#you get the gist right

[morgana-ren]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doesn’t she?

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

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

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

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

His real name. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something is wrong.

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

He lashes out at her. 

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

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

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

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

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

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

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

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

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

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

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

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

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

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

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

From him.  

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I'm trying to—"

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

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

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

"But… why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t. 

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

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

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

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

"My love, look at me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

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

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

Showed her he loves her?

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

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second part of the story HERE

[ultravioletbrit]

“share” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 376 words

James is just about to leave Regulus’ flat, but Regulus stops him just as he reaches the front door. “Wait. What’s in that bag?” Regulus asks when James picks up a duffle bag that Regulus hadn’t noticed sitting by the door.   

“Nothing.” James answers awkwardly as he tries, and fails, to hide the large duffel bag behind his back.

“James...?” Regulus says slowly as he walks over to him. Regulus takes the bag from James and gasps when he opens it. “My sweatshirts!” He yelps. “Why are you stealing all my sweatshirts?”

“Your sweatshirts?”

“Fine, our sweatshirts.” Regulus corrects himself and James raises an eyebrow. “They’re not our sweatshirts?” Regulus asks with a little pout. “We share them so doesn’t that make them ours?”  

James takes the bag from Regulus and puts it on the floor so he can wrap his arms around Regulus’ waist. “Sharing implies that we both get to wear them, love. You steal them, and I don’t see them again until I run out and I have to sneak in here and take them all back. Then we start the whole process over again.”

Regulus blinks at James a few times. “You…? But I…?” Regulus fumble the huffs. “How long have you been doing that?”  

“How long have we been dating?” James smiles sweetly.

Regulus gives James another small huff with a little pout but after a moment something flashes across Regulus’ eyes and he narrows them at James.

“Do you wear them when you take them back?” Regulus asks.

“Yeah…?”

“So, we both wear them. Doesn’t that imply that we share them?” Regulus asks with a little smirk.

“I… But you…” James fumbles his words then huffs. “I guess we share the sweatshirts.” He says with a resigned sigh.

“Our sweatshirts.” Regulus corrects him.

“Our sweatshirts.” James agrees with a fond eye roll. He leans in to give Regulus a quick kiss before he picks up the bag.     

“Wait.” Regulus puts his hand on James’ to stop him. “Can I just keep one of them?” He asks in a shy voice as his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “I like to umm… sometimes I…”

James smiles and leans in for another kiss. “I always leave you the one you keep under your pillow.” James whispers.

[sidsledge]

✦ SIDSLEDGE // “Two Slow Dancers” ‐ Mitski.

vote for sidsledge one last time 🫶🏻

To think that we could stay the same To think that we could stay the same

[wahgifs]

[IDOL HUMAN THEATER] STRAY KIDS ☆

[admiralicepop]

OOK! Hear me out!!!! HANGSTER RUGBY AU!

[hmstartnell]

been listening to a lot of pirate ship ambiences recently bc they’ve been helping me concentrate but do you know what it’s got me thinking about?

the terror pirate au

hear me out. the crews of terror and erebus have been rivals for years because their captains (Crozier & Franklin) hate each other. and when I say rivals I mean RIVALS. like this is known among every single pirate crew in the world. they’re each constantly trying to get to treasure or ports before the other ship, fighting and causing a hell of a load of trouble wherever they go. then one night, Franklin’s out on deck on his own when he hears what he thinks is his wife’s voice (it’s not of course, it’s a siren) but he dives into the sea and swims to her, never to be seen again. erebus then gets a new captain (Fitzjames) and the rivalry is still as bad as ever. that is until both crews end up on the same pirate port just as a huge storm hits it, making it literally impossible to sail out of there. they’re stuck there for the night and at one point, the captains disappear. no one really knows what they got up to but rumours begin to fly once the crews of terror and erebus started sailing the seas together, no longer fighting or shooting at each other every chance they got

[kaitcreates]

Something I’ve been thinking about is how while Elsabet and Lin both (presumedly) use source stones powered by the Phoenix, Elsabet uses hers to create fire, the destructive and literal interpretation of a phoenix’s power, all while Lin uses hers to heal, the helpful and more metaphorical interpretation.

