#Lord... his acting...

[athousandbyeol]

happiness and acceptance, old grief, fear, vulnerability and the need to belong; episode 7 recap

oh, wow. this episode is so bittersweet. it's so beautiful and pretty and kind and gentle, but so realistic and painful and jarring and quiet.

i think by far, this is one of my favourite episodes. it's such a surprise to me—i think we're finally seeing and hearing and experiencing jiang tian's inner voice for the first time—upfront. it's no longer hiding away with the shadow under his feet. it's evident. but still so very shy and afraid. but it's there. and it's waiting for the right time to come out.

i have to say, this episode makes me realise that trauma runs deep and long and everlasting. i don't think it could ever go away. and I see that in jiang tian. i see how that trauma has shaped him to be who he is—so closed-off and fragile and fearful—but still so gentle and loving and appreciative and attentive.

there's something in the way benjamin is as an actor—i can't compliment him enough. it's difficult to pull off these intricate yet believable facial expressions without being cringey or over-the-top. but he did everything with poise and grace and so much attention to detail that I'm just in utter shock and awe.

happiness and acceptance

something about this sequence... i can't really put my thoughts into words. but the way jiang tian's face morphs from happiness to awe to acceptance? probably, a thought crosses his mind; I'm happy now. finally, I'm happy with someone who makes me the happiest.

the smile he wears when he's looking at sheng wang is of gratitude. and relief. and it's so bittersweet to me how it took him 16/17 years to finally have a morsel of this happiness. he truly deserves this and more :(

old grief

honestly... would anyone ever believe that these pictures come after those stills mentioned before? i wouldn't. because how on earth did the sparkle in jiang tian's eyes disappear—and how did the old gloom of grief suddenly became too blinding? (benjamin tsang, THE actor you are.)

there's so much grief and unwanted old memories and the bitterness of remembering those recollections that were very haunting and hollowing and suffocating.

i can't even imagine the pain jiang tian went through as a child—to witness the infidelity of his father—to see his mother breaking her bones and wearing fake smiles just to make ends meet—to find refuge in a stray cat because finally, someone could understand him. could understand the loneliness. could feel the sadness coursing in his bloodstream. could feel everything he was feeling. and it's so heartbreaking.

fear

jiang tian's fear is so quiet. it's so distant. it's so elusive. but it's there. and it's growing. it has never stopped growing. even though jiang tian tried to push it away, it would still crawl back to him, like a second skin.

and it's daunting how there's a new fear unlocked in him; losing sheng wang. losing the shine. losing the happiness. losing the tranquillity sheng wang brings upon him. losing his light—his sun.

i think jiang tian was so scared of qi jiahao or di zhaitao hurting sheng wang again. because he didn't want sheng wang to experience that again—to fight alone—to be afraid alone.

but once jiang tian found sheng wang, the fear subsided. it's a relief. and it's the usual anger. but not the destructive kind. this time, it means i care. it means i'm so worried. it means don't ever do that again. it means don't ever leave me.

vulnerability

it's so mental to me how this episode finally brings forward jiang tian's feeling to the spotlight. we could see him slowly becoming more open, especially with sheng wang.

it hurts me so much when jiang tian could only look at sheng wang tying the bracelet around his wrist. he didn't say anything. he was just looking. because jiang tian didn't know what to say. he didn't know if words could ever describe how much this moment meant to him—how sheng wang meant to him.

so he could only watch. he has always been watching sheng wang from a distance. but this time, he could watch sheng wang from a distance close enough to be assured that sheng wang won't stray too far from his orbit. sheng wang would be there—here. and jiang tian would finally meet him halfway.

"suddenly i feel that you're about my age."

sheng wang was coming for my life when he said this. it felt like a sucker punch straight in the face. Lord.

it's so heartbreaking because i do understand the meaning behind sheng wang's comment. i guess, even to sheng wang, jiang tian felt like someone older—a brother, a father, a friend, a protector, a saviour.

it feels nice to hear sheng wang saying this to jiang tian. it's assuring too. somehow, it's a reminder to jiang tian that he's still young. he doesn't have to grow up before the right age. he doesn't have to be an adult between them. he doesn't have to carry the burden alone. jiang tian doesn't have to do all these alone. he has sheng wang now. they can be kids or grown-ups or whatever—together.

(my heart was twisting and turning in my chest when I watched this... and I ended up crying...)

a sense of belonging

these stills are enough to explain the depth of their budding relationship. the reliance. the trust. the love. so much love and respect and desire and need and greed to be each other's protectors.

sheng wang just said everything i hoped he said at one point in this story. and I'm so glad that his words were so true and honest and beautiful.

