#just starts frothing at the mouth

[dawnofiight]

Projecting my dreadhead beliefs onto Milo

[adriles]

they are Cancelling me for dealing with my grief as best i can . also for the vicious war Crimes

[broadway-and-books-love]

All I’m saying is I hope Fizzmodeus hears about what happened from their respective people and locks Stolitz in a closet together until they figure it out

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Big shout-out to the ocs and lore that depicts physical/appearance changes due to high concentration and uses of magic btw that shit is so cool. Whether your wizard's hair turns blue or straight up grows an extra arm due to the excessive amount of powerful magic they use everyday I eat that shit up. Bonus points if it's a rare/newly discovered condition or if your wizard is just straight up unrecognizable from arc 1 to arc 4. Bonus bonus points if the wizard gains a disability from it and has to learn to adapt to their new condition

[applepixls]

i swear grian and scar are as crazy about each other as we are

i'm watching scott's most recent escape room video and i saw the void room and thought "huh, that's a grian thing to do" and then scars doing stuff, i expected him to call the button room a grian room but he saves his grian mention for the void room where he says "oh not the void. I've been in the void before. this is when grian appears and says- does something to me." does what to you? 🤨

but it isn't just scar that does this cause i stumbled across an old mcc vod and grian said "every alley in my mind leads to those aliens like scar with Disneyland" and scar was on an entirely different team or may not have been in that event at all (grian and scar in MCC is a whole thing, don't get me started on how grian wasn't playing in MCC 20 but dropped into scar's teams call just to gong them and got put on a team with scar both mccs after that) and will say things like "batman is my starwars"

they both just bring each other up when they're not around and it drives me nuts /pos

[lighteyed]

jacaerys goes insane at the sight of a bare shoulder i know it in my bones

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

SO. TO KICK OFF THE WEEK OF SPECULATION BEFORE THE UPDATE DROPS.

last night i had a bit of a Revelation. literally. i borderline woke up in a cold sweat with this realization. the way i lunged for my laptop to scream at friends... ough. lets get into it

so. i do believe I've made a couple of theory posts about Barnaby not being quite as receptive to his and Wally's "forced" best friendship as Wally - since the show wrote them to be friends instead of it happening naturally. i thought it might be a point of tension for Barn. i thought a lot.

YES SO I'M TOSSING (almost) ALL OF THAT OUT THE WINDOW!

the bios state Barnaby as Wally's best friend multiple times over. it had to be regularly reinforced. their colors were chosen to mark them as friends.

but Barnaby - presumably - can't see the bios, he wouldn't know the scripts. the friendship would be natural from his perspective. how would he know otherwise? even if the relationship started out synthetic, i don't doubt that it became genuine. in the context of their world and perceptions, realistically speaking Barnaby probably wouldn't sense anything wrong.

the reminders to be best friends weren't for Barnaby.

they were for Wally.

i'm starting to suspect that Wally is Barnaby's best friend, but Barnaby isn't Wally's. i think that Wally's "best friend" is Home - or at least Wally has a closer connection to them / Home is more important to Wally than anyone else is.

i remember reading this livestream trivia (from theneighborhoodwatch's doc, if you haven't their resources yet what are you even doing?):

and i assumed it was for Barnaby's side of the relationship. but it's not, is it? it's Wally's? and it makes too much fucking Sense! it fits! i can see it perfectly! i can feel things slotting together in my mind due to this shift in perspective, and i'm scared

Barnaby probably thinks the relationship is natural, just like how he thinks he's a real person in a real world. Wally probably knows that the relationship is a role, just like how he knows he's a puppet in a false reality.

that leaves me wondering how much of it is genuine on Wally's side. i don't doubt that they really are friends, but how deep does that connection go? in the interview, Wally sounded excited/proud about having a best friend, but how much came from a place of feeling, and how much came from a place of Fulfilling The Role? how much of it is performative? how much of it is a mask?

i've been seeing everything differently. Barnaby poses for Wally the most because he has good balance and is good at staying still, not because of favoritism or because he's Wally's best friend. in the 14 (15 including the hidden halloween) audios, Barnaby consistently seeks out Wally and checks in on him. Wally seems more casual about their relationship than Barnaby is.

i'm worried that Wally values Home & You/Us over Barnaby. that Barnaby is second or third place in Wally's heart. that Wally means more to Barnaby than he means to Wally. after all, only one of them needed their relationship to be reinforced on a seemingly regular basis.

i'm confident that Wally cares about / loves Barnaby, but the question is how much? to what extent?

[mo-ok]

when the

when there are lights. in the helmets.

