he should’ve shut up. Steve wouldn’t—

     “I’ll be there.” It nice in its own strange way. Steve had made a promise to keep and the world isn’t ending, they sort of move until their hands are touching and there isn’t death looming over any of their decisions instead it’s just them. 

     “So..I heard from Murray about you working at the record store a town over.” Steve freezes a little scared because yeah he packed everything and slipped away like a secret. He was sick and wasn’t getting better, and Steve being Steve was not going to drag anyone with him when he couldn’t see himself getting out. “I had to beg him for something since you're a bit off limits..” Steve nods slowly. 

     “After everything, it's been difficult for me to…come back. It's not you—” Steve begins to explain but Jonathan stops him. The explanation was as good as rejection.

      “It's not my place to pry Steve, I’ll survive the middle man.” That’s always the way Jonathan’s been it’s as irritating as it is endearing, he never puts himself at the center of a topic. 

     “Murray is a bit more mad than middle.” Jonathan covers his teeth as he laughs but Steve wishes he didn't, he likes his smile. 

     “He’s…interesting but somehow seems to be right..” Not about me and Nancy he thinks. “...mostly.”

     “He’s like a grown-up Dustin.” Jonathan makes a gag sound and knocks his knuckles against the table. 

“Don’t wish that on the poor kid.” Steve turns to interject. To say Dustin deserves it and that kid has an ego problem but he catches Mal in the corner of his eye. 

     “Steve?” There’s a voice that cuts whatever this was and Steve’s jumping to separate them, to create distance, he’s trying to at the very least. “We’re gonna get going…..” They turn to face Jonathan. “Hi..”

     “Hi, sorry I didn’t mean to be a distraction.” Jonathan stands to his feet quickly, trying to be a little mean about it because god he can’t get over this, he’s spent months under Steve. 

     “Don’t tell anyone I’m here? I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Steve pulls Jonathan’s hand into his chest, flicking off the pen cap to scribble down his number. “I’ve gotta go.” 

“‘Course,”

"Sweet dreams Byers.” Steve mutters on his send-off. 

God, he’s so fucked. 

Steve disappears behind the curtain and it’s all coming back to him. 

Jonathan doesn’t sleep that night, god he’s just thinking about all the girls who came and went that summer they almost kissed, and he wonders if they felt anything close to this because god this feels so embarrassing that he still wants it. Wants to unravel Steve and maybe stitch him back together because he doesn’t know if he forgives him, if he hates him, if he’s still just a stupid guy who let Steve pull along. 

・・・

The heat of the venue is killing him. The bright bold lights and crowd of bodies making Jonathan’s palm run over with sweat, he tried rubbing it out on his jeans but he was anything but steady. 

   “Jonathan.” Melony taps on his shoulder, tugging a little too on his sleeve. “You're freaking me out man.” She says now placing the back of her hand to Jonathan’s forehead. “You’re just spacing out on me here.”

Melony had a way with her concern that liberated the burden. She felt genuine. Jonathan had only known her for about a year bouncing around as a singer without a band to dedicate herself to and they sort of fell into one another. She liked this girl who moved away to chase a guy and Jonathan always listened. Sometimes when he was drunk enough and there was that sweet tilt in her voice asking what was wrong he'd whisper about Steve. The one who got away. 

Their bond was strange, and their relationship was unconventional too, sometimes when they were lonely enough they’d sneak a kiss. It wasn't romantic or primal, toeing the line of pathetic. She’d wrinkle her nose and say kissing a girl was gentler, had a tang of knowing before jumping straight in that Jonathan never had with Steve. He'd chase and guess and maybe he felt deserving of it too. That love wasn't supposed to be easy, that it was supposed to hurt otherwise it wasn't good cuts it was just blood. 

“You can kiss me like I'm Steve.” She whispered one night but it felt too cruel and wrong. Her hands digging into the fabric of his shirt for some sort of purchase and plea. Jonathan ran his hands through her hair anyway, gentle gentle gentle trying to picture it. Steve sat before him ever pliant and sweet in his striped shirt and low-rise jeans, legs thrown over Jonathan’s like an invitation. Their noses bumping into one another and it's tense, they’re saying I’m sorry, I'm selfish, I want this, I need this, and it all comes undone. 

“Steve’s here.” He whispers, unsure how else to say his skin is prickled and he feels like he's dying. Melony only quirks her lip and pulls away. “Gonna give him a hell of a kiss?” She says like its funny, like it's possible. 

