#and the itch was real I HAD to scratch it

[natalievoncatte]

“Open your eyes and look at what you did.”

Lena was tired. Fixing the world was heavy work, especially when it involved cracking the secrets of the ultimate weapon of a dead empire. Myriad was tucked away safely in her lab behind shielding and laser grids and the most advanced security systems in the world, but was most of all protected by Kara’s reputation. Supergirl couldn’t just smash her way into a building and steal something, especially not now, with so much public scrutiny against her.

Lena was expecting a night at home. Not to relax -she hasn’t relaxed until her brother’s wormy lips, turning blue in death, spilled those four little words and cracked her heart in half, broke it into so many pieces that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men and not even Supergirl could put it together again. What was left of her capacity for that kind of love was gone now. Lex had started the process of ripping it out.

Lena has finished it, casting the bloody shreds on the icy floor of a mausoleum in the arctic, not turning back even once to see.

She knew the DEO was watching her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake that she could seize on. She knew they were itching to take her out. Kara would probably lead the charge herself. She’d crow about how she didn’t want to do this and didn’t want to hurt Lena and then she’d perp walk her like a villain of the week.

It wasn’t remorse that swirled in her stomach. It wasn’t regret that iced her veins. It wasn’t sorrow that made her eyes burn, and it wasn’t doubt that made the clicks of her heels echo in her empty lifeless penthouse.

She did not feel any of those things. Soon, no one ever would again. A world without lies, without strife, without pain. Those twisting, burning emotions would be gone. For everyone.

For her.

Lena froze when she heard the soft click of a hammer being thumbed back on a pistol.

“Turn around.”

Lena tensed. Alex. She should have expected this- Alex didn’t care about the rules when it came to her sister.

Slowly, Lena turned. Alex was right behind her, gun in one hand, phone in the other. She started to play a video on the screen. Lena recognized it at once as the Fortress of Solitude.

“Why?” Alex choked out. “Why did it have to be you?”

Lena pressed her eyes shut, scrambling for something to say. There was a real chance that this confrontation ended with her in a pool of blood on the floor.

“Open your eyes, you bitch! Open your eyes and look at what you did!”

Lena opened them and was confronted with what she had refused to see before, what she had turned from before portalling out. Like a biblical prophet she knew that if she but turned back for a last look she’d have been undone.

Alex recorded Kara locked in the cage as she approached, calling her sister’s name. Kara didn’t respond. She simply lay curled on the floor, faint green scratches scored in her exposed skin. As Alex drew nearer, Lena could hear Kara making a peculiar sound- a rhythmic, trilling thrum, a deep basso rumble as if she were… purring.

And sobbing.

Lena tried to look away but Alex’s expression tightened. Lena forced herself to stare into the screen- the picture blurred as Alex must have been fumbling with the Kryptonian controls. Finally, the crystal cage retracted.

“Kara,” Alex was saying. “Kara, oh my god, where’s Lena? Is she alright?”

Lena flinched. Alex’s jaw tightened as their eye briefly met.

Kara’s face was a mask of pain and grief, clouded with an agony deeper than any physical hurt.

“It was Lena.”

“What?”

“It was Lena. She took Myriad from the armory and she… she was so mad, Alex. It was like she h-hated me. She was lying the whole time after I told her who I was, she already knew and she was so mad. Alex I think she hates me now.”

Kara began to sob and make that damned purring sound at the same time.

“Don’t hurt her,” Kara whimpered, “don’t hurt her, Alex. She’s good, I promise she’s good she just needs our help.”

Alex turned off the video and pressed the muzzle of her gun to Lena’s forehead.

Lena closed her eyes.

“I have every reason to,” Alex began.

“Do it,” Lena hissed. “It’s what we both want, just fucking do it. She’ll get over it.”

“No,” Alex choked out, her voice drowning in emotion. “No she won’t, ever. She has an eidetic memory. If I blow your fucking head off like I should, her last memory of you will be that, what you did to her in her most sacred place, forever.”

“Good,” Lena snapped, opening her eyes. “Good. Then she’ll know how I feel.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Like she tore my heart out. I believed in her. I gave myself to her in a way I never have for anyone else. I let her in after I swore on my mother’s grave I’d never let anyone else hurt me like… like someone else did. She hammered her way into my life with her kindness and her concern and her comfort and it was all a FUCKING LIE, Alex!”

