#I will discover what Dave is

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Running Theories and Rationals for Dave’s Species

I decided to list out all the main possibilities of Dave’s species and why these could work, and why they couldn’t.

As always spoilers:

Magical creature that just sort of exists: So this one is complicated. Dave is very much a sort of magical creature, or at least one that defies physics, so this theory is that he’s just a Cryptid that exists for no reason with no set origin. Kinda like a SCP, he just appeared and no one knows why. It kind of removes the need to explain things for him so I don’t like it as much.

Crab/worm: This is a theory that doesn’t fully work on its own. It’s more just dependant on the fact he has purple blood and those things sometimes do. But it doesn’t explain why or how he exists and why he’s so humanlike.

Lizard: Like the crab/worm theory this one doesn’t work entirely on its own, although it does make quite a deal of sense to me that Dave is a lizard. It’s based on the fact he has scales, although it doesn’t explain much else. He just gives off reptile vibes. Maybe it’s his neck being reminiscent of a snake, maybe it’s his scales, or maybe it’s something else entirely, regardless Dave is at least probably something vaguely resembling a reptile.

Experiment: This is not originally my theory, user @autumnclove brought it up in a RB of my original Dave species post, and in my opinion it makes probably the most sense of anything. Why? Because it means he doesn’t have to be even related to a human. My theory if Dave were some kind of experiment he’s a manmade creature made up of an amalgam of parts of many creatures made to look human with a reptilian base and purple blood.

Alien: This is my second favourite theory after the experiment theory. Dave has been compared to an alien ingame and if he were some sort of reptile esque extraterrestrial humanoid with purple blood who just crashed on to earth Superman (or more accurately in his case Megamind) style it would explain a lot. In fact the only thing it doesn’t explain is his presumably humanoid organs and how he manages to survive so well on earth. It especially explains why no one has ever seen anything else like him.

Deformed Human: To get this out of the way, Dave is not a deformed human. There is no way he could be. Sure a few physical differences are excusable, however Dave is purple, has scales, seems to have some sort of retractable goblin shark type teeth, has no nose nor ears, purple blood, and an extending neck that can only be explained by magic or a very weird very messed up skeletal structure. None of these are really things a human with some deformations could have, the bones maybe but the rest of it are features a human couldn’t possibly have because we ourselves don’t have anything like any of those features. Dave is not a human, that much is clear.

Overall this is just my list but if you have any other theories about Dave’s possible species I’d love for you to tell me and I might add them in the future if you like <:

Dave’s species is one of my favourite topics of DSAF and I want to come up with a couple possible concrete answers if not figure out what he probably would be.

I love speculative zoology and evolution so a character with largely inhuman features who’s species is left unknown and a lot of very particular traits that actually can exist brings me like a moth to a flame.

[commbowman]

“Hey,” he said, amused.

Dim had walked in without knocking again — really, a horrible habit of his — and started digging through Frank’s closet before noticing the situation across the room.

“Wh-?” Dim started to question it, but Frank hushed him.

“Quiet!” He whispered through a grin, “Take whatever you want.”

Dim nodded, grabbed a fleece jacket, and tiptoed back outside. Frank let go of the tension in his back.

He was currently being held by a sleeping Halman, stuck in place by at least five pairs of arms and a head tucked into his neck. He’d never seen them sleep before, so this was a fascinating new experience. They’d been there for an hour and twenty-six minutes so far.

—

they deserve to have a nice day without facing the horrors - @frankpooleunofficial

Having no need to physically breathe, though preferring to mimic the action, lead to utterly bizarre ways of contorting themselves. Their face stuck well into the crook of the others neck, comfortably but it might hurt to look at.

It was still up for debate by Halman themselves if it was something they truly needed to do or if it was for fun. The habit of studying everything but themselves and their own need was definitely more Dave than Hal, some things it was easier to tell than others.

They didn’t seem to fear Dim at all but made a soft noise in response to feeling Frank talk, buzzing in response to the vibrations from his chest. Never had they been so relaxed… and it showed. Their form unraveled in a way more amusing than concerning, shifting in color and shape and warmth. The arms stayed the longest, apparently deemed a necessity.

The creature clung to him like a rock, or more fitting a childish date. Sometimes it muttered though rarely in a language he could understand.

[nintendont2502]

Anyway t4t Junedavesprite (transfem June) (agender any pronouns davesprite) (they're birdfriend and girlfriend) (they're both struggling *HARD* after the game) (they help each other through it) (they're gay) (they're gay) (they're so fucking gay).

You agree.

Reblog.

[joyridingmp3]

fleshing out my name

[bottlehawk]

no sburb beta earth au where dave "microcelebrity" strider suddenly gains a big following on the internet after a spike of people discover his sbahj comics online when a screenshot of one goes particularly viral and turns into a [top text/bottom text] meme and some hipsters are like "woah,, this is actually some really avant garde stuff". when he's churning these out sitting in the bathroom stall at school once a day during lunch period. so then he gets REALLY popular and then inevitably gets cancelled at some point when a communications/poli sci major reads one of his comics and then types up a whole memo board explaining how sbahj is actually neo-conservative propaganda written as part of a conspiracy to undermine the 2008 obama presidency. and there's a whole rage war since the memo board was written really convincingly with red arrows and circles drawn around sweet bro's head and everything and dave hasn't made any public statements about it and also no one actually understands what sbahj is about. so threads are being written up about this and people are like emailing death threats to each other over it and someone even tries to doxx him and then manages to find out he lives in texas and some people start actually taking the whole thing seriously because He's From Texas (never mind the fact it's houston). meanwhile dave just started his midterms and he has to focus because he actually cares about school and his future and so he takes a short "hiatus" which people freak out even more over because they take it as him backing away due to the allegations online. and then after winter break dave comes back and opens up a q&a for his 169th "bro wee ar doign it wee ar making it hapen" special and at some point after a barrage of questions in his inbox (q: was "swety bro and hela jeff crassh on the freway" inspired by a real car accident you were in? a: i don't own a car / q: what job do you have in real life? a: unemployed but i pick up roadkill off the street sometimes / q: who did you vote for in the 2008 primaries a: i didn't) someone finally has the bright idea to ask "hey how old are you" and he replies "i'm 13" and all hell breaks loose.

[gif-fany]

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDNT KNOW ABOUT THIS CUTSCENE?!?!?

WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT IT, WHY DID I ONLY DISCOVER IT NOW, ITS AMAZING.

WE SEE DAVE LITERALLY TALKING TO HIMSELF ABOUT HERNY AND JACK, HOW HE SEES JACK. WE ALSO GET A VIEW OF HOW THE ENTRANCE TO THE SAFE ROOM LOOKS LIKE?? That'll help me so much

I was in the fandom for a year by now, I think? And the ONLY time I even hear about this is from THAT VIDEO?!?!

The Marionn-Ending of dsaf 2 is how you get this cutscene... At least thats what it said in the description? IMMA PLAY IT NOW.

IM SO HAPPI :333333

[local-diavolo-anon]

i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

(This part may or may not involve a pact with a deity of death, this entirely depends on how you want to play him but it would make sense since the build is an artificier/warlock hybrid)

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

[foxilayde]

I was tagged by @moonknightly and @hoedamn-eron to answer the following. Tag nine people you want to get to know better!!

Last song: Nighttime Kisses by Sweet Joey Vermouth

Last Show: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Last Movie: Rogue One

Currently watching: TLOU, The Mandalorian

Currently Reading: Ovid’s Metamorphosis, The Trial by Franz Kafka, Kafka’s Diaries (Ross Benjamin translation), The Playwrights Guidebook by Stuart Spencer, and The Genesis Machine by Amy Webb, oh also a handful of 12-step literature I read on the daily (dude when it comes to books I always have at least 5 “tabs open” so to speak)

Current obsession: the 2020 Bright Eyes album, Down In The Weeds Where The World Once Was. Franz Kafka. And with saying “regular degular” instead of just “regular”.

I’m tagging @andr0medafallen @alwritey-aphrodite @dailyreverie @giona45-5 @bit-dodgy-innit @loonymagizoologist @nadja-antipaxos @romanarose @my-secret-shame and anyone who wants to participate! I only tagged 9 but I truly wanna know alllll of y’all’s answers so if you see this consider yourself tagged 💚

i was tagged by @pleasurebuttonwrites to answer the following<3 tag nine people you want to get to know better!!

last song: cruel kids by yungblud

last show: the mandalorian

last movie: zootopia ngl

currently watching: the mandalorian, rewatching criminal minds, tlou, might fuck around and watch moon knight again or scenes from a marriage

currently reading: secretly yours by tessa bailey

current obsession: tate’s bakeshop chocolate chip cookies

i’m tagging @wyn-n-tonic @writefightandflightclub @spider-starry @stevengrcnt @spectors-moon @spctorstrnge @ozarkthedog @foxilayde @spctrsgf

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[gravid-transluna]

Commission for @shhhsecretsideblog, hope you enjoy just as much as I enjoyed writing this!

Final signing of divorce papers. He’d cheated with his secretary on a business trip, she threw him out and filed for divorce. Not long after she realised her period was late and after doing a test she discovered she was pregnant. She tried to hide it from him for as long as she could, but he eventually found out. She made it clear that he would have nothing to do with this child.

The divorce negotiations were messy, lots of drawn out arguments and back and forth with solicitors. It had taken months. She wanted it concluded by now but he was dragging his heels. To what end she didn’t know. But eventually they reached a resolution and he agreed to sign the papers, which was happening this afternoon. The only problem was, she’d gone into labour during the night.

Just You and Me, and No One Else

words: 3142

content: clothing birth, inconvenient birth, birth denial, fpreg

Celia wasn’t one to drag things out, neither in her corporate life or personal life, and certainly not in her romantic life. The divorce lawyer’s name was Mr. Einhardt, and he didn’t tolerate very much nonsense either. He was a sort of neutral party, tasked with settling legal matters amicably between the couple. Between this small thing they had in common, and the circumstances leading to Celia’s divorce with her husband Dave, Mr. Eindhart’s sympathies seemed to lie quite decisively with Celia. Cheating on her with his secretary, a young woman just barely out of college! So cliche it nearly bored Celia to tears. The problems had begun long before the discovery, but Celia had rehashed that story enough times by now.

Negotiations had been messy; fights, late-night arguments in the kitchen, pleading, door-slamming. Dave was acting like a child throughout the whole thing. Which was doubly unfortunate, as Celia had received a second shock after the cheating, staring at a test and two pink lines in the bathroom. She was pregnant. Nine months later, she was wedged in the office seat as Mr. Eindhart recounted estate laws with Dave.

Please, she had been praying for the last hour; please, just let it be over. Incessant questions from Dave. More often than not, about the baby. No, her baby. Celia would be damned if she let that cheating, childish scum get within a mile of her child.

Mr. Eindhart was speaking as patiently as possible, but at this point it had all become a soft drone for Celia. The last issue: she had gone into labor during the night. Regular contractions, tightening her midsection and flaring sharp in her lower back. Standing before the mirror in the light of the morning, she’d been able to see clearly just how much her bump had dropped, hanging low between her hips, stretched completely taut, a reddened torpedo, with not another inch of room for the baby. It had been enough of a chore to get dressed and ready and lug herself into Mr. Eindhart’s office every week. Laboring, it was a superhuman feat.

Her hips burned, jammed into the seat. They had widened over the course of her pregnancy, and now she barely fit into any chair available. This, combined with the massive belly sprawling in her lap whenever she sat down, made for even more discomfort.

“Ms. Greene?” Her maiden name. She saw Dave flinch slightly when Mr. Eindhart used it. “Are you alright? Pardon, but you look quite uncomfortable. Do you need some water?”

“No,” she sighed, brushing his concern away. “No, thank you. When you’re this pregnant, doing anything is uncomfortable.”

Dave was frowning at her. “You sure, hun?”

Celia scowled. She knew the feigned concern had only been prompted by Mr. Eindhart’s comment; nothing more than an excuse to use the word hun. “If you could cut it with the pet names, that would be nice.”

He rolled his eyes, tried to catch Mr. Eindhart’s eye: Women, right? A comment she’d heard frequently during her marriage, even more so with her so-called ‘pregnancy hormones,’ the ‘mood swings’ that were preventing her from thinking straight.

Today, they weren’t entirely unfounded. All she could think about was her belly, the sheet of muscle over her womb, rippling and contracting as she tried to cut Dave off from some long-winded procession of his victimhood. The baby inside, the head positioned right into her cervix, pressing with increasing urgency. She had to ignore her body for the time being. She had to remain calm and collected and—

“Listen,” Celia interrupted, leaning over her tight swell. “Could we please hurry things along?” —glaring at Dave— “We’ve been through these questions enough times, wouldn’t you say?”

“I just want to make sure we have all the information,” he protested, the slimeball. “To make the right choice.”

Celia was about to retort when she felt the familiar banding around her stomach, and clenched in on herself, riding out the waves of pain and pressure once again. She hoped that her gritted teeth and wrinkled brow could be attributed to her impatience.

Her baby squirmed, cramped in her full, brimming belly. She shifted again. Things were really ramping up. As the contraction receded, she thumbed through the pages of legal documents until she reached the last one, the blank line where their joint signatures would go, and stifled a huff of frustration. There were still at least forty pages?! This pressure was a bad sign, she knew. Soon, she’d barely be able to sit, the head felt dangerously low.

The minutes ticked by. Contraction after contraction. Her belly, hot like a furnace, wracked and misshapen with their clenching force.

“Jesus,” Celia muttered unconsciously under her breath. “The pressure….” Then she looked up to see Mr. Eindhart and Dave staring at her.

“Excuse me, my dear?” Mr. Eindhart said, head tilted politely.

Celia cleared her throat, straightened her back. “The pressure he’s been putting me through, lately. It’s, er, getting to be unbearable.”

Dave was shaking his head solemnly. “You can’t even imagine my feelings. You just can’t see the other side.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Celia covered up her consternation with a sarcastic laugh.

Another fifteen minutes. Contractions about five minutes apart. Celia realized that she had to use the bathroom, and had to use it now. The pressure was beginning to force her legs apart, despite her efforts to keep them tightly pinched together. The weight, god, the heaviness. She felt fuller than ever, an all-encompassing fullness. It stood to reason, she thought, her bladder would be feeling the strain.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to use the restroom.” She painstakingly stood, unable to conceal a grunt at the weight of gravity on her sagged, bowed belly. Hoping they didn’t notice the slip of skin under her blouse that certainly hadn’t been there this morning, Celia waddled from the office and found the lady’s room.

On the toilet she suffered a contraction that had her hunched over her stomach, toes curling in her pantyhoes tights. Suddenly, eyes wide, mouth open, she felt a spike in the rising pressure. Then— a release. Liquid gushed from her crotch. Celia moaned loudly at the relief. Then she clamped her mouth shut. She wouldn’t have put it past Dave to wait for her outside the bathroom.

Panting, she rose shakily from the toilet and wiped her inner thighs and crotch. She knew her waters had broken, signaling the rapid advance of her labor.

“Please, little one,” Celia murmured. “Just a little longer. Just until it’s only you and me, no one else.”

Dave was looking at her suspiciously when she returned. Even with her effortful concealment, he’d spent enough time around her to know her more subtle forms of expression. She cleared her throat and smiled.

“Where were we?”

Mr. Eindhart smiled a bit absently as Celia dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead. He shuffled his papers and continued. Soon another contraction was taking hold of Celia, and she stiffened, bracing herself. Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for the intensity, coming on even more severe without her bag of waters to cushion the skull. Her swollen mound flexed visibly beneath the desk. She set her jaw, her knuckles going pale as she gripped her seat. This time the pain was accompanied by the undeniable urge to push. She nearly gasped aloud. Fuck, she wanted to push. It was like nothing else she’d felt before, the deep, overwhelming desire to bear down as hard as she could against the pressure. She held her breath, counted, blinking quickly as she tried to distract herself from the urge. It only grew stronger, pounding through her body, washing over her like a compulsion.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t control her body entirely, and she could feel herself giving small pushes, each one shoving her baby further down through her birth canal. With some mercy the contraction began to ebb, and she floated back into the conversation at hand.

“....and, what if the kid had to list another parent as an emergency contact? That role would go to me, right?”

Celia tried to intercede as smoothly as she could, ignoring the tremble in her voice, the vicious wringing of her womb. “They’re going to have a godmother, and she’ll be listed as a secondary guardian.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Eindhart said. “Spell her name for me, just in case?”

“Is it Shannon?” Dave asked. “It’s Shannon, isn’t it? I never liked her. A bitch, that’s what she was.”

“Mr. Gardner, I don’t tolerate that kind of language in my office. Another remark and you can go ahead and find a different representative.”

Celia flashed the elderly divorce lawyer a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the impatient baby now beginning to stretch her birth canal wide. She was giving birth at this desk and nobody knew except for her. She could do this.

A hard, clamping pain. She exhaled, suddenly breathless, though it seemed to her company that she was just huffing in annoyance at Dave’s theatrics. When the urge coursed through her, it was nearly impossible to deny.

Don’t push, she told herself. Belly gripping her midsection like a tight closed fist. Don’t push. Internal muscles squeezing around the baby. Don’t—

The need to push was dizzying. She couldn’t help it. Before she knew it, she was bearing down at the desk, thighs spread as far apart as they could manage in her seat. A flush spread to her cheeks. She pushed, and pushed, feeling the baby move downward toward her exit. She couldn’t stop, was barely even aware of her surroundings anymore. All that mattered was the baby coming out of her, the need to get it out, bear down on it with the single-mindedness of a birthing mother.

Her silent straining went unnoticed until she ended her push with a loud grunt. Suddenly there were two heads turned towards her.

“My dear, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Celia?” Dave furrowed his brow. “What kind of sound was that? Didn’t you just use the bathroom, like, thirty minutes ago.”

Exhausted, losing hope that she’d be able to hold this baby in until after the signing, Celia snapped at him. “They’ve been kicking up a damn storm this entire morning, and whose fault is that in the first place? You insist on dragging this out for as long as possible, with me ready to fucking pop” —no comment from Eindhart; he knew better than to lecture a heavily pregnant woman about her language— “so, please, can we just get this over with.”

The head was so big in her canal. The pressure was so bad. She was full to the brim, utterly stretched and gravid with the baby. She couldn’t think about anything else except the need to get it out.

“Yes, well—” blinking, Mr. Eindhart scrambled with the pages. “I suppose we can just skip over a couple of pages…. let’s see here, joint signature, page 87, please.”

“Hey!” Dave protested. “Now, wait a minute.”

Celia was picking up one of Mr. Eindhart’s elegant fountain pens…. Another contraction was coming on, she could feel it broiling in her belly…. every muscle tensing up at once, working with the singular effort to expel her baby…. raising her trembling hand to the page….

To Dave and their lawyer, it may have looked like she had gone stock-still. Really though, she was pushing. Her knuckles shone pale around the pen. She was biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood. The baby was moving between her legs, she could feel it. She could have sobbed. The massive head was sliding through her hips, down, down, down towards her exit. She was pushing it out.

Dave took her sudden pause as hesitation. “Oh, honey,” he said. “Look at you! Overcome with emotion, I knew it was just a charade. It’s okay. We don’t have to go through with this.”

The fullness was very low now. A new sensation. The baby was in her vagina! Her labia had begun to bulge grotesquely; the head, of course, was huge. With a laborious effort, Celia scrawled a hasty, spidery signature onto the page. The final step. Done.

She slumped in her chair, push releasing, and her belly sank as her womb muscles relaxed. Her crotch throbbed. The baby’s head was right there, sitting heavily at her entrance, and it felt as if she was perched atop a bowling ball, hips nearly splitting open with the pressure.

Dave looked at the signature with despair. Mr. Eindhart cleared his throat, eyeing him like he suspected Dave might just grab the papers and bolt with them. Instead, he reached for a pen and, even more slowly than Celia had in the throes of giving birth, signed his big, sloppy signature.

“All right,” Mr. Eindhart said, tucking the papers into a folder. “That should be the last of the proceedings!”

Before Celia could react, Dave had stormed from the room. The door swung violently on its hinges.

She knew that she should leave as soon as possible, but getting up from her seat was a monumental task. Still, she struggled valiantly to her feet, containing a scream behind sealed lips as gravity thrust the head further into her nether regions, a wet tent forming in her underwear. She thanked the heavens that she had worn a skirt today. The body, it seemed, was slipping between her hips now, forcing the head down even more. Her gait was less a waddle at this point and more a bowlegged half-squat. She bore the pain and pressure and looked Mr. Eindhart in the eye, smiling as she shook his hand.

“Thank, mm, you. For everything.”

“Please, dear. Get home, get some rest.”

She nodded, unable to speak anymore. The head, god. She was so close to crowning. It was about to come out, she could feel it. She shuffled indelicately from Mr. Eindhart’s office. ‘Getting home’ was not a feasible goal. Celia didn’t even know if she could make it to the lady’s room in time, but she had to try. She couldn’t possibly give birth in these dirty carpeted corridors! One hand following the wall, knees barely supporting herself. She was trailing birthing fluid, leaking through her panties.

Whenever a contraction struck (and they were coming on without pause or respite now) she was forced to stop and squat, grunting the baby further into her nether regions. With every push her lips bulged more and more into the fabric of her underwear, burning with the obscene stretch. Slowly, the head parted them open, and she tried to pant through a contraction, drawing from some intuition that she needed to go slow and let herself stretch, her vagina straining to accommodate the huge head. Instead she loosed a guttural groan, bearing down again until her lips had unfurled into a tight oval. She was limping now, one hand cupped between her thighs as she walked.

As she rounded the hall, the restroom came into view. Almost there, Celia told herself. Just a couple more steps. Dread poured over her as a contraction began to brew in her belly. Oh no— Celia braced herself, steadying her hands against the wall in preparation.

Just then, she heard a shout. “Celia!” Dave had been waiting at the end of the hall, and now he jogged to catch up to her. “Shit, Dave!” Celia hissed as her birth canal wrung her from the inside out. “Fu-u-uck, what could you possibly—urgh! want?!”

Dave caught her arm, too involved in his own self-pity to notice Celia’s wide half-squat, the pinching of her face, the dribbles of liquid from between her spread thighs.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He was upset. His bottom lip quivered like a petulant child’s. He seemed, absurdly, betrayed. “You love me. I know you love me, and that baby is mine. I’m its father, I have a right to meet it.”

Celia stared at him, flabbergasted, the baby crowning into her panties momentarily forgotten. Suddenly she squatted down and bellowed loudly. “OOOOOHHHH!!”

Dave backed away in fear.

“Listennn-mmmfgh!” Celia groaned as she bore down furiously. “Grrrruh! Ugh, ah! I have had it up to here with you. Fuuuuck, I’m only gonna say this one time.” Despite her deep squat, she suddenly seemed to tower over him, red-faced with fury and the exertion of birth.

“Get out of our lives.”

Dave glanced at her in consternation, then scurried down the hall and hopefully out of her life for good.

Celia’s legs finally gave out and she dropped to her knees, unable to withstand the searing pain and pressure spreading her wide open and filling her so completely, it was as if there was no room for anything else anymore; no Dave, no legal documents or income discussions, not even herself or her identity as anything but a mother. Everything was focused on the baby coming out of her, crowning her most sensitive, private region. She gripped her thighs and bore down. Then she pushed her hips back, opening them, and rested her heavy body on her hands and knees. An animalistic urgency coursed through her. This primal position felt good, felt right. This was what she needed to be doing. Pushing, without any other concerns.

Her skirt rode up, exposing the apex of her thighs, her sodden bulging underwear, soaked fabric revealing what was happening behind it. The head slipped further out. Her lips formed a burning circle. Celia’s groans tightened and rose in pitch and she strained, the head unmoving as a boulder for a nerve-wracking second. A full-body shudder. Celia’s eyes rolled back in her head as she pressed her chest to the floor and sloped her rear end into the air, pushing with all she had.

The head burst free, and fluids spattered the hallway wall behind her, soaking the carpet. Celia gasped and panted, but the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

“O-okay, okay, baby.” The shoulders were rotating, she could feel the body turning inside her. The entire head hung from her opening and sagged her panties. “Th-this is iiiittttt-ooooooh!” With one last giant push, the body slid out and a river of fluids gushed freely behind.

Celia sat up on her haunches, scrambling between her tights and underwear with the instinctual desperation of a mother, searching frantically, needing to hold her baby, needing the touch-contact. She brought it from under her skirt to her chest, and heard a gurgling cry. A beautiful girl! Nothing like her father, everything like her mother. Tears streamed from Celia’s eyes and dripped down her nose and cheeks.

“Oh, look at you! Look at you!” She held her to her warm heart. “It’s okay. It’s just us. Just you and me, and no one else.”

[thewertsearch]

TG: why not let her go get her shit ruined by jack and let justice happen that way GC: B3C4US3 1 4M QU1T3 SUR3 TH4T 1F SH3 GO3S TO F1ND H1M, 1T W1LL T1P H1M OFF TO OUR LOC4T1ON 1N TH3 V31L GC: 1 H4V3 S33N 1T 4LR34DY

Either Vriska dies, or everyone dies - and this isn't baseless speculation, either. It's coming from a Seer.

Terezi essentially has no choice but to act. When she declares that personal feelings 'don't matter' to a legislacerator, it's not supposed to be a boast - quite the opposite, in fact. It's something she's saying to herself, in an attempt to suppress her reluctance to kill Vriska.

GC: BR1NG1NG H3R TO JUST1C3 1S CR1T1C4L TO OUR SURV1V4L! TG: so why dont you go do it […] GC: 1M NOT SUR3 1F 1 C4N

Terezi is completely backed into a corner, here. She's twisting herself in a circle, desperately trying to find any excuse not to kill her frenemy...

...and it's not the first time, either.

The universe just keeps forcing these girls into impossible situations, where they feel like they have to make each other pay. Talk about star-crossed haters!

TG: you mean you cant beat her in a fight GC: NO, 1TS NOT TH4T GC: 1T JUST TH4T WH3N TH3 T1M3 COM3S GC: 1M NOT SUR3 1F 1 W1LL B3 4BL3 TO K1LL H3R

I also think Terezi's getting a little less ok with murder in general.

When Green Dave succumbed to his inevitable doom, her cheerful veneer was temporarily shattered. Against her better judgement, Terezi Pyrope is actually starting to value a life.

...and, just as she's discovering this about herself, she also learns that Vriska needs to die, for the good of the Veil. How unlucky do you have to be, to have both of those realizations simultaneously?

GC: W3 4R3 SUPPOS3D TO R3V3L 1N BLOODSH3D 4S W3 GROW UP GC: 4ND SH3 S33MS TO B3 3MBR4C1NG H3R R1T3 OF P4SS4G3 W1TH R3CKL3SS 4B4NDON […] GC: 1TS 4 L1TTL3 1NT1M1D4T1NG GC: B3C4US3 1M NOT SUR3 1F 1M R34DY FOR TH4T […] GC: 1 4M NOT SO MUCH WORR13D 4BOUT NOT B31NG R34DY GC: 4S 1 4M TH4T… GC: 1 M1GHT NOT 4CTU4LLY W4NT TO B3 R34DY GC: M4YB3 3V3R GC: M4YB3 TH3R3S SOM3TH1NG WRONG W1TH M3

This epiphany is probably a lot more common than you'd think.

I firmly believe that trolls aren't murderous by nature. They're just taught to be, by the Empire that shapes their lives. This is why contact with humanity is fucking them up so badly - it's the first time they've been confronted with the idea that life has value. They're learning about a world where they'd be considered evil for what they do.

I feel genuinely bad for Terezi, here. She's beginning to realize, with dawning horror, that what she was doing was wrong.

[mothandpidgeon]

P Boy Podcasts

I was swapping podcast recs with @schnarfer and asked her what kind of podcasts would each of the Pedro boys host? (I’m a bit of a podcast junkie. I'm literally listening to one right now.) Well, we were brainstorming and I went and created episode art for each of their shows. Which ones are you subscribing to?

Nic on Nic Get a peek into the brain of legendary talent Nicolas Cage. Cage collaborator (and fanboy) Javi Guttierez is watching everything from Con Air to National Treasure 2. Take a deep dive into the films of Nic Cage and hear exclusive interviews with the man himself.

The Unfortunates There are spies living among us, everyday people living double lives. What makes them do it? And how do they keep their secrets? Each week, Dave York shares a true story from the clandestine world of espionage. 

Foundlings Din Djarin’s parenting journey has never gone to plan because he never planned on becoming a dad! Come along as he navigates the challenges of single parenting a 50 year old son. Each week Din leads insightful discussions with a range of guests— pediatricians, parenting experts, and  other parents that are just trying to figure it all out.

Declassified Drugs, danger, and dames. The fall of Escobar made way for the Cali Cartel. Hear the story from  Agent Javier Pena as he recalls the hunt for the Cali Cartel and reveals details that have never been heard before. 

Tales from the Green Ezra shares spooky fales of distant worlds on this anthology fiction podcast. All set on the Green Moon, these bizarre and enthralling stories introduce you to a lush world filled with intrigue and danger. 

Heist The Mona Lisa only became a cultural icon after it was stolen in 1911. Learn about the greatest capers in the art world with host Marcus Pike. Hear first hand accounts going undercover during his time in the FBI. 

No Cap 4 best friends chat about anything and everything. Hear Santi, Will, Frankie, and Ben give their takes on dating, travel, and current events. You’ll love listening to them react to r/aita. 

UNKNOWN ZONE Alien encounter? Evidence of the lost city of Atlantis? Ghost fucking? Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Join celebrity host Dieter Bravo for real life brushes with the unknown!

Joel’s Construction Corner Have a burning home improvement question? Or maybe you just like a southern drawl? Host Joel Miller has 30 years of experience in contracting and he’s here to share his advice with you. As soon as he figures out how to use this damn computer. Ellie does the ad reads with a pun for every one. 

Hungry History What does the invention of margarine have to do with Napoleon? Did Marco Polo really introduce pasta to Italy? Which Founding Father had a craving for ice cream? Follow your stomach to discover the origins of your favorite foods as we travel back in time with host Pero Tovar. 

--

I might've gone overboard. But I wish these all existed???

If you reblog this please rec me your favorite podcasts in the tags.

[theshy1sout]

Okay, so

I finally got my bf into reading Homestuck. I was on a phone call with him as he read it at loud, voice-acting and stuff, while I was drawing. Today he reached the Dave first appearance and he discovered Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.

You have to understand that I always thought that this comics was just a stupid joke that only Hussie understands and finds funny. Bc the moment I saw the page with the dog (you know which one) I left the comics and never looked at it again. Until today.

My boyfriend read every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff in complete silence. I asked him what's wrong, and he said "This is extremely sad". I was confused so he started explaining to me how this comics is a way little Dave was coping with trauma of living with his abusive brother. I didn't believe that, so I started reading the comics again and you know what?

Imagine adult Dirk, being completely under Lord English control, going shopping with little Dave and destroying supermarket in frustration of not finding anything that Calliborn would recognize as a food, being arrested by police in process and leaving little Dave alone hidden somewhere in the shop.

Imagine little Dave being pushed from the stairs so many times by his bro, he drew a caricature of himself pushing his bro off the stairs in revenge. Or being regularly beaten so hard and often, so he drew comics in which his brother got beaten up, shitted on and even brutally killed.

Imagine little Dave being so hungry (bc of course brother didnt give him proper food) he literally threw himself at a Subway sandwich machine during idk a walk with his bro (probably) and tried to steal some food or even just smell the actual normal food and while doing so got abandoned by his brother. Again.

Of course we can't interpret this way every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but come on, if you start seeing it, you cant stop sensing that every single page is either a way Dave coped with a traumatic experience or a way he kind of got revenge on his brother in a way his brother wouldn't understand and notice and beat him up for doing so.

I searched internet for so long and can't find a single person who would interpret it this way. Am I wrong though??

It gets better. As we know, Dave from universe B also drew this comic. And we even got a directly explained to us interpretation: he started drawing it as a simple comic (probably to cope with the loneliness). Then when Batterwitch became a real danger and he saw that but couldn't react directly, he started using his comics as a way to show what Betty Crocker was really like. So we also had this two characters, one represented Betty Crocker and the second one represented society, and they had this very abusive relationship that had references to situations in real life in Universe B.

So my theory (or more like my bfs theory) is that Dave from universe A was using his comics for the same exact thing. He drew situations from his life in a unreadable for others way (and also no one taught him how to draw or write, and maybe later he kept the shitty format so it's unreadable and too shitty for his brother to read) to cope with trauma. We see in this comics that Sweet Bro is shaving himself above Jeffs face while he sleeps, a thing that Dave's bro could definitely do. We see some pages of Dave trying to understand sport, economy and politics in his own way, bc his brother of course didn't teach him shit. And we even got a page that might suggest that Dave was sexually molested by his bro. There are many scenes of Bro being abusive to Jeff or Jeff getting his revenge. We also have Geromy, a possible interpretation of John, and on one page Jeff (Dave) tries to come to Geromy's (John's) place to visit him, but he can't and he drowns instead (which is so sad???).

I could go through every single page with this interpretation. I think some pages being a foreshadowings for what is happening later in Homestuck is just an additional joke, Hussie loves having layers of meta twists and many unrelated things relating or referencing each other for no reason. I don't think the comics is Dave's unconscious traveling through time and revealing the future, bc if so then we would see every single page of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff being a foreshadowing, and they are not. I also think that the huge wink to the audience was the scene of Dave being pushed by his bro down the stairs and we see him falling with accompaniment of a little panel of Jeff saying "I warned you about the stairs, bro". For me this is a visible hint that this is what this page of the comics was about, it was a way of coping with trauma, it was Dave drawing his brother falling down the stairs and himself saying probably a line that his brother irl was saying to him a lot.

Dave drew his life. His own horror of a life and it was probably more terrifying than he revealed in act 6.

Do you remember the iconic "bro hug" from Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff? A hug from his bro, sth that Dave really needed and wanted, a simple hug that he was very nervous to asked for, he literally drew himself hugging his brother in his second comic, and then we have the very same scene of Davepeta and Arquius hugging (part of them was Dave hugging Dirk, even if artificial), and then we have the exactly opposite of the scene between actual Dave and Dirk, when instead of enthusiastic "we're doing it bro, its happening, were making it" it's Dave saying "fuck forgive me for what I'm doing, this is so messed up fuck" and it's not even full embrace like in his comic, it's awkwardly side by side hug when they didn't even sit on the same level (like in the comic or with sprites), no, Dave is lower, he's smaller, he's scared, he cant face his brother, he wants to but he can't and this is just aaaansnanbska dmnsksnsdkydykdky

Can someone talk about this comic more? This flashy shitty documentary of Dave's life drawn by idk maybe 8 years old Dave ? The more I read Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, the more depressed I am, cause this is so sad if I'm right about it. I really wish it was just stupid colorful comic without any deeper meaning, just faking to have one or sth....

Also I think Geromy is black bc either Dave didn't know how John looks like so he imagined him being somewhat similar to his fav president Obama or maybe he was just trying to make John's character as unlike John as possible so no one would suspect a thing. Or maybe he just imagine himself being friends with young Obama, who knows.

After editing this chaotic rambling I have two more things as a prove for my theory. One is picture above, and second is what Hussie said about Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff:

“SBaHJ is absolutely inseparable from HS, and has been almost from the start. If you don't understand this, then you don't understand HS very well. SBaHJ is like the mentally handicapped step brother of MSPA, requiring special attention, but no less cherished as a part of the family. It was originally intended as the chief source of in-house memes for dialogue, but this is ultimately a superficial purpose. Though it only has 20+ strips, it contains a pretty dense and internally consistent language of recurring symbols and typo-driven grammars, applicable as a rich sub-cognitive lexicon for highlighting elusive elements woven into the mythology of the story which tend to be shrouded in the unconscious.”

[tgcg]

part 3 of something specific

CG: SO YEAH, THERE’S NOTHING BLACK ABOUT HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SET UP BEYOND PURE SUPERFICIALITY. THEIR RIVALRY IS TEXTUALLY POSITIVE BOTH TO THEM AND FOR THEM, BECAUSE IT LEADS TO THE DISCOVERY OF THEIR STRONGEST BONDS, WHICH ARE TO EACH OTHER. AS SOON AS SASUKE DISCOVERS HIS BROTHER’S RETURN, HIS IMMEDIATE CONCERN IS TO GO OUT OF HIS WAY AND FIND NARUTO TO ENSURE HIS SAFETY.

TG: (man how is karkats hair always the exact same amount of messy)

CG: SASUKE FINDS NARUTO ANNOYING, BUT SO DOES LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE IN HIS VICINITY! SO IT’S NOT LIKE THEY HAVE A UNIQUE BOND REGARDING ANY CONTEMPT FOR ONE ANOTHER.

TG: (its like hes got that shit down to a science)

CG: THEY DON’T HATE EACH OTHER DEEP DOWN! AND THAT’S THE CRUCIAL PART, THE ABSENTEE SUPPORT BEAM THAT PROMPTS THE FOUNDATIONS OF BLACKROM TO CRUMBLE IN ON THEMSELF. NO DAVE, THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS DEFINED BY EMPATHY AND COMPASSION.

TG: (professor sepulchritude were noticing a 0.6% decrease in the angle of elevation in the frontmost swoop)

CG: NARUTO KNOWS ALMOST FROM THE BEGINNING THAT ANY HATRED SASUKE HOLDS FOR THE WORLD ISN’T DIRECTED AT HIM WHATSOEVER. HE DIRECTLY ACKNOWLEDGES THIS WITHIN THE TEXT!

TG: (unacceptable doctor dicktopus, apply several degrees worth of emotional turmoil and see to it that the issue is ass blasted to oblivion)

TG: (fuck yes sir)

CG: SASUKE SAYS HIMSELF THAT HE FINDS SAKURA REALLY ANNOYING, AND SAKURA IS IN TURN MOST ANNOYED BY NARUTO.

CG: AGAIN, SQUANDERED POTENTIAL. FUCK THAT.

TG: (is it natural or premeditated is some kind of product involved)

TG: (did alternia have fucked up guerilla combs designed to mangle your hair just right)

CG: … DAVE?

TG: (actually hell nah i couldnt see him doing that in a billion shitty troll sweeps)

CG: METEOR TO FUCKING DAVE?

TG: (no doubt he just rocks up like that)

TG: (man looks the same every day)

CG: DAVE!

TG: (shit abort)

CG: GOD DAMNIT. YOU AREN’T LISTENING ARE YOU? YOU’RE DOING THAT THING AGAIN WHERE YOUR LIPS START MOVING WHILE I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF TELLING YOU SOMETHING! JEGUS, AT LEAST HAVE THE BASIC TROLLIAN DECENCY TO INTERRUPT ME WITH CONVICTION IF YOU'RE GOING TO HUMOUR AN EXCHANGE IN CULTURE, YOU ABSOLUTE TOOL.

CG: DID YOU EVEN GET A WORD OF WHAT I SAID?