[one-pissed-off-child]

How bout that election year huh

[overleftdown]

saltburn and privilege; an investigative tangent

god, where to begin.

i've seen a lot of people discussing this moving and specifically using the word "privilege," along with power, dominance, desire, control, greed, etc. me included. these are all very essential aspects of this movie. what i want to focus on is emerald fennell's nuanced portrayal of how different types of privilege interact. which one trumps the other? which types of privilege are more visible, while others are more subtle? what differentiates different levels and layers of privilege?

when emerald fennell describes the core of this movie, her inspiration for this script, she talks about desire versus untouchability. she chose the most absurd type of wealth to represent untouchability: the british aristocracy. old wealth, generational wealth, so far removed from the majority of their ancestors' sins that they can arguably ignore that the money they're standing on is dirty. and they live in fucking castles. this is one of the most unbelievable, gaudy, visible types of privilege you can imagine. everyone is entirely aware and feels entirely justified to call attention to this type of privilege.

oliver, being the main character, might be considered the least privileged within this movie. i'd like to take a critical look at this. this movie is not a straightforward class commentary; there is no traditional "the poor eat the rich" dynamic. because although some people perceive oliver as the least privileged character in this movie, he is incredibly privileged. oliver comes from a comfortable upper-middle-class home in the suburbs. oliver has two loving parents and two sisters. oliver is white. oliver is a man. interestingly, from oliver's perspective, he's not privileged at all. he hates the cattons because they are more wealthy, more comfortable, more untouchable. this extends to venetia and farleigh, even though oliver has applicable layers of privilege stacked above even them. he knows he has a certain type of power over them... yet he still hates them because they have one type of power he doesn't have.

that brings me to my next point. the existence of one type of privilege does not negate the effects of another, entirely different, type of privilege (or marginalization) [quote]. this is what venetia and farleigh's characters draw attention to. venetia experiences some of the same struggles as many women; she is ignored in her own household, perpetually existing within her brother's shadow (rosamund pike once lovingly pointed out that venetia does not have a single conversation with elspeth in this movie). she's insecure about her body and her worth, so she takes what little opportunity she has to use felix's friends as a form of self-fulfillment. farleigh is not only half black, but he's also queer, non-immediate family, and unaccustomed to english culture (specifically this type of english culture). farleigh is, in some ways, more financially unstable than oliver's family because his mom was too sheltered to understand money and his dad is, apparently, "a lunatic." (that's not to say farleigh isn't economically privileged because oh boy, he absolutely is).

this movie doesn't intend to incite pity from the viewers for any of these characters, and it generally doesn't. oliver is pathetically greedy, ungrateful, and desperate for a chance to lick the boots (or bathtubs) of those above him. venetia is pathetically bored of the privilege she does have yet is still so entrenched in emotional turmoil due to other areas in which she is marginalized. farleigh is pathetically attached to uninterrupted comfort and arbitrary white-centric expectations, constantly running from or attacking any threat of struggle. none of these people understand, comparatively, what the less fortunate experience. they are so ignorant to the bubble they exist in and just how grateful they should be for what monumental privileges they do have. but... felix.

felix is the epitome of privilege. oliver is specifically obsessed with felix. just like oliver, felix is a white man. but felix is more wealthy, more comfortable, more untouchable than oliver. oliver isn't as infatuated with farleigh and venetia because he's fully aware of the privilege they lack. he's fully aware of the privilege he holds above them, and he enthusiastically uses this power he has against them. to be in the position of oliver is to be consumed by jealousy and greed so bottomless that you will assert your dominance over any group that you're able to. felix doesn't need to do this. he's been handed every privilege under the sun and therefor welcomes the less fortunate with childlike interest and an equally childlike attention span. there's an aspect of farleigh and venetia's marginalization that is so invisible, so quiet and unassuming, that felix doesn't even notice it. he can't possibly be confronted by it. to be in the position of oliver is to understand what power you hold over others, because there is always more power to have.

racism, sexism, wealth, power, control, desire. there are so many facets of this movie that come into play. it may seem overwhelming, but this is... how things work. commentary on wealth is, and should be, equally a commentary on other areas of privilege. to be black and wealthy means different things than to be white and wealthy. to be a wealthy woman means different things than to be a wealthy man. to be rich to some also means you're much less rich than others, unless you're the richest person in the world. and, as this movie so beautifully portrays, to be richer than most doesn't make you less messy. the catton family is an ugly one, but also a complexly human one. each catton (or start) is jealous of someone else for another reason. each catton is emotionally damaged or incompetent for another reason. each catton has a different layer of privilege over the other. and each catton loves everyone in saltburn, because this is still a family, albeit a terrible one.

[eissaphir]

I thought of this with a carnival in mind but feel free to interpret this any way you want. Looking at you, Radioapple shippers

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[bakudei]

hey guys did u know that. ABA

[crossbackpoke-check]

do you guys um. mods asleep anyone on the dash want to read 1.5k of roman history (tatd) fic i would be christening (haha) the tag for. and also help brainstorm with me to make it more than a scene but not an entire Plot 🙏

[squisheebugdoodles]

Second attack!! Whap bonk!!! I am totally absolutely normal about this sort of character concept i'm totally normal not insane at all even a little bit <3

this one is for @solemngrub64 83 💛

[jeepers-its-the-void]

Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight's mood.