Lena sucked in a hitching breath and went on, forcing herself to go on as she blinked to force the tears from her eyes.

“It was all a lie. I’m just a Luthor to her, to you, to all of you. I sat in that apartment on game nights and movie nights and you all knew. You all knew, and you mocked me. So many cryptic comments and weird little jokes and now I know why. I let myself believe it. I let myself believe she wanted me. She kept trying to tell me something over and over and she kept backing away from it and…”

Lena froze.

The gun fell away, and Alex just stared at her.

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking God,” Alex gasped.

“No,” Lena protested, “no it’s not that!”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Holy fuck, how did I not see this before? You bought a billion dollar publishing company on a whim for her. The flowers, the way you looked at me before she told you I’m her sister. Jesus. Jesus Christ, Lena. You God damn drama queen.”

“I’m a drama queen? You pointed a gun at my head!”

Alex racked the slide back, and turned the weapon so Lena could see the follower of the empty magazine had locked it open. It was unloaded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lena screeched.

“I came here to tell you to give me Myriad back and stay the hell away from my sister,” said Alex.

“You pointed a real gun at my head! I don’t care if it was unloaded, the first rule of gun safety is…”

“You thought it was something else,” said Alex.

“God damn it,” Lena began, but Alex cut her off.

“You thought she was working up to tell you something else. You thought she was going to confess her love, didn’t you?”

Lena went completely still.

She had know it, of course. She had known it the way that she knew the sun would rise in the east and set in the west, the way way she knew the stars would shine and the tide would beat against the shore. She had known it in the hollows of her bones, in places she forgot she could feel.

She had not known she knew it.

Lex’s words buffeted her from memory and she felt a knew shattering, even deeper this time.

“I fucked up,” someone said, only it was Lena, her own voice echoing from somewhere far distant. She was only dimly aware of the painful jolt in her tailbone as she slid down the cabinet behind her and her ass landed on the hardwood floor.

“When Lex told me, he proved it. He proved it. I didn’t want to see it but he proved it to me. I’m not what she wants. She’ll never want me like I want her.”

Alex looked down at her and Lena watched her expression shift, dancing through a dozen different emotions.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“You have anything to drink here? Something good, I don’t want to pussy around with box wine. This is a whiskey occasion.”

Perplexed, Lena simply said, “Side cupboard, there’s a bottle of single malt and some tumblers.”

Alex didn’t bother with the glasses. She took out the bottle and uncapped it, whistling softly before she took a long pull straight from the bottle.

“Smooth,” she said, not even wincing. “Shit, this bottle probably costs a month of my rent.”

“It was my dad’s favorite,” Lena muttered. “My first drink was that scotch. He gave me a little sip when I was twelve. Lillian screeched at him for it.”

“She would, she’s a thundering bitch,” said Alex.

Alex sat down and passed Lena the bottle. She took a drink and passed it back, and they sat there in silence for a while, passing drinks back and forth.

“See I’m not a shrink or anything,” said Alex, “but if I had to analyze this situation I think what I see is you hurting Kara hoping that she’ll hurt you back and validate your feelings so you can stop feeling sad about her.”

“Fuck you,” Lena muttered.

“Not my type. Besides, bro code. My sister has dibs.”

Lena almost spat out a mouthful of scotch. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know when she’s doing the zoom zoom thing, she has a comms piece in her ear. I listen in on what she’s doing,” Alex began to imitate Kara in a grating falsetto. “Lena you have to jump!”

“What?”

“Remember that time she was going to let the entire city’s water supply be poisoned to save you?”

Lena took another pull before passing the bottle back.

“Yeah,” said Lena, not caring that her Irish accent was slipping out.

“Or that time she flew you to the DEO after Edge poisoned you?”

“She saves people all the time,” Lena protested.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t bridal carry them to safety and moon over them like a lovesick teenager and do the whole brushing their hair back thing. She says something corny and flies off. Unless it’s you. The whole world goes on pause when it’s you.”

“It can’t be.”

Alex took a way too long drink and looked at her.

“Did it never occur to you that she might have two secrets? That the one might compel her to keep the other?”

Lena rubbed at her eyes. The whisky was weighing heavily on her, and before she knew it, she was sobbing.

To her utter shock, Alex rubbed her back.

“Here’s what we do. You and me go get Myriad,”

“I’m too drunk to drive.”

“Then call your chauffeur, you spoiled rich brat,” Alex snapped, “and we go get Myriad and we go back to the DEO. You apologize and you and Kara talk this out, and you remember that if you ever physically harm my sister again I actually will shoot you.”

“Also,” said Lena. “You and I. You and I will go get Myriad, not you and me.”

Lena yanked the bottle back and finished it.

“Okay. Okay fine, let’s-“

There was a double thud as boot heels hit the balcony, a sound Lena had long grown used to. She and Alex both watched as Kara slid the balcony door open and swept into the penthouse, cape flaring majestically behind her.

God she was so pretty, and so handsome. She was like a brave knight in some fairytale, head bowed and jaw set like she was marching to a battle she wasn’t sure she could win.

Lena’s chest ached.

“We need to talk,” Kara intoned. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore, but I can’t let you do something you’ll regret forever. I…”

She trailed off as she saw a very drunk Alex sitting next to a very drunk Lena Luthor, the pair sitting against Lena’s kitchen cabinets and dishwasher, respectively, having clearly finished off the empty bottle of scotch that sat between them.

“What the hell?” said Kara.

“Did she just cuss?” said Alex.

“She did,” said Lena.

“What is this? What are you two doing? Alex, is that your gun?”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “I’m gonna get an Uber so you two can talk this out.”

“What?” Kara said, utterly baffled.

As she stood, Lena drew her legs up and hugged her knees. She looked away at first, then looked up and made herself meet Kara’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

With a tenderness that belied her strength, Kara gently raised Lena to her feet. She’d kicked off her heels and Kara loomed over her, soft hands that could crush steel resting gently on her arms. Lena couldn’t bear the weight of her concern. Seeing the worry in Kara’s eyes, the unconditional compassion, hurt her as much as staring into the sun.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” said Kara. “I’m the one who should apologize. You were right, Lena. I forced myself into your life and pushed past all your barriers but I never lowered mine. I tried to live in your heart but made you live like a guest in mine. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better,” Lena whispered. “I want you.”

Kara went very still.

“You want me?”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Kara.”

Kara took a half step forward and pulled Lena into an embrace, guiding her into a hug. As those arms like stone walls curled around her and the cape sheltered her against Kara’s unnatural, fever-hot warmth, Lena choked back a hitching sob. It almost felt like it would be okay.

“It’s alright,” Kara whispered. “It’ll be okay. We can come back from this.”

“How? I hurt you, Kara.”

“I forgive you.”

“You can’t just-“

“Shhh,” Kara nuzzled against the crown of Lena’s head. “I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

[beggars-opera]

I haven't been able to trace back if this thing is even real or not, but it scratches an itch I didn't even know I had and I desire one immediately

[inside-black-moon]

Crowned by darkness.

Nothing foreshadowed this. She was sure that she was safe, because so much time had passed and everything had settled down. A thick viscous shadow flowed from ceiling along the brick wall, hiding the light underneath. The room was getting darker and darker.

- Wolf...

A creaking voice pierced her ears and pierced with its sharpness. She opened eyes and her breath froze in fear. Feeling a warm touch, all organs inside her shrank.

Nervous shallow breathing betrayed her weakness. How long ago it was.

Slowly, quietly, sliding down a black shadow, gently touching her body with huge clawed hands.

- I found you.

She looked up and saw him - The First Veil. A faceless head, similar to an old knee, was decorated with an old ritual piercing - a triangular ring in the nose, and a creepy minimalist crown that was threaded through the skin.

- You look different... I remember you... - she said in a strangled voice.

- Do you remember? Great...

This voice went cold through the whole body from the inside. How to get rid of an unpleasant interlocutor if he is inside your head?

- First Veil, you damn mutants... hybrids... children of the most cruel thoughts, you devoured your own kind, and people made legends about you... your crimes. But why are you still pursuing me?

He laughed.

- You are very stupid, Wolf.

The shadow grabbed her by shoulder and dug its claws into the skin. Moving fingers, it drew deep black scars on it. The eyes darkened with pain. Veil placed hand on her face and a quiet whisper arose in head:

- I name you "black moon", forever and ever. From now on, you, the daughter of Wolf, are under the protection of darkness. You cannot hide or deny. And you cannot get out into the light. You are a part of me. I am a part of you.

The darkness dissipated. Wolf lay on the floor, gasping for breath. Tears silently flowed from eyes.

- No..no no no no...

........................

- She's unconscious, faster!

The light seemed to go out. Familiar voices rang out somewhere in the distance. Mixed together - real and unreal. It smells of dust and some unpleasant heat, so much so that it scratches your throat. It's impossible to breathe. And here's the taste of metal in mouth...

- Arthur?...

- She's losing blood, faster, damn you!

Everyone around is making noise, running, dragging somewhere, doing something with my body. It seems they've undressed me. I definitely wasn't ready for this.

- What the...

- Tattoos?..

Yes, strange tattoos were spreading across my body, the mystery of which Rorschach himself would envy. Unfortunately, they were alive. Unfortunately, it was a type of infection. Unfortunately, it was no longer a secret.

- Don't be afraid, everything is fine...

It's stupid, of course, to be so optimistic, to be a hero and wave your hand - oh, it's nothing! But sometimes, they say, a lie for the good has a place to be.

- It's... not... contagious...

Before i passed out, I saw that look of his. Like a shot, like a bullet with the inscription "stop lying" flying right between my eyes. But I no longer had the strength to explain and I was sucked into the warm, soft darkness.

The scars itched. Pulling the skin, they forced me to wake up and generously pick at them until they bled until itching went away.

Opening eyes, I saw him. The King, who was walking on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had never seen him so scared.

Catching my gaze, he silently exclaimed and immediately wanted to scoop me up and hug, but remembered the scars on my body in time. Confused, he simply grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips. Through his disheveled hair, I saw how his eyes were red and wet.

- Wolf...

- Now everything is fine.

- Promise me...

- Anything...

He could not stand it and burst into tears.

Raising herself up on free hand through the pain, she enveloped him in a warm embrace.

- You must tell me everything!

- It seems the time has come...

.......

- So they marked you on purpose since childhood?   

- Yes. But I found out about it not so long ago. All my life they said it was my special pigmentation. You know, like a birthmark. I... believed them...   

- Bastards...   

She nodded silently. Her upbringing did not allow to say such words about those who raised her. Not out of respect. But out of fear.   

- There was another girl in the torture chamber. I helped her escape, but it cost me dearly.   

She pulled back her scarf and showed a black pattern on neck - they deliberately introduced an additional dose of infection.   

- Wolf, you shouldn't have...   

- I shouldn't. But that would have been against my life rules. If you don't make the rules, someone from the outside will.   

She pursed her lips and bit the inside of cheeks, trying not to show emotions.   

- I understand...   

- I was looking for her. And I found her. But they found us too.   

The rain was pounding outside, the room had become much cooler both from history and from weather.   

- But now... why are they looking for you after so many years?   

- I don't know. But they have become even more cruel. I couldn't even ask anything. But I believe, I feel that she is alive and... maybe... looking for me? Maybe this is a warning so that I can never see her again... so that I avoid her...   

- Or they are just sick sadists, vengeful, unimaginably vengeful and spiteful.

- Maybe... maybe both...   

She leaned against his chest and tried to calm down. He thoughtfully hugged her and stroked lightly.   

- I will protect you.   

- It's dangerous. I don't want anything to happen to you.   

- But I don't want you to sacrifice yourself and take the hit again.  We barely pulled you out, you lost a lot of blood. If it weren't for the medical supplies, you would have...   

- Died? Not the first time.

He hugged her tightly, pressing to himself.    

She pulled back, took his face in her hands and peered into eyes. He was breathing nervously and she said quietly:   

- Nowhere in the system, nowhere in other dimensions is there anyone like you. You are dear to me. You are important and valuable. They are waiting for you... always. Exactly you, just as you are. With all sides of your personality. I will always accept you in absolutely any state. Just be there.    

