#me writing about st

[sparks-olivarpente]

Why I liked the Mindflayer better

This starts with "I prefer the Mindflayer over Vecna and that bothers me because I need to be impressed by the bad guy" and ends… It doesn't go anywhere actually. I tried to put my thoughts on paper and they ended up all over the place. Please don't read (thanks if you do!)

The Mindflayer works well as a metaphor of the unknown within us. Little Will can't yet face some stuff within himself, it appears to him as that huge unknowable shadow and Will doesn't know if he himself is the monster or what. This, I can relate to (I litterally used to believe there was an eldritch monster inside of me when I was 13)

But now that the monster has taken shape (S3) and became a person (S4)? He can't work as a metaphor anymore (to me, maybe that works for others. Let me know if it does <3). Now he's just some guy! Who talks too much. There's nothing hidden about him anymore (or maybe there is and that's the whole point. I know there are theories out there about things not being what they seem about Henry's story. Maybe he wasn't truthfull. A lot of S4 was about lying after all, it would make sense. He wants us/the Party to believe he's the bad guy and he's really still hidding behind that)

So, Henry. I understand little Henry up to a point (his view of time, feeling stuck, his loneliness, his disconnection, wanting to take control) but I don't see how that leads to wanting to destroy everything? in his place I'd just end up badly depressed. and wanting to escape. Maybe�� if this is about what happens when a disconnected person meets an horror from another dimension, we still miss part of the story? or I just need to watch S4 again.

Our own personal dragons… they're only big scary monsters when we can't face them. Once we do, they become little lost puppies, or screaming toddlers. Not really scary. Where am I going with that… I guess, I can't find another human scary anymore (I mean, after spending most of my life meeting my own dragons) We're all just afraid and we need a hug or something. Henry looks like he has fallen into some deep internal black hole and a hug won't be enough but still. I can't be afraid of him. Annoyed, angry, but not impressed.

Although… being stuck forever in Henry's mindspace is pretty scary. Someone gets Max out of here ;_; It's like Henry created his own hell that's ended up worse than what he was afraid of (time, routine, lie) Time IS scary but… the UD or Henry's mindspace, that seems kind of stuck forever at ONE moment in time? It is worse. It can't evolve, it can't get better (I used to be afraid and angry about time and… just, reality as it is, until I ended up with the curious discovery that time can be seen as a gift of love but getting off topic) (just… I can see Henry being stuck in one of those dark places I was stuck in, only worse)

Having written that I think what I need is, maybe, a deeper understanding of Henry's fears? Now that the monster is a person, I need to see where he is stuck (I'm not sure about that part, I feel I'm contradicting myself, because I find people I can't understand at all, such as Lonnie or Angela, scarier. I really need to watch S4 again and see what really bother me with that guy) (maybe I just don't like Vecna because he looks ridiculous) If he's just the bad bad guy our team needs to kill to put the world back in order… what's the point? (I don't really think that will happen in S5. I don't have a clue what will happen in S5)

This… did not really go anywhere but then I warned you ^^

<3

[rocketkit]

fourth scene from a nonexistent fic

[renownedtholianpunctualityyyyy]

Star Trek TOS “Operation — Annihilate!” sketchdump (in varying degrees of quality)

One of my favourite episodes! 🌈💙✨

01. Spocky. ‘Why, thank you, Doctor McCoy!’ 💙☀️

02. Angery Bones

03. Colourful Spock Jank

04&05. McCoy, Kirk; Spock graphite, from the end of the episode. Sass.

[thegonse]

she better be happy soon!!!

[qprstobin]

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

[maldupay]

fuck i need to replay isat because i cant remember anything but um something something siffrin's increasingly concerning comments through the acts on losing his appetite -> getting violently hungry -> having tear induced nightmares about cannibalizing his friends

[suddencolds]

insatiable appetite [1/?]

sooo... this is one of the thirstiest things i have written—and also one of the only times i've written a character with the kink, ever T.T warnings in advance for mess, character getting sneezed on, implied contagion, possible ooc-ness, & me writing this entirely with my d instead of my head

ivan and till are from al//ien sta//ge (a very fun watch which will only take 30 mins out of your life; i really recommend it!!). that said, this fic takes place in a modern au setting, so feel free to read it without any prior context :)

special thanks to @6pmsoup for sending me a very cute alnst doodle of these two which altered my brain chemistry permanently

—

Summary: Till shows up to a dinner outing with a brewing cold. Ivan suffers. (est. relationship, kink!Ivan, ~2k words)

—

For all Till tries to hide it, Ivan can tell immediately.