"for everything you did to me, i'll do the same for you. I'll be here, with and for you."

i adore how both of them are brave to take the next step together. and I like how sheng wang was the one suggesting this move-in. i think it's so important for his character because he has always been beating around the bush—he has always made jiang tian guess what he wanted. but this moment right here, he was being straightforward and resolute and firm.

move in with me. it'll be only us there. it'll be our own little world. it can be your world. and your world is my world.

and the way jiang tian was looking at sheng wang with so much hope and relief and happiness and gratitude............ i'm bawling :(((

final thoughts

i absolutely adore this episode because i feel like it's a reset for the second half of the series. it feels more intimate, in a sense that we're finally getting into jiang tian's backstory (that will definitely kill me in future episodes) and the beautiful transformation of their love story. it's so bittersweet and I can't help but sympathise with jiang tian and sheng wang.

i'm certain the next episodes won't be rainbows and sunshine, but it also won't be only rain clouds and thunderstorms. I'm just so, so glad that episode seven, the second portion of the drama, started off with something very vulnerable but honest and relatable. it reminds me of how we witnessed sheng wang's backstory in the first episode and the first chunk of the series.

i'm most definitely anticipating tomorrow's episode. i hope it won't make cry the way it did in this one.

(also, shout out to my best boy gao tianyang! don't worry, love. li jia will definitely fall for you <3)

[bluegiragi]

in action (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[maegalkarven]

I've just played through Gortash's coronation with and without Karlach in the party and the difference-

Like when Karlach is in the party Gortash puts on a mask of composure and authority. Durge is still favorite assassin and all, but 'Lord Gortash' needs to maintain presence.

And then it's just Durge in the party and Gortash is a fucking smiling giggly mess. I can't express how freaking giggly he looks at EVERY second of the convo. Literally "blushing, giggling, twirling hair" kind of a vibe.

And WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK is that? How I'm supposed to NOT align with him??? How my Durge is supposed to not be immediately compelled to destroy the world just so this man kept looking at them like that?

[fairsweetlonging]

even though shen yuan disdains wife plots, i feel it's because they're often so contrived and the wives are always damsels in distress, and when the system puts him in one it's against his will and he has no control over it, BUT, i think if he makes the choice to put himself in one on purpose and with a plan, he would excel at it, he would play into it so hard to get what he wants, he'd see it as his opportunity to cheat the system (pun intended!) and farm easy points

[razormain]

the convo in the shackling prison...

[achlyisdumb]

Hollow Escape AU

Chapter 1: Part 5/6

First // Previous // Next

[thelastharbinger]

undefined

Tenoch Huerta on why the idea that “hard work always reaps its rewards” isn’t true. Talent and hard work alone doesn’t guarantee entry into certain spaces (you’ll always be sidelined even when you’re included), but it will determine your longevity once you force your way in.

[evelynmlewis]

getting tired of people being butthurt that Tolkien didn't include a token female dwarf in the Hobbit company or a girl member in the Fellowship or whatever. Tolkien fought in World War I okay, he fought alongside and in the company of other men and his stories are going to reflect that. The book wasn't written in a vacuum and it can be gender-unbalanced without being problematic or sexist, and I don't see why we have to "acknowledge" that it's sexist "by today's standards" because it's literally not even sexist by TODAY'S standards, it just so happens that not everything is about you all the time. "Today's standards" can and should include being intelligent enough to discern the difference between values dissonance and just having a justifiably different context for writing in

[solbaby7]

Hiii, can I get a margarita with a salt rim on the rocks, please? Thank you!💕

[ “got a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it.” + smut + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Rhysand liked wild things—had this affinity for collecting strays; plucking them from their prisons and providing a life of freedom and luxury.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. This rabid animal of a thing with a serious aversion to proper clothing and absolutely no regard for others personal boundaries. “Back for more charity work?”

“Is that how you think of my visits? I’m hurt.”

You look down at him with amusement, crouched low on a branch with a skirt so short it takes effort not to stare. “We both know you aren’t,” You make tree climbing look easy, bare toes trodding across branches that don’t look sturdy but hold strong bearing your weight. “What’d you bring me this time?”

Rhysand dangles the wicker basket before him with two fingers. He’s teasing, offering; luring you in closer as the laws of the Middle insists that its lands and the creatures in it must welcome you and not the other way around. “Come see for yourself, trouble.”

He’s grown fond of the wild way you move, confidently twisting and ducking through the forestry—the breathable linen of your strapless top flows with the breeze. Handmade necklaces kiss at your clavicle, all braided leather with bleached bones, carefully woven shells and shiny geodes. Once you get close enough he can see the neat braids peeking through loose strands, interwoven thread adding pops of color in haphazard places. “More naughty words on paper,” You chuff out when the weight of two books sits in your hands. The pages are pristine; probably first addition and perfectly cared for. “Always knew you High Lords were just pampered perverts.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you read the last two I brought you.”