I saw how these words slowly attached themselves to his consciousness. How slowly he heard and understood what was important to me. I do not admire impulsive self-sacrifice. That there is no need to be a hero 24/7, that comfort is not an eternal war, that a quiet life has more value than a decisive throw into the void. That the beauty of personality is in naturalness and versatility. And that you will be appreciated and accepted unconditionally if you are loved. Really loved. Even when you are burned out. Even when you're weak and bleeding. Even when you're just tired of everything. He closed eyes and his breathing became even, calm. The warmth of my hands spread across his face. There was a man in front of me. Alive, with a huge range of emotions who was struggling with the installation of not expressing them. There was a strong personality in front of me. This was my choice and I was not mistaken in it.

[proth-blog]

Prompt 2 kinda i guess

My brain is mush and prompts help make brain not mush so idk

She doesn't know why he does this, why does he like doing this with her? It's out of character for him, he was being too gentle... it puts her on edge.

He, on the other hand, was mindlessly brushing her long hair, separating it in section with pins so it was ready to be braided, he was simply enjoying himself, he doesn't exactly know why he enjoys playing with people's hair as much as he does, his maid joked that it was because he lacks hair of his own and for how ridicolous that sounds it might just be the simple truth, after all a wig even if made from real hair isn't quite to same fun for him, plus he enjoy how unconfortable and tense his maid is when he does this.

She never quite enjoyed having people mess with her hair, the sensation bothered her to no end, she could feel every strand of hair being pull and tangle itself in the other's fingers...it usually was awfull but the fact that he was doing it made it so much more unberable! She can feel his nails brush against her scalp, her neck, the side of her face, she can feel the loose pins keeping her hair in place dangling and pulling one or two strands enough to make her scalp itch but not enough to make the strand finaly snap, the brush encountering a knot but either not being deep enough in her hair to relive her of the unconfortable pull or him just taunting her with his lack of insistence because, of course, it wouldn't be fun for him if he gets over with it, he needs to make it last, to take as much time a he can with this useless infuring task! She would prefer if he just pulled her hair out of her head, this is too slow, this is too soft, this is to gentle to be coming from him!

As if hearing her thoughts and her complains he started to put more force in his stokes, it wasn't pleasent for her, it never was, but it defenetly was better!

The brush finaly reached her scalp and finaly scratched those itches for her, those few knots that were bothering her finaly gone, then he finaly finished dividing her locks in what he wanted and needed for whatever he was planing, finaly the most unberable part was over!

The most brilliant idea crossed his mind, what if he puts ribbons in her braids?! That would not only be fun but look absolutly adorable! The excitement got him to work faster now that he had an actual idea of what he wanted to do that wasn't just to bother her.

He was quick with his work, eager to see the results, he weaved the ribbons betwin her locks as he braided her hair, it didn't take long, he had done this before after all!

With one last adjustment the lord pull the gaze of his little maid to the mirror in front of her: "I do not understend why you do not enjoy me pampering you, after all i am good with this, am I not?"

She knows better then being a contrarian when he seems to be in a good mood, it wasn't even that bad she is just paranoid, so she just noded looking at his reflection.

"Good good, and what do we say when we enjoy something?"

"....thank you, my lord."

Anyway, I like art/writing prompt lists so obviously Alagadda needs one specific to Alagadda. I've done these with the lords in mind unless otherwise stated, but obviously you can pick OCs or other characters. It's just a list.

In their element ( ie: Mirth = Air, Odious = Fire, Diligence = Water, Anguish = Earth. )

Brushing hair ( or doing nails if bald. )

Tending to their mask.

Looking in a mirror.

Eating their favourite food/trying a food you personally like ( for added difficulty, no wine. )

Dancing alone.

Dancing nicely with a partner.

Dancing with a partner but it's just another way to fight.

Playing an instrument, singing, or both.

Performing a ritual ( anything from pretty magic to blood sacrifice, whatever your comfort level. )

Having their portrait painted.

Dressing up super-fancy for a ball.

Spending the day lazing about in loungewear.

Put that Humour in armour because armour is cool.