There’s this: Ivan has been paying attention to Till for most of his life. A full decade before they’d gotten together officially, and some more—this is how long Ivan has had to observe his tells. Always from the sidelines, always with a detached air of indifference that, in reality, was anything but.

All the signs are there the night before. Till, turning up the thermostat a couple degrees higher than he usually keeps it. Spending a little too long in the shower and using up almost all of the hot water. Clearing his throat one too many times in the morning before Ivan leaves for work, his smile distracted, the rasp of his voice nearly indistinguishable—but only nearly.

Now, Till is here for dinner—it’s a dinner they’ve had plans for a couple weeks now, at one of the nicer restaurants downtown, in celebration of Till’s recent promotion. Ivan had booked the reservation a couple weeks in advance.

When Till arrives, stepping out of a taxi cab, he’s wearing a scarf, even though the weather is too warm for it. Ivan steps up to meet him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Till says. “Traffic here was the worst I’ve ever seen it, swear to god.”

“Was it cold outside today?” Ivan asks, a little pointedly, tilting his head towards his scarf.

Till looks at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Colder than usual, for this time of year.”

“Strange,” Ivan says, just to be difficult. “But the weather forecast says it’s the same temperature today as yesterday.” 

“It’s probably just windier today,” Till says, readjusting his scarf around his neck. His face is a little flushed.

“Your voice sounds a little off, though.”

Till clears his throat with a scowl. “You must be imagining it,” he says. “It always sounds like this.”

No admission, then. That’s fine. Ivan will get the truth out of him at some point. He lets Till guide him into the restaurant.

It’s a nice restaurant—worth the hassle of the reservation, Ivan thinks. Each table is set with flowers arranged tastefully in long glass vases, empty wine glasses turned on their heads. The server—who leads them to their table in a small, private booth—is wearing a suit.

It’s a shame, really. Ivan has a feeling that he won’t be able to pay attention to any of that tonight.

They sit. Ivan looks down at the menu, picks out something at random in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, he can hardly think of anything less worth his attention right now. He turns his attention to Till instead—Till, who’s seated directly across from him, the scarf still around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face. 

Till sniffles, reaching down to turn the page, and oh. The sniffle is terribly liquid—has he been sniffling like that all afternoon? Perhaps it’s a good thing that they work at different offices—Till at a law firm, Ivan as a senior manager at a consulting company—because Ivan certainly doesn’t think he’d be able to get any work done with Till sniffling like that. 

It’s not two minutes later that Till is reaching up to wipe his nose against the back of one knuckle. All in all, it’s discreet. Just a quick brush of the fingers against his nose, which is still hidden under the scarf. Though, the look of sheer ticklishness that passes over his features for a brief moment there is...

“What are you thinking of ordering?” Ivan asks.

“I can’t decide,” Till answers. He turns the page again. “It’s between the ribeye steak and the… snf! The pork belly. Is this the kind of place that skimps on the portion sizes?”

“Not from their Yelp reviews,” Ivan says. “You know, if you really can’t decide, I can flip a coin.”

“I’ll pick,” Till says. “Why? Hungry already?”

He looks up, now. His eyes are a little watery. There’s a faint flush over the bridge of his nose. Ivan thinks that if he reached out and touched him, he’d probably be running warm. The thought is almost unbearable.

“Your taxi did take forever to arrive,” Ivan says, by way of explanation. 

“Did you really wait that long?”

He looks uncertain, for a moment. Ivan says, “Not at all. But you know, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”

Till rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “There was a meeting that ran late. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Is that also a part of your new position?” “I guess so, yeah.”

“I can see why they were eager to promote you, then,” Ivan says. “How productive can late afternoon meetings be, anyways?”

Till snorts. “Not that important. It definitely could have been an email instead. I was about ready to doze off.”

