#this is the only time you will see me using proper capitalization ok

[boytoyhalo]

Can you give me your fitpac headcanons to make me feel better after whatever the fuck Bad's stream was today. I am so unwell...

absolutely i can!!! let's see here hmm

pac likes to sleep/cuddle with fit sprawled out directly on top of him, like actively crushing him, because the deep pressure makes him feel safe (i think I said this in a different post but accidentally switched the names around, tho tbh i could see this being true both ways so maybe they take turns)

pac's ring markings glow bright blue when he's flustered or startled (see my blue ringed octopus hybrid pac headcanon) fit discovered this for the first time with the "how you doin big daddy" incident and since then fit has been going out of his way to sneak up on pac to make it happen because he thinks it's cute, this is also part of why he's gotten more confident with his flirting

fit would never say it out loud (partially because it would embarass him and mostly because he knows it would embarass pac) but he actually capital l Loves it when pac says his name with the "-tch" sound at the end. he thinks about it more than he shoud probably

this is less of a headcanon and more a writing prompt or like. a scenario that i think would happen but i think that at some point they'd be goofing around and threatening each other over whose a better fighter (they both think its each other but theyre arguing for themselves. for the bit) and fit would take off his prosthetic arm to hold it in his other hand and point it at pac like a sword and pac would be all oh yeah i can do that too and try to take off his leg standing up and would of course immediately overbalance and fall and fit would rush to check if he's ok while laughing his ass off and pac would use the leg to knock his legs out from under him so they would both be on the ground laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. and then fit would make a stupid pun about pac "not having a leg to stand on in this argument"

speaking of prosthetic's pac normally likes to keep his metal leg covered but the first time fit gets a proper look at it he's like woah your prosthetic looks so cooler and sleek and high tech i wish mine was like that and pac preens because he made it himself (ok it was him and mike but thats practically the same thing) and after that pac starts wearing his right pant leg rolled up (fit is only half of the reason, the other half is that it makes richarlyson feel better about his own leg but this is a fitpac post)

they both Really Like watching each other fight, hence the dungeon dates, but their favorite part is after all the mobs are cleared when they're cleaning their weapons and sorting through loot and just sitting quietly together basking in the shared victory and adrenaline and praising and complimenting each other for a fight well done

fit is aroacespec (he can count the amount of people he's been actually attracted to on one hand) and between that and his trust-no-one 2b2t background he's pretty inexperienced with most relationship related things, so pac is a lot of firsts for him. Pac not-so-secretly loves this because he's possessive and likes that no one else gets the type of attention he does from fit

fit starts wearing his glasses more often when he's not expecting combat or some other situation that will make them too inconvenient because pac says he looks cute in them

pac likes to make fit carry him on his back because 1. he likes the contact and 2. its fun to feel tall. the first time this happens it's because pac's metal leg takes a hit during a battle and is basically useless til he can repair it, so fit carries him back to chume labs out of necessity. After that pac usually makes up an excuse or plays up any hits he take so fit will do it again, except he's really bad at lying so fit knows what he's doing but he doesn't mind so he doesn't call him out on it

pac's hair looks really soft and fit realllly wants to run his hands through it but he's way too awkward to ask because that feels like a line being crossed and whenever pac runs his own hands through it fit just stares like a total weirdo which tubbo and phil both make fun of him for but somehow even then pac doesnt seem to notice. it takes him a long ass time to mention it to pac who he then finds out really likes having his hair played with and has been wanting fit to do it for forever but has also felt too awkward to ask. and then they laugh at themselves for being dumbasses (and then when they kiss for the first time and every time after that fit's flesh hand immediately goes up to his hair)

fit mentions that when he gets overstimulated sometimes its too much effort to remember to take his hearing aids out so pac asks if he can borrow them for a little bit and gives them back to fit with a new noise cancelling feature, and fit has to stop himself from literally proposing marriage right then and there. He settles for just cleaning chume labs top to bottom and leaving some chocolate and an embarassingly sappy thank you note that would read as a straight up love confession to anyone outside of him and pac's oblivious-but-also-not-oblivious slowburn-but-not-slowburn bubble

sometimes if pac is tired but cant get to sleep he'll go find fit and ask him to just talk at him for a bit because his voice is relaxing and if he falls asleep with his head on fit's shoulder or in his lap fit will sit as still as a rock for hours to not wake him up

ok ok you got me rambling this post is way too long now and most of these can barely count as headcanons but yippeeee i hope u like them!!!! everything will be ok we will have our morning crew and fitpac content back soon i promise

[drysdaleknieslee]

Only Exception - Cam York

@pocketsizedq my certified Cam girl I hope you like this and any other Cam lovers out there (including me, this had me blushing all the way through). Intented for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes including oral (male receiving, swallowing involved), angst (throwing objects) and just angry Cam

In which Cam let's out some steam after a bad loss and he takes it out on his partner in the most loving way possible.

You were at home watching the Flyers game hoping and praying that this game would end their losing streak.

They were currently down two in the third half and the guys were giving it all they could. Especially Cam. You always try to warn him about using his body when blocking as it takes a toll on him especially when he comes home sore or with bruises.

There was a good 13 minutes left and you figured this was gonna be another hard loss so you get the idea to make Cam dinner to at least have something nice to come home to. You gather your curls into a make shift bun on your head and start working on a late dinner.

When your halfway through with the meal you hear the announcer say the other team has scored, eliciting a sigh from you. He's not gonna be happy when he gets home.

The game ends and the flyers leave again disappointed in not being able to capitalize this game. It's gonna take Cam a while to get back as he has to shower, undress, listen to Torts and drive in the traffic.

After a while and you pull the pork roast out of the oven you can hear the front door click open followed by a slam that nearly made you drop the hot pan.

Cam angrily drops his hockey bag near the door and storm past the kitchen, not even noticing. His hair is ruffled and his neck and face is blazing red. He just plops on the couch and haphazardly throws this shoes and socks near a nearby chair.

Cam's been frustrated after games but this is pure anger. He still hasn't even noticed you yet. You slowly place the pan on the stove and stalk slowly into the living room.

His head is now in his hands and he's muttering to himself.

"No matter what nothing works."

"I have to be better, no other option."

"Why can't we just be consistent?"

You make your way directly behind the couch where Cam is sitting and even in the dark, you can see the tense muscles of his back through his dress shirt. "Cam?"

His head turns towards the sound of your voice and he looks at you with startled eyes. This is the first time he's noticed you since he stormed in and his face starts to soften at your worried expression.

"I'm sorry...I didn't see you when I came in. It's just-" and he cuts himself off. The frustrated look returns to his face remembering the events that took place earlier.

"It's ok. It's hard being in a slump but I know you guys will get out of it." you say rubbing his shoulders before snaking your arms around his front to place a kiss on his cheek.

This brightens his mood a little and he finally turns to get a proper look at you when you move towards the kitchen.

Your wearing the stadium series flyers jersey with his name on it and a pair of pajama shorts. Except these happen to be shorter than the usual pair. Either your clothes are shrinking or your ass is getting bigger but either way, Cam was not complaining.

"I made dinner for you because I figured you'd be a little heated after the game. And your probably hungry." you say motioning the food laid out on the dining room table.

"We've got tupperware right?"

You look up confused. "Cameron York I know you are not telling me to put all this food up after I made it specifically for you." you sassed putting your hands on your hips. He smirks at this before answering.

"I appreciate it hunny. There's just something else I'm in the mood for eating right now and I'll be full afterwards."

He gives you that standard smirk and his pupils started to dialate.

Oh.

"I like to savor my food."

Double Oh.

He starts to stalk towards you in the kitchen and with each step forward, you take a step back before your back hits the counter. He's now in your proximity staring down at you wondering how someone can make a jersey look so sexy.

"Jump." he said tapping your thigh and helping lift you onto the countertop.

His hands start massaging your thighs and making their way to the area that needs his attention the most but he glides over that part, leaving you to let out a frustrated moan before both hands cup your breasts beneath his jersey. Your mind goes hazy as his lips connect with that sensitive area behind your ear, making your jaw go slack.

"Cam" you manage to let out.

"What is it hunny? What do you want me to do?"

"The...stove."

He freezes for a split second and just stares at you. Is she teasing me?

"Turn the stove off Cam." you say giggling at his reaction. He rolls his eyes before turning to the right to cut the stove off.

"Done," he says before resuming his other activities, "now what would you like me to do?"

"Take me to the room and let me make you feel better."

He chuckles and pecks your lips before lifting you up to take you upstairs. "I already feel good babe," he says while kissing your neck softly. "You cooked dinner," kiss, "put my jersey on," kiss, "i'm all good."

He kicks the door open with one foot and closes it with the other before making his way to your shared bed. He sits with you on his lap, admiring the slight tint on your bronzed skin. You shy away at his gaze before he pulls your face back to face his.

"Don't hide from me. I see you as beautiful no matter what." You both smile at each other before initiating a slow yet passionate kiss. Nothing but love is all you feel and all he makes you feel. Is loved.

You disconnect the kiss and make your way down Cam's lap to come face to face with his erection. You unbuckle his belt slowly and teasingly try to remove his pants. He lifts his hips for better access but your taking your time on purpose.

"Unless you want me to cum in my underwear I need you to go faster."

You look at him innocently like you don't know what he means before resuming you escapades.

You finally get his pants off and start removing his briefs. When you do, his erection stands at attention, making you literally salivate. You put some spit on you hand as lube before you get to work.

You start to pump him slowly and running your thumb over the head, illiciting a strangled groan from the back of Cam's throat. His hand goes straight to your hair when you finally take him in your mouth and you start working him in inch by inch.

He's touching the back of your throat at this point and start to hollow out your cheeks each time you come up.

"oh my god your amazing" he chokes and he starts to buck his hips. Saliva now dripping down your chin and your eyes red from the tears.

"I'm gonna cum, and I need you to swallow, ok?"

You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the man above you before modding. Cam's entire face was red and flushed, eyes blown to where you can't see his irises, but there was a mixture of lust and care in them.

His thrust became uneven before he let our one long groan before emptying into your mouth. His grip on your hair loosening and his jaw slack. You take as much as you can before pulling off of him. You open your mouth to show that you followed his instructions.

"Good girl." he panted. He helps you off of your knees and begins to take off the rest of his clothes and yours. He starts to remove his jersey, but you stop him halfway and he looks at you confused.

You struggled with your image a bit. You didn't have a flat stomach, you had wide hips, and you struggled in almost every pair of jeans thanks to your butt and thighs. And your stretch marks aren't the prettiest.

"This is about you Cam, not me...."

He grabs your hands and stared you deep in your eyes. The lust was still there but he was more serious than ever.

"I love these stretch marks," motioning the ones on your stomach and thighs, "I love your stomach, I love your thighs," he spun you around to face away from him before landing a swift smack on your behind causing you to yelp and giggle a bit, "and I especially love this lovely ass of yours."

He spun you around again and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Let me make you feel beautiful, ok?"

You nod reluctantly before finally removing his jersey and tossing it somewhere in the room. He did a full scan of your body and the desire returned back to his eyes and his signature smile returned

"I'm so fucking lucky."

He picks you up again and places you on the bed and starts kissing all the places he valued most.

"I almost forgot these." he said nipping and sucking each boob, giving both equal attention. He places his mouth on your right breast while twisting your left nipple making your back arch off the bed. After a few minutes he switches.

"I could stay right here all day if I could."

"That's nice Cam," you say literally having to pry him from your chest, "but I need you. Like, right now"

He smirks and starts to rub his thumb against your clit lazily. "Be more specific."

It takes all the energy left in you to answer his question. "I need you to fuck me Cam."

"With pleasure."

With that, he takes both of my hands, laces our fingers above my head and enters himself into you slowly. Every inch is a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Look at me ok? Your doing great." he said panting softly.

You open your eyes to meet his blue ones and he bottoms out and you nearly climax then and there. He starts a slow but strong pace, knocking the wind out of you each time.

"Go faster Cam."

You sure?"

"Yes, I'll be ok."

He let's go on your hands but doesn't break eye contact, and grabs both of your legs and fold them to where your knees are nearly touching your chest. He then starts to move faster and this new position has you seeing starts.

"Oh my- Cam!"

"I know, you look so pretty like this. Your doing so well and you always take me so well."

Your eyes are starting to roll in the back of your head which each thrust feeling like he's touching your cervix. The only sounds filling the room are his praises, the bed shaking and hitting the wall, and his balls hitting your ass.

"I'm close Cam." He grabs your hands again and your legs starts to tremble. "Let's come together ok?"

His hips start to sputter and he does one final thrust to end them all, so strong you actually gasp for air and it helps you reach your climax and the clinch from you helps him reach his.

You finally stop shaking and he lays his head on your shoulder and slowly relaxes his body.

"Hey Cam?'

He turns his head slightly to face you. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for making me feel beautiful."

He smiles before pecking your shoulder and then your lips before adding, "I'd be glad to do it again. Thanks for being my comfort."

[khoipyan]

you’ve received a text!

headcanons of octavinelle’s texting styles when texting with you!

warnings; no major ones, hinted to be dating in azul’s and jade’s, can be seen as platonic or romantic

notes; snore mimimi.., FLOYD I LOVE YOU FLOYD LEECH FLOYD LEECH WAAAAAAHA SOBS SNIFF CRIES COUGH 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ im sorry

(notes have nothing to do with the fic i am just so in love with floyd)

azul ashengrotto

formal all the way. Capitalized letters, punctuation in place and even uses BIG BOY WORDS?!

when texting azul, he tries his best to keep formal even with you.

sometimes uses emojis, but very rarely and only with you. i think his favourites are 😊😓🤔 in the most non-joking way possible.

If he's in a rush or just happens to slip up, there may be a time where he forgets to put the proper punctuation endings (.?!,), but he'll be sure to correct himself in that moment.

EXTREMELY RARE but he might use acronyms (unless it's something like ASAP)? only because i can imagine him going:

"Love you, in a rush, TTYL. ❤️"

honestly an average speed texter but much better using a keyboard, probably owns a tablet with some sort of keyboard attachment.

barely uses the texting app on his phone because he's more used to emailing people. not enough for said messaging app to catch dust, but you get the idea.

(also kind of think he doesn't understand tone tags but he'll try if you want him to, not that he'll use them often but if you ask then he shall.)

jade leech

another formal texter... this time he doesn't slip up at all. sure, he'll make very infrequent typos, but he'll catch himself before he hits send.

bro does NOT use any of those yellow emojis to express how he is feeling over text. he's old fashioned.

generally doesn't use emojis unless with people he considers to be more than clientele (even if you guys are just seatmates or something), but when he does...

your two choices are :) or :(. that's it. maybe even the winking versions if he's feeling a tad bit extra.

regardless, he makes use of the emojis that aren't the people/yellow emojis. his favourite emoji has to be the mushroom one because he thinks it's cute despite the fact it doesn't realistically look like a mushroom at all.

(also yes, i know mushrooms with red caps speckled with white do exist, BUT DO NOT BE TELLING ME THOSE SPOTS ARE THAT BIG. maybe i'm in denial but THERES NO WAY.)

he'll be putting that mushroom emoji with anything.

"Did you have a good day today, dear? 🍄" "May I come over today? I wish to see your face again. 🍄" "Can you perhaps come over to Mostro Lounge today? Floyd wants to play with somebody, and you'll be able to see me while you're at it. 🍄"

literally the most random uses for the mushroom emoji.

it's ok we love jade for that

floyd leech

his texting habits are so irregular you don't even know WHAT to expect. usually does capitalize his letters at the start of his sentences, but sometimes he'll start capitalizing random words out of NO WHERE.

"Hey shrimpy..... wanna Play With me.... come Over to mostro im bored"

when he's upset he doesn't bother capitalizing anything, why put in the extra amount of work when you're moody?

emoji user REAL. typically anything you'd expect from genZ slang, to be honest. his favourites are 😱😇🤬☹️ and you know what, HE PROBABLY USES THOSE SHARK MEMOJIS BECAUSE HE THINKS IT'S FUNNY (and it is).

the most non-driest texter ever, also if you don’t respond to him within 0.0001 seconds he’ll start exploding your phone with spam messages (unless you’ve told him not to do that, then maybe he’ll only send 2-3 after-messages from then on)

has absolutely no intent of using proper punctuation, the type of guy to use multiple ellipses in one message.

honestly, his texting habits make him less intimidating than he actually is in reality.

— due to be edited at anytime —

[anarchistfrogposting]

Ok, this is probably quite a big question so Tell me if you want me to specify more. Currently, im a democratic socialist. Why do you consider anarchism to be a better functioning system then democratic socialism ? I don't want to pressure you to write An entire book or Something. Just a few reasons is fine.

I know, I do tend to write out some lengthy responses. Y’all’s questions are just way too good!

I also used to be a democratic socialist (the democratic socialism as a means to communism way) and a hardcore pacifist. I was largely inspired and radicalised by Jeremy Corbyn, and his election loss just radicalised me further. I am now neither a democratic socialist (obviously) nor a pacifist (and if folks want me to talk about why I’m against pacifism, let me know).

From a purely philosophical perspective, anarchism posits that democratic socialism is doomed to fail because you can’t obliterate hierarchies (and, by extension, class hierarchies) through a system which is inherently hierarchical. This is a logical product of the anarchist theory of history, which argues that hierarchical systems are self correcting systems of domination which exist to preserve themselves; that the only way to end hierarchies is to uproot and destroy them.

Democratic socialism aims to achieve socialism through representative democracy, which, it is posited by anarchists, is anti-democratic, since it can only, at best, support the will of large majorities. It is also susceptible (and currently controlled by) capitalist interests. Capitalist powers can and do use their financial and social capital to dominate media narratives and societal tendencies to their own end. Capitalists do not sit idly by whilst their interests are curtailed, particularly if you live in a financial centre like England or the United States. They shift public perspectives against those pushing change until political leaders are forced to toe the line of their formerly supportive constituents. Remember when people were celebrating AOC being elected to the House of Representatives, only for her to almost immediately start falling back to the imperialist line?

Politicians, furthermore, are forced to compromise their beliefs lest their ideas get completely blocked by opposition bodies, even with considerable party majorities. We see this time and time again with decidedly progressive policy reform getting watered down until they are almost unrecognisably different. (There’s a reason the trans community has such a lean toward the radical left.) As Kropotkin talks about in the Conquest of Bread, these politicians which are constantly blocked and curtailed are eventually forced to change their base positions until proper socialist reform is impossible. Quite literally right where the capitalists need them to be.

Liberal democracy exists by and for the capitalists. Democratic socialist reform is quite literally impossible within it.

[midmorningsong]

So this morning a staffmate told me about the recent Miami Zoo Kiwi incident that’s come to light, and I’ve been fucking livid all day.

Just been reading through a bunch of articles (majority NZ news sources) and the Zoo’s official statement, and somehow it’s even worse than what my irate coworker was able to convey to me. Miami Zoo had the absolute fucking privilege of receiving a (North Isl. Brown (?)) kiwi egg to hatch and raise as a species you would never normally see outside our little island at the bottom of the world as part of a some global zoo wildlife initiative.

Brief brief summary: viral videos coming out of this kiwi (Paora) being put on a table and patted by paying customers under bright lights, having selfies taken, made to run around during the day, keeper pursuing him whenever he tried to hide in his box. All around blasé attitude from keeper talking about this bird while he’s being paraded about on display. There’s video footage but I could seriously only stomach watching it once. He’s been there for 4 years and in the wake of this outrage they’re claiming to be building him a ‘proper enclosure’ now. He’s been handled like this at least 4 times a week and his current enclosure has been 3x3m.

They had access to super fucking detailed information on how to take care of this very sensitive and specialized animal, and what the fuck do they do? Disregard ALL of it to sell cutesy, ~rare bird~, self-obsessed animal encounters.

Either you knowingly and intentionally went against SO. MUCH. vital animal husbandry or you are just such a fuckwit you legitimately think it was good animal handling, I don’t know which is worse honestly. If it’s the former, congratulations; American Capitalism continues to be the most nasty, disrespectful piece of shit I see regularly parading about in broad daylight. If it’s the latter, then are your staff for real just exotic pet-obsessed freaks who showed up one day in a uniform and you just went ‘yeah sure you can be a zookeeper good enough’. Shoutout to that ‘keeper’ who had Paora’s head pinned to the fucking table with his fist going ‘hohoh yeah he’s just like a dog he loves being pat on the head’ yeah sure thing idiot I bet your zookeeper degree taught you all animals and birds especially just love being slapped around and treated like dogs.

The thing that’s got me the most though, is how over the top and pitiful they are being in their apology; “we’ve offended a nation...”, “it should have never happened”, “we are so sorry this video has caused stress to people”, ok yeah but fuck what we think why is there exactly ZERO mention of the stress, harm and sheer exploitation you have put this animal through??? Like yes, Paora is a taonga species and that is certainly adding to the severity of this response, but in and of itself the fact that their official statement answers ONLY to humans’ responses and outrage and not the failure to care for this animal is telling as fuck to me.

I really liked reading iwi leader Paora Haitana’s response (who Paora the kiwi is named after), in much nicer words than me expressing deep concern over the harm to Paora, the disrespect it is to him as a taonga species and us as protectors of them, and also heavy, heavy emphasis on words holding no shape under the weight of everything that has happened; they need to follow through and follow through right now with adequate care.

Personally I’d like to see Paora moved to a zoo that actually cares about his needs and conservation education over selling clickbait. I feel the love and intention of bringing him home to Aotearoa, though I don’t know how realistic that is with the risk of introducing diseases from abroad into the NZ populations. I also would expect a thorough investigation of Zoo Miami’s husbandry for all their species and the credentials of their staff.

Thanks for coming along to rant o’ clock, I’ll be back to reblogging regular fandom shit now so please don’t follow me if you’re expecting more of my own content lol. Enjoy some great twitter banter from this mess

[spanishskulduggery]

Two questions:

I've noticed that some native speakers online (or when texting) won't use the upside down exclamation point. Is there a reason why?

I've learned that when listing the days of the week, you don't capitalise them, unlike in English. This was easy enough for me, because we also don't capitalise the first letter in the day of the week in Italian. But two of my classmates today, both who are Puerto Rican, said that they do capitalise the first letter in the day of the week. What's up with this? Is it a regional thing?

It's because the ¿ and ¡ are considered officially correct and it makes the most sense in written Spanish. Informal language doesn't often include punctuation because native speakers generally get the gist so it's considered unnecessary and informal. In terms of written Spanish though, it is standard if you're doing anything official or academic. It helps point out what clauses are questions or exclamations; which is specifically helpful for reading out loud and also because there are times when the word order does change depending on whether it's a declarative, interrogative, or exclamatory sentence. But mostly I think it just really helps with reading and reading out loud, it's honestly very considerate. But in text, there's not really a need because it's informal. You can do it if you want, but it's more informal (and incorrect in standard and academic Spanish) not to include it. In an informal setting it's like saying "k" instead of "ok/okay", or not using periods and other proper punctuation

This one I'm not sure about. In general you do not capitalize the first letter for days of the week. I think this might be regional or the influence of the US with English since we do capitalize days of the week. But I'm used to seeing el lunes / los lunes, el martes / los martes... the only time you capitalize it is if it's a special holiday like Domingo de Ramos "Palm Sunday" or Miércoles de Ceniza "Ash Wednesday", or if it's a name/capital like in Santo Domingo. I think the only time I see capital letters for days of the weeks is maybe in a calendar but in general Spanish I don't see it capitalized often.

But if anyone has any experience with #2 let me know. I think it might just be regional

And as far as #1 it's kind of like how if I'm texting sometimes I don't end my sentences with periods. The other person knows that's where my sentence ends so why include it? You can of course use the proper punctuation in texting but I would say it's best to be consistent otherwise you risk sending off the "I am being very formal because I am upset" energy

Anyway, texting is weird and there are whole undercurrents of subsets of inferred language in there it's wild

[thedawningofthehour]

Ok, I just found out that the supreme court of the OH SO FUCKING GREAT united states just ruled that it is not ok for institutions to take action to level the educational playing field for POC, but that it is ok to discriminate against LGBT+ people right on the last day of Pride month.

I don't live in the states, PERO ESTOY TAN JODIDAMENTE FURIOSA

Mientras tanto voy a soltar una pintoresca linea de insultos con la que espero que se ahogen

MALPARIDOS HIJOS DE REPUTISIMA MADRE ESPERO QUE LOS APALEEN EN LAS CALLES. MALANDROS MAMAGUEVOS CARACULOS.

Also the French are burning down half of France because of a cop killing a 17 year old.

Seriously, if it wasn't for the whole 'let's commit genocide' thing I'd be 1000% on Draxum's side.

If Draxum had omitted that issue and focused on the 'let's end capitalism' issue I'm sure the turtles would have at least considered joining him.

Literally everything in the world is going to hell and I have zero hope that it'll ever get better. Like, my mom's over here talking about how I really should start a retirement fund and most predictions have society collapsing completely before then. I will consider it a win if I'm still alive, honestly.

And it's impossible to get away from. My mother watches the news fucking constantly. She's better than she used to be, but her 'used to be' was 18-20 hours a day of straight news cycle so I can't really sing her praises. All day, she sits and watches the news and scrolls through political twitter on her phone. That's what she does. And then she rags on me for 'not keeping up with the news.' I KEEP UP WITH IT I JUST DO OTHER STUFF BESIDES THAT.

And she doesn't get how it's depressing. She thinks of it like a soap opera. Yes, she logically knows that me and my sister are going to have to live with this hell and says she's upset about that, but I don't think she actually believes it. It's like it isn't real to her.

You know, I dunk on the French language here, but nothing but respect for the French themselves. They're out there absolutely owning everyone else and showing us how a real protest is done. They don't take shit.

I live in Minneapolis. My sister actually lived just a few blocks from where George Floyd was killed at the time, and she shopped at that one Target that got looted. At the time I was working at a family-owned restaurant, and the owner and all her kids were hardcore alt-righters. Only one of them was a conspiracy theorist, (I think the others were literally too dumb to wrap their brains around conspiracy theories-I had to tell one, a woman in her fifties, what temperature to bake a cake at, for example) and when this was all going down he was going on nightly tirades about how the entire city was burning, already burnt to the ground.

And again. We're in Minneapolis. Not the city proper, but if you went outside you could see the city skyline. Very much not on fire.

I'm sure there's French people doing the same song and dance downplaying Merzouk's death and demonizing the protestors-including Macron, which makes me wonder if he's forgotten some key history-but honestly it seems like most people are rightfully enraged. Good for them. The French are being metal af right now and I am here for it. I don't like civil unrest, but I like teenagers getting killed even less.

This ended up just being a ramble about the general state of the world than anything about the fic, sorry. I've been kind of shit mentally the past few days and I think I needed to let some stuff out.

[burdenedreverence]

In his most private moments, hidden from the innocent eyes of Oki-tan, his thoughts are dominated by a singular entity.

It is the dead of night; he is hunched over his sink. His emerald eyes stare into the mirror, staring into his own eyes. The reflection in the mirror shows his visage, but he does not recognize the man staring back at him. It is a grisly sight.

He hears the pounding of his heart within his ears, the rushing of his blood. It as if his body is rebelling against him, a pain radiates from his chest. Callous fingers grip the sink, crushing the material as if it was nothing more than clumps of dirt.

So, this is how it is to be tonight?

'How long do you plan to cling to the foolish notions, you have deluded yourself into thinking?'

The voice which rings in his head, deep and harrowing. Echoing so loudly he can focus on nothing but the sound of the venomous voice. An old foe rears their ugly head, capitalizing on a moment of weakness. Hayden's mind is a fortress, one which must be guarded at all times least he succumbs to the will of his unwilling intruder.

His hollow is a menace. It is strength, glory, lust, pride, wrath, and every other emotion which Hayden feels. It is the extreme of all his heart, taken to a point of violence. If Hayden's existence is characterized by his discipline, then this creature is characterized by it's impulse.

"Be gone."

The words growl through his lips, staring into the mirror he sees himself. He sees something else. Reflected in his eyes, he sees the things which comprise his soul. The violence. He is a beast, restrained only by his discipline. His natural inclination is destruction, in all it's forms.

'You are most selfish, foolish, man. You think you are doing favors to these pitiful people? You cannot lie to me, Desmond. I know you, I know you more intimately than you know yourself.'

The voice curls around him, it's baritone reflects his own. It is a cruel mockery of the soothing, low tenor that he speaks with.

"Silence."

'You are using the girl, pretending to be something you are not. That you might deny your true nature for the silly fantasy, it is weakness. It is cowardice.'

"I said, silence."

'For a brief moment, you were glorious, ya' know? Almost. You had a worthy adversary, standing before you, an enemy! What did you do? YOU STAYED YOUR HAND!!!"

"SILENCE, DAMN YOU!"

His hand moves quickly, it smashes into the mirror'd reflection. It punches clean through the mirror, clean through the wall. The glass shatters, creating a mess of the bathroom. He is unharmed. Of course, he is.

'There he is. There is the man, I know.'

The rumbling laughter which echos in his head, it does not cease. It will not stop. Tonight, his worse half exists in ecstasy. He withdraws his hands, cursing under his breath. He stood on the edge of madness, for a mere moment.

That creature, the Demon King, provokes violence from him. Next time he will take proper precautions against them. Next time, his mind will be a fortress. Next time, he will be better.

As he prepares to leave, a knock is heard at the door.

"...Is everything ok, Hayden?"

He gathers himself, his eyes close. He clears his throat as he moves next to the door.

"Of course, Oki-tan. I'll be out in a moment. Get back to bed... I'll come by and read another story soon."

[starstrider]

Huge rant about my growing disillusionment.

After moving to Europe I'm like convinced that first world countries are gatekeeping everyone from increased quality of life and good medicine. Btw.

You'd think that moving into a somewhat-successful-with-capitalism country would ease me but no I've gotten radicalized as hell this year

Disclaimer, I am a Ukrainian. Read the following with that in mind

The fact that they're dishing out money for Ukraine now means they could have been doing that all this time but they only decided to do so once Russia made them shit their pants in fear.

Specific examples ahead. They could have spread some of the finances to help any country of Africa, help Palestine or help Argentina get proper medical equipment during the global pandemic. Help integrate immigrants and people of color into their countries. Or to help us earlier, when it all really began in 2014.

Europeans don't realize how easy they have it while my people are dying and they're so detached from struggles others go through they tell me stupid shit like "well you might have a war in your country, but I have a war in my head" or start ugly crying when I tell them how shitty living in Ukraine is. I see every day how Czech people want our refugees to go home ASAP no matter is the war is over or not despite Ukrainian women being a large taxpaying workforce atm.

And it's like. OK dipshits.

[system-of-a-feather]

4, 7, 21 & 30?

4) Do you go to sleep or wake up as different parts? What are dreams like for you?

Sometimes. Most of the time it's me that wakes up and most of the time its me that goes to sleep, but sometimes another part goes to sleep and I wake up, vice versa, and sometimes another part goes to sleep and the same or a different part may wake up.

Usually our dreams are single part, but occasionally we can like... for a lack of better words, co-con someone else's dream / watch them and rarely, but occasionally, more than one alter will exist in the dream and itll be a shared dream, but those are considerably rare.

7) What’s sexuality like for you? Does having multiple parts effect your relationships?

We are all varying leans of bi/pansexual. Ray is the only one that IDs as a gay man (and he really tried to be bi 'cause it would make sense', but he really has no interest in women / female-presenting individuals)

Having multiple parts obviously does affect my relationships in the sense that it is inherently going to be something that is known and different parts have different boundaries - and then parts that have to accommodate for other parts consent / boundaries and all that stuff. I don't think it NEGATIVELY effects my relationships, but I also wouldn't say it POSITIVELY effects it either. It just, effects it.

21) When you feel safe sharing about your parts with someone, which part is the “easiest” to introduce/explain about?

See.... back in the day maybe I'd say Lucille or something, but the truth is we don't really.... "introduce" well. We don't really plan it cause the parts that are good at like proper and formal introductions get awkward performance anxiety when its too focused on them. Most of the time it usually one of the more "don't give a fuck" alters like XIV, Aderis, and sometimes Ray that just goes "Sup lol"

These days I just kinda go "oh yeah I live a double life with my personal Johnny Silverhand living in my head" and then like at some point in the near future XIV will be like "sup I'm the personal Johnny Silverhand, you can call me [insert whatever name he wishes to give person]"

We just kinda let our dissociative brain do what it likes naturally.

30. Here’s your prompt to ramble about something parts-related you haven’t had a chance to share!

Uhhhhhhh fuck uh

Okay fun test. XIV and I share the front a lot, usually co-con / co-front, sometimes just blurred and so sometimes we can't really tell who we are with 100% certainty and a funny new found way to figure it out is to just hand us a guitar.

Cause that skill is NOT transferred between us and I have yet to still get over my habit of holding the guitar the wrong way around + never knowing what to do.

Also XIV was recently talking with my fiance about how he [fiance] had really always just marked XIV as "literally just Johnny Silverhand" and at first it was cause he was being a manspreading snarky constantly complaining 'just wanting to start fights' asshole in a restaraunt the first time they properly talked which made him go "ohhh ok its just Johnny this one"

Which only got worse with

>hates capitalism and wont shut the fuck up about it >constantly "jokes" about violence against Jeff Bezos >really laid a case for us to start smoking before settling for gum >general aesthetic >general language >really wants a guitar >gets a guitar and becomes hella pretentious using the same language >a few others I wont share on here

But apparently he noted it first thing they started formally talking and then over a year XIV just kept unknowingly evolving his self expression in more oddly specific Silverhand details when we knew nothing about Cyberpunk. Which I snicker at cause I really wish I could rewatch that and scream with him about how hilarious it is cause its really fucking funny in hindsight and imaging being my fiance when XIV keeps incrementally and unknowingly hitting a lot of the key personality traits / character traits of Johnny while our system still refused to play the game like.... XD It would have been fun to share that OH MY GOD KALSDJFLK

Cause literally the meme got to the point where it broke the camels back when XIV was rambling about guitar stuff at our fiance and basically word for word quoted a scene in Cyberpunk and our fiance just had to interrupt the ramble to just share the quote.

Its literally the best meme I swear.

-Riku

[mochibdsm]

on online BDSM etiquette

i personally have not been to any formal BDSM events or clubs, so i only understand minimal details on the etiquette side of them. i have, however engaged in a lot of online communities and websites, so for now i will only be talking about the online etiquette and mannerisms of the BDSM community.

The biggest question i see from P/people who are just starting out in the online community is in regards to the use of capitals and lower cases when addressing someone. When it comes to addressing a Dominant, They should always receive a capital letter at the beginning of Their name, as well as when referring to a Dominant or multiple Dominants with pronouns. Ex; He/She, Him/Her, They, Their, Them, I, You. When it comes to addressing a submissive, they should always receive a lower case for the first letter of their name, as well as when referring to a submissive or multiple submissives with pronouns. Ex; he/she, him/her, they, their, them, i, you. When referring to two or more people who are both Dominant/s and submissive/s, it is proper to use both capitals and lower cases. Ex; U/us, O/our, W/we, T/them, T/their. A Capital/lower case is also used online when you are unsure if the person is Dominant or submissive as a way to be respectful of the possibility that T/they may be a Dominant. This is the proper use of capitals and lower cases, whether Y/you are a Dominant or a submissive. With this said, there are many disrespectful people out there. i have on many occasions shown a self proclaimed Dominant respect online, only to have them disrespect me and/or my Daddy. At this point they lose my respect and i will stop using a capital when addressing them, if i continue to address them at all.

The next big question i come across online is the use and misuse of titles. When trying to be respectful of a Dominant, Sir/Ma’am are the proper and most taught titles to use. Whether Y/you are single or not and whether Y/you are Dominant or submissive, they show respect to the Dominant Y/you are talking to. A lot of times Sir/Ma’am and Their first name is used as a way to make it more formal and less like talking to your own Dominant as well as used for one Dominant being respectful to another Dominant. Not every Dominant will want those titles and will let Y/you know what They prefer to be called. If You are a Dominant who does not like to be called Sir/Ma’am, it is polite to thank the submissive for the title, but to call You by (enter Name here). Likely a Dominant will prefer to be called by Their name or nickname in this case. Sometimes it will be by Mr/Miss or something of that nature. They should never ask Y/you to call them something like Master/Mistress or Daddy/Mommy. Those are dynamic titles when talking to people online and should not be used outside of a dynamic. There are only two situations where a Dominant should receive a Master/Mistress title outside of Y/your own dynamic. One, if the Dominant is a well known Master/Mistress and has earned that title in whatever community Y/you are talking to Them in. Even then, it would be Master/Mistress along with Their name and not just the title on its own. Two, you are in a dynamic and your Dominant tells you to refer to another Dominant by that title for whatever reason. The other Dominant should also be ok with you using this title for Them. Some Dominants do not allow Their submissive to call another Dominant Sir/Ma’am, so if a submissive calls You Mr/Miss or something similar, or even no title at all, do not take offense. This is still meant to be respectful coming from an owned submissive or even from a submissive who is unowned, but was taught this by a previous Dominant. Again, a Dominant outside of a dynamic should never request a title, they should be freely given out of respect or not used at all.

Titles are also used for submissive’s. However, submissive titles tend to be pet names and are not to be used on a submissive that You are not in a dynamic with. Pet names; baby, sweetie, hunnie, baby girl/boy, little one, dear, love, kitten, etc are considered to be very disrespectful in the BDSM community when used outside of a dynamic and will cause P/people to be very upset with Y/you, very quickly. Other titles for submissive’s include humiliation names. Ex; pig, slut, whore, etc. These names can be used in a dynamic for humiliation or as terms of endearment, but are very disrespectful to use on someone that You are not in a dynamic with.

Proper etiquette for private messaging/ friend requesting online. A private message/friend request should never be sent to anyone online without publicly asking permission to the person first. If the answer is yes, and only if the answer is yes, should Y/you then send Y/your message or friend request. A Dominant should not engage in any private conversations or friend requests with an owned submissive or a submissive who is formally under protection, without their Dominant’s/Protector’s permission. Some dynamics go as far as not allowing the submissive to privately chat with anyone without first having permission by the Dominant, if at all. At the other end, some dynamics do not require permission from their Dominant/Protector and can give Y/you permission on their own. In any case, it is always more polite and appreciated to ask first.

Lastly, i would like to address any single Dominant’s and submissive’s. i see a lot of Y/you online who are desperate to find a connection with another. i know it can be hard to be alone and see all these posts of others in T/their happy dynamics, but no one is happy to get a message begging T/them to Dominate you or demanding Y/you submit to them. i have heard of so many Dominants and submissive’s receiving these messages and have even had messages myself from submissive’s, begging me to Dominate them. i am a submissive and a collared one at that. i am not about to Dominate anyone. Most of these messages get ignored or a very disrespectful response in return to the disrespectful request. Be polite, use Y/your manners and be patient. Y/you are not going to find a happy ending by trying to rush into things with P/people Y/you don’t know anything about.

So there Y/you have it. The basics in BDSM online etiquette. Stay safe and enjoy the online communities available to Y/you.

[solardick]

So what cards to use?

Serpent comes back. Dove is flying.

Mission impossible.

Mother, i’m afraid.

It’s the cir_cle🎶 the circle of li_fe.

Is this what you need dear?

What is it that i owe?

A crow is where violence ensues. Harm. Death. The distant is closed in the now. With it all intent from the external. It means loss. Ravens well. Are a little more human. We say that its time. Prepare yourself. Its a hit. But when it happens with complexicity. You know extra attention is paying name. And i always fail. I don’t listen. The external wont leave me be. Im sorry if your trying to help me. You are the best moments of my life. And i look to you. And i know theres love. Its too bad that word is so god damned contaminated with bs. That one is afraid to say it. It not being hyped. Its always hyped. Its always spelt with a capital letter. People are stupid.

And im an alien.

As is the dragon. Not American. It’s not attached to all that sin bs that american dragons are. Its more of a Japanese dragon. A mix of creatures. As is the spirit. Here less formed to that of an image of man. Same goes for the hindu’s description of life. Foe whatever that god’s name is. I like it.

The dove is tied with the dragon here as positive social involving strong and confident eye contact. Which creates a bit of a stir between two. And engages active participation. All unease is vacant. And trust on a leaF of fate. Not knowing where the wind will blow.

All life does. Is attack it. Attack attack attack. Attack. Bleed. Attack.

Randy’s Japanese toilet.

Ok so now im changing partners. With the little effeminate foreigner. I still lose. Still on script. Ugh.

Ok fine ill go full woman.

I font need to have any initiative i can be a lazy worker.

Il’ fuck the next guy that cums on to me. Go back to beign eight again. Maybe itll be his brother. I want a strong body pressed up behind me. Take care of me. Do nice things for me. And you can own me. Its all i know anyway. Being owned. They ain’t going to stop. Might as well. You’re no stranger. Give in to the lie. Maybe they’ll leave you alone. And stop hurting you. Give up the dream of ever having a family. Theres is no mother. There is no father. There is only childhood. Thats all its been for all these last years. Being shipped around. Owed. Beaten. To insanity and then passified. And raped.

May i get off this abusive fucken script now!? How many more peoplw want to line up and take their next turn?

In all those years. All fucken twenty or so only one person ever insisted and asked me what. One person. I. A way that wasnt aggressive or violent. Sll the violence is dtillt here. By ny fucken entourage. Leave me aline i cant fucken do it. Jesus fuck raoe your families.

Oh no! I got pressed and stressed at saying soemthig. Stupid again. Punish me. Build your own excuses.

What can one inject a chromozone into some one?

So i have to sabotage. Bye bye sunshine. Your a fake summer anyway. Still covid. Get out your mask and be conditioned to avoid everyone. And live the hermit.

Now i got some more cigs to smoke. Odd’y enough my lung isnt hurting. Chain smoked a pack. Scrounging butts. Alright. Oo card lets start my new life as estranged. While i wait on the in reasing depressiob to knowck me out of functionality again. Back yo square one and 20 more years of vegetation while being mistreated. Maybe ill goninsane again and i can get raped and passified again. For the miliionth time.

So the next p’ace i go to you gonna send other girls to sexuàlly harrass me and after i take the proper steps victimize me as the villain. Its becoming repetative. Where your imagination?

No stay home. What? Look dispointed im grttingg fucked with and now im sick. Look disapoited. What the fuck ever nan.

Im going back to bed and wait to see if im a member og the health and safety commity. Its its not just an insult. To have that posted now. The second i wàk inside i start choking almost puking little poor sleep coupelf with chain smoking an fthe recent griup endeavered fucking with me. Im out. Ok. Fyck off.

Consodering the union rep. Is best froends witha drug dealee. Doesnt inspire too mych confidence or trust. Oh no! Im intimidated. Or the drug dealer spazzing out and cowering everytime i raise my gand to through a peice of paper in the trash or the hippy mexican guy eho also told me he was a drug dealer. Both freak out. And engrandize my negaitve reactions. And yet. Im the one who gets hit by them. Yeah. Ok. Fuck you. Think im going to go all full core serioal killer violent on yous. What. Ao and then i get damage for the dame behavior others have done unto my all my life? Yeha ok. Sure why not. Its the guy driving hi s wife to the hospital that gets pulled over by the cops. While the drunk driver ahead of them. Keeps going. Serrounded by criminals victimizing me into being punished. Yap. Fuck life.

Of course im being herded. Who else whould i chose to work with. Within the limited options available. Its not me choice. It was already mande for me. Fuck rhe foreigners is probably a bigger criminal than the others combined gor all i k ow.

Born in a life serrounded by criminals. No wonder my dragon gets raped.

« As wise as a serpent. And as harmless as a dove. «  the bible. Uh, isnt that cool. I just saw that on greyhound. That was good movie. I watched it twice. Today. But thatd life. You find yoru way and then they rape it. And dump it out. Reaving with hatred. And rhen you need to be corrwcted while the laugh at you. Well that’s how i was raided atleast.

Im going to go massage my prostate with the hand’e of my toilet plunger. Later.

Oh no, easter id comming another holiday. Thats means another collective fuck you to me.

No iill try and go see Mother therapist once inknow i own my own life. And aint consistently p’aced with the criminal or the degenerate.

[liltaventures]

RP Info/Rules/Terms

General Info:

I am Semi-Selective

I have multiple muses

The length of RP Thread replies will be multi-para

The length of Ask replies depends solely on how my characters would answer it -- Some responses may also be in the form of drawings or little comics

Any muse used in an RP Thread or Ask will be tagged as #IC || *Muse's Name*

My Discord is for Mutuals Only

I don’t always use flair — If I do use icons, banners, etc. it’s because I think it will fit the reply or starter

I have a few disabilities that make writing & reading difficult. Because of this, everything I write is put into a few programs to check for errors, but not everything is perfect. If you come across a typo, spelling error, or grammatical error, please let me know! I want to make sure that what I am writing is legible, and I will not take offense if it is pointed out. Rules/Terms:

You must be 21+ to interact with me -- no exceptions

Please do not respond to/reblog closed starters if you are not a part of that thread

If Dark themes are mentioned, they will be tagged properly

Any NSFW will be tagged as # NSFW -- I am also open to Fade To Black (FTB)/Timeskipping

Please try to use proper capitalization, punctuation, etc. -- I need things to be legible as I have difficulty reading text at times

Thread replies need to be at least three (3) paragraphs -- I am looking to write with those who write multi-para

Do not Godmod, metagame, etc. -- I will only give a few chances before dropping a thread if this happens

If a month goes by with no activity on a thread and I do not hear from you I will drop the thread.

This is a major boundary of mine due to trauma. Let me know if you are no longer interested in writing together. Life happens, people lose interest, and it is perfectly ok to need to step away. I understand that people get busy or need to focus on other things, and I will never be upset with you for needing to step away for any reason. I am making it clear now — DNI with me if you ghost

This blog and its owner do not participate in callout posts/cancel culture.

I am here to write, enjoy content, make art, and make friends with those who enjoy BG3. I am not here to get involved in drama. Please keep it away from my blog.

If I follow or interact with someone who is known to be homophobic, transphobic, racist, xenophobic, a TERF, or cause serious issues and you can provide proof, I am more than willing to hear out the accusations and take the necessary actions that I need to make sure that the space I have made is a safe one. I do not want to be following/interacting with those who align themselves with that ideology.

I take accusations against another person seriously. I will soft/hard block when I see fit. I am also less likely to interact if most of your blog is drama. Things I WILL NOT write out:

Non-Con

Incest

Bathroom Kinks

The Fetishization of one's race, gender, sexual orientation, or disability If I need to do so I will add to this list in the future as I see fit. Dark Themes and Their Tags:

Please note that certain themes like SA, slavery, and abuse may be mentioned briefly but not necessarily written out.

Dark themes will always be tagged so others can filter out what they do not want to see.

If a tag is missing please let me know so I can add it!

[lordofwaffless]

11. Tower

The Clarke family manor had once been a proper manor home, with two hundred acres of land that included perfectly manicured lawns, well stocked woods and ponds, and a number of gardens and well-pruned shrubbery. Elements of those grounds still existed, but the majority of the land had been sold to developers twenty-odd years ago, leaving only twelve acres of lawn and garden and shrubbery. To Stu’s great delight, the stables had also been left, as the town was particularly horse-friendly. 

“Would you like to ride one?” asked Wesley, as he watched the satyr rocking on the edge of a stool, gasping at every wee movement the horses made. The sight of the horses had woken Stu up properly, which had, in turn, brightened Wesley’s mood considerably. The boys were standing in the stable, watching a groomsmen curry one of the horses. (Stu wanted to brush a horse, too, but was altogether too ecstatic to stand still long enough to do so.) 

Stu’s response was a noise halfway between a gasp and a shriek. He jumped off the stool with remarkable alacrity, toppling it over in the process.

“Stewart, I'm just offering a ride around the grounds. It’s not that exciting, I promise,” Wesley said, laughing (kindly) at the way Stu bounced on his toes and shook his arms, his entire being alive with excitement. 

“It’s a horse! Riding a horse! How is that not exciting?!” Stu demanded. “I can be tall, Wesley!” 

“Hmm. Is that why you like horses?” 

“Well, that and the fact that they’re incredibly majestic and flipping cool as flip, but, um, yeah, towering over everybody is also pretty frickin’ cool!” 

“Wow, Stewart. That may be the closest you’ve ever come to saying fuck. Repeatedly saying fuck, actually.” 

Stu stopped bouncing around in circles for a moment and turned to Wesley, his expression grim. “My mother doesn’t like it when I curse,” he said, quite seriously. Wesley blinked. “Doesn’t she live in the capital…?” 

Stu nodded. “Mmm-hmm. She’s still scary, though. The last time I said a bad word, she made me write five hundred different sentences with it.” He bounced on his toes again. “Can I ride a horse now?” 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” he gestured to the groomsmen to saddle two of the horses. Wesley’s horse was a massive, pure-white thoroughbred. (Stu, personally, thought the horse was almost too pretty for someone as dark and stormy as his… whatever he and Wesley were now.) The horse assigned to Stu was a slightly smaller, particularly well-behaved mare, who shared Wesley’s nearly-purple raven hair. 

“She’s so pretty, Wes!” he giggled, patting the horse behind the ear. Wesley was pleased to see Stu so happy, especially considering the circumstances that led to Stu being in the Clarke stables at all. (Neither of them had mentioned any of it since leaving the truck at Myrtle’s.) 

The ride around the grounds was pleasant, taking up the better part of an hour and a half. It was all mostly level terrain, around luscious gardens with autumn flowers, a patch of peppers and pumpkins and squash, and a small wooded area along the northern boundary of the property. By the time they made it into the house, Stu was both exhausted and in high spirits, and Wesley was more content than he’d been in months. 

“So where’s your room?” Stu asked, as they walked through the great hall.

“In the kitchens, where the servant’s quarters used to be. It’s technically the family quarters now, since my parents think the house is too big for three people, but my dad’s staying with my aunt Cecilia, and my mom’s hardly ever home, so really it’s just me,” Wesley rambled, looking off into a corner where a rusty suit of armour bearing the Clarke family crest stood. He ran a hand through his wind-blown hair, letting it settle on his neck. Stu noticed the silvery cast of his face and wondered, for the first time, if Wesley was blushing. 

“Your cheeks are silvery,” he noted. 

“Yeah. Elf blood.” 

“Are you ok?” 

“Fine. I’m- it’s fine.” he shook his head, settling back down to earth. “Come on, Stewart. Let’s go to the kitchens.” 

He led him down one side of the hall, towards a door hidden behind a tapestry of Saint Basilton. It opened onto a short tunnel and long, winding staircase, which led to what looked to be a game room or home theatre. There was a large, brown leather couch near the centre of the room, facing a massive projector screen and entertainment centre; in another part of the room, an air hockey table sat in the corner, and there was a shuffleboard table pressed against the far wall, next to a couple of stately cabinets that looked as though they’d been repurposed from some other, grander part of the house. 

“Why is there a rec room in your kitchen?” Stu asked, his face scrunched up as he contemplated the mystery before him. 

Wesley laughed. “This isn’t the kitchen, that’s up the stairs,” he gestured to another, shorter, non-winding staircase across the space. “This is the family room, Stewart, although I’m the only family member that ever uses it.” He led the satyr up the other staircase, into a well-lit room lined with windows and a clear glass door. The kitchen was nice, airy and bright, the sort of place where one prepares and eats Sunday brunch with their small, yappy dog. 

“Fickle, shut up,” Wesley groaned, as the two boys were beset upon by a furious Maltese puppy. 

“Your dog is named Fickle?” 

“Mm-hmm. He’s very indecisive. He has a bad habit of hopping on your lap, demanding that you pet him, and then hopping off two seconds later to go lick something on the floor. And then demanding that you feed him. And then not eating. And then doing it all again.”

Stu rubbed his nose with the edge of his sleeve. “Wesley, I think that’s every puppy.” Wes scratched the dog in his arms behind the ears.

 “You’re a fickle puppy, aren’t you, boy? Yes you are,” he cooed, “Oh yes you are.” 

The dog barked again. Although pleased by this turn of events, he still wanted to know who the random goat boy in his kitchen was. 

“You want to pet him, Stu?” He noticed Stu’s sniffling. “Goddess, that’s right, you’re allergic to dogs. Wait here a sec, I can take him out to the stables and the groom’ll watch him.” He gave Stu a kiss on the cheek and walked out the door before the blushing satyr had a chance to protest. (The stables, unfortunately, were closer to the great hall than they were to the erstwhile servant’s quarters, which is why Wes had gone that way to begin with; however, it was nearly impossible to get Fickle up the winding stairs.) 

Stu decided to explore the space. There was a second, larger kitchen behind the first, and a hall off to the side with a number of doors; one opened up to a linen cabinet, two or three opened to small, cramped-looking bedrooms that made up for their size with lush carpets and bedding, and the most worn-looking door opened to what must have formerly been the housekeeper’s room, and which appeared to now be Wesley’s parents’ bedroom. The very last door opened up to another staircase, which seemed to lead into one of the towers Stu had spotted from the outside of the house. 

“My room is up there. We can go up if you want,” Wesley chuckled from behind him.

 Stu whirled around. “Stop sneaking up on me!” 

Wesley smirked. “You’re the one opening doors in my house, Stewart.” 

The satyr pouted, flopping down onto the stairs. “You’re an ass.” 

“Mmm-hmm, right, and what’s the deal with that, anyway? You won’t say fuck or damn or shit but you’ll call me an arse. Why is that?” 

Stu held his small head high. “An ass is an animal. If you choose to conflate that with a more crass word, that’s your problem,” he declared. He sniffled again. (Wes had dog hair on his shirt.) “At least, that’s what my mum says.” 

Wesley shook his head. “Why do you care so much? She can’t make you write lines from a city two thousand miles away.” 

Stu blinked. “I just do. I like my mom. She’s usually right about things. And she punches people who do bad things to me.”

Wesley startled, blinking as he pulled back in shock. “She- what?’ 

The satyr grinned. “Like I said, she’s scary.” His smile dropped away after a moment; his eyes darkened as he looked to the side, some miserable thought casting a shadow across his face. It unnerved Wesley, who almost never saw his most cheerful friend’s features form an expression any darker than a pout. 

“What is it?” he asked, carefully dropping down next to Stu on the stairs. 

“It’s nothing,” the satyr sort-of laughed, wiping tears away with his already snot-covered sleeve. “I just- I had to leave really quickly. Lots of punching involved.” 

Wesley started to rub Stu’s back with his knuckles. “Can I ask what happened?” Stu sighed and shook his head, letting it drop onto Wes’s shoulder. “It’s complicated. Most of my life is.” 

“Alright, then.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Stu’s head. “I won’t ask.” 

Stu sneezed. He sat up, still sneezing, his nasal passages rapidly closing up with an onslaught of snot. “Ah, biddlesdigs.” 

Wesley's language was more to the point. “Goddess fucking dammit, there’s dog hair all over my shirt. C’mon, Stu, let’s go up for a sec. I have to get changed or you’ll never stop sneezing.” He paused on the steps, chuckling. “Although it is quite funny to hear you say ‘biddlesdigs,’ which I’m assuming, Stewart, is meant to be fiddlesticks.” 

Stu poked him in the back. “You’re an ass.” 

“So you’ve mentioned, Stewart.” Wesley continued his ascent up the winding tower stairs. The stones that made up the tower were crafted of some pale, silvery sort of rock, the same kind of rock that was used to build the Goddess’s temples (it was an excellent conductor of magic). The tower didn’t seem to be particularly magical, though; there were only a few runes (runes for balance, quickness, and stamina, mostly) inscribed on the stones as they passed, and every few feet revealed a poster for some indie film or band that Wesley liked. 

I suppose art is a form of magic, thought Stu as they climbed. And that’s what music and film is, really: art. He liked the idea of dating an artist. Really, he liked the idea of dating Wesley.

…who did just so happen to be an artist. 

“Here we are, Stu. Watch your step.” 

Stu gasped. The room at the top of the tower was massive, much larger than the room that had seemed to belong to Wesley’s parents. There were several floor-to-ceiling windows set side

by side; next to them stood four or five equally large bookcases, mostly full of books, though one of the bookcases held records and Wesley’s substantial DVD collection. One side of the room held a number of plush antique chairs gathered around an exquisitely carved coffee table detailing scenes from the life of Saint Basilton; the chairs were upholstered in a fabric that perfectly matched the pants Wesley had borrowed that morning, both in colour and in texture. The other side of the room, by the windows, held a long, cluttered desk, an Ezra-sized armoire, and a king-size canopy bed that was bare except for a pillow and a sheet. 

“Sorry it’s a bit messy, and the bed’s bare, but that's an easy enough fix.” Wesley gave a wave of his wand (which had, at some point, slid into his hand), and the bits of clutter on the floor righted themselves immediately. Stu had to duck to avoid a barrage of pillows and blankets from a nearby closet. 

“Neat trick,” Stu mumbled, watching a pile of clothes fold themselves up and dive into Wesley’s already overflowing laundry basket. 

Wesley shrugged and walked over to the armoire, haphazardly tossing off his clothes as he went. Stu, knowing he really shouldn’t (as it made thinking, speaking, or behaving coherently very difficult), drank in every line and curve of Wesley’s perfect form. He glanced away, quickly, as Wesley turned to look at him, holding two identical black tank tops in his hand. 

“Stewart, which of these looks less hole-y?” he asked. (Both tank tops had a bit of a distressed vibe going on.) 

“They’re both identically falling apart, Wes,” Stu giggled in reply. His friend shrugged and pulled one of the shirts over his head, sliding the taut black fabric down over his abs (Pity, Stu thought). He grabbed a jumper that was in much better condition than his tank top and tossed it at Stu. 

“What’s this for?” Stu asked. 

“Your shirt is covered in snot. Don’t get snot on my jumper, Stewart.” Wes walked over to the sofa in the living space and plopped down. “So, Stu, what would you like to do?” he asked. 

Stu hopped over and curled up next to him wearing his jumper; he rested his head on his chest comfortably, with Wesley’s arms around him. “We could just talk for a while. Or sit in silence. Or, I don’t know, find something… 

…else to do.”

Wesley didn’t notice the hint. “Talking sounds nice. What do you want to talk about, Stewart?” 

Stu sighed, and shrugged. “Tell me about yourself. How are you? How’s life? What’re you thinking?” he questioned, tapping Wesley on the nose to emphasise each point. “Well,” Wesley began, “Today’s my seventeenth birthday. I was supposed to have dinner with my parents, but my mom’s at some bacteria conference, and my dad is doing something that probably involves booze and being mad at me.” 

Stu stared at him, his bottom eyelashes quivering as his eyes filled with tears. “I- goddess, Stewart, it’s fine, it’s not that big a deal.” Wesley sighed and leaned back into the sofa, resting his head on the back as he looked up at the ceiling. “I probably deserve it, anyway.” 

Stu shook his head. “No, you don’t! You’re literally the most amazing person I know, Wes, and even if you really were a complete arse, they’re still your flipping parents!” Wesley grinned at him, wiping away the tears that had gathered in his eyes with a sniff. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess. I- wait, did you just say-?” 

Stu pressed a light kiss to his forehead, cheeks turning rosy with the gesture. “Nope. And nope. No guessing. I’m right.” 

Wesley chuckled. “If you say so, Stewart.” 

“Mmm-hmm. I do say so,” he giggled, echoing Wesley’s words from the day before. “I’m always right.” He sighed, and wiggled closer to Wesley. “Wesley.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday? I didn’t get you a present.” Wesley turned his head to look at him. “It’s not that big a deal.” 

“You say that a lot. I’m not entirely sure you know what is and isn’t a big deal,” Stu declared, bringing a smile to Wesley’s tired face. 

Wesley laughed. “Hmm. Well, it really isn’t. I already have a ton of stuff, Stu, so why give people a reason to give me more junk?” 

“Why are you so sure I’d give you junk?!” 

“Everything is junk,” Wesley smirked in reply. 

The satyr shook his head. “Everything isn’t junk. You’re just depressed, there’s a difference. Anyway,” he giggled, “it doesn’t matter.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “What, it doesn’t matter that I’m depressed?” 

Stu poked him in the ribs. “No, it doesn’t matter that I didn’t get you anything.” Suddenly Stu was the one smirking. “I have the perfect gift.” 

“Oh really, Stewart?” 

Stu giggled again, biting his lip. “Mmm-hmm.” 

[obnyxis]

Chapter 1 of ‘The Lost King’

"...an"

"r..an"

"RYAN!"

     I jolt awake, sweating terribly from just about everywhere. I start to look around to get a bearing on my surroundings. While I scan the room I see a cracked window, two large dressers with labeled drawers, and a big pair of eyes and a mess of blonde hair staring at me.

"Ryan, is you ok?"

    After realizing I'm in the orphanage I put on a large grin and pat the small boys head.

"Don't worry Archie, I'm doing just fine. Just had a scary dream."

"Ok..."

Archie walks up to me and gives me a great big hug, or at least as big of one as a 9 year old can muster.

"Well thank you Archie. Now, go back to bed alright, you still have plenty of time till morning."

With a nod and a large yawn, as if the exhaustion just started to take over, young Archie makes his way back to his sleeping mat. After taking a moment to regain myself I lift myself of my sleeping mat and make my way over to the dresser on the left with the drawer labeled 'Ryan'. After grabbing a shirt I make my way to the kitchen.

"Well hello there, you're up quite early."

     As I enter the kitchen, out of the corner of my eye I notice a women.

"I could say the same for you ma'am."

     Standing at the doorway to the caretakers room is a middle aged woman. She approaches with a ever so slight limp.

"You know it's the caretakers job to make the kids breakfast yes?"

     "No way, you still need time to recover. I'm not going to let you exert yourself while your leg still isn't healed."

     I gaze down at her left leg which still has its bindings on. It was a terrible accident, she went with me and some of the other children to collect firewood from the forest. While some of the children were roughhousing a rotten tree suddenly collapsed, falling on to her. Honestly it's a miracle that she even got to keep her leg, if we weren't able to get her to a priest in time she would have been unable to continue serving in the orphanage.

     "Like you have any room to talk, who was it again that refused to get proper rest when their sickness was actively eating at their heart?"

     That's true. I used to get sick a lot. Almost once a month. The priest couldn't figure out what it was so we assumed that it was just some rare heart condition. However, over the years it has acted up less and less, sometimes I wonder why it's calmed down.

"You know I'm not going to budge."

     I motion to a chair posted up on the counter.

"Cmon then, take a seat."

     She dropped her shoulders and rolled her eyes as she limped her way to the counter and sat down.

     I tie back my hair and reach into a cupboard. I pull out a pot and set it onto the wood stove. Holding my hand over the pot I utter, [WATER]. Immediately, water begins to pour from my hand into the pot.

"Honestly, I still find it so fascinating that you were able to not only have an aptitude for magic, but to teach it to yourself from just a dusty old book."

     She's right, not only is having a magical aptitude something to celebrate, but it is something very hard to learn, even if one has a good master.

"Indeed, that's probably the only reason the Imperial capital's academy is willing to accept me."

     The Imperial Academy, a school known far and wide for the quality of education as well as the quality of alumni it produces. It's for those reasons alone that the acceptance to such a renowned academy is very strict. Honestly speaking if I weren't so lucky, I wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting in there, much less on a full ride.

"Ah that's right, our little Ryan is going to be leaving us in a few days. Things are going to be hard around here once your gone. Won't be nearly as easy to calm and control the little ones."

     I grin and shrug my shoulders.

"Well I'm sure you can manage."

     I reach my hand to the wood below the stove. [FIRE]. Flames spout from my hand, igniting to wood, slowly bringing the water to a boil. As I start gathering and chopping up various vegetables Ms. Emily pipes up.

"So, where to today?"

I raise my eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"Work of course, have any set job today?"

Ah of course. I took to taking odd jobs around town to help out the orphanage financial situation. The jobs could range from looking for a lost cat, helping the dock workers load and unload boats, to even helping the city guard on patrol.

"Ah yes. I'm helping Mr. Xemir gather herbs today, I'll stop by the barracks and see if the guards need any help as well."

I begin grabbing the chopped vegetables and some chicken and start throwing it into the pot. I began to think some more, I'll really be leaving all this behind in just a few short days. I'm excited for sure, but at the same time I'm hesitant. Will they be fine without me? Will they bring in enough money while I'm gone? I have recently been thinking maybe it would be best if I didn't go, if I should just stay and help run the orphanage.

As if I were wearing my thoughts on my sleeve Ms. Emily speaks up.

"Don't worry Ryan, we will do well in our own. With the funds you've worked hard for we'll last until I'm back in working condition."

     She's always been good at encouraging us and reassuring. Feeling a little better I let out a sigh and a faint smile, seems like she won't even give me the option to stay. I finish up making breakfast and start setting the tables. After laying out all the bowls and spoons I pour myself some and eat it in a hurry. I get up and quickly make my way to the door before turning around.

"Wake up the kids for breakfast, I'm heading out."

"Be safe out there Ryan."

     I reach for my jacket off of the rack and exit the orphanage. I exit to see the bustling city street, fisherman heading out to the waters in a race for all the good catches of the day. Store keepers opening up shop and dock workers moving cargo up and down the streets.

"Ah, is that you Ryan?"

     I look to my left and see a short man approach me.

"Yes sir, how's it going?"

     The man who approached me is Lothrin Thunderhammer, as the short stature and lavish name suggests he is a dwarf. He is also the foreman and manager of the docks.

"You leaving for work this early?"

"Ah yes sir, Mr. Xemir has asked for me to stop by this morning to help him gather some herbs."

    He looked surprised, as well as disappointed.

"Really? How much of a slave driver can that knife ear be?"

"Oh come on don't be like that, honestly I'm thankful that he gives me such important work in the first place."

     While gathering herbs may seem like a menial task, it is actually on of the most important jobs in the city. Mr. Xemir is an apothecary, he makes mixtures and medicines from the herbs he grows in his home and what he gathers from the forest. Priests while very effective are very costly to hire for healing, we couldn't afford a full-heal which is why Mr. Xemir makes medicine so that Ms. Emily may continue to heal. However he has many patients that rely on his ability to make medicine for them on a regular basis, so whenever I go herb gathering it's like helping more people get well.

"Well then, I best be on my way, he doesn't like it when people are late."

"Aye. Oh by the way little one, you should stop by the docks after work today. I've got something I wanna give you before you head off to that school o' yours."

     Oh? I wonder what it could be.

"Of course sir, I'll make sure to stop by."

     I then start down the road on my way towards Mr. Xemirs shop. On my way I take in my surroundings. Men on their way to work, families out shopping, peddlers advertising their goods, and the smoke bellowing out of the chimneys of the many forges that occupy the city. This may be one of the last times I get to experience this before I head off to the academy. I wonder how different it'll be over there.

     I quickly lose myself in thought as I continue on my way to my destination.

To Be Continued.....

Also available on my Wattpad, link in my intro.

[ratsontheroad]

Translation of the Ghost cover feature in Finnish music magazine Soundi 06/2018

[T/N: SO I finally finished this translation that I had been meaning to work on ever since I first saw this magazine on the shelves back in June. It’s a really interesting, detailed article with some new insight to how Tobias views the past and future of Ghost, so I would highly recommend giving it a read!

Thanks to @mistashadesu​ for proofreading!]

Ghost – Against the odds

Matters of Faith

Heavy rock bands capable of making an international breakthrough have become a rarity nowadays. During the past few years, one band has succeeded in this feat better than others: Ghost. Its story is already filled with an astounding amount of interesting turns and strange coincidences, but if we ask frontman Tobias Forge, Ghost has only taken its first steps.

Prologue: Once upon a time…

…there was a little boy from Linköping, who took an interest to heavy rock music thanks to his older brother. Around the same time, the boy, named Tobias Jens Forge, grabbed the book Stone Alone which was about the life of The Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman. The reading experience was so fascinating that the boy started devouring the biographies of other musicians as well. One of his most influential early musical experiences was Metallica’s colossal The Black Album, but soon the darker, more mysterious and dangerous paths of death and black metal swept the boy with them.

In 1998 the boy had grown into a young man, who founded the death metal band Repugnant, whose only album Epitome of Darkness came out in 2006, after the band had already disbanded. On the verge of adulthood, the youth also played the guitar in other underground acts, such as Magna Carta Cartel as well as an early incarnation of Crashdïet.

The same year Epitome of Darkness came out, a song in Swedish, Satans Natt, was conceived “for a possible new project”. A musician friend of several years [of Forge’s] heard the “not particularly serious” demo version of the song and urged him to compose more songs in the same vein. That’s what happened.

Soon the project got the name Ghost, and in 2008 the title of Satans Natt was changed to Stand by Him, whose lyrics begin with the sentence “Devil’s power is the greatest one”. Bingo! Like almost always in the case of the best rock music, the deal with the good ol’ Devil had been sealed.

Ghost did not hurry, however, since the air was thick with a fragile “now or never” atmosphere that was not worth shattering with something unfinished. The D-Day dawned on Friday 12th of March 2010, when Ghost released a three-song debut demo on their plain MySpace Page.

First Act: Year Zero

It’s April 2018, and Tobias Forge has arrived at the Universal Music facilities in Södermalm, Stockholm. The slender musician has taken off his black leather jacket, whose front is adorned with Misfits, King Diamond and Venom pins among other things, and settled into a comfortable position on one side of the black sofa in the conference room. Forge, who has been extremely busy during the past decade, has had some free time with his wife and two children during the past couple of weeks.

It doesn’t require being an adept judge of human character to notice that Forge is positively exuding happiness and calm. Though why wouldn’t he be, seeing as his dreams for his musical career have come true. Even the wildest ones of them all.

–When I founded Repugnant, I was hoping for the band to become a big name in the field of death metal. I was dreaming of achieving something that for example Amon Amarth have reached. Anyway, it didn’t come into fruition for a multitude of reasons. For starters, our timing was completely wrong, since the popularity of death metal was at a low while nu metal was dominating the charts. No matter what I tried, Repugnant didn’t seem to provoke much of a response. It was inevitable that my enthusiasm started to wane.

Despite his adolescence having been permeated by extreme metal, Forge has always been far from a thick-skulled metalhead, who refuses to see past the end of his nose. The time had come to do something other than death metal.

–If you ask what my favorite album is, I might mention Season Of The Dead by Necrophagia, but I could also mention a thousand other albums. My earliest musical memories have to do with the releases of Rainbow, Iron Maiden, Kiss and Mötley Crüe – especially Shout At The Devil terrified me as a kid – and I still love these bands. Queen, Misfits, Pink Floyd and The Doors have always been huge favorites of mine. I really like many Swedish artists, such as Lars Winnerbäck. The world of AOR has killer names like Journey and Foreigner who have affected Ghost’s vocal harmonies tremendously. Yeah, I could continue this list endlessly.

When Forge started planning “yet another project”, that is to say Ghost, his idea was to combine Satanic and occult imagery (“I read Necronomicon at a young age and its impact was pretty huge”) with progressive and organic hard rock (Uriah Heep, November, Blue Öyster Cult), mystic and sinister heavy metal (Mercyful Fate, Pentagram), obscure metal (Voivod) and huge, shamelessly catchy hits (Africa by Toto).

The end result was a some kind of cross between Black Sabbath and Abba.

–After a few Ghost songs had been finished, I started looking for a singer for the band. I’m a guitarist and I wouldn’t have thought I would become the band’s singer. I inquired the interest of many of my famous colleagues, such as Messiah Marcolin of Candlemass, but no candidate expressed any. Not a single one. However, I still wanted to play the cards I had been dealt, so I had to be the singer.

“From rags to riches in one night” is a horrible cliché, but that is exactly what happened to Ghost, at least to some extent.

–I uploaded the demo songs on MySpace and turned off the computer for several hours. When I turned it back on again… Well, I could hardly believe my eyes. During a short time, the page had been flooded with praise from fans, record labels and colleagues alike. At that moment I realized that if I had been given one chance to succeed in the world of rock ‘n’ roll, its time – Ghost’s Year Zero – had now come.

Mysterious are the workings of higher powers, which is something Tobias Forge got painful proof of later on the very same day. Only a few hours after Ghost’s emergence Forge’s world collapsed: his 41-year-old older brother – his mentor and role model – had passed away.

–Two of the biggest changes in my life up to that point happened on the same day. I don’t believe in the supernatural, but the timing of these incidents made my skin crawl.

Second Act: I love Ghost

Ghost’s explosive popularity on MySpace really set things in motion, and it wasn’t long until they signed a record deal with the former Napalm Death and Cathedral singer Lee Dorrian’s Rise Above Records. Their first album Opus Eponymous was released towards the end of fall 2010.

–When Opus Eponymous was released, I was 29 years old and had been playing in different bands for maybe 15 years. I had been involved in making albums that music magazines didn’t pay any attention to – they didn’t even bother to review them. At some point I was seriously plagued by self-doubt, and daunting thoughts like “maybe I will never have a successful music career“ crept into my mind. After all this, the warm reception and positive reviews Opus Eponymous received felt fantastic, Forge says.

