#crew token

[tonguetyd]

“We all know him, the man, the legend. Adamrosssi hard at work at Red Rocks” -MetalMuseMedia

[queerly-autistic]

Fuck me there's some very deep depressing societal analysis to made of a situation where 'the gays' are encouraged to support a show that's mostly about straight white people and has just breezed through getting renewed for another season whilst the much more successful and fiercely diverse queer-centric show gets canned.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Okay, since I'm in a Crew Appreciation streak, everyone say thank you to our best friends Jessie Norris, Vicky Searson and Richard Larkum aka THE LIGHT CREW✨💫

I'm not sure how many people know about them, but they're the ones responsible for the amazing light shows we see on the rituals 💙

Jessie was with them during the US tour, and Richard is the new lighting designer (so the German rituals + Wembley). Vicky is also part of the light crew but I can't tell you for sure if she was in the US or just in EU.

Sacred moments in time captured by Adamrossi 📸 (taken from the band's FB)

[earth-orbit]

literally the type of hug people need to give to our precious boy. vessel, i believe you did your best, remember that you're so loved, sweetheart

[strawberrybouvine]

The most popular polycule on campus!

I think I'm happy with everyone's look but Laskos and Gavins, they're both like incredibly close to how I envision them but I think I need to tweak em a bit more ough.

But I am demanding hand in marriage at Hux and Damien 👉🏼👈🏼

[melit0n]

The night belongs to you.

📸: Adam Ross

[satari-raine]

I'm still not used to fully talking on here but I just have to talk for a minute about Sleep Token and Wembley.

They did fantastic. After touring so much this year, doing back-to-back shows, dealing with a band member having to take a leave of absence for most of their final tour, incorporating new changes to their routine and style, and with Vessel having hurt his voice during such a huge show, they did fantastic.

I watched along with Discord. Mostly lurked. And everything I saw from the effects on stage, the fun antics, the performances, the playing - guitars, bass, drums, the dancers, the choir - they did fantastic. And Vessel. I said it in chat that he doesn't need to hurt himself or his voice to earn the love of those who listen to his music, but he kept going. He sang, and pushed through when he had every right in the world to put a stop to the show and focus on his health. He kept on going while also giving to the crowd the chance to carry him through, and seeing everyone - from those on stage with him to the crowd to people in chat and what I saw on here - still loving him, loving them?

They did fucking fantastic, and I dare anyone tell me otherwise. As a community, we should be celebrating them despite any differences of opinion - being kinder and supportive of one another is literally everything they've shown with III's situation and in general. It's what so many of us showed back to them with the hand salutes for III and the marked ? on our hands during specific songs. Their new outfits have fan-made decals to them, for fuck's sake. They are absolutely, without a doubt, genuine about making everyone feel loved.

Look, I'm just a stranger on the internet at the end of the day but this band has come to mean so much to me since I found them, to the point where they've honestly kept me going some days - them and the wonderful people I've met through them - and I just need them to know that they did fantastic, their music still brings people together despite hiccups along the way, and regardless of any of those hiccups, they are so loved. Loved beyond belief.

The night didn't just belong to all of us at Wembley, but to them, too.

[marlynnofmany]

Just a Rock

For all the time I’ve spent traveling through space, I haven’t spend much of it actually out in space. It’s unsettling. Inside the ship, I can forget how close the airless void is, how small our precious bubble of air. But outside, everything is black like some vast creature ate all the color in the universe first, then the air, and is now hungering for life forms too.

Sometimes those distant stars look like teeth.

These are the thoughts that tend to pop up when I’m in my exo suit, hoping that my thruster pack doesn’t run out of fuel before I make it back to the ship. But then an empty pack of chips will float by my visor, and I can refocus on business.

That’s how it happened today, at any rate. (And yes, “day” is a silly concept in the blackness of space.) We’d made a detour to see if we could pick up some extra funds by gathering salvage from a museum ship that had gone kablooey, but so far all we were finding was trash.

Paint jetted past in her own exo suit, upside-down to my frame of reference, then stopped to pull apart a jumble of carpet fragments. “They really did clear out the good stuff already,” she said over the radio. She swatted aside a drink cup with her tail, looking like a little space-suited dinosaur, a thought that kept me entertained for a good few seconds.

Captain Sunlight’s voice said, “Keep an eye out for scrap metal. That may already be gone too, but it’s worth a shot.” She was somewhere else in the drifting junk pile, or maybe back near the ship; I couldn’t tell. There was too much stuff in the way. This was a mildly alarming thought — out of sight meant out of safety — but I caught a glimpse of the Frillian twins posted as safety guards at the edge of the cloud, and my heartbeat settled a bit.

“Do you think anyone will buy some mildly used carpet?” Paint asked the captain. “It’s only in several pieces.”

“Let’s go with ‘no.’”

“What about some very exotic — what is this — napkins? Made with authentic Earth wood fibers!”

I looked over at that. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Paint said. She held up half of a wall placard. “But this is from the Earth exhibit, so maybe the napkins are too.”

I looked around at the trash in a new light. “Man, it’s a pity we weren’t here for any of the good stuff.”

“Yeah, and all these food packages are empty! We can’t even get you a slightly exploded taste of home!”

I waved my hand through a cluster of soda bottles. “I appreciate the thought.”