He sniffles again. “Okay. I think I know what I want.” The way he says know betrays the slightest hint of congestion. 

“At long last,” Ivan says, just to be a little bit of an ass. “I’ll call over the waiter.”

He flags their waiter down, waits for Till to order first.

“A spiced apple cider,” Till adds on, at the end, with the slightest of coughs. “Hot, if you can.”

That’s new, too. Till seldom orders hot drinks at restaurants, though he’ll drink tea without complaint if it’s offered. Perhaps his throat hurts, then, from the cold that has clearly started to settle in his system. Subtle, still, but Ivan is familiar with colds like this. He knows it will probably only be a few hours before this deceptively “small” cold turns into…

Ivan orders, too, and thanks the waiter, who leaves with a curt nod. When he looks back over to Till, there’s a… strange something to Till’s expression, a slight distractedness. Irritation.

Ivan swallows hard. He should look away. 

He should, but then, Till’s breath hitches. He pulls the scarf higher over his face preemptively, as if he anticipates having something to have to cover for. The sharp intake of breath that follows is breathy, though Ivan can hear Till’s voice in it. He should really look away.

Instead, he takes the scene in, painstakingly, little by little, as Till’s shoulders jerk forwards. As Till presses a hand to the scarf, presses the fabric closer to his face, to muffle a sneeze into his fingertips:

“hhH-Ih!! hiHH-’IESCHH-eew-!”

God. It sounds utterly miserable, the harsh release of it scraping against his throat, the spray tearing into his scarf. It’s the kind of cold sneeze that is undeniably telling: this is going to be one hell of a cold. It’s not very quiet, either, even muffled into the fabric.

For more reasons than one, Ivan is glad they’re in a private corner of the restaurant, not somewhere more public.

“Bless you,” he offers, once he can trust himself to speak. It’s a good thing that Till is too distracted to look up at him right now. Ivan isn’t sure he can keep what he’s feeling off of his face.

Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to endure a whole night of this.

The problem here is that Till—Till, of all people; Till, who Ivan has been pathetically in love with for almost as long as he can remember—has no idea about Ivan’s… relatively niche interests. That is to say, he has no idea what effect it has on Ivan when he does that.

“Thanks,” Till says, a little stuffily. He sniffles again, lowering his hand. 

Ivan can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning, but he can feel his self-control dwindling by the second. “Don’t you think it would be better to take off your scarf, now that we’re inside?”

Till freezes. “Y-You know what,” he says evasively. “It’s pretty cold in here.”

Ivan tilts his head in question. “And just how do you plan on eating like that?”

“I’ll take it off when our food comes.”

“I can ask the waiter to turn the temperature up, if it’s a problem,” Ivan says. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Ivan rises from his seat. Till watches him, perplexed, as he heads to the opposite side of the table, where Till is seated.

When he gets there, he stops. Stands, unmoving, so he can study Till from above. 

“What are you—”

Ivan reaches out, settles his palm across Till’s forehead. As expected, it’s warm. Not quite feverish, which is a good sign, but warm enough to be notable. 

“Just how long were you intending to hide this?”

Till stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Hide what?”

Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The fact that you have a cold.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Till says, slowly.

“Hmm.” Ivan drops his hand to his side. He is a little concerned, now. “We could’ve called a rain check.”

This time Till really does roll his eyes. “For the reservation we planned weeks ahead?” he sniffles again. “That just sounds completely and utterly unnecessary. Are you the type of person to call things off just over a little cold?” 

Ivan leans over, tugs down the edge of Till’s scarf. Till bats his hand away just a moment too late, cups his other hand over his face to shield his face from view. For a moment, he looks faintly mortified.

Then his expression settles into something more disgruntled. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

So uncooperative. “Let me see,” Ivan says. Slowly, gently, he pries Till’s hands away from his face, and then—because the restaurant is dimly lit—tilts Till’s face up slightly so that it catches more of the overhead light. 

Till’s nose is redder than usual. He’s probably been rubbing it all afternoon, if the redness that percolates into his cheeks is any indication. There’s  a damp, liquid sheen on the underside of his nose.

“What’s there to see?” Till says, a little crossly.