Avoiding the Ambassador.

The Hanged King has summoned them. Are they in trouble or is this a chill chat?

049 got lost and wandered into their house.

What do they want from a Foundation researcher and what do they offer to gain their loyalty?

If they could smuggle one thing from Earth unchanged into Alagadda, what do they smuggle?

Baby/kid versions of eldritch horrors are comedy gold, babify that Alagaddan.

This thing is a work in progress so toss in your own suggestions and I'll pick from those, too.

[seagull-scribbles]

Love her even though I’m not supposed to ❤️ she keeps me up

[becca-e-barnes]

The need that I have for early morning, tender sex with Dbf!bucky that gets a little frantic and really passionate 😵‍💫

Especially if you tend to drift apart in your sleep. It feels so much nicer to curl up against him again the next morning, stealing some of his heat and enjoying the way that he smells so familiar to you now.

You can't help but feel a softness in your chest when he sleepily pulls you closer, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head with his eyes still closed. If nothing else, you feel incredibly safe with your bare chest pressed to his and your limbs tangled together comfortably.

The sunlight has just managed to creep through a gap in between the curtains, illuminating the few grey hairs peppered across your partner's hairline and you swear he's never looked more beautiful.

He's more awake than he'd lead you to believe though. His eyes are barely even open before he's tilting your chin up, making it easier to capture your lips with his.

"Good morning." He mumbles in his deep morning voice when his lips part from yours.

"Hi." You can't help but smile, wiggling your body against the bulge in his underwear. "It's a great morning."

He can't help but roll his eyes at your enthusiasm.

"Didn't I take good enough care of you last night? You still want more." He pretends he's insulted but secretly, he's pretty damn pleased. You want him; plain and simple. You don't dress it up or play it off. Don't we all want to be wanted?

"See, that's the problem. You were too good to me last night. And now. I'm all worked up." You slip kisses to his neck and shoulders in between your sentences, hoping that it really drives your point home.

"You're a handful." Bucky teases, tilting your chin up once more, letting his lips collide with yours before allowing his tongue to do the same. It feels like his hands are all over your body at once, teasing and rubbing and gripping you, getting you even more worked up.

It's not long before he's got your leg hooked up over him and he's slipping his cock into you. The glide is that much easier given that he finished inside you just a few hours ago and the thought of that alone makes you even wetter.

Bucky's low groan as he slides into you is addictive. He's clearly still sensitive but it feels too good for either of you to stop now.

"Such a good girl. You take me so damn well." He's babbling already, eyes rolling back as he presses as deep inside you as possible, giving you a chance to take a breath before he starts to work your body in a way that no one else has ever managed.

[angelofalls]

"Who's behind the art?" Well this is me, if you cared.

[autism-alley]

ik it’s been forever in internet time but i’m gonna die mad abt the way the live action atla show got a good amount of backlash and criticism from the fanbase meanwhile the pjo show was THAT horrendous and the fanbase treats critics like they’re out to kill their mother. as someone in both fandoms am i crazy bc i keep fucking seeing people say yes 💀 like!! these shows, whose original series were both about a 12 year old boy born with godlike powers going on quests with his friends to save the world, released in the 2000s, and had a shitty movie adaptation, now reboots released within weeks of each other, both committed nearly identical crimes of character assassination, exposition dumping, dumbing down their source material, sanitizing “problematic” elements (that the characters originally had to overcome), and wasting actor potential (also at least live action atla had good action scenes CANNOT say the same for the pjo show)—and i’m seeing like mainstream(ish) social media coverage of new atla show critique by people with millions of followers all across different sites, but nothing even close to that for the pjo show?? if that coverage exists for the pjo show somebody fucken send it to me bc like!! the pjo series is Not an unpopular series, i get it’s a book series and not a tv series so i didn’t expect the popularity to be exactly the same, but Damn! i feel like i need an hours long video essay comparing the two audience reactions to these series’ first season releases bc they were WIDLY different

[babbling-starling]

[nyrarachelle-plays]

Oh Haaaaaayyyyy, Yall! I'm ready to post again... [*rubs hands like Birdman*]

[bluebellhairpin]

When you have to write the fic you want to read.