–I am a perfectionist, and Opus Eponymous is, of course, far from being a perfect album. If I listen to it today, I find myself constantly thinking that “I could have done that and that so much better.” But Opus Eponymous is a product of its time and it opened countless doors for Ghost. The material on the album was written with no plans for a future record deal on the horizon, and this is why the album is extremely stripped-down and genuine. In many ways Opus Eponymous is and always will be my most important release, because it gave me a chance.

When Opus Eponymous was released in mid-October, Ghost hadn’t played single gig. And performing is at least equally as important as recording to Forge, who has loved the performing arts ever since he was a little boy.

–We played our first gig in Germany at the Hammer of Doom festival five days after Opus Eponymous was released. The gig was such a bizarre experience… As I said, I have the identity of a guitarist, and only doing the singing felt weird at first. And I looked weird too, in the mask and robes of a satanic pope, Forge laughs.

–I felt that the hype around Ghost also caused the audience to just observe the gig instead of really enjoying it. The atmosphere was reserved and I couldn’t really tell if they liked us at all. Luckily we performed in London the very next night, and the atmosphere at Camden Underworld was fantastic. The venue was packed and everyone sang along with the lyrics like there was no tomorrow. It was one of those important moments when I understood that Ghost could really become something.

The character of a satanic pope that Forge, who had been impressed by the “skull mummies” in Indiana Jones films already as a kid, had created answered to the name Papa Emeritus I during the era of the debut gigs and album. For their next album Infestissumam (2013) Ghost “changed singers” and Papa Emeritus II, who of course was Forge’s next character, took the stage. A similar metamorphosis occurred with the album Meliora (2015).

–During an early stage of planning I decided that songs like these that flirt with mysticism and occultism cannot be performed dressed in a t-shirt and jeans in the corner of a pub. In other words, it was as clear as day from the start that Ghost’s show had to be very memorable visually. One of the ideas had to do with the stage, which I had wanted to look like a church of some kind. This in turn led to the thought that the night’s Master of Ceremony had to be some kind of a satanic clergyman or the leader of a cult. The system that the Catholic Church and the Vatican have had in place for centuries, where a new pope rises to power every now and then, offered the perfect model for Ghost’s upside-down world.

Ghost’s concept is so ingenious that it instantly arouses the question of why nobody came up with it earlier. Something that further adds to its ingenuity is that if Forge starts running out of ideas at some point, he can turn his attention to years past and reanimate Papa I or some other former frontman of Ghost. And the fans will rejoice.

–Nostalgia is an important part of rock culture – and it has become even more important as many of our heroes have passed away. Some older rock fans are extremely proud about having seen Led Zeppelin live in the 1970s. Or if we consider Metallica… Did you already discover them during Cliff Burton’s era, or did you only get excited about Load? For die-hard fans this is a question of life and death.

Speaking of Metallica – even though Ghost is superior among newer bands, it would not have reached its current status without James Hetfield. When Metallica played in the Ullevi Stadium in Gothenburg in summer 2011, Hetfield appeared in an interview in a live broadcast on Swedish television wearing a Ghost shirt. “Papa Het’s” comment “I love Ghost” reached millions of metal fans through the internet, which marked the end of Ghost’s days as an underground band.

–We performed at Roskilde that same night, and suddenly my phone was full of messages telling me that Hetfield had praised Ghost on television. It did feel incredible, Forge reminisces.

–It’s been baffling to notice how adaptable the human mind is. As you get to know your childhood heroes personally, they become less exceptional. I don’t mean to say that meeting James Hetfield isn’t great every single time, but nowadays things like these are a part of my life. Just like endless travelling. Before Ghost, I had barely travelled anywhere and now I have visited dozens of different countries.

When did you visit the USA for the first time?

–Oh, this is a fun story! I was determined that I would only go to the United States when I had a gig there, and that’s what ended up happening when we played at Maryland Deathfest in the spring of 2011. It was an unbeatable feeling!

Third Act: My name is Tobias Forge

And the Grammy goes to… Ghost!

Who would have thought that a Swedish metal band in the beginning of their career would win a Grammy, the most esteemed award in the world of pop music, with some help from Metallica or not. That’s what happened, however, when Forge and his then-nameless ghouls picked up the award for Best Metal Performance in Lost Angeles in winter 2016.

–[The Swedish producer] Max Martin probably has something like 50 Grammys, but otherwise there aren’t many of those within Sweden, Forge says.

–I was already dumbfounded by the fact that we were nominated, so winning felt completely unfathomable. So many famous bands have been nominated for a Grammy numerous times but never gotten the award, and we took it right off the bat.

–My mother was so excited about the news about the Grammy that she started telling everyone about “her son’s band Ghost”. Despite all the times I had emphasized that we were going to hold onto our anonymity as long as possible… Well, I did know that the rocketing growth of Ghost’s popularity meant that our road of being anonymous and faceless would end sooner or later.

The words “My name is Tobias Forge and I am the singer of Ghost” were broadcast on the frequency of a Swedish radio station late in the summer of 2017 [T/N:  Here the author misquotes the Sommar i P1 interview slightly – what Tobias actually said was more along the lines of “My name is Tobias Forge and I am the man behind the mask in Ghost.”]. It was the first time Forge had publicly admitted to being Ghost’s frontman.

–I am a control freak, but unfortunately controlling everything is not possible. Especially not when a rock band grows faster than anybody could have expected.

Forge having to reveal his identity has to do with disagreements that arose following Ghost’s success. Some of Ghost’s background musicians – the no-longer-so-nameless ghouls Simon Söderberg, Mauro Rubino, Henrik Palm and Martin Hjertstedt – sued their former boss in the spring of 2017. The reason? Nothing particularly surprising. The four of them thought that they had not been paid enough.

As an outsider, it is easy to understand the views of both the visionary dictator Forge and his former bandmates. It’s one thing to dream of a jackpot, but during Ghost’s early days no one could have predicted the diabolical heights that they would reach. As their popularity skyrocketed, and the original lineup consisting of an old group of friends had no written agreement, both sides could claim anything.

–A famous musician said to me that all successful bands have to settle their accounts in court sooner or later. He added that things like this are a sign of success and that many things have been done correctly. He was right.

The legal battle remains unfinished, but the former members of Ghost got one small win so far – at least if their purpose was to throw a wrench in the works. After all, isn’t it the case that the mystery surrounding Ghost has somewhat decreased, now that everyone knows the identity of the visionary behind it all? Or is it?

–Well, the situation is what it is and there’s no changing it. If Ghost’s brand is as strong as I hope and want it to be, the band will survive this with no significant repercussions. It’s true that a part of the mystery is gone forever, and if someone can no longer enjoy Ghost after seeing my face, so be it. But ultimately I’m not that worried, since I can still control the publicity fairly well. I have no intention of going to speak nonsense in some reality show.

Fourth Act: Don’t you forget that you will die

This summer marks the beginning of yet another era in Tobias Forge’s unholy books. The recently released fourth studio album Prequelle mischievously flits from one atmosphere to another, and has already become a cornerstone in Ghost’s constantly strengthening fortress.

As is the custom, the frontman of the band has “changed” yet again and Papa Emeritus III, who became a fan favorite with the album Meliora and the EP Popestar, is gone with the wind – at least for now – and the group is currently led by Cardinal Copia.

A cardinal is below the pope in Vatican’s ranks, but only a cardinal can be elected Pope, and Forge intends to make the most of the possibilities that the band’s “new and wild figurehead” offers. For example, it’s worth checking out the promotional video for Rats, a song inspired by former bandmates (“Them rats,” Forge croaks) – no Papa could ever have executed such dance moves.

The instrumental songs on the new album are in a league of their own. When I first listened to the advance copy of Prequelle, the stylishly flowing Miasma and Helvetesfönster took me by surprise. Ghost goes… Vangelis?

–I dig instrumental music and was planning a few instrumentals already for Meliora. My plans didn’t pan out back then, but this time I was determined to not leave those ideas unused. Naturally, I also wondered if I was completely nuts for releasing 12 minutes of instrumental music… After all, it is quite a lot in this golden age of short hit songs and music streaming. Well, if someone dislikes Miasma or Helvetesfönster, there is nothing I can do about it, Forge laughs.

–I intend to continue in a similar vein in the future. Ghost absolutely isn’t a band that keeps on releasing the same record over and over again. I could have played it safe and written ten songs like Square Hammer or He Is, but that would have been dreadfully boring. In other words: I love Ramones and AC/DC, but Ghost is a band more like Queen – always surprising and exciting. To me, Prequelle sounds just like that – sometimes the music makes you smile but sometimes cry.

A key song on Prequelle is also the delicate and beautiful Pro Memoria.

–The song is about death, such as the deaths of legends like Lemmy Kilmister and Ronnie James Dio. “Don’t you forget that you will die” is a reminder that you must enjoy life in the present and not take things for granted because tomorrow it may already be too late. For example, if Alice Cooper has a show in your city, you should go and see him, because there might not be a next time, Forge reminds me.

–Death has already been sung enough about in the circles of heavy music and usually the point of view is always the same, which is to say that death is praised and glorified. Ghost’s message is different, a slightly more positive one. I want to remind people of how great it is to be alive and how tomorrow things may already be better, even if you feel low today.

Prequelle is a crucially important album for Ghost, who have managed to gain a foothold in the difficult to break into US market – Prequelle might even be the “make it or break it” release that determines the rest of the band’s career. Forge knows it better than anyone, but he refuses to take any pressure about it.

–Nowadays Ghost has many fans all around the globe, and they will surely check Prequelle out. Will they fall even deeper in love with Ghost, or find the album lousy? I don’t know, I really don’t. But what I do know is that I wrote every note and every word on Prequelle from the bottom of my heart.

Epilogue: One more time…

Who would have thought that an unconventional underground band calling itself a “satanic doom metal band” at the start of their career would rise to world fame? No one, not even Tobias Forge himself, though he knew his own skills as a songwriter.

But this is where one of the greatest attributes of rock music lies. You can make all kinds of probability calculations, but the weight of strange coincidences and sheer luck in the equation cannot be measured.

Now Ghost is on the threshold of an ultimate breakthrough. The band is facing that imposing gate that leads to fame similar to Black Sabbath’s, Iron Maiden’s and Metallica’s.

Towards the end of this year, Ghost will be performing at Forum in Los Angeles and at Barclays Center in New York among other places, and both of these two American venues fit approximately 20,000 people. Strangely, even concert plans this huge feel like a logical next step for Ghost.

Tobias Forge, what will Ghost be doing in 2051 when you turn 70 and reach Lemmy’s age?

–(Pauses to think and starts laughing) By then Ghost will be the biggest theatrical rock band in the world, the Queen and the Rolling Stones of its time. Do I really think this will happen? Maybe!