“Your face, since you’ve been so intent on hiding it under that scarf,” Ivan says, leaning in to get a better look.

Till scowls at him, but there’s no heat to it. “You see my face every day.”

“On the contrary, I don’t see it nearly enough,” Ivan says. “And you hardly ever get sick. Is it so wrong for me to be concerned?”

Without looking, he reaches behind him with one hand to grab a couple cocktail napkins. The other hand he keeps held up to Till’s cheek. 

But then, Till’s breath hitches. “Wait,” he says. Panic flashes through his face. “Ivan, move, I—”

Oh. Well, seeing as there’s no way he’ll be able to get the napkins over in time, it looks like he’ll have to improvise. If Till wants to cover, Ivan can help with that. He moves his hand to cup it loosely over Till’s mouth. Not a second too late, it seems. Till jerks forward unceremoniously, his nose twitching, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHheh-! HHh’EIITShHh’yYiew!” he gasps sharply. Two? “Hh-! hHiiH’DSSCSSHh-IIew!”  

The jolt of the sneezes is practically electrifying—all of that force, brought to an abrupt halt behind Ivan’s waiting palm. He feels the expulsion of air against his skin, the warmth of Till’s breath, feels the slight dampness behind his hand as the spray mists over his fingertips.

Ivan swallows, hard. Thank god it’s so dark here, otherwise Till might notice what this is doing to him. 

“Bless you,” he says, withdrawing his hand at last to wipe it on one of the cloth napkins. It comes out slightly raspier than he intends it to, though perhaps it’s a miracle that he’s still able to talk at all. “Some cold, hmm?” Belatedly, he hands Till the stack of napkins.

Till practically snatches them from him, turns aside to blow his nose wetly into the top few. The way he sniffles afterwards suggests that his nose is still very much running. 

“Do you have no self preservation? It’s as if you want to catch this,” Till says, drawing back with another sniffle.

Oh, Ivan thinks, fighting back a shiver. That would be far from the worst thing.

[sparks-olivarpente]

is Mike under Vecna's influence?

I read @brionysea 's post about possessiongate just before going to bed, had some weird dreams and woke up with too many thoughts. The idea here is that Mike was already possessed/influenced by Vecna for some time and that it explains his change of attitude. I'm NOT convinced at this point but it caught my imagination. As brionysea said here:

it's a supernatural horror coming of age story. things like will's ptsd and max's depression are turned into grandiose supernatural threats, but mike dealing with his sexuality in a heavily homophobic era (…) isn't? that would be a colossal waste of potential

Out of brionysea analysis, the points that stood out to me are: the Mindflayer hovering over the ball at the end of season 2, and the idea of Mike being used as a way to distract El from the UD.

The second thing certainly worked. Both Mike and El have been distracted in s3 and s4, and they're two of Vecna's "main enemies". People on tumblr have pointed out the fact that Mike, El and Will (as well as Hopper and Joyce) were conveniently away in s4 and that it could have been intentional for Vecna to wait for Mike's departure. And everyone here seem to agree that Mike's monologue to El was more distraction than help. Also, it is a fun idea: turning the "they get together and are happy ever after" into the catastrophic thing that almost destroys everything… Vecna would approve.

As for the first thing, the Mindflayer hovering over the ball, I've been wondering since s2: why was the Mindflayer spying on them and how could he do that since the gates where closed (post lab, but before the russians)? But then the gates don't seem necessary for spying between dimensions (Vecna does cast his curse on Chrissy without any gate being opened, right?) I also used to think it has something to do with Will's link to the UD. Poor kid has been eating UD slugs and Mindflayer black matter after all. If someone has been acting like some kind of portable door to the UD, it's Will. But Vecna's focus being on Mike rather than Will (or El) would be an interesting plot twist.

I don't see him being possessed the way Will or Billy where, it would be something like Vecna's curse, something intangible. Vecna subtly influencing Mike, playing on his REAL doubts and fears (Vecna's curse is interesting because of the internal struggles, because his victims believe Vecna's truths on some level, because they don't see his influence before it's too late)

Here I'm having a thought for all the viewers who think Mike and El are a cute couple… Or that Mike is just an idiot teen… realising it was Vecna's doing all along…

If Vecna was somehow using and influencing Mike it would give a different weight to his confusion, his change of behavior after s2, his difficulties to put words on his feelings (I've never thought too much about that because people DO change and it IS difficult to put words on things for many people, but some here have pointed out how Mike was actually quite good at that on occasions)… It would mean Mike will have to fight back in s5 the way Max did. I'd love to see that.