[tevos]

‘and she’s not self-destructing. not on my watch’ and the way carla immediately looks at betsy when she says this. goddamn.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Massive thank you to you and everyone else who calls out how shitty it is to get mad at peoples interpretations. Sleep tokens music is romantic. Its also toxic. These statements can coexist. Its not your business if someone plays bloodsport or vore or hell even atlantic at their wedding. Youre not them, you dont know what the music means to them. If you see a weird take just roll your eyes and move on, its not a big deal. Absolutely sick and fucking tired of all these "why are you calling this romantic/sexy? Youre stupid and a terrible person!" takes like fucking relax. Media literacy is important yes. Respecting that this music is dark and personal to vessel is also important. Same goes for respecting how people relate to the music in dark ways. But as long as people are not saying things directly to vessel or fans about how their individual trauma is sexy then just chill out and respect peoples different interpretations. It sucks that i cant talk about how i view certain songs without being called horrible things and having really fucked up vitriol aimed at me. Yall need to grow the fuck up and get over yourselves. Im not thinking of your personal shit when i call a certain song romantic/sexy, i dont even know you, sometimes im thinking of my own trauma actually lol. Lets all discuss this music maturely where we respect each other and what each of us as individuals bring to the table for interpretation, stop making this fandom toxic as hell for anyone who doesnt agree 100% with your own interpretation. (Also the whole "youre not allowed to say this song is romantic/sexy" thing is very dismissive of some peoples trauma in itself, it ignores how messy someones feelings toward their abusers/toxic partners can be. Pretty fucked up to call a trauma survivor stupid or a terrible person because a song reminds them of their positive feelings towards someone who hurt them) Anyways yeah, just tired of people being so harsh because they refuse to see other peoples perspectives. I genuinely think one of the most toxic aspects of this fandom is the vitriol over different interpretations, people act like outright children at times with it im ngl, especially with more sexual discussions. It also feels infantilizing towards vessel at times, hes a grown adult who put romantic/sexy elements in his music and he doesnt need people trying to protect him from those themes. Im rambling but this stuff pisses me off so much, this fandom needs to do better

Context post for the clueless ones - regarding my tags/replies

Here's the thing - I've been in fandoms for many, many, MANY years. This type of discussion isn't anything new nor unique to Sleep Token, but it sure does make a comeback quite often. It's tiring to keep repeating the same things over and over, but that's what fandom is all about isn't it?

Someone needs to say something, and I am not one to shy away from uncomfortable conversations like these. Something something, build your own community, be the change you wanna see, etc etc.

I've said pretty much everything I wanna say already under that post, but for the sake of clarity, and because I can't keep my mouth shut apparently -

Under the cut for length - you know the drill:

Music is art. And art is subjective. Meaning, each individual will have their own personal connection and interpretation of a given piece of art, which in this case is Sleep Token's music.

Did Vessel write the songs with a certain intent or meaning? Most likely yes! It's not hard to connect the dots and guess what events/emotions might've transpired and served as inspiration for them (accuracy to personal life is irrelevant and none of our business, but it's also no rocket science to understand what's been said).

Can we establish a base meaning for any given song, or better, can we have a general consensus of what a song is about based on its lyrics and themes? Absolutely! Not every song is like that, but we can all agree there's a lot of recurring themes of past relationships and mental health struggles.

Is it wrong to diminish the songs to one basic element (eg. the sexual undertones) and/or completely disregard the bigger, more important theme? I'd say it is.

Giving Atlantic as an example (which as a lot of you know, is my most favourite song of them and very dear to me): this one has some very blatant references to suicide and depression. Regardless of whether it is based on irl events or not (none of our business!!!), it is extremely heavy and emotionally charged. I find it incredibly disrespectful when people say random stuff during the rituals when he plays this one.

Or for example, how certain people reduce Sleep Token to "baby making metal", instead of acknowledging the insane (insane!) variety of genres and the profound lyricism they present.

Should we limit our views, and by extension, those of others, to surface-level interpretation, without allowing room for different views and interpretations, either fictional lore based or not? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Vessel himself said to "not restrict ourselves to labels or genres because music transcends it all" (paraphrasing here). It's literally their whole thing. It's very hypocritical to be shouting from the rooftops about "media literacy" and assuming people are stupid or idiots for not understanding the basic, surface-level meaning of a song, when Vessel himself constantly writes in metaphors and half-truths.

I've touched on this a lifetime ago on one of my analysis, but if you *actually* look at the lyrics, you'll realise Vessel hardly ever says what he means. There's always something else behind his words, something he purposefully keeps hidden. It really sneaks upon you sometimes! I'm over a year in and I still find something new everyday on their music. That man has a way to weave in a hundred and one statements under a single sentence, that is just truly beautiful to study.

Is, say, The Love You Want, about a man (Vessel) mourning the fact that his love isn't reciprocated? Yeah! Is it about someone who, despite knowing they can never receive from their lover the attention and affection and care they want, will stay by their side anyways? It is!

Is it about bitterness, spiteful accusations aimed at the one person who should love you fully? Or a reflection of how little self-regard the singer has, so much that they are willingly and actively choosing to stay in a sinking one-sided relationship, because the alternative is too painful to bare? Can you flip the switch and see it as someone who is obsessively pursuing another person, and painting themselves as a victim? All of this, yes!

You can even eliminate the romantic aspect all together and apply it to a relationship with the self (past or future, or an alter ego), or a parental figure. The options are endless. There isn't one universal truth when it comes to music, and as such, all of these takes are 100% correct.

Many statements can be true at the same time - it doesn't make one more true or correct than the other. Simply different. The way we connect with music is very much dictated by our own life experiences, and no two people have lived the exact same life.

Can you prefer a certain way to look at a song, or completely disagree with certain takes? Absolutely! I know I sure as hell do! That's normal and expected and part of the fun in being in a community such as ours. More people means more ways to look at a song - isn't that just wonderful?!

Now, this is very obvious for most of us, but some people, especially in the younger rage, have been taught to look at things in a very black and white way. Not to be that person, but the truth is that the rise in awareness of social issues and "pc-ness", is slowly starting to eliminate the possibility of things being flawed and nuanced.

If you're wrong, you're awful. If you're right, you're obnoxious. Made a mistake? Get cancelled. Grow from your mistakes, but not like that. Learn from your actions, but change your whole personality in a day otherwise you're problematic.

You know what I mean.

Life isn't black and white. Art isn't black and white. Music isn't black and white. What may seem like a toxic, dark, obsessive depiction of a relationship to you, might translate to the deepest and most truest of loves to me. I can acknowledge something is Not Right, while still drawing my own conclusions.

Is Blood Sport a sad af song? Yeah! Definitely not the first thing I'd think of when in a happy relationship. But maybe that's the point. And maybe I do. And that's okay, and none of anyone's business. "Okay but The Apparition isn't a good example of a healthy and romantic-" TO YOU! Maybe that's what love looks like to me! Maybe I just happen to be into it! And what about it?

Maybe to me love comes with all the ugly sides too. The violence, the despair, the self-doubt. Who are you to dictate what I can or can't think? I highly doubt Vessel would go 🗣️ "WRONG! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! >:::(", so why would you?

You can, and should, discuss the songs with others! Maybe some people do genuinely need a fresh pair of eyes to help them get to the juicy core of the songs - that's why we're here! To discuss, and exchange ideas! You can, and should, call people out when their engagement with the music is being harmful to others (joking and laughing during Missing Limbs? No bueno. Speculating about Vessel's personal life? VERY no bueno. Choosing a potentially weird song to walk down the aisle? None of your business + not your wedding + you weren't even invited + none of your business. Notice how I've been repeating that. Notice again).

You shouldn't, however, shame and ridicule others for having different views from you.

I think, rather than engaging in pointless discussions and start accusing people of being this or that, we should all exercise a little "don't like? scroll past". Is it harming you or others? No? Then scroll past! Is it an awful, truly horrendous take about something you're really passionate about? Okay! Disgusting! Scroll past! Good for them! 👍

Also - keep an open mind. We're all doing this living businesse for the first time, no one holds all the answers to everything. It's okay to change your mind. It's okay to say the wrong thing and backtrack. It's okay to make a mistake and learn and grow.