     “Going to say goodbye I think.” He says before he finishes his work on the tangle of cables that slither along the ground and down his arm. One of the tech guys signals a two-minute countdown down and Jonathan’s heart picks up again. Melony joins him a moment later, mic’d up and giggling as she stumbles over. 

      “I found your pretty boy.” She says and she's beaming. “Right up front, hanging onto the barricade for dear life, poor thing.” She says a little mean and Jonathan’s cheek flushes an uncertain pink, daring to look past her he sees it. Steve stares up at him like he's something interesting. 

The night splits in half. 

He's sparing Steve a glance every chance he gets, feeling risky with it too when his hand slips but he can't seem to care because there he is. 

The Steve who climbed through his window with a huff, snickering to Jonathan about bad influences when he’d found his stash in his sock drawer and Jonathan dared to ask: “‘s any worse for me than you?” and Steve pinned him to the mattress, hands tickling and pinching his side demanding he takes it back.

The Steve he's fucking crazy for, dreading when he’d sneak into his room after hours. There’s a habit that began to fester. Steve was there to patch up his heart for the next mistake and quick touch he could get and Jonathan was always going to let him. Sometimes Steve lead them on for a week, if Jonathan really looked he could see them, the stranger who’d caught Steve’s attention hand and hand waltzing into his too big house just to leave him crying later. 

Jonathan's face churns and his gaze drops to Melony, they’re halfway through the last song and she's looking at him like she's daring him to make a move so he does, his first bold stroke unhooking the strap on his shoulder to hold the bass with one hand as he grabs her arm to tuck her into his side. 

They’ve done this before, there's no risk behind it but he was methodical about the whole mess anyway as though it was the first. She tucks the mic into Jonathan’d shoulder and she bends backward, they’re close enough that she can feel the tickle of his hair on her cheek and he's seeing her for the first time again. 

Jonathan wonders if this is what he's always wanted or what he’d settled for. If it's bigger than him, the kisses and secrets, the lonely nights and understanding apologies. 

If Steve saw it as pathetic when the music died and glitter left his cheeks.  

Melony says Steve ’ll be eating out his palm. Everyone wants to fuck a rock star she argued. 

Jonathan doesn't catch a break from the band for about an hour after his set, he doesn't make an honest effort to look for Steve really, he's guilty of that. He left his name and description with security in case Steve really did run backstage the moment he could but Jonathan knew him better than that. He quickly hugs Melony goodnight and there's sadness behind it. He's saying he can't do it anymore. That he hopes she understands he cannot carry his sorrow forever and instill his appetite into their drunken touches. He says he hopes she understands. 

“Am I interrupting?” Steve says with a small rasp in his throat. Melony pulls away and Jonathan’s mouth drys.

“Call me.” She says just loud enough for Steve to catch and mimes a phone before she's skipping away to meet someone by the door. She's always been a little mean like that.

“Ignore her. She's not a huge fan of my kind.” Jonathan tries to explain with minimal harm. Doesn't want to flat out say she's like Robin when he's gotten no official notice besides his own speculation. Steve seems to laugh at that. 

“I don't mind your kind.” Steve says slotting Jonathan’s hands into his own, rocking them to some rhythm Jonathan can't seem to pin down. 

“You hungry Stevie?” Jonathan slips his fingers to push the hair that's fallen on Steve’s cheekbone up and out of the way. It's indulgent but he allows it, he deserves at least this he tells himself. 

“Just starved.” Steve giggles into Jonathan’s palm, letting him run his fingers wherever he wants. 

“We can't have that.” And it's a little suggestive but the moment dissipates when Jonathan drags Steve to the nearest diner hands still molded, sharing a booth in the farthest corner by the bathrooms. 

“Loved your set.” Steve mumbles through the straw of his chocolate milkshake. “Loved the theatrics too, you practice that bend?” 

Jonathan shrugs hoping to cover the blush in his ears.

“Sort of just happens Melony had a habit of doing whatever she wants.” He picks at a fry before placing it back down again. “Half my fault, I let her.”  

“You're hopeless, you’d let any pretty thing run you over,” Steve says with an accusing hand. 

Not anyone. Just you

“You play with them long? You and Meredith.” Jonathan clicks his tongue. 

“Melony sort of found me after..” He pauses trying to keep himself composed. “Everything… it's awkward being around people who don't know why I don't sleep long, why I avoid malls and any sign of sailor memorabilia.” He says the last line with a pointed grin and Steve seems pleased to be referenced. 