I can't decide if it's a good idea, or if Mike's struggles are more meaningful if they happened out of Vecna's influence. Maybe the later because as Eddie said, forced conforming, "That's The Real Monster." My favorite theory at the moment is that Mike is not YET under Vecna's influence but that it will happen. That Mike trying to conform was first a choice he made, influenced by his family, his friends, society, guilt maybe… and that it will become a weapon Vecna uses second. That poor Mike sealed his fate during that dreadful monologue he was pushed to make by his own past choices and the person that loves him best ;____;

[justa-smalltown-gargoyle]

In the sex lives of college girls I think it’s wild how a love interest will be the perfect person ever and then suddenly they invent a new reason that they’re terrible and it’s like a brand new character trait that wasn’t present at all before

[dicaxasinus]

its me and my modern au trina headcanons against the world

Another sibling in Marika's disaster of a family who is super okay with the fact that Miquella gets so much more attention than her :) really it's fine :) It's great really :) she loves him too so it's all okay :)

When she was little and before things got Complicated with that side of the family, she would go play with her big brothers Morgott and Mohg because they got just as little attention as she did. They're The Same, you see. (It definitely didn't break her heart when they stopped talking to her and seemed to just up and vanish. Who said that)

She got to know all of Miquella's plans before anybody else so she also knew that whatever he was doing was going to ruin his life hardcore. So she's gotta ruin his life first so it doesn't get ruined quite as bad.

Girl who uses a wheelchair after Miquella abandons her on account of her in-game model not having legs, just a stem. She's just like Godwyn with his fish tail fr...

She met up with Godwyn in the hospital after the Abandonment Incident. He's different from how she remembers him but that's okay. She's gonna latch onto any brother she encounters bc she needs something to anchor her.

Godwyn got her a service dog. He's the biggest, wettest Irish wolfhound on the planet. She loves him dearly. His name is Putty (Sir Putty when he has Tasks). When he's off duty he likes to roll around in the mud.

Bonus Related Omen Twins Headcanons

I don't remember who posted about stealth CEO Morgott pretending to be his dad over Zoom or something, but honestly, inspired. He still dresses like a disaster though. Nobody would ever guess that he's in charge of anything. Anyway, he'd have the means to help take care of Trina after the Incident. She'd be like a sad baby seal when she sees him again. Especially if whatever Miquella's doing is affecting business or whatever. She's trying to help and also make Morgott happy bc he definitely Is Not looking like it.

Trina: We could kill him... Morgott: Trina, that's illegal. Trina: ... Putty could eat him probably... Morgott: No.

Idk what Mohg's doing exactly, but Miquella would've ruined his life in the process of ruining his own, so he's gonna have some beef with him. However, he and Trina would have a common goal of ruining Miquella's life before he can do it his own way, so they could have an alliance. Even if Trina's also like a sad baby seal seeing him again. She missed him and feels so so bad about whatever Miquella did. Especially if she kept quiet about it or had some hand in how it happened.

Morgott disapproving of Trina spending time with Mohg bc he's a bad influence but little does he know Trina already has Issues so who's the worse influence really

[casa-delle-galline]

It’s so funny how I went from not understanding the appeal of ZeLink in BoTW, to absolutely bawling my eyes out about Link and Zelda in ToTK living together and Link buying a dream house which is normally made for couples and families and is way bigger than the Hateno house.

I don’t think I’ve loved ZeLink this much since Spirit Tracks and Skyward Sword.

1. ST ZeLink (ALWAYS, NO QUESTION)

2. SS ZeLink (plus Groose, because it feels wrong to leave him out)

3. ToTK ZeLink

That will be all.

[literallymikewheeler]

"they are probably ignoring my texts on purpose...."

no actually !! they are currently staring at their wall and thinking about the fact that mike hates getting videos or photos taken of him but when they went trick-or-treating in season 2, mike let will video him the entire. night.