You know what's not okay? Being a dick to others because the thing you like is being misinterpreted. It's hard, I know!!! You can block people! You can scroll past! You can look at pictures of your favourite vessel and cleanse your brain!!!! I know I do!!!!!

And this is a last afterthought but - you don't get to complain about the fandom you're in if you're doing nothing to change that. I see many, maaaaany of you bitch about this and that, while having 0 engagement aside from the bitching. Like?? Maybe if you spent more time reblogging cool art or gifs and less time whining about literally everything, this would be a much more pleasant space!! And I DO get to be a little petty here because I sure do try my best to make this a fun and nice community. I am allowed a little bitching 😌

Anyways, tl/dr: don't be a dick; don't like - don't engage; keep an open mind; gaze upon the vessels. Peace and love yall 💙💫

[raindrop-rouge]

✨ Chapter 3: ENVY: The Sunken Emerald ✨

Chapter 3 of Seven Rings, Seven Rivals is now up!

Alastor glides through the doors of a fancy hotel. This one is carved into red coral, and blue lighting splashes the trademark purple of Envy across the walls. The dim lighting shrouds the ceiling in darkness, which makes it appear higher than it actually is. Soft music plays in the background, tones pitched high and low blending into something melodious enough, but not something that he’d deem suited to a hotel lobby. Perhaps a spa, instead, like the one Rosie wanted to open once.

Revenge number 1 is finally had, the "shapeshifting" tag gets justified (and will be doing some heavy lifting), and the boys still can't work together.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Go with me here - I have thoughts!

So I’ve been thinking about this since we got the stills, of both Buck and tommy at the loft, but also the divorcing couple, but then the quote from Tim got me feeling more convinced than ever!

Tim has revealed quite a lot in this quote - it confirms that whatever it is is about Tommy and about the BuckTommy relationship - its not about other outside things - there are only a couple of things that that could mean.

I don’t think it’s going to be about Abby - but I do think she is relevant! I’m very much still sticking with my theory that Tommy is an alt version of Buck and things are feeling more and more like this is in fact the case. See if Tommy is alt Buck then we have some very interesting parallels and contrasts to explore, especially around the part of my theory that BuckTommy is a reversion of the BuckAbby relationship - only this time, Buck is in the same place as Abby - so the one who wants out of the relationship whilst not knowing how to actually end said relationship.

Buck and Abbys relationship was Bucks entry level relationship into the concept of actually dating and being with someone - not just for sex - but for them as a whole person. Tommy has been described by Tim in the same way - as an entry level queer relationship for Buck. Buck is the main character here, so he needs to show growth and development - so putting him into the same place Abby was - having him figure out how to end things on his own terms - talking to his family and actually recognising what it is he wants - showing us that on screen -that would be a good thing.

Say we get a inadvertent confession from Tommy early on in the episode - where Tommy implies that he was interested in Eddie first - pursuing Eddie before he switched to Buck - just as a throw away comment that can be read in multiple ways, but is enough to send Buck spiralling and seeking the advice of Bobby and of Maddie and Josh - everything then ‘becomes clear’ later on towards the end of the episode when Tommy fully reveals and confirms that he was into Eddie not Buck. It makes complete sense to play it in parallel to Buck Abby - it’s the way it creates a spiral that allows Buck to avoid Tommy for a short period so that he doesn’t have to start thinking about his own feelings at the start of their relationship - he doesn’t have to confront the fact that he might’ve got things wrong and that it wasn’t Tommy he was feelings things for - he was threatened by Tommy - because he posed a threat to Bucks relationship with Eddie - and if that is the case then Buck has to face up to the reality of his feelings for Eddie - that they are not actually platonic.

Ultimately Buck will realise he’s got to end things with Tommy and give himself the space to work out the Eddie of it all - that it’s not fair to be in a relationship he can’t fully give himself to. It gives him the closure he never really got from Abby when she left him and gives him a large amount of growth and it also gives us pining Buck as we head into Hiatus and when we start 8b.

I’m not just pulling this out of thin air either - there are a few things that back up my theory from a costume and set perspective - and from a script and directorial perspective too.

