#but it's been rattling around in my brain for a while

[mybelovedsylus]

For the Zayne fans on my poll ♡

First off, thank you to the crazy amount of responses on my poll! Second, I really hope this doesn't disappoint you all. This is almost 2.5k words- Zayne has been keeping track of your cycle and therefore has to have you in his office while you're ovulating - for the best chance of breeding ofc. Do with that what you will. Those are your warnings. I just know that while Zayne is like the perfect man to bring home to mom, he's absolutely a menace in the bedroom (lowkey confirmed by the valentine banner) I'm still newer to lads so if it's ooc I'm sorry I'm still reading through the stories.

I of course, didn't edit this, one day I will - when I can get back into my account on the computer because me and tumblr on the ipad do not get along. Today is not that day. Anywaaaaaays, 18+ no minors please and enjoy

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Zayne's gaze snaps up from his laptop screen, and he briefly checks to make sure there's not a dent in the wall as the framed awards and his diplomas rattle on the wall. He knocks a few files over as he stands hastily and rushes over to you, smoothing down your wind swept hair and running his fingers over your flushed cheeks. He may also subtly shift them to take your pulse, but only because the way your chest is heaving can't be healthy. You clear your throat and raise an eyebrow as his eyes flicker from your chest to meet your eyes. 

"You sent 911, and you're just in here doing paperwork?" you ask out of breath, and the flush in your cheeks is reheating as you start to get pissed off. "Zayne,  I was in the middle of a debrief, what the fuck are you thinking?"

His hand reaches around you to push the door closed, which in turns means he's encroaching on your space. Your head is tilted up to look at him, and the anger dissipates as soon as you recognize a hungry look in his eyes. You gulp as you hear the click of the lock echo across the small clinical space. What is happening?

"I sent 911 because I have surgery in 30 minutes," he says in his usual matter-of-fact tone that makes you want to shake your head, as if there's some literal fog that can be cleared. It doesn't work though, you're still not connecting the dots, and honestly it short circuits as he places both palms flat against the door on either side of your head, effectively caging you against it. 

"I can see the gears in your head spinning, love. We have 45 minutes, the perfect amount of time for us to get started on conception, enough time for me to fuck a baby into you," your breath catches in your throat and you're wondering if you've flat lined as poised Zayne tapers off into the more feral behind close doors version of himself. No matter how many times you see this side of Zayne it still short circuits your brain. You're not certain it's not whiplash as he clears his throat back to his usual doctors tone for a moment. "After all, based on my tracking, you're ovulating today - so it's the perfect time."

His nose drags down the column of your throat and he works on sucking and biting the skin of your neck as your brain tries to desperately catch up. However, instead you throw your head back with a deep moan, to which Zayne reprimands you and captures your lips with his, plunging his tongue in your mouth. He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away from you, eliciting a small whimper.

"Don't forget, we are in my office, and those noises are just for me,” he all but growls at me, and I can feel how wet my underwear is from just these few moments. Goodness, you love the contrast of who he is in private compared to the version of himself he gives to the world. 

“Wait - how do you know I’m ovulating?” You ask pushing on his chest as if the space will provide you reprieve to think for a second. He easily crowds right back into said space, molding his body to yours as he pushes you against the door. 

“You send me to pick up tampons, and two weeks later you jump me the second I walk in the door, it doesn’t take a doctor to figure that out, love,” He says tilting your head up so he has easier access to your lips. Before you can think his hands are running up your legs and you gasp as he presses on the seam of your jeans putting pressure right on your throbbing clit. “Definitely ovulating,” he smirks. 

“Shut up,” you gasp into his mouth, tangling your hands in his hair and standing on the tips of your toes to get a better angle. With the precision you only get from dating a surgeon, every button of your top is undone in seconds and with a simple flick of one hand at your back, your bra joins it. He wastes no time in bending to suck on your nipple as his hand drifts to the buttons of your pants, undoing them and the zipper, and pushing them over your hips. Before you know it you’re completely nude as he stands fully clothed, doctor coat included before you.

He simply smirks, dragging you to the couch where he seats you on the arm rest, back to the rest of the couch so he has plenty of room in front of you. 

“How many times do we think I can make you finish before they page me,” He asks, although it seems rhetorical as he passes you his glasses and sinks to his knees while throwing your right leg over his shoulder. You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your tongue as you feel him use his evol to blow icy air over your slick folds. You drop his glasses onto the cushion, moving to put your hand over your mouth to try and smother the cry as his tongue finally hits you. He drags it flat over your folds, gathering your wetness, before working overtime to flick your clit in a way that has you wondering if he’s going to beat his record for bringing you to orgasm. You are certain he is when you feel his fingers probing at your entrance, working two in and opening you up. The sound of his fingers working through your increasing wetness is obscene, the squelching sound working in tandem with your strained breaths through your nose. When the fingers he has inside you curl upwards as he gives your clit a gentle bite, you don’t even have time to warn him as the wave rushes up on you and your vision blacks for a second. 

“That’s one,” he tells you with a cocky grin, his chin still wet as he stands back to his full height. His eyes glaze a bit as he watches you tremble and shake through the aftershocks. He undoes his zipper, pushing his slacks and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. It’s clear he’s pent up from the angry flush of red it has compared to normal. 

“You’re really going to keep the coat on?” You ask him with a raised brow. He seems to really weigh the options with a shrug.

“It’s fine, I have to scrub in for surgery so it’s not like a sanitation thing to worry about right now.”

He pulls you up, before spinning you around and pushing you over the armrest, face landing on the cushion. He groans at the sight, dragging the head of his cock through your wetness before notching at your entrance and slowly working his length inside. Your fingers grasp for purchase in the fabric of the sofa and you gasp as he finally seats himself inside you. He doesn’t give you the usual time to adjust though, rather pulls back so only the head remains inside and then he pumps forward in a smooth deep stroke. He sets a steady pace for the onslaught, and at this point you’re sure that your moaning, his grunting and the sound of skin slapping will let all of his coworkers know exactly what is going on in here. 

“You’re going to look so good stuffed full with my cum, and then bursting with our child,” he folds himself over you, whispering the dirty words right into your ear and sending a shiver up your spine from the sensation of his breath on your overheated skin. 

He works both his hands around your body, one to rub tight circles on your clit, the other alternating between tweaking both nipples. 

“Zayne, I- fuck - I’m close.”

“I can tell, you’re squeezing me so tightly. Your cunt knows exactly where I need to be, I should just live in here, keep you here in my office whenever I need to take a break,” he mutters each phrase with a deep thrust for emphasis as he sets a quicker pace. At this point he’s basically fucking you into the couch and all you can do is try to hold on. The sensations quickly become overwhelming and when he bites down on the back of your shoulder, you’re coming with a gush. He lets out a guttural moan, working you through the crest, still firmly seated within you. 

“I think we have time for one more,” he states with a laugh, harder than ever inside you, while you feel practically boneless. “Gotta get you into a better position though, want to make sure we can get it all deep inside so it has the best chance of taking.” 

Holy fuck, okay. Next thing you know you’re whining about how empty you feel as he pulls out, only for him to reassure you it’s only for a second. Once he stands you up he finally shrugs off his coat, only to thread your arms through it, before he turns you around so you’re leaning on the very edge of the arm rest. 

“You’ve been dying to see me in the coat huh?” you ask suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows to tease him as you let the coat slip down your arms so it lays more like a shrug, keeping your naked form on full display. 

It’s then that you hear his phone go off at his desk and he spares it a glance for a second before he’s asking you to widen your legs as he steps in between them.

“Don’t you need to get that?”

“It’s Greyson, I told him to give me a two minute warning before the official page,” he tells you as he lines up and slides back in. He pulls you into a rough biting kiss as he sinks all the way to the hilt. This time, he’s a man on a mission, or maybe man possessed is a better description. You have your hand fisted in his shirt and his doctor coat between your teeth as he pounds into you like a machine. He’s battering your cervix on each downward stroke, and then pulling almost all the way out of you. 

“Wait, I need my glasses,” he gasps, halting all his movements and you can only respond with a desperate groan, letting your forehead rest on his chest. 

“Really? Now does not seem like the time for that,” you gasp but lean back, reaching until you find them crammed down in the cushion. You unfold them and place them on his nose, pushing them up until they sit in their usual place. 