[melit0n]

EUCLID ANALYSIS.

Told you guys it was coming, didn't I? I apologise that this has taken a bit longer than expected, my mental health hit me like a bullet train, but I do hope it's sufficient.

Part one -> You're already here!

Part two -> Line by line analysis part 1

Part three -> Line by line analysis part 2

Part four -> Musical/intrumental notes

Part five -> The Night in Sleep Token

Part six -> Conclusion

Please note this is a general analysis. Although I do go into theories, both my own and others, this is just general thoughts. Also note when I speak of Vessel, I mean Vessel as a character, not the person, unless I specifically state so.

Tagline: @rilllvri @a-s-levynn @fivewholeminutes @euclidsvessel @tonguetyd @moonchild-in-blue @kkarmatic @branches-in-a-flood

+ Some people were worried about spam liking/reblogging the last time I did one of these big analysis posts, and I want to say please don't worry about that! I get happy when I see the same users pop up liking and reblogging my work, because it means you're interested in this enough to go through the whole thing. Feel completely free to add your own thoughts, correct any errors I've made etc. As per usual, my DMs are completely open to anybody wanting to discuss ST <3

Let's start off with the basics. ‘Euclid’ is the anglicised version of the Greek name Eukleídes (Εὐκλείδης), mainly known via the ancient Greek mathematician Euclid of Alexandria, who is seen as the ‘father of geometry’, and most famous for his work on symmetry. Its general definition is something or someone who is renowned and or glorious (A) and the lesser known definition is something that is a copy of the same (B) (taken from Euclid’s ideas on symmetry), which we’ll come back to in a bit.

However, there is another Euclid in history that we’ll be referencing; Euclid of Megara. This Euclid, similar to our mathematician, was an ancient Greek Socratic (having been a pupil of Socrates) philosopher. I’ll be taking part of a text out of his Wikipedia article since his ideas have been explained thoroughly there.

(we'll be coming back to him soon)

First off, this is an incredibly interesting choice of name for a song. Outside of someone's maths and philosophy class, this name doesn't exist to most, so the fact it's been chosen at all is intriguing.

Vessel has shown time and time again he enjoys sometimes elaborate references in his art, an example being chemistry and biology in TPWBYT (most notable would probably be ‘Telomeres’), so, I think it would be easy to say that, whether it be a reference to Euclid the Mathematician or Euclid the philosopher, that said reference is understood and intended by Vessel.

So, let's start with our mathematician, shall we?

What I find interesting about Euclid of Alexandria is that his life and existence outside of his work on geometry is almost completely unknown. There's almost nothing known of him, as a person, other than where he spent half of his career (Alexandria; Egypt, hence his title), where he may have studied (Platonic academy) and a general idea of when he lived (around 300BC). What is known about this insanely famous man who created the foundations of symmetry is incredibly barebones. People take Euclid at face value for his work, just like Vessel (both as an artist, and a character).

Further, we, as listeners, don't have much of an understanding of who Vessel is other than being a mouthpiece of a deity known as Sleep, someone once human now grasping at the threads of humanity and someone sharing some of his struggles in life (both with Sleep and unknown people). Like Euclid, he is barebones, we take him at face value; a vessel. He is both a mouthpiece for Sleep, a mouthpiece for his own emotions (obviously) and a mouthpiece for us. His experiences transcend being just his, due to his anonymity, therefore allowing us to connect and express our own experiences. It's music for the sake of music; expression.

Now, having talked through Euclid as a person, it's time to talk about Euclid and his symmetry. Symmetry in shapes is 'reflections, rotations, translations, and combinations of these basic operations. Under an isometric transformation, a geometric object is said to be symmetric if, after transformation, the object is indistinguishable from the object before the transformation- a copy of the same’. So, of course, this means shapes like squares, rectangles, parallelograms and circles. Circles are a representation of infinity, wholeness, unity and loops. What does Euclid do? Loop itself (starts and ends with B major, which also happens to be the same chord that TNDNBTG starts with), and loops the three albums together, musically and lyrically.

Now, onto Euclid of Megara.