CG: WELL YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ASKED, CHUCKLEFUCK! SO--

TG: yeah theyre just quivering in tearful delight at self recognition through the other dude

TG: if not for these sick shades youd be moved to shit by the glistening eyejuice gathering in these peepholes

TG: fit to burst but i remain static in the face of euphoria

TG: im protecting your ass such as a knight is pretty much wont to do

CG: PFF, WHATEVER, “DUDE”.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was     painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

[hetfieldlovebot]

JAMES FUCKING READER WHO IS DAVE’S GIRLFRIEND AFTER KICKING HIM OUT OF THE BAND (sorry dave 😭)

YOU ARE SICK AND TWISTED AND I LOVE IT

i did a drabble on this before but it was never public so using some stuff from that hehehe (80s jamey obviously)

hetfield x afab reader

part 1(?)

cw: smut, pre established story, cheating, fingering, light degrading, praise, sneaking in

_________

you and James had been messing around for months, despite your terrible guilt youcouldn’t resist James, it had all started months ago when you were at a party hosted at Metallica’s shoddy little group house they shared. you were quite tipsy, Dave had filtered off somewhere and passed out while talking to Lars, James had sat down on the couch next to you and offered you a cigarette which you graciously took.

you really did care for Dave but as of recent you couldn’t take his behaviour, that night they had argued and Dave’s hotheaded temper left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you promised Cliff at least you’d be at that party. A few drinks and a couple cigarettes later, you and James were feverishly making out on the couch and getting a little too handsy in the absence of everyone else, the two of you had connected as friends but it all devolved with the drinking and talking.

the next morning you swore to yourself you’d never let it happen again. but a sobering fact was thrown in your face, Dave was kicked out of the band, suddenly he was on you like a fly on shit being so clingy. you felt awful, you were planning to break up with him because of last night’s events left you considering your relationship and the passion you were missing but Dave was such a sweet guy, you couldn’t do it. the guilt was immense but you couldn’t add to that right now, it’d be so cruel.

that never stopped James, for the next few weeks the cocky bastard would sneak into you place, climb through you bedroom window, sometimes even when Dave was there, he’d find a way to get to you.

this particular evening you were laid on your stomach on your shared bed in the home you shared with Dave, kicking your feet idly, studying for a course you were taking, the air was nice and breezy, the window wide open on that particular summer evening. it was around 7pm and the sun showed no signs of setting, casting a warm glow all across the house through the windows. you were twirling and fidgeting with your hair as he was reading, humming lightly to a Metallica song (yikes) as you read your textbook, your mind just absorbing as much information as possible and getting so lost in it you didn’t even hear the sound outside the window fully. you assumed it was Dave who was downstairs playing guitar and shrugged it off, your mind drifting off to James for a second and you felt your whole body fill up with adrenaline, lust, excitement and heavy guilt all at the same time. A confusing mix that left you breathless, always.

and when James was around? you were practically a brainless and needy mess even if you would repeat over and over again how they couldn’t, how violently wrong it was, how they couldn’t do this, James would always get you in the end.

the two of you hadn’t gone the full way yet but something in James’ brain knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist him much longer. he could tell you felt so giddy whenever you thought about James, he’d seen it in passing before he’d crawl through your window most nights, the way your eyes would light up randomly whenever his songs came on or you discovered something he’d left subtly to mark his territory as - that’s what he considered it as.

he was your secret, your horrible, awful….dirty, exciting, secret and you had absolutely no idea James was currently climbing up to and slipping through his window for the umpteenth time these past few weeks, approaching you from behind sneakily to get you spooked.

It wasn’t until you felt cold hands brace the bottom of your back, curling around your hips that you squealed, that was until a large hand came around to cover your mouth.

“miss me, baby?”

he cooed quietly, a shit eating grin on his face as he met your eyes in the mirror by your bed, chuckling softly as your body relaxed, he took those few seconds to flip your body to face him, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as he leaned over you.

“James! you scared this shit out of me! you can’t be here!”

you’d protest, as usual, and as usual it would fall on deaf ears. his hands were already working away, tugging your shirt up and pulling your shorts down.

“don’t lie, sweetheart, you missed me so much, look at you…already soaking…mm, Dave really has to up his game before i steal you away for myself, huh?”

he purred in your ear, condescending as usual but he knew you liked it, being belittled and praised all at the same time. the power he had over you made him dizzy, made him crave this over any other random hookup he could get, obvious in the way he touched you with outright desperation, eager fingers delving into your panties and right over your clit in torturous circles.

“s-stop! stop, Jamey, we can’t! he’s downstairs! i told you not to come here anymore…I-…”

the moan that escaped your lips was even more desperate than his frantic touch, you knew in that moment that you’d given as much away, and judging by the sly grin on his face and the small tilt of his head, you were in for it.

“oh? did you say something, darling? i can’t quite hear you over those needy moans of yours.”

you tried to protest again, honestly you did, but before you could even make a sound, his fingers slipped in and curled right up to that sweet spot that had you trembling.

“you were saying?”

he teased, pumping his fingers slowly, just enough to have you whimpering which was quickly silenced by his lips, crashing against yours in a frenzy, a deep sigh of satisfaction escaping him as you let him in once more, tongues exploring. he’d been waiting for this all fucking day, between long hours at practice and droning conversations with managers and people who thought they knew better than him, relief teetered right on the edge and he intended to take it.

“what? can’t speak all of a sudden?”

you hated how he got to you like this, but you nodded in agreement anyways, it was agony, pure sweet agony,. he kept hitting the right spot each time, every pump his pace picked up, the whimpers and moans escaping your muffled mouth were filthy and he loved it, his hand over your lips adding to the taboo of the whole ordeal and as much as it was awful, it was intoxicating and it got you off like nothing else. soon enough that familiar feeling was brewing, taut in your belly like a string about to snap, your eyes met him in a silent beg.

he grinned once more, that familiar smile that he knew you hated because it always signalled mischief, he pulled his fingers out right when you needed them the most, leaving you looking dumbfounded and pathetic. tonight was the night, the night he would truly have you, he cupped your face and leaned in for a surprisingly gentle kiss, leaving the both of you dizzy and flushed, he nipped on your lower lip before pulling back and whispering.

“spread your legs, sweetheart, i’ve got plans for you, can you be a good little slut and take it?”