“I want to see the mess I’m about to make of you,” is his simple answer, and he smiles devilishly at the clench of you around his shaft. Suddenly you found yourself wishing you ovulated a lot more often. You watch as he sucks two fingers into his mouth before using them to lavish your clit with attention once more. He’s using his evol to heighten it with the drastic contrast in tempature and you just know you’re a babbling mess as you climb closer and closer to your peak. 

“That’s it love, we’re going to come together, and you’re going to hold every last drop- right here,” he tells you, doubling down on his efforts. His free hand rests on your stomach and he lets out a deep moan when he realizes he can feel the press of himself at the deepest point. His brow is coated in sweat and the vein popping in his neck shows the strain as he relentlessly thrusts over and over. Your hands have moved to his back, holding onto him for dear life, probably still leaving marks down his back despite the fabric barrier. 

You can’t hold back any longer, hooking your legs around him as you cum, locking him to you. He groans, mouth meeting yours in a messy kiss as he pushes to get as deep in you as he can while he finds his own release. You can feel the added warmth as he paints your inside walls, and the clenching of you riding out your own orgasm serves to help milk him for everything he’s got. He shudders, pushing his weight against you, causing you to fall back on the couch, all the while he remains seated deep inside you. 

Your bubble is burst by the official page and you know you unconsciously grip him tighter before releasing him. He begrudgingly slips from you, but he angles you so that your hips are being held up by the arm rest, keeping your pelvis tilted. 

“You’re going to be a good girl, stay just like that so it all stays right where it needs to, up against your cervix, and if you can do that, when I get back from this quick surgery, I’m going to give you another load here and then we will go home where I will only give you breaks for sustenance,” he says darkly his eyes firmly fixated on what you’re sure is a mess. You can already feel his cum dripping from you to the sofa fabric below. What you are not prepared for is him scooping up some of what is leaking and pushing it back in with his fingers. His eyes flash for a second, but then the page goes off again and he sighs. He leans over you to give you a sweet kiss, and he pulls his doctor coat around you so that you aren’t completely exposed. 

“You sneak, you gave me the coat knowing you were going to leave me here like this?”

“Oh believe me, I’m going to dream of this picture for the rest of my life - I won’t be able to wear my coat without getting hard I don’t think,” he confirms as he tucks himself back in his pants and heads to the door straightening himself back into professional mode. He barely opens it to slip out, making sure that no passerbys can see into what’s his. 

“Remember - don’t move. I’ll know by how much you leak. And I plan to keep you stuffed to the brim or leaking for the rest of the weekend. I can’t wait to see you swollen with our child.”

[mur-art]

Illustration/comic inspired by the fic “Shakedown!” by @lunearobservatory

Texas makes it to California’s door. He knocks aggressively, is patient for only a second, and immediately becomes irritated when it’s not opened on command. He must have been standing, waiting at least fifteen seconds, before California swings the door open. He loved to take his sweet time on every little thing he did with no regard for others, and he was about to get an earful, if Texas has anything to say about it, and he has lots to say; or, he did.

Texas is—for the first time in a damn long while—speechless. He’s stunned, silenced, as he meets a ghost. He’s face to face with a vision, one standing in California’s doorway, arms crossed defensively. Around his neck is a red bandana with black patterning, he’s wearing a loose, cream colored button up, and tight, very blue jeans. There, on his head of dark brown curls, sits a hat Texas remembers.

The vision of California blurs in a burst of dizzy lights—God came down and flicked Texas right between the eyes, rattling his brain in his skull. There’s an echo of the past, a violent surge; little memories are pulled forth. Texas stares into the sun and sees a past life.” (From “Shakedown!” By Lune (DawTD)

This is part of a series of illustrations based on this fic but it’s the only drawing I can only post here. 😉

The whole series can be found here on AO3. 🌶️**PLEASE PLEASE NOTE AND HEED THE E RATING**🌶️

I highly recommend reading the original fic! It’s by far my favorite Texacali fic and I’m slightly obsessed…(hence the illustration project)

[sassypantsjaxon]

Zoro offers to kill Judge

When Sanji returns from Whole Cake and his wedding and Luffy and Nami will only tell him the barest details because it's Sanji's business to tell and he isn't saying anything. Zoro says he can go and kill Judge right now and still be back in time to fight Kaido. His captain tells him No. Sanji wanted them alive. Zoro respects that, but he still offers again when Sanji finally tells him why he had to ask Zoro to kill him. Sanji manages to fake a laugh through his tears as he tells Zoro No, that's not necessary.