“I think it's weird too. Murray understands but he wasn't there you know. Sometimes I listen to the CD you left in my car before bed. The mic picked up a few seconds of you talking to Will and it's stupid but I-I don't sleep without it.” Steve’s whole face prickled and he tried to scoot away but Jonathan’s hand catches onto his thigh. His expression dazed when he pulls Steve back into his space. 

“You listen to me to go to sleep?” And he’s saying it back to himself, mind fuzzed over at that confession. 

“Gosh Jonathan that’s what you got from this–” Steve tries to be funny because god does nothing make his skin burn more than Jonathan’s hand on his leg. 

“Sorry–sorry…I just didn’t think you’d be using me to go to sleep dude.” He’s kept his hand where it was but his whole expression is distant. 

“Yeah man, I–I’ve missed you, I’m allowed to aren’t I?” Steve says with a huff, tapping on Jonathan’s chin to get his eyes back on him.

“I suppose I just, I thought you’d call. When you…left everyone was convinced you’d gone for good but I thought you’d call. At least me—so forgive me for being a little surprised.” Jonathan tries to explain, trying to be gentle but there’s buried hostility.

“I wanted to. I didn't feel I deserved it but—-the way I left, you didn't deserve that either. I can't say I'm sorry, I’m trying to learn and unlearn. I was so fucked up in the head Joanie, I was going crazy in that house alone.”

 “I would've come, every night if you asked, if you wanted.”

“I don't know what to do with that. I..I was crazy about you Joanie, maybe I didn't realize then but fuck—I thought about you every day when I left, missed sleeping in your bed.” And Jonathan can’t take it anymore. He runs his hand over Steve’s waist and he’s kissing him. It's not romantic, it's not gentle and sweet. Jonathan’s admitting he's pathetic, that he's a rabbit chasing Steve holding a stick. 

   “Stevie..sweetheart tell me to stop.” And Steve’s whining high in his throat like he's been made fun of. Jonathan’s palm works over Steve’s knee and shushes him down.

    “I think about you all the time, seeing you with that—that girl drove me crazy. She as good as me Joanie? Huh? She get you off like I could?” And his mouth is filthy but Jonathan’s already gone, can barely breathe when Steve finally gets his mouth on him and it's chaste. They’re trying to get close close close, Steve’s teeth digging into Jonathan's bottom lip and he's pulling off of him. 

    “There’s nobody else.” Jonathan interrupts when he feels Steve freeze. “Steve. There's no one else.” And Steve looks so fucking guilty, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“There’s nobody else..” Steve repeats and it tastes foreign and wrong but Jonathan’s kissing him again he’s starved and selfish and the truth gets lost in Jonathan’s small sigh. 

[exeggcute]

there's a developing story in Australian media about Tiktok pixels collecting unauthorised data in an aggressive manner via their ads on thrid party websites, and I was wondering what a Professional like yourself made of it

ooh reading into this now... full disclosure that (1) until/unless I get another job in adtech I am technically not a Professional anymore lol and (2) pixel tags weren't a big component of my last role so I only have a fairly basic understanding of how they work. but from what I'm seeing here it sounds like the main issue with tiktok rn isn't the data collection per se, since these pixel tags are functionally identical to the ones employed by facebook and others, just that tiktok isn't obtaining user consent the way other companies are ostensibly do. although even that seems like a convenient lead-in for the whole Oh My God A But Chinese Company Is Doing It thing.

and tbf I kinda can pull that in both directions—on one hand facebook in particular has gotten in a lot of trouble before for bad data collection practices and putting that data in the hands of people who used it to (maybe, allegedly) sway public opinion, so the general fear underpinning this thing is like, not unfounded right. (even though I don't think the issue behind the cambridge analytica scandal was centered around tracking pixels specifically?) on the other hand the very nature of facebook's rocky history re. data and privacy proves that western companies can and will spy on their users and it's for sure disingenuous to act like ~shady foreign governments~ are the only ones with any incentive to do so lol.