[overleftdown]

4th and final part to my farleigh analysis. most of this one is just ranting, since all of these scenes are fairly self-explanatory. i am plagued by thoughts and emotions.

[1:12:45] farleigh: i wouldn't do this! elsbeth: james is very upset. farleigh: you know that i... why would i do this!? elsbeth: i don't know! farleigh: i swear to god, this has to be a- elsbeth: enough! farleigh: there must be some kind of mistake, here.

oliver really did hit farleigh where it hurts, i suppose. farleigh remains committedly in control of himself; he knows when and where to say something, how carefully he needs to act in saltburn. he toes a line, but he somehow manages to stay on the right side of the cattons' affection. this, however, was a breach of that line. oliver attacked the cattons' trust in farleigh, in their confidence of his ability to remain compelling and non-threatening. maybe oliver was expecting this particular offense to be the end of their good graces towards farleigh, although it clearly wasn't.

[1:37:17] felix: i mean, the idiot! he had to have known that dad went to school with the chairman. venetia: i mean, talk about biting the hand. and mum and dad would give him anything he asked for. felix: yeah, well. obviously, he got sick of asking. venetia: that's ridiculous. he's more spoilt than we are. felix: i mean, come on vee, you have to admit. it's a little bit dark, him having to go to mum and dad with a beginning bowl. venetia: oh, boo-fucking-hoo. felix: already yes, fine, it was incredibly fucking stupid.

again, the irony of this situation is that farleigh really would never do this. it's interesting, how nobody questions it.

i also think it's important that venetia assumes the money would be for farleigh himself, and felix neglects to correct her. the conversation he references by specifically saying "begging bowl" had everything to do with farleigh's mother. the lack of familial privilege farleigh has is, also, a supposed racial bias. felix also neglects to mention this. the idea that farleigh could be implicitly discriminated against within saltburn is so deeply uncomfortable, so offensive, that felix can't even mention it as an objective discussion he had with farleigh. that's not surprising, though.

[1:25:30] oliver: have they seen you, yet? farleigh: not yet. oliver: yeah, they'll go ballistic. farleigh: i doubt it. they invited me. oliver: ohhh. farleigh: mmm... mmm. god, the look on your face. oliver: they can't have invited you. farleigh: oh, oliver. you'll never catch on. this place? you know, it's not for you. it is a fucking dream. it's an anecdote you'll bore your fat kids with for christmas. olivers once in a lifetime, handjob on a hay bale, golden big boy summer! and you'll cling onto it, and comb over it, and jerk off to it, and wonder how you could ever... ever, ever, ever get it back. but you don't get it back. because your summer's over. and so you... oh... you catch a train to whatever creepy doll factory they make olivers in. and i come back here. this isn't a dream to me. it's my house. so whatever happens, i always come back. try harder next time, baby.

god, this monologue. so much for me to chat about.

"this place? you know, it's not for you." farleigh has this obsession with the fact that oliver is an outsider. it's intentional, it's instinctive, because farleigh is an outsider all the same. it's strange, though, because this is still farleigh's family. this is his aunt, his uncle, his cousins, and the house he's lived in for at least a couple years. he shouldn't, reasonably, be an outsider. yet, he's treated as one. something kills me about how hard farleigh is fighting for a place to belong. and sure, the money, the lavish lifestyle, it's all great. i don't disagree that farleigh is motivated by the fact that he's never experienced the life of lesser wealth that he fears so much. but there's also so much love for felix and venetia and i'm sure, for elsbeth and james.

this makes the final portion of farleigh's monologue so relevant. this is that kind of foreshadowing where a character implies a happy ending before receiving the opposite of that. farleigh says "this isn't a dream to me. it's my house. so whatever, happens, i always come back." and he... doesn't! he does not come back, at least at the invitation of elsbeth or james. this was a dream for him, too. oliver just had to prove it, how easy it is to destroy everything farleigh has worked for since arriving at saltburn. the pocket in time that farleigh runs to when he doesn't want to go back to america and his mom.

[1:35:58] (they find felix's body, in the maze). farleigh and venetia destroy me, in this scene. the way farleigh reaches for her hand and pulls her into him. at 1:36:56, he pulls her into him again. they cling onto each other. sometimes i think about how much farleigh must have loved them and grieved them alone. how in the world do you cope with that?

[1:37:12] (pre-curtains closing) it's the way farleigh glances to felix's empty chair. it's the way that, even now, it's farleigh sitting next to felix's ghost. and he's trying his hardest, in this moment, to be very english about his emotions. great effort.

[1:39:28] farleigh: oh, my god. may i be excused, please? james: no. we haven't finished lunch. farleigh: the lunch is cold! what, you want me to just eat it like nothing's happening? elsbeth: what else is there to do, darling? farleigh: anything! anything! james: farleigh! will you be quiet!? sit down and eat the bloody pie! just eat it! eat it and shut up! eat the bloody pie! you're not the only person here with feelings. none of us wants your bloody american feelings.

i don't know if there's any singificance to this, but the same moment that farleigh cracks is the same moment that the footman behind him cracks.

of course, english repression vs american... normal...ness. "none of us wants your bloody american feelings" is, again, such a strong indication of how differrent farleigh is. he's family, yes. but he's different for a multitude of reasons. i also find it heartbreaking, how elsbeth speaks to him in this scene. she is visibly trying so hard to keep herself together and maintain a calmness while speaking to him. i really do wonder how close they were.

[1:40:10] farleigh: what the fuck are you still doing here? what, does no one else find it weird? no one else finds that weird? oliver: i wouldn't throw stones if i were you, farleigh. farleigh: excuse me? venetia: please, stop. james: what is he saying? farleigh: i, i have no idea. oliver: what i'm saying is, i would feel guilty, too. farleigh: guilty? oliver: if i was the one racking up lines on the night that someone died. farleigh: fuck you. oliver: that's not a denial. james: is that true? search farleigh's room. farleigh: no- james: get out. farleigh: no, wait- elsbeth: what's happening? farleigh: aunt elsbeth? elsbeth? james: don't you dare look at her. get out. i won't mention to this to the police, but that's all you'll get. nothing more, ever again.

and here is all it took to ruin farleigh. archie's acting in this scene is so potent it's kind of vomit inducing. the way he fidgets with his sleeves, the way he flinches and his lip quivers. farleigh is buried in a sweater. now, more than anywhere else, he looks so young.

for the first time in this movie, farleigh refers to elsbeth as his aunt. gah. not that elsbeth seems any more motherly than what i imagine farleigh's own mother to be, but goodness, he's begging for affection. i realize there's not much else to say about this scene other than how heartbreaking it is. i'm basically writing this post for my own self benefit; i gotta rant somehow! i wonder if farleigh did feel guilty for his actions that night. if he regrets sticking to his own agenda, avoiding felix and the rest of his family like the plague. if he regrets the competitive nature of it all; how quickly his need to be accepted took precedent over the genuine connection he had with felix. there's something so hopeless about learning how to lie.

i think, out of all the cattons, farleigh understood how much it all mattered. the money, the ease of summer, the companionship during school. just like oliver, he knew how to work, in his own way. farleigh knew what it felt like to be loved and ignored by the cattons, and by his own family in america. rararararararara.

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[marshmellowtea]

hadn't realized that a covid safety video would give me the goes wrong show/six the musical crossover i've lowkey been wanting lmaooooo

[doctorwhoisadhd]

there's a certain quality the harmonies of like... early to mid 2000s alt rock has. which i am obsessed with... like i wanna do that. i NEED to figure out how to write harmonies that sound like that

[yappacadaver]

BROOOOOO I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE I JEED MORE RAYMOND CONTENT THIS FANDOM IS SO DEAD

AAAAAA i feel you u_u been trying to convince more ppl to draw my blorbo haha

I've personally still got a long list of WIPs and planned art/fic chapters, but unfortunately my pace has slowed way tf down thanks to my chronic pain and lack of income/job search :( Still keeping at it tho! Just posted my most recent chapter last night, and my latest art was a couple days ago too :')

in the meantime, my commissions are open for anyone who feels similarly and wants to see something specific! And if it's something you're passionate about, I'd be so happy to see whatever Raymond content you'd want to bring to the table, art, fic, hc, or anything else!