It's not the last time Zoro offers. When Sanji starts staring out into the distance, towards where he knows the North Blue must be, with this desolate look on his face. When he buys Zoro a good bottle of sake. When his hands start to tremble with contained strength. When he gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for everyone. There's no rhyme or reason to when or why Zoro offers. As a reassurance, as a thanks, as a promise. Sanji knows he means it, every time, and he denies him every time. He'll never admit how much he appreciates the offer. How much he wants to accept, but he just can't. It becomes a part of their courtship, just as much as their daily sparing. They'll fight over anything and everything, they'll make up again over shared food and clean dishes and naps on the deck, and Zoro will kill Judge for Sanji. Keep his beloved hands clean of his creator's blood. He offers once, in between the proposal and Luffy declaring them husbands, says It can be a wedding present, and is only joking about it being a gift for their wedding. Sanji still laughs when he says No. Sometimes they'll go so long that Sanji starts to wonder if Zoro's changed his mind, that maybe he won't kill Judge for him after all. And then one morning, out of nowhere, Zoro will catch his hand as he he's in the middle of something else, and tell him I'll do it for you, just say the word. And Sanji will tell him Not today. Sometimes he wonders if the only reason he keeps denying Zoro this one thing, it's really because hearing the offer sounds like a reassurance of the other man's love for him. And then Sanji tells Zoro about their child. And Zoro has plenty of his own concerns. Children are so fragile, both their bodies and their spirits so easily broken. But it's different for Sanji. This constant battle between joy to have this little thing growing in him, and the terror that maybe the things he's managed to fight away will be passed on to this innocent party. Zoro offers again. He'd be back home long before the child arrives. Sanji cries and tells him It wouldn't change anything now. It's the first time his answer hasn't been a no. But it's not a yes either, so Zoro waits. Maybe the day Sanji agrees will never come, but Zoro will wait for the rest of his life if the reassurance is the one thing Sanji needs. And their baby comes and Sanji laughs at how terrified Zoro is to hold them for the first time, and they look just like Zoro, and Ussop jokes that Sanji's genes didn't even put up a fight and Sanji just looks so so relieved. Their child is no stronger or more durable than any other child in the world, they cry when they're upset and laugh when they're happy and Sanji couldn't be more relieved. And Zoro knows. He knows what the answer will be the next time he asks. He knows that no child will ever go through the torment that Sanji did. He knows that Judge will never hurt another person. But he doesn't ask. Because he needs Sanji to be absolutely sure of his decision, so he doesn't ask. And still one morning, as Sanji's waking up and Zoro's going to bed, and Sanji is holding their child his his arms, with all the wonder that something so precious could be theirs, and he looks up at Zoro with a lifetime's worth of love, and tells him Yes. And Zoro says Consider it done.

He goes alone. He knows the rest of the crew would join him, destroy all of Germa 66, send it to the depths of the ocean for the sake of their kindhearted cook. But this is only Zoro's promise to keep, so he goes alone. He finds Germa without any trouble. He's always trusted to seas to bring him exactly where he needs to go, and this time is no different. It's big and cold and ugly and contradictory to everything Sanji is. Just having heard about it, Zoro had wondered how his Cook could have come from a place like this. Seeing it for himself makes him wonder even more. It's easy enough to find the palace, even easier to find the throne room. Judge recognizes him immediately. Pirate Hunter. Greatest Swordsman. First Mate to the King of the Pirates. Husband to the failed prince of Germa. It's pathetic, the way Judge begs for his life, promises Zoro anything he could want. There's only one thing he's capable of granting, and Zoro doesn't hesitate to demand it. Reiju named as his successor. He knows it's what Sanji would want. The only way to guarantee Germa's sins won't be repeated, aside from destroying it outright. There are plenty of other things Zoro wants from Judge. But none he's truly able to give. He wants Sanji's peace of mind, for himself and for their child. He wants Sanji to never wake up and fear he's back in that cell again. He wants to take all of Sanji's pain and bear it himself, but this is the best he can do. It's almost not even worth the effort it takes to kill Judge, and he almost feels bad for putting this coward's blood on his swords, except they're begging for it almost as much as Zoro is. He passes Reiju herself as he's leaving the throne room. She takes in the scene with no emotion showing on her face. Zoro isn't sure if her lack of reaction is from the modification Sanji had told him about or if this would be her response anyway. Zoro stops just past her, but doesn't turn back to look at her. Tells her Sanji has a child. Named Sora. They're safe and loved and cared for by the family he's created for himself. He thinks he hears some emotion in her voice as she tells him Good. I'm glad. Zoro doesn't stay to hear anything more. He wants to find the room Sanji was held prisoner in, destroy it, bring this whole place to the ground. But he'd only promised Sanji this one thing. He returns to the Sunny as easily as he had left. He hadn't been gone long. Everything's exactly as he left it. Sanji and Sora are still waiting for him. Sanji falls into his arms, finally free of this weight he's been carrying his entire life, looks up at Zoro with a tear filled smile and tells him Thank you.