I guess you could argue that facebook's incentive for all the spying was simply Making Money, even if they took money from people who did use that spy data to spread propaganda; like, to the parent company, the propaganda wasn't the goal. whereas many will obviously argue that with tiktok data some undefined form of propaganda is the goal. but seeing that tiktok ads are a multi-billion dollar enterprise(!) I'm way more inclined to believe that tiktok is also spying for the sake of Making Money. clearly a whole fucking lot of money!

this is something I've for sure said before but I also wholeheartedly believe (and to some extent, know, although again pixel tracking isn't my exact wheelhouse) that advertising data is a lot less granular and therefore less useful than most people imagine it to be, which severely limits the kind of compromising shit you can pull under normal circumstances.

even in the article I linked, where they talk about tiktok pixels being able to track the shopping/browsing habits of users, basic device info, and occasionally some PII like phone numbers and email addresses... like, okay, so let's say tiktok knows that junglejim4322@yahoo.com used an iphone to look at a website that sells orthopedic shoe inserts. or even maybe something more salacious like, idk, questionably legal gas station dick pills. from a "let's use tiktok to spread propaganda" perspective I really struggle how that information would be valuable or what you'd do with it other than emailing that person outright to taunt them about their fucked up feet and/or dick? (if the goal is to show people certain kinds of content in tiktok's app then certainly you have both the means to do so and plenty of behavioral data to draw up on in the app itself. it's a literal video platform lol.) otoh from a "let's use this data to create advertising segments" perspective then you can easily monetize this info by telling advertisers that you know a guy who's a prime target for ads about podiatry treatments or whatever, in which case advertisers are more eager to spend money on ads because they think they're talking to a relevant audience. and in that case advertisers don't really care what the guy's name or email is, just that he ticks certain boxes that make him a worthwhile use of ad dollars. and even in cases where bad actors do want more specific data for shady purposes, it's pretty difficult to collect it and even harder to propagate it across different platforms; one thing I think gets overlooked a lot with cambridge analytica in particular is that it happened on a platform where users willingly share their full name, birthday, gender, relationship status, political leanings, job title, etc. outright, and then create connections between other people who also willingly share all that info. in some ways I don't think it could've happened anywhere but facebook, because this is a situation where you really didn't have to squeeze anything out of users—they just came out and told you! (it's also part of why non-shady facebook ads are so lucrative; you don't have to guesstimate audience data when you can literally just specify that certain ads should only be shown to people whose profile says they're between the ages of 35 and 55.) and as far as I'm aware tiktok just does not have anything remotely approaching that kind of profile data.

anyway lol. as far as I can tell I think this is a GDPR-y consent issue first and foremost, which will probably turn into a thorny battle over whether tiktok can/will be held to EU data standards or similar statues with a good helping of Chinese Company Bad mixed in for good measure. also side note but remember the whole thing about tiktok data transparency but the american company they put in charge of it is fucking oracle?

[sroloc--elbisivni]

Ok you win! You win, I read your amazing RotTMNT AU and now I want to know more about Usagi Yojimbo!!! Do you have any recommendations and also I would love to read your bibliography for that fic 😭🙏 your writing is ~superb~ it's so poetic and evocative aaaagh

GOT ANOTHER ONE, BOYS

welcome!! welcome!! come on in. Usagi canon isn't actually as intimidating as it looks--and I'm not saying this in the way often applicable to comics where that means 'only one flowchart is required to understand the reading order.' i think. There's only one major continuity, and two spinoffs in Space Usagi and Senso,* neither of which is required to understand the main order. Each issue is often overwhelmingly self-contained, so you can really pick up anything and start reading. The split comes in where the series being published at like. four different companies over the years. means that there are different publishing rights that change the way stuff comes out. technically we're at 38 trade volumes. thinking of it like that is the way madness lies.

The bulk of the series is collected in The Usagi Yojimbo Saga, a 10-volume set published out of Dark Horse. Each one is about as thick as a phonebook. This is not the beginning of the series, it technically starts with the overall series' volume 8, Shades of Death, but the first book of the Saga has a 4-page intro comic at the beginning that does very well setting the scene. This is where I started. I still think it's a great place to start because it's fun to go back to the origins with all the knowledge of the later books behind them. (Books 1-9 are in sequence; Usagi Yojimbo: Legends collects Senso, Space Usagi, and Yokai)

If you want to start at the very beginning, you need to look for Usagi Yojimbo, vol. 1: The Ronin. After Volume 7, Gen's Story, everything's published in the Saga.

The beginnings of the series are also collected in Usagi Yojimbo: Origins, which is a recent republishing of the early comics in full color. They've got four volumes--Volume 1,** Wanderer's Road, The Dragon Bellow Conspiracy, and Lone Goat and Kid. If you start here, you'll be switching over to series Vol. 6, Circles, after LGaK.