Rhysand is sure he’ll have dreams about the pretty blush on your cheeks. He’s certain fantasies have planted their seed with intent to grow and grow like fucking ivy until nothing in sight could be see but you and that feisty furrow of your brow and the sharp roll of your eyes. Curious hands dig around the basket, sifting through cured meats and cheeses, parchment paper and oil pastels, rich fabrics and a case full of fresh sewing needles. “You trying to turn me into a fucking housewife or something? Charcuterie boards and fixing the buttons on your rich boy clothes.”

“Got a mouth on you.” Rhys chuckles in amusement, aubergine irises twinkling with silent adoration. “Someone should teach you how to use it.” You don’t seem the slightest bit ashamed when forcing him to hold onto your things, urging him to follow with a jerky nod of your head. “Could start by saying thank you.”

“Make me.”

Something in the air shifts. It alters the way he stands. Awakens a creature lurking in his shadow and its sights lock on you—the female with no fear of monsters. No, instead you hunt them, wrangle them up and tame them. Rabid beasts crooned into fucking house pets and Rhysand yearned to be the stray you took pity on. “Make you use your mouth properly? Or make you say thank you?”

“Both.” He’s hooked; shoes sinking into your footsteps until thick forestry breaks into a clearing with a house built smack dab in the middle. It’s surrounded by flowers, lavender and lemongrass guarding hand built basins labeled with fresh produce to fend off freeloading animals. Ivy creeps up one side of the greenhouse attached to the back. “Show me how to do it like they do in the books you bring me.”

Is it possible for a mouth to dry up and salivate at once? Because Rhys suddenly finds his in an odd mix of something in between. You barely notice the clumsy way he sets aside your basket of goodies but you’re fully aware of the eager way he pulls you in, stopping you from taking a step further. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You scan the length of him, running over the strong set of his shoulders and the practiced ease in the way his arms rest at his sides. Every breath strains against the soft cotton of his shirt, solid muscle radiating warmth when you rest the palm of your hand against it. It’s a slow drag down and you feel no shame for your curiosity when exploring the length of his abdomen, fingers hooking in the loop of his belt. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” The metallic click of his belt unbuckling, the sharp undoing of tied dress pants. “But, I’m a visual learner.” Rhys’ heart throbs in his chest when you sink to your knees, blood rushing lower until the true extent of his affection towards you is standing at attention in your face.

“I can help with that,” He’s already easing down the top of your shirt, groaning at the sight of bare breasts and pebbled nipples. “Though, my teaching style is a little more…hands on.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for; tugging down his pants just enough to show off a throbbing erection, ruddy tip leaking pre-cum. Two fingers tap at your cheek twice and you have no control over the way your mouth drops open.

He knows he’s being a little rougher than he should—it’s probably your first time giving head and yet he can’t slow down his movements. You don’t even complain, breathing through the way his cock is fed to you, spit glistening along the length and dribbling down your chin. “Quick learner, aren’t you?” Rhys praises so prettily, such nice words spewing free as if he wasn’t rutting his prick down your throat.

Thumbs clear away the tears from under your eyes when you gag. The rasp of his voice urging you to work harder, to hollow your cheeks and run your tongue along that vein that has blunt nails digging into the nape of your neck. Swears spill in a sloppy slur, hands guiding the bob of your head until his release shoots down your throat with a choked grunt.

There’s no way you don’t look a mess when you peer up at him. Fucked out eyes. Tears tracking down your cheeks. Bruised lips. A wet patch dripping down your chest and still you utter the words, “Thank you.”

Just perfection and something inside him screams ‘mine’ the same time Rhysand replies with a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

[wife-beam]

sqq wasn’t bad at acting like sj, the peak lords have that meeting AFTER the demon invasion and all the things they notice, besides sqq being pleasant to yqy lol, is stuff sqq did after OOC was unlocked. like you can’t argue that they’re seeing through him when sqq is purposefully easing up on mimicking sj. they are MONTHS behind

[fiovske]

saw a post that said Crowley calls Aziraphale "Azira" affectionately and had an unbridled hater moment of HE WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT.jpg like are u kidding me. Crowley would NEVER do Aziraphale the indignity of shortening his name that mf's name is Aziraphale and it's a mouthful and Crowley will say it with his mouth full of syllables every time he calls Aziraphale bc that's the level of drama and decorum and grandeur Aziraphale demands, if Crowley ever called Aziraphale any shortened version of his name Aziraphale would walk out and not talk to Crowley for at least five decades. "Azira" 🙄🙄🙄 is she ("Angel") not good enough for you???

The honour and indignity of calling Aziraphale Az Azira or Zira or whatever deviant nickname lies with the clown circus aka me and my big-brained mutuals when we are exchanging our big-brain thoughts and making our big-brained posts and Aziraphale's name is too long to type out every goddamn time. Crowley would rather drink holy water and walk backwards into hell than do the same. Hope that helps.