Firstly we have divorcing couple storyline - a man quite literally spilling his guts - a man who it seems from the episode blurb, doesn’t want a divorce. He is wearing a plaid check suit jacket - which mirrors the plaid we have seen Tommy wearing so far this season - and ties into the suit jacket at the end of Episode 5. The ex wife is wearing yellow and blue - the Buck and Eddie colours (see mine or @lover-of-mine ‘s many metas on the subject of blue and yellow and Buck and Eddie!) the set of that scene is also heavily yellow blue coded - the painting on the wall especially.

Then we have the fact that Tommy has been located in the exact same place as Eddie was in the coming out scene from 705 - and wearing Black - I think its really really ket that we note this fact - mirroring that scene is a very loud directorial, set and costuming choice. Tommy is meant to mirror Eddie from that 705 scene - Eddie is making his own confessions in that scene - he is basically figuring out how to break up with Marisol because he didn’t know this big thing about her (and that big thing is hitting a bit too close to home for Eddie) and we get a whole thing about buck and tommy having the right idea - to just hang out with the boys etc. Eddie basically reverts on his plans to end things with Marisol when Buck makes his own confession.

So we have a scene about confessions in an episode called confessions paralleling a scene about confessions in an episode called you don’t know me - that is a choice - a very intentional one. Plus there is the fact that Tommy is sat in Eddie’s seat saying he thought Eddie was gay would be really great paralleling to Eddie taking Bucks coming out to mean for him to fix things with Marisol because Buck had become available and unavailable to Eddie. Eddie now has the knowledge that Buck was an option, but that he’s not available as an option. So a Tommy confession that plays into the buddie of it all both helps the queer Eddie arc along as well as driving Bucks arc forward - creating a big enough hurdle for Buck to chose to end the relationship, but also a hurdle that the relationship could successfully navigate its way over if both parties wanted to.

The thing is - Bucks costume tells us all we need to know about which direction this will ultimately go in - he is wearing Blue in the scene with Eddie - the one time he actively chooses to come out to someone (the fact its Eddie is telling all on its own) - and that specific blue is very heavily connected to Bucks journey in figuring himself out - who he is and what he wants in his life - its a colour very much tied to Eddie - he wears that shade of blue in Eddie heavy scenes - and tends to wear different shades of blue in connection with other characters (look at my s6 costume metas for more on the subject!) The fact that buck is in green for this upcoming Tommy scene is an indicator that the relationship is nearing its end - Buck wears green when relationships end - this bears out all the way back to season 1 - he is wearing a green plaid shirt at the airport when Abby leaves to go to Europe. Buck doesn’t wear green all that much and like I have said in a previous post - the darker greens are always connected to break ups. All this is showing us that Eddie is the right person and Tommy is the wrong one.

And then we have the lighting and the set. The lighting is starkly different - we. Have the warm yellows and low light levels of the Buck and Eddie scene from 705 while this Buck and tommy scene is brightly lit and the light is cool toned. This does two things - in the Buck Eddie scene it created intimacy and warmth - it allows the confessions from both of them to read as being important but ultimately changes little in their relationship - it remains intimate and warm - as the hug backs up. In contrast the Buck tommy scene illuminates everything - its not intimate - it is harsh and revealing - the lighting gives no place to hide and the cool tones play into the cooling of the relationship - it will be interesting to see if the direction of the scene also plays into this - the Buck Eddies scene we saw the distance between them narrow and end in the hug before Eddie departs. My expectation is that this Buck Tommy scene will either maintain a distance between them that doesn’t really close - or it will show the distance increasing between them as the scene progresses.

We have lots of threes in the set design for this Buck Tommy scene too - the three jars in front of Buck, there appears to be 3 baseball caps on the coat rack and we’re have the three coloured jackets on the coat rack as well.

The three jackets are basically the writing on the wall for the relationship. They are saying so much while they just hang out there behind Tommy in seemingly innocuous fashion. Their meaning becomes even louder now we know that Eddie is going to be in yellow this episode. Buck is the blue jacket and Tommy is the green one - they are together right now like those jackets are hung together, but the yellow jacket - on it s own on the other side of Tommys head is there waiting. The yellow jacket is Eddie. The green one is in between the yellow and blue - in the same way Tommy is in between Buck and Eddie .

Blue and green represent a break up in Buck terms and with the green jacket being the same colour as bucks shirt - it is saying that the break up is in Bucks hands and once it does, the yellow and blue will be there on separate pegs - but unimpeded by a relationship. The break up will move us one step closer to the yellow and blue joining together.

The bike being gone is also part of the symbolism - no more Buck without brakes - he can put a stop to things now - he has control.

One other things is that I’ve been parsing over the meaning of the plane emergency fro the opening 3 episodes - because the show always foreshadows all of the character arcs through the main opening emergency - if you look at all the opening disasters you will see that it echoes through the season for each character arc. The cruise disaster from s7 plays into each character arc perfectly - characters lives being turned upside down in some way - Eddie upending his life through his choices - the Kim of it all leading to Chris leaving. Buck’s life being turned on its head as he figures out he’s bi. Hen and Karens lives being altered through Mara coming into their family and then losing her because of Ortiz. Maddie and Chims wedding being knocked off course and turned upside down through Chim going missing because of the illness he develops. Bobby trying to retire and then the bathena house being burnt down. Athenas storyline with Harry - they are all arcs that play into the idea of being capsized.

So I’ve been contemplating how the plane emergency is relevant - and I know a lot more will become clear as the season unfolds, but right now we have some interesting things going on looking at it from the Buck and Eddie perspective. So we have the bike symbolism in connection with Buck - which plays into the loss of his bike from the wall, but there is the fact that he highjacks a bike in the opening disaster - buck is on someone else’s bike on an empty bit of road - symbolic of his relationship with tommy - he’s the only one in it but it’s not the right relationship - when he gets off that bike he can signpost Eddie in to land - the bike he gets off being a metaphor for tommy and the plane being one for Eddie.

The fact that Eddie is broken and unable to change direction at the moment - like the plane - and he’s looking for a place to try to land - him managing to land safely in the end is a bit of foreshadowing for buddie going canon - Buck will initially direct him to a landing spot but will also be there waiting for him when he does manage to land - in the place for bobby. It continues the Buddie parallels with bathena - Bobby there waiting for Athena in the same way buck will be waiting for Eddie.

Plus the Jem of it all works too - him being representative of Chris - so the idea that Chris coming back into Eddies life will help Eddie land his plane is pretty loud as well. That Chris will help lead Eddie to Buck - in some way. I keep thinking about the simulation game thing as well - something about Chris being with Helena and Ramon being like a simulation - its pretend and not the real thing - and it will cause him to crash - but he can walk away from it and when it comes down to it - to the real thing - he will step up and be successful in it. That Chris will be the one doing a bit of directing Eddie on how to heal and land the plane.

[aerophone-amphibians]

Goddamn, MTMTE goes hard on the third readthrough

[duckduckhjonk]

Tear you Down has forever changed my brain chemistry, like... what do you mean Rhysmuth has never told a bad joke or done rap????? BeMeebeth isn't british??? Whail isn't intensely traumatized by the effects of leaving the workshop nearly killing it and watching its friend slowly rally almost every other monster against it all for some cause that nearly caused her own demise, thus leading to its own near demise which Whail had to save it from????????

[crimeronan]

if you wanted to move out of tachni, on top of the costs of moving and getting a new passport, how much do you have to cough up to cover your labor contract? presumably enough to cover the next year?

GREAT question. i'd say presumably enough to cover the next year, yeah! you need to be in a financial position to meet your yearly obligation and to own your own contract. and if you're leaving with anyone, then either you need to pay for them or they need to pay for themselves, too. i assume children increase the financial burden even if they aren't employed yet, but am not sure by how much!

moving out is a non-starter for invalids unless their guardian is doing so. moving out is Also a non-starter for contingency citizenships unless their contract is bought by someone with an Enormous amount of both money and social clout with the light temples, like what happened with robert n sol. and even then, again, it's down to the contract holder.

[warmfuzzyanimal]

🌿

[scribblingface]

friendship ended with rosetta stone, new best friend busuu. rosetta stone never ever explains what your mistake was or why the correct answer is correct, you are supposed to learn the language solely by repetition and context without any explanations at all. and I hate it. just TELL ME what the rule is and then I will apply it to future situations! because I'll understand!!