Paint jetted over to a different pile of whatever. “Hey, do you think any of this food trash was actually an exhibit? Packaging from olden days?”

“Uh, maybe,” I said. “Probably not. That’s not the sort of thing I’d expect on a multi-species museum ship. A janky little humans-only one, maybe. But even then, most people aren’t going to care.”

Something clunked against the back of my helmet. I hate that. Nothing like a reminder that I can’t see behind me like some species can. I toggled the jets to rotate in place, so I could find the offending object.

It was a rock.

“What’s this doing here?” I asked, closing a gloved hand around it and bringing it in for a closer look.

“What’d you find?” Paint asked, sticking out sideways from behind a twisted bench.

“A rock.”

“A meteorite rock?” she asked. “Oh hey, do you think it pierced the hull?”

“No, it doesn’t look like a space rock,” I said, turning the small gray-and-white lump over. It was mostly smooth, with a divot that would have fit a fingertip if I hadn’t been wearing the gloves. “Weird. I wonder if it was part of some Neolithic exhibit or something.”

“Can I see?” Paint jetted over to park herself in roughly the same orientation as me. She was very good with that jetpack.

I showed her the rock. “It doesn’t look like any gemstone I know. Maybe some kid had it in their pocket, then threw it away.”

Paint cocked her head. “Is that normal, for your young to carry rocks around?”

“Sure. You never picked up something you thought was neat as a kid?”

“Not a rock,” Paint said with exaggerated disdain. “A sweet-smelling seednut or herb, absolutely.”

“But look: it’s even got a little finger groove,” I pointed out. “You could stick it in a pocket and rub it for luck.”

“Could you?”

I smiled. “You could. You probably wouldn’t, but…”

“Why?”

I looked at the rock again, already fond of it. “I get the feeling that I couldn’t explain this to a point where you’d agree.”

Paint shrugged. “Probably not. But hey, we found you a souvenir after all. From probably the Earth section of whatever museum this is.” She grabbed a handful of colorful pamphlets drifting by. “The ‘Galaxy in a Bottle Museum Tour Ship.’ Who named that?”

My smile turned into a wide grin. “Humans.”

Paint grumbled about the unflattering comparison of an elite starship to a simple bottle. When she moved to toss the pamphlets away, I held out a hand.

“What’s that white one?” I asked. “It looks like a display sign.”

Paint flipped over the stack and separated the one I meant. “You’re right. Hey, it’s about a rock!”

I reached out a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

She passed it over. “Is it that rock?”

I read the title, then was gut-punched by familiarity. I’d heard about this. “Yes,” I managed, skimming the rest of the sign and holding the rock close. “This is Bethan’s Rock.”

“What?”

I fumbled to explain. “Ages ago, a kid visited a museum — a human kid — and learned what museums were for, then offered her favorite rock as a donation, so other people could appreciate it too.”

Paint cocked her head in the other direction. “And they took it?”

“Yes!” I must have looked a little wild at this point, but I didn’t care. “The adults agreed that it was a fine thing to donate, not to mention adorable, and the only one of its kind that I’ve ever heard of. More museums should house the occasional favorite rock, though I suppose they wouldn’t be as special if they did.”

“So just to clarify,” Paint said. “There isn’t anything valuable about this rock, except that one of your youths decided there was. And all the adults played along.”

I smiled down at it, careful not to let it drift away. “It’s the most precious non-precious stone I’ve ever seen.”

Paint stared for a moment. “It’s not even one of those shiny ones you like.”

I laughed. “I know!”

The captain called us back in at that point, having found one decent chunk of metal among the mountains of trash. We had a schedule to keep.

I folded the sign and tucked it into my suit pocket, but held the rock tight in my fist as I jetted toward the ship, working the controls with one hand. I was already thinking of the safest place in my quarters to keep it until we got ahold of the proper Earth museum authorities. Other humans would want to see Bethan’s Rock, after all, but it would be my honor to watch over it until they could.

~~~

(Inspired by this post. Long live Bethan’s Rock.)

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character of this book. More to come!

[sleepytoken]

[channelsoph]

i want everybody to know that sleep token’s audio crew (pink vests) had deer ears at the Leipzig Ritual

[tonguetyd]

THE LIGHTS DURING HIGHER WERE SO COOL, CREW TOKEN RESPECT LEVEL 600

[kbsd]

saluting the men and women in uniform (pilots and flight attendants). they are about to deal with so much shit in the next few days

[moonchild-in-blue]

Sam Appreciation Post

Because I mentioned him on another post and I miss him and I wanna gaze upon his cutiepie puppy face 🥺💙

ivy keeps collecting all the hot men 😮‍💨 petition to have more Sam on stage

[glitterghost]

A Battle of the Bands contest, incorporating all styles of music, but it's actually just Vessel showcasing the multifaceted talents of all genres he can touch on.

[desperatecheesecubes]

Listen I’m all for more trans and otherwise gender divergent characters in dc comics but Kon didn’t want people to call him Superboy because he viewed himself as SuperMAN. He wanted agency and control over his own life through the means of emancipation from the authorities attempting to control him and his growth was learning to both allow himself to be a kid and to mature mentally.

[monstrouscrew]

K: gorram hypemongers, our mental state is priority zero, HALF BED DIVORCE >3<

also K:

(ID in the alt text)