[hermitcyclop]

Jake is such an interesting character partially because it's obvious Hussie doesn't like him yet he's literally everywhere in the story.

[loquaciousquark]

when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:

"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"

One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."

"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."

Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."

"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.

"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"

"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."

"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"

"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."

"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."

"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."

"Call me Tav."

"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."

"Save it," Tav says sharply.

"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"

Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.

Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."

"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"

"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"

"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."

Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"

The rift explodes.

Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.

Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"

Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—

A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"

The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.

"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.

No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.

Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.

"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."

—

Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—

"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.

No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.

No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.

"Venhedis."

"Shit."

[sea-owl]

At this point Portia just needs to charge Colin rent.

[dreadeves]

people who try to use that one panel to prove mithrun is like, uniquely elf racist are rather funny to me. like the very next line is like ‘that’s what everyone used to call them’. that’s the language all elf society used to use to refer to different races & language changed & he just didn’t care to keep up with the convo post-dungeon lord.

pre dungeon lord mithrun would’ve been ON the language change bc he wanted to be perceived as the best/correct/etc— he absolutely would’ve had the ‘right’ language. but having the right words doesn’t necessarily equate to having the right beliefs/ideology— how do these characters interact with other characters and how does that show their biases?

[tree-obsession]

2.2 SPOILERS!! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

this is a small lore discussion! mostly speculation and theories- i have not seen leaks about 2.3 plot yet, but i have seen a couple about boothill's character stories, so please keep that in mind!

trigger for mentions of suicide(aventurine) and mega corps(the ipc)

we have to talk about the ending cutscene with aventurine and boothill more! i'll start with my fav parts that no one really has brought up yet:

Aventurine intimidating Boothill after mentioning the guards are out- Boothill sounded so offput and hasty while reassuring him they were just knocked out, and we have to talk about aventurine himself just being intimidating more honestly his glare actually did kind of scare me.

Boothill pointing a gun at aventurine was. well. i'm sorry i did actually laugh at that. boothill i think you should research your targets a bit more honestly that guy is NOT afraid of guns. he fully walked into the nihility and pointed at least one gun at himself, and just got out of his own meticulously-planned suicide. threats of death won't work, sorry. also he has good reason to hate oswaldo schneider as well- threats didn't even have to be used, probably! he would kill him too, probably(revenge arc go go go!!)

the convo between aven and jade was. yeah. why he's betting his life again, i don't know (maybe sarcasm? or it was really just banter?) but it does seem like the two of them aren't super close at all, at least from what little i could gather. also if diamond hurts aventurine the entire fandom will kick his ass, emanator or no, so he better be prepared for that too lol. also, it was a pretty common theory aventurine would leave the ipc after exiting nihility, since acheron presumably broke his ties- i wonder why he went back? perhaps he had no plans as to where to go, or he has some ulterior motive?

how did he get out of nihility so unscathed? (for context, i haven't gotten aven's text messages yet, but i'm aware of some of their contents since they've been floating around w/out spoiler tags. the messages are mentioned a bit here if you wanna avoid spoilering!) i know argenti got him out, but 1) why was argenti there, or where did he even find him? and 2) that seems so random- both argenti and jade confirmed it, but plot-wise what's even the point of argenti pulling him out? also argenti said he was in a "woeful state" when he got out, and apparently the stonehearts are willing to give aven a break (which i'm assuming is major, since stonehearts are super important and have a lot of responsibility, plus he just destroyed a cornerstone) so him already being back on his feet when we see the phone call is a bit weird right away. he doesn't even sound sick, and ratio or any other doctor is nowhere in sight! (message spoilers start here) i'm aware the aventurine cornerstone was fully shattered/destroyed while protecting him from nihility- was he really in there for who-knows-how-long without any protection at all? he's apparently having nightmares and the ipc needed to call in a doctor of chaos to treat him, which is concerning considering his mental health and general will to live were extremely low even before walking into the nihility. like he genuinely has some of the worst will to live i've ever seen in a character or human being- walking through the nihility should have utterly destroyed him mentally and physically, but it didn't. 2.3 HAS to give us a whole lotta context, especially with nihility lore (my favorite aeon, i may be biased) and more about the ipc!

anyway, thank you for reading this poorly formatted, stream-of-consciousness word vomit about 2.2's aventurine lore. hope you liked it! drop ur thoughts in replies and reblogs plz they give me life(although i will be very busy next few weeks, so please don't be offended if you want a reply and don't get it, im so sorry!)

2.2 was peak- a bit slow, but the story was some of the best, if not the best stuff hoyo has given us in terms of writing quality. so great! i cried for sure, and that boss battle was just everything- especially the music. robin my lesbian queen if i didn't have to pull for firefly i would get your lightcone for sure...

see you all next time! thx for sticking around (: