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#no brain bad idea
baggvinshield · 5 months
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yes it's one of the best and horniest metaphors for penetrative sex I've ever seen but even without the subtext, just textually, he wanted to be held by this man so badly that he goaded him into stabbing him. he wanted to be held in the arms of this man so badly that he demanded he run him through with an entire sword. and now they get to be boyfriends and probably get pirate married next season. ed and stede everybody.
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twinstxrs · 8 days
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so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.
#fantasy high#dimension 20#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#fantasy high junior year#fig faeth#ruben hopclap#lucy frostblade#the rat grinders#adaine abernant#kipperlilly copperkettle#watching fig terrorize him like girl!!! we don’t even know if he’s guilty!!!!#this might just be for me but i do not think 5 teenagers willingly brutally killed their friend idk#like there just has to be some other element to it and i am very scared to find out what that was#what if they were put in a position where they felt there was/there was no other choice… like oh my god#my comedy brain is having fun but my ‘this is a teenager’ brain is in such deep distress all the time this season#the rat grinders i trust brennan to not make u cartoonishly evil so i am holding u as gently as i can in my confused shaky hands#also with the devil’s nectar i’ve been wondering why they all seem so well-adjusted & now i’m curious if they’ve been intentionally-#changing their memories in a way so that either the trauma is lesser or they think they aren’t guilty. idk#but it seems like from how gertie was talking she was making it more recently so the well adjustedness from early jy doesn’t quite add up#they could have another source maybe??? idk i’m just low stakes 4 a.m. spitballing here#there’s also the strong possibility that they’re aware of what happened but they weren’t the ones who killed lucy. idk who knows#the way you could probably devil’s nectar yourself into believing it wasn’t your fault someone died… CRAZY IMPLICATIONS!!! CRAZY IDEA!!!#anyways the bad kids & the rat grinders don’t ever have to like each other but i do wonder if at least some of those kids deserve a chance
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Over the years Tim had lead, taught and helped countless other teens come into thier powers and said teens looked at him like he hung the stars. They admired him greatly and wanted to do something to make thier mentor/big brother figure proud.
So when they found Tims soulmate they were absolutely ecstatic.
Yeah sure, the guy was the child of evil mad scientists and apparently the heir of a creepy fake vampire supervillian but they'd seen weirder couples in the hero community. They just needed to convince him to join the heros side!
Naturally they try to kidnap Danny and he has no idea whats going on other than a bunch of kids in superhero costumes are trying to abduct him. Between his powers as Phantom, that they seem to not know about (thank the ancients that ghosts don't show up well of pictures and that he started wearing a mask) and his own parents paranoid housebuilding techniques Danny escapes them easily.
Danny figured they would leave him alone eventually, right? If not he would have to call the cops for stalking and harassment.
If that didn't work he would just set all the house lazers to stun. Worst case scenario he might have to call the Justice League emergency line and yell at them to come get thier kids.
It would also be funny if he just kicked them out as Phantom
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obsob · 1 year
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more kitties that live in my sketchbook
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anon-lemon · 9 months
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neil is very respectful of andrew's autonomy, especially in their relationship. we know that. we love that for him. (mostly angst) fics of him not realizing his and andrew's relationship being exclusive are popular. i love reading them.
what if. what if he becomes a tad bit possessive of andrew, though. (a little tug to pull him close, a sharp glare directed to wandering eyes, etc.) andrew would normally find that concerning for all the reasons we all know and understand. possessiveness can imply ownership, can lead to a controlling relationship. andrew would normally dislike that. neil being possessive of andrew, though? andrew fucking loves it??? andrew is very into the idea that neil is obsessed with him, obsessed enough to be possessive of him. like. most people didn't want andrew; some people wanted andrew but they were the bad kind; and very few are the people who wanted andrew who he wanted back. neil's possessiveness isn't caused by insecurity and neither is it because he wants to control andrew. it's more that he always held himself back from wanting and having that when has the chance to actually have something, he clings to it. (hence andrew thinking of neil as a racoon.) (it's also very much like how andrew is, yeah?)
anyway, a headcanon i indulge myself in is neil showing a healthy amount of possessiveness of andrew and andrew loving and even encouraging it. what if. what if.
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clownsuu · 11 months
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Howdy My Beloved
(I’m so down bad for him it’s horrifying)
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LMAOOO mostly mutual howdy love
speaking of howdy iv been seein cowboy/Wild West aus for welcome home and I decided to dip my toes in it a lil while I was hyper KXHDGDH
cw poorly drawn guns and messy sketches
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I was just gunna make Home a sheriff’s buildin’, but I thought it would be cooler if he was a big bad spooki
also howdy’s lil bugdega is both a convenient store and a restaurant/bar (same building, all shopping stuff at the front while the restaurant is in the back) howdy can make a mean beef n cheddar KDHHFH
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zu-is-here · 9 months
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make teleshopping great again ♪
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semisolidmind · 3 months
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such a faithful husband (unfortunately for reader)
(it likely wouldn't take long for any potential homewreckers to realize that swk isn't one to be swayed from his beloved wife)
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ghost-proofbaby · 5 months
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my little scaredy cat
request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha
warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao
pairing: eddie x fem!reader
wc: 3.1k+
i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.