Once you get through the Saga, you're into IDW publishing territory, which so far has 5 trade volumes--Bunraku and Other Stories, Homecoming, Tengu War!, Crossroads, and The Green Dragon. That brings you up to the Ice and Snow issues, which just started publishing in September.

But quite honestly, given that the overall premise of the series is 'watch this man wander around the early Edo period experiencing Problems,' I really do think you can start anywhere in the grand tradition of 'what's at the library/comic shop' and have a good idea of the series.*** Have fun!

*Technically Chibi Usagi is a separate continuity, but I feel disingenuous putting it in the same category as Senso.

**No, it doesn't have a name. Yes, really.

***tbh between stories that are told As Flashbacks and how only about half the stories have things that squarely indicate exactly what the previous story was, I tend to assume that it goes in non-chronological order unless a story contains evidence otherwise. this opinion has gotten me booed. but i stand by it.

[arcaneorphic]

Yearning - Remus x F! Reader

Part One | Part Two (in progress)

Pairing: Remus Lupin x F! Reader

Genre: pining, angst, hurt (comfort to come)

Summary: Remus is so desperately in love with you, but he feels like he cannot give you the life you deserve.

Word Count: 820

There was something about the way you spoke that had Remus transfixed, even when he wasn’t the one you were speaking to. He’s tried to pinpoint the reason for his fascination with you, but to no avail. Maybe it was the cadence of your voice and the way it soothed him? Or, perhaps it was the way you gave the person you were talking to your full attention, never making them feel as though your mind was elsewhere? 

As Remus watched you speak to a first year from your house he saw the gentle way you interacted with them. He added that to his list of possible reasons for his admiration of you. The two of you had been studying in the library, silently enjoying each other’s company, when the first-year shyly came up to you.

She had spoken too softly for Remus to hear, but he did hear your response, “Sure I can help you, Elle.”

The younger girl seemed elated that you remembered her name. She gave a timid smile as she replied, again too low for Remus to hear.

“Course I can take a look at it for you,” you reply with a smile. You took the notebook from Elle’s hands and read over her work. A look of understanding washed over your features when you identified the problem with whatever Elle was having difficulties with. 

You gently explained the problem to her and the way she could fix it. Before she leaves he hears you gently tell her, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? Now that you know what to do I’m sure you’ll ace it.”

Remus watched as Elle walked away, a little lighter than when she first approached you. He wonders if that was how he looked the first time he encountered your softness. In his heart he knew the answer to that question was yes. 

From the moment the two of you had started to spend more time together he realized just how taken he was by you. Under the softness you showed outwardly there was a temper and a spirit so bright that he wondered why you let so few people see it. Of course, you were genuinely soft and kind, but when someone treated those you cared for unkindly he had seen first-hand how your temper flared. 

“Rem, if I keep looking at these notes I think my eyeballs are going to fall out,” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He chuckled softly at your comment.

He closed his own textbook, having stopped actually studying a while ago, and leaned back in his chair to get a better look at you, “You said to not let you out of that seat until you could recite those potions in your sleep.” 

“I can’t believe you don’t care that my eyeballs are going to fall out of my head,” you theatrically threw yourself back in your chair. “You are a cruel, cruel man, Lupin.”

He shook his head in amusement, “Is that right?”

“No,” you huffed. “but I really do think I’m done for the day, Rem.”

He hears the sincerity in your voice and the exhaustion in your eyes. In truth he knew that he could never actually deny you of anything you asked of him. “That’s all you had to say,” sweet girl goes unsaid, but it is most definitely there. “Let’s get going.”

You spring up from your seat, suddenly reenergized, and go to put the books you used back. Remus can’t help but chuckle to himself as you go. Little about you surprised Remus at this point in your… friendship. To call whatever you and Remus have simply a ‘friendship’ was disingenuous; friends don’t look at each other the way the two of you do, but even so Remus still couldn’t bring himself to take it further than stolen touches and longing gazes despite how deeply he wanted to.

He knew that to be with you in the way you deserved would mean he’d have to tell you the truth of his condition. Logically he knew that you would still care for him once you knew because that was just the type of person you were. But, that did nothing to ease the fear of you not wanting anything to do with him if you did not accept him. So, he would rather keep you in his life always slightly out of reach if it meant you remained in it at all. 

He knew that he couldn’t give you the peace or the life you deserved no matter how desperately he wanted to. One day you would find someone who could give you all the things he couldn’t, and although it would break his heart to watch you love someone that wasn’t him; he would rest easy knowing that you were living the life you deserved. That would have to be enough for him. 

Masterlist