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

listen. listen.

I know it’s a fandom joke to be like “Edwin can’t read social cues and that’s why he’s a bitch lol” but like… yes he can? I kind of think there are moments he chooses to be kind and compassionate and gentle, and then moments where he’s just being cunty on purpose. Like this scene? Right here? This is on purpose (and Crystal clocks it, and gives it right back and I love their bitchy besties dynamic).

That doesn’t make him irredeemable or mean that we can’t like him as a character or whatever (the obsession with Good and Moral characters is definitely directly contributing to fandom rot and character interpretation, in this case). But I really need people to stop pretending he doesn’t know what he’s doing, because I kind of think he does.

Take the scene with Charles and the pot that the sprites were originally in. Charles did not drop the pot like Edwin claimed. As plenty of people have pointed out at this point, he broke it on a skeleton in a moment of panic because he was protecting Edwin from those skeletons in the dandelion field.

Edwin, however, subtly changes his description of events from threw to dropped. He knows what happened. He was there. He’s also trying not to make tensions worse, and he knows telling Crystal that Charles broke the pot intentionally would escalate things. So he doesn’t tell her. (Everything works out the same in the end anyway, and they do save Niko together).

Then there’s the scene on the cliff, after Charles pushes The Night Nurse into the fish. This one is interesting to me because I feel like it gets misinterpreted so easily. Edwin tells Charles what he did was extreme. Perhaps the wording was poor, because Charles feels like he’s being criticized for what he did and crumbles. I think Edwin was concerned for Charles, though, because he steps forward and does something that Charles does for Edwin when he’s upset or stuck on a case- he reaches out to touch him. This is unusual for Edwin, but he has to know it’s meaningful for Charles if he does it so often (there’s similar shoulder touches in episodes 1&2 pictured here). That’s a small, subtle gesture that he noticed over time. (He does get shrugged off, but he did try).

Or like— people have commented on this situation. I’ve heard a lot of “surely Edwin doesn’t really think Scooby Doo is that thrilling/clever/intelligent”?

Hear me out. Niko is his friend. When you’ve made a friend, you show interest in things they enjoy so you can spend time together and get to know what is meaningful to them. That in itself means he is aware this is important to Niko, which is very sweet. (Although I would like to think he genuinely likes the book recs, I’m sure those healed something within him).

So it’s not that Edwin can’t choose to be subtle, and it’s not that he isn’t aware. It’s that he simply decides to be a bitch sometimes (and tbh I would love to go into the why behind that sometime).

[elv-arts]

(ID in alt text)

Stan doodle dump!

Ok so. I am ill about this man i think.

[sleepinglionhearts]

Kana may, in fact, be named Kana because it is a simple name but also I know where I started, I'm borrowing that name with great respect u___u

[island-in-the-shadows]

On Felix Catton & Disgust/Desire

I had been waiting for a long while now to write this post. I wanted to do another full re-watch before I got into it because the ideas for this have been sitting in my mind for a long time. This is going to be a long post and, hopefully, not super pretentious. Most of us fans of Saltburn know, to some degree or another, that the core themes of the film revolve around disgust, desire, and obsession. And the biggest entry point to discuss this is the actions of our protagonist, Oliver Quick re the object of his disgust/desire/obsession Felix Catton.

I've written before that I believe that Oliver did know Felix and that Felix was emotionally vulnerable and candid with Oliver. I further stated that we, the audience, are forbidden from knowing the details of this intimacy because Oliver does not want us to truly know Felix. This means that the bits we get of Felix are small and very subtle. It means that we can interpret Felix's core personality, true intent, true desires in a litany of ways. My opinion is, realistically, no more valid than anyone else's. But for today, I wanted to discuss what I view, from the bits that we get, is Felix's relation with the core themes of the film. And, because I saw a truly heinous takes about a different fandom I'm in and I don't want to think about it, my brain said: hey...let's talk about Felix Catton and his disgust and desire.

Pt. 1: "Only rich people can afford to be this filthy."

When Oliver says the above, he and Felix are in Felix's messy and disgusting dorm room at Oxford. When you take a closer look at the room (which I admit was difficult on my first few views because Felix is lit and positioned to take all of your focus), it is a total shit show. There's clothes everywhere, empty containers everywhere, other unidentifiable debris...honestly wouldn't shock me if there was some used condom somewhere. We know from Oliver that, not only does it look like chaos, it smells terrible. However, Felix is unbothered. He is concerned only with the heat which, in this case, is an external force that he cannot control no matter his good looks, his charms, his pedigree, or his money. By what we see, Felix is quite happy and content in the filth. It is only when Oliver points out the filth and points out that Felix won't take care of it, that Felix reacts negatively.

Felix, as we know, is very accustomed to his messes being cleaned up for him. Before we even get to Saltburn it's a safe assumption to make. Prior to college/uni, he would've gone to some posh boarding school or other. I doubt that they were made to clean everything in boarding school (though if any of you know please let me know). We also know that wealthy people tend to have hired staff who clean for them. This is a young man who has never had to clean up his spilled milk and it has never even occurred to him to do it.

However, the important bit to note is not that Felix is messy and that it doesn't occur to him to clean. What's important to note is that the mess simply does not bother him. Just because he is born to extreme wealth and privilege does not mean that he would have to be this way. There's been germaphobe rich people or people who prefer to have a minimalistic space or any number of things. Regardless of wealth, some people are fine with mess and some people require mess to be done away with immediately. Felix is in the former category. He certainly must notice the mess at some point (even if, clearly, he's nosebleed to it) but he is comfortable in his space.

This is also true of his room at Saltburn. We barely see it, I know, but let's take a look at that glossy af pic of it from the Architectural Digest Article...

There is crap EVERYWHERE. The more you look at it the more crap you find. You can't even say that it's perfectly clean either because there's dirty clothes in spots, there's multiple pillows on the ground, there's a random used water glass, there's either toilet paper or paper towels on the night stand, the bed isn't perfectly made, I could go on. Chaos and filth and mess is, technically, Felix's natural habitat. It's the kind of mess that is surrounded by opulence, certainly, but it's still a mess.

Only rich people can afford to be this messy because they can also dictate when and where their staff cleans. Presumably, there are things in Felix's bedroom (perhaps the toilet paper/paper towels which have a...purpose) which he has instructed Duncan to leave alone. Or Elspeth has put terms for how often the maids come in the rooms. It could be framed in a multitude of ways. The point stands that Felix can exist in these chaotic and, even, disgusting spaces because he chooses to be. What his privilege does, then, is afford him absence from judgment.

We see the staff at Saltburn clean up after the party. We see that they quietly replaced a broken mirror before anyone can question the cracks. We never see the staff judge. Do they? Certainly they must, we all have opinions. But do they express their judgement to the masters of the house? No. It's not their place to do so. They are considered staff and therefore their opinions do not come into play for the Cattons nor would they want to hear them. Even Duncan's genuine unease and grief after Felix dies is mostly kept under control. He's not paid to express his emotions or his thoughts, after all.

And why go into all of this? Because Felix is content to live in the mess, to revel in the gross and in some version of the abject. What Felix cannot handle is being confronted with his pleasure. To me, this (along with wanting to separate Oliver from staff when the younger boy starts actively cleaning) is the main reason why he snaps when Oliver points out the disgusting state of the dorm. He does not need or want to know how he fits outside a specific role that he was born to play and, likely, believes he has to play. Even if it didn't occur to him to clean, he could've used his wealth and influence to find someone to clean for him. But he didn't. Because it doesn't bother him. Oliver being bothered and pointing out that Felix is so wealthy that he can live in the filth is what bothers him, instead.

Pt. 2 "Was it? Was it awful?"

I am going to keep this section short, because there have been much better posts about this and I, personally, go back and forth on this all the time. Regardless, Felix having an interest in a made up fantasy of a shitty childhood and what he can, likely, envision as some Dickensian nightmare of a situation falls into his relation to disgust and desire. What Felix knows of true poverty and addiction likely comes from media or exaggerated stories from people who have been in contact with someone who was an addict or something to that extent. His imagination must be running wild with theories. And while I do think that he did have good intentions regarding Oliver when it comes to this, his demeanour also shows an attraction to the grotty aspects of it. Oliver only ever calls him out on this, to a degree, in the maze. Before this, Felix can be interested in what he imagines is the horror of Oliver's childhood but not be caught out as being a tragedy whore or someone with a saviour complex or anything else, because his interest is not being pointed out. Again, he has an interest or desire for mess and chaos as long as it is not pointed out.

Pt. 3 "You're supposed to be here with me."

Let's, briefly, talk about queerness. Let's talk about how Felix has an image to maintain. How he has expectations put upon him. Yes, he has privilege and wealth beyond understanding, but these things often have a tradeoff. Celebrities, for example, have to forfeit a lot of their privacy. Royalty and nobility (regardless of country) often forfeit chunks of their privacy and the possibility of living outside of a script (publicly, at any rate). Felix CANNOT go off script.

He is implied to be the heir to Saltburn and everything that comes with it: money, land, title, expectations. Like in the days of old, it's probably expected of him to produce an heir. It's also expected of him to marry a lady from his class in order to produce said heir. And, back in 2006/7, people were less acceptating of LGBTQ+ people that they are now, and Same-Sex marriage was not a thing in the UK and it wouldn't be for another 7 or so years. So Farleigh, who will inherit nothing and only ever be given scraps, can embrace his queerness; Felix cannot.

Personally, I believe that Felix did have some sort of interest in Oliver. It's not just in the fact that he is possessive of Oliver to the point of disregarding his family. It's in all the Bambi eyed looks that we see Felix give Oliver. You could argue that these are exaggerations from Oliver but then, how do you explain the POV shots we get of Felix looking at Oliver? How they are also romance coded, lustful, pinky and fluffy? There is something there. To what extent there was something is pure conjecture. But, I personally believe that he had some kind of feelings for Oliver but could not express those feelings and, to an extent, found his feelings for Oliver disgusting.

Even if his mother is, in her way, tolerant of queer people, this does not mean that she would be ok with Felix being with a man. I doubt his father, who is in his 60s at the time, would be any happier about it. Again, Felix needs to have an heir and take over Saltburn. So, at most, they would've tolerated that Felix had a "friend" tucked away somewhere that Felix could go to every so often. Queerness is not the desired outcome and so, at some point, Felix would've had to separate any feelings from the matter. And, hypothetically, in boarding school any hand jobs etc. from other boys would be viewed as part of a norm that exists within the realm of "no homo."

So, given he has been emotionally intimate with Oliver and, given that he has felt more for Oliver than he probably thinks he should, he feels disgust as much as he feels desire. He can, and personally I think does, want Oliver, but feels disgusted by his feelings and has a strong desire to keep them channeled in the "appropriate" way. Just the same, he gets jealous and he does not want to share. He cannot abide by Oliver being free to pursue another partner (guarantee he would be equally as incensed if he had found out about Farleigh and it probably would've slightly registered had Oliver actually slept with Indabel). It's specifically a slap in the face that it's Venetia who has done this kind of thing before and who is allowed to be physical with these friends of Felix's with whom Felix does not feel he could or should be physically intimate. Thus, the possession and the jealousy and the spurned wife behaviour of it all.

Pt. 4 "You make my fucking blood run cold."

Bref, I think Felix had good intentions but poor thinking skills when he wanted to take Oliver to his parents' house. Multiple posts have discussed this bit and I do think he wanted to further trauma bond with Oliver the way they further trauma bonded when Oliver's dad "died", afterwards, per the script, they were "closer than ever." And then they had that intimate moment on the bridge and spent some time there completely alone instead of being at a giant party. I think he thought that the experience would bring them closer and that he would be there to, in his way, protect Oliver. And I still think this plays in to all the little ways in which Felix desires disgust and is disgusted by his desires. But he does it anyway.

The betrayal of trust and intimacy that follows has to feel like a bomb has gone off in Felix's mind. But what's worse for him, again this is solely my opinion, is that he still desires Oliver regardless. It might not have fully formed in his head and he then dulled it with drugs and alcohol and with his shoddy attempt at fucking Indabel in the maze, but possibly the inkling of why Oliver lied the way he did had entered his brain. Oliver already tried to explain. Told Felix in the hallway when they got back that he wanted to be Felix's friend. And Felix likely relived his entire relationship with Oliver including what Oliver just told him. And, to me, Felix was not entirely opposed to it. He didn't immediately kick out Oliver or cause too much of a fuss. He wanted space. He wanted to not think about it for a while. But Oliver forced his hand.

Again, here we have a Felix who is disgusted by his desire. A Felix who, deep down, knows that he likes that Oliver lied. That he likes that Oliver desires him so much that he would do anything for him. Likes that, despite NEVER wanting anyone to know the most debauched parts of him, Oliver is close to knowing all of his darkest parts and loving him for them just the same. But a Felix who, nonetheless, does not allow himself to revel in the filth once it's pointed out.

And Oliver points it out. In a big way. "Everyone puts on a show for Felix! [...] doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you!" He does know him. Felix knows this. Felix CANNOT go off script. Felix cannot acknowledge his love for things that are disgusting or less than savoury. So too he cannot allow them or acknowledge them here. And then we have something in the script vs. how Jacob actually looked that's what inspired me to write this overly long post in the first fucking place.

This is not the exact beat. Because this is after Felix says his line about his blood running cold. The vibe is the same, though. Regardless...is THAT the fact of disgust? Because to me, that is not disgust. That is some form of desire that most mortals will never experience. But then...it also IS disgust. Because the two are intertwined for him. Because he desires because of the disgust at the situation and at the lengths of debasement Oliver will go to to please him. He is a boy who loves mess and chaos and who makes his home there. And, to whatever extent, his heart could've made a home in the mess and chaos and filth that Oliver brought to the table. Even if Felix has to be disgusted at his desires and prevent them. Even if Oliver took any option or opportunity away from Felix.

Oliver makes his blood run cold, but Felix never said that was a bad thing. And it isn't. Just as Oliver revels in the filth of bodies and their fluids and the inferred possession that comes with them, so too Felix revels in the filth of places and things he shouldn't want and things he can only truly savour in the shadows where no one points them out.

TL;DR Felix is as much of a freak as Oliver is, though in a different way. He is shown to be comfortable and even like messy and gross things but, he only does so when it's not pointed out. He can be, to a point, physically close and emotionally intimate with Oliver and, even partially overlook a betrayal of this intimacy, but only if it's never pointed out. Only if it doesn't break with the expectations and social script on which he has been raised and to which he has to stick. He serves to demonstrate the relationship with disgust and desire as much as Oliver does, but his relation is more subtle and harder to see. And maybe, just maybe, given time, he would've at least bent the script.

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Super sorry for how long this is, I just needed to get it out! Thanks to @ollieapologist for being my biggest cheerleader about this post. Sorry if this is incoherent!

[only-lonely-www]

Happy Tachiharu Day!!!! 💛

[bugsinshoes]

"HEYA ROMEO"

[sp1resong]

been getting real into hit minecraft series content smp as of late

[torture-themed]

"No, no, I'm not a vampire hunter! I'd rather not hurt you at all, actually. No, I'm your redemption. I'm here to turn you human again."

[lelelego]

How To Add Benefits To Your (Best) Friendship 101

comic under the cut!

[nineratsinatrenchcoat]

pretty sure this is what happened

[madcom-stuff-of-interest]

so i've been playing modded minecraft with some friends recently

[zhengzi]

i have a lot of different dreams, at least one of them will come true

[infintasmal]

tfw ur writing a really long headcanon but u keep getting confused by lore bc ur a lil bit dumb and a lil bit high so now u dont know if the headcanon makes sense