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This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea. 
You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday. 
It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it. 
Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson. 
His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger. 
And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not? 
Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play. 
You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch. 
“Shit!” 
Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow. 
“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!” 
“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?” 
And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions. 
Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through. 
His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”
Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph. 
“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.
Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences. 
Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts. 
Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.
“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.” 
The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove. 
“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…” 
You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.” 
“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.” 
Your stubbornness is admirable. 
Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.  
Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there. 
A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.
The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares. 
The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 
He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt. 
You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.
When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip. 
“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“ 
“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.” 
It’s more than fine.
His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior. 
Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his. 
After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.” 
Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.
“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness. 
He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder. 
“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.
“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.” 
“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“
And so, he decides to stop speaking. 
It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.
You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain. 
Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you. 
He breaks away for just a second, “I-“
“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten. 
Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss. 
And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now. 
“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”
This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses. 
“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“ 
“Hold on, what?”
He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.
“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“
“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?” 
“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“
“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.” 
Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”
“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“
“You like me?” 
Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing. 
He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.” 
You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”
His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.” 
“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”
“So?”
“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.” 
“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“ 
“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.” 
It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm. 
It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe. 
“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“
“Say it again.”
“Huh?”
“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.” 
Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place. 
Right. It’s so fucking right.
“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.” 
His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.
“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.” 
“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.
You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 
You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.” 
“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.” 
Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.
When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.” 
“Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 
“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 
He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog. 
It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally. 
“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.” 
“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”
His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.
Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told. 
“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.
It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n
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uncanny-tranny · 6 months
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Every time you think, "Oh, I don't have [x condition], I'm basically cured!" that is the devil talking. You aren't cured, you are likely going through periods of your symptoms waning. Don't cease whatever you're doing to help yourself, like medication, for instance, because it's likely you still have the conditions or symptoms, even if you aren't noticing them as frequently or severely.
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antichrists-plus1 · 6 months
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Watching the dynamic between bonny and read vs stede and ed in s2 ep4 was such a rollercoaster cause it went from me thinking "oh no they're just like stede and ed but if they actually ran off to China together and had a loving happy relationship" to me getting further into the ep and thinking "oh no they're just like stede and ed but if they ran off to China together and their relationship turned fucked up and toxic cause that's what happens when two traumatized pirates run of to live in isolation with eachother on a whim".
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alabyte · 1 month
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Y'all remember this portrait? Yeah well I spontaneously wanted to do a full design :D
Dude's been stuck on some anomalous planet for half a year now, and the environment there makes wearing full armor all the time pretty uncomfortable. Does that stop Crosshair from being a militaristic style icon? Nuh-uh.
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the-brawl-girl · 3 months
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He did it...
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idk-bruh-20 · 7 months
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Irondad fic ideas #154
CW: this one's pretty gruesome. read at your own risk 
Peter is a young child who's been kidnapped. His parents and/or his aunt and uncle were killed and he was taken. Along with a bunch of other little kids, he's been held captive and experimented on.
When the Avengers suddenly bust the kidnapping operation, the kidnappers try at the last second to destroy their research. They gas the small room where the kids are being held.
It's Iron Man who ends up blasting through. What he finds is horrifying. All but one of the children are dead.
The one who's left is just sitting among the bodies, crying, shocked, terrified. Iron Man carries him out of there, then once they're safe from the gas Tony steps out of the suit to comfort the kid while he's given oxygen.
Little 5-year-old Peter Parker imprints on his savior hard.
He just went through an unimaginable amount of trauma, then Iron Man burst through like an avenging angel. This is the first time he's ever felt protected in his memory. Tony holds the crying kid, and the kid can tolerate no one else near him.
This becomes a slight problem when they get back to base. But Tony can't find it in him to let SHIELD take the kid away, let them strip him of this one tiny bit of comfort. He keeps seeing all those other kids when he closes his eyes.
This one needs him right now. And if "right now" eventually becomes "this is my son," well. Who could've predicted that.
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goodnight-whore · 2 months
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Spoilers for Mammon chat
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lorephobic · 4 months
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literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped
A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence
an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.
thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag
A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn
a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in
alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship
The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]
how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired
may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn
alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay
Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry
a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion
a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such
least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn
if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me
edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!
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