Euclid was born in Megara, Athens and was a follower of Socrates (sneaking into Athens to hear him speak, and he was also present during his death). He is most known for his philosophy that good is the knowledge of simply being and that the opposite of good does not exist, aka evil. The Good is described to be a perfect, eternal, and changeless Form, existing outside space and time. A form of Heaven without a God.

This idea could be linked lore-wise with Sleep Token; Sleep could, in a way, be The Good literally. Bliss. Further, with the idea that there is no actual opposite of good, then how can anything be bad? How can Sleep, as a deity, have bad intentions if there is no actual evil?

So far, with these two notable figures in mind, we can perceive Euclid as one of two ways (and there are more ways to come). Euclid can be seen as quite literally being a form of symmetry; a parallel that Vessel lays his life on because it brings all of the produced albums, all of his stories, together. Or, we can think of Euclid as Vessel. This brings me to @euclidsvessel's post on their theory on Euclid; what if Euclid was Vessel’s name before he became a vessel?

The theory that Euclid could be Vessel’s old name is not only extremely insightful, but very plausible as well. They explained their points very well in their original post, and I don't want to repeat what they’ve already said, so I do implore you to go read that! It's not detrimental to needing to understand this post, but I highly recommend it. Despite this, I am here to both support their argument and bring my own comparison. Take a look at the cover art for Euclid:

Let me repeat the lesser-known definition of Euclid; a copy of the same. A clone. A replacement. Held in the right hand is the decapitated head of Vessel's old (2nd gen.) mask. Specifically, the one that covers his mouth; the version that relinquishes the most amount of humanity. The album art is a representation of change portrayed in a symbolically gory way. Beheading, depending on the era you’re working from, symbolises both vengeance as well as a form of purification. By cutting off the head, you remove any ‘unholy’ thoughts. It's also among one of the most horrific and humiliating ways of killing someone (since it was typically done publicly, and sometimes the heads were placed on spikes of battlements as a warning).

Furthermore, there's a theory that's popped up a couple of times, lore-wise, that Vessel is not the first person to be turned into a vessel of Sleep, and he certainly won't be the last. So, considering the literal album art illustrates a replacement of Vessel, I’d say that theory is pretty much confirmed. In conclusion, the album art can either be interpreted as how Vessel will eventually be discarded and replaced by another vessel, or how Vessel himself will change, for better or for worse; clawing out of his own skin to become “someone new”.

So, to compare the idea of Euclid being Vessel’s old name, and to create the third perception of what or rather, who, Euclid is, what if Euclid will be the eventual replacement for Vessel?

[zasmn]

Jack Frost hates the Leprechaun like Bunny hates the Groundhog and none of the other guardians get why. To them, he's a charming enough fellow who brings rainbows and the possibility of gold.

Every year, no matter where he goes or what he does, the Leprechaun will run up and pinch Jack before disappearing as if he wasn't even there leaving only a welt behind to mark his appearance. Jacks tried going to the most abandoned parts of Antarctica, encasing himself in ice, disguising himself amongst a crowd, flying as high as possible, but nothing stops the Leprechaun. The first time he appeared, Jack was happy, maybe he'd be a new friend? But after countless pinch attacks all he feels for the little man is animosity.

Jack just never wears green, but by now even if he did, the Leprechaun would probably still try to pinch him because he's been the most difficult and fun prey in the past. Tooth is mostly green and gets a pass. Santa always has some green because of his holiday. Bunny had his green coat and now has green gems on his clothes and green on the eggs he wears. Sandy is so far from being born a creature of earth/Ireland the Leprechaun would not be able to see him if he tried, but also Sandy enjoys celebrating all the holidays so every year he makes himself a sand shamrock to wear, it may not be green but it would be close enough to count if his space heritage didn't already protect him.

Based on the superstition that you must wear green on St Patrick's Day or you'll get pinched by a leprechaun (friends and family) but if you wear green you'll be invisible to the Leprechaun and thus safe from pinching. Where I live people also say if you have no Irish ancestry then you don't have to wear green to be safe from the pinches

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just got the funniest idea for a stream

[coconut530]

mARTch Day 2: Inspirations

I love all these artists’ work so much, highly recommend checking them all out.