#para: as the world shifts

[acircusfullofdemons]

help why did I get a tiktok sideshow calling out a "reality shifter" for keeping in violence when shifting ... they were going to call of duty too LMAO BABE THATS THE PLOT OF COD WHY ARE YOU MAD???? I'm sorry but "don't shift where killing takes place" is so brain dead they would not last an hour in the madd comm bye 💀

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light Part 2 SNIPPET

A/N: THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOF READ I JUST WANTED TO QUICKLY GIVE YOU GUYS A SNIPPET SO I COULD CONTINUE WRITING JKSJDKJS THE FULL PART TWO IS COMING TOMORROW!!

//

His first stop was to Sean, a lean Asian guy that had been buying off Azriel for two years now. He was decent enough, never tried to haggle or complain about the prices. They shared a mutual respect and minimal words were shared when Az handed him a Q and Sean gave 140 in one swift motion. 

And just like that, Azirel moved onto the next.

And then another. 

And another. 

Until he was waiting at the Old Tower and watching your silhouette approach the Mustang. You entered the car just like you always had done, though you didn’t meet his gaze this time. Instead, you kept your line of view ahead. Your hair obstructed the side of your face, effectively shielding you from his prying eyes. 

“Sorry I’m a little late.” 

Azriel absolutely did not like the quake in your voice as you spoke, nor did he like the way you seemed to cower into your body and clothes. Clothes that didn’t seem to match your usual vibe—instead, the mismatched black sweatpants and bright pink puffer jacket gave off the impression you threw on whatever was around you. 

Somehow, Azriel still thought you made it look good. On you, the outfit looked both planned and effortless. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t the case. 

“You good?” he asked through the piercing silence. 

You hummed, twisting the bulky silver ring on your thumb. “Yeah, just tired.” You tried your hardest to offer a convincing smile as you turned to him, but Azriel noticed the way it didn’t meet your eyes—the eyes that appeared slightly bloodshot, though he had a suspicion it wasn’t from smoking.

Not wanting to press on the matter, Az opened the compartment and pulled out a baggie of your usual amount and kept it pinched between two scarred fingers. You reached for it, the cash in your other hand but he kept his grip tight. 

Azriel raised a brow. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

You could see the concern flood his hazel eyes, and the sight pulled on your aching heartstrings. How could someone who was a virtual stranger care more for you than the ones who were much closer in your life?

You didn’t trust your words, so you nodded and he finally released his hold on the bag. “Alright,” Az sighed. “It’s a different strain than my usual stuff, so go a little lighter with it. It’s pretty strong.” 

You were incredibly thankful for the warning, though you couldn’t help feeling a little offended. Did he really think you were so naive and new to this world that you couldn’t handle a new strain at your usual strength (which, admittedly, was very weak) without greening out? 

But as quickly as that feeling rose, it faded. He was a dealer, afterall, and he couldn’t afford to lose business all because someone thought they knew better and had a bad trip. 

“Thank you,” you muttered out, already reaching for the handle when his ruggedly soft voice stopped you. 

“You wanna smoke before you go? I can drop you back after.” 

You whipped your head to him, blinking through slightly blurred vision. With a brow raised and widened eyes, your lips parted. “Together?”

A smile stretched across his full lips, one so full of charisma and keen interest that it awakened something deep in the pit of your stomach. Something you distinctly remember feeling the last time you saw him. 

“Why not?” 

You swallowed as your hand slowly fell from the handle and made its way back in your lap. Your smile morphed into a smirk that matched his and the air shifted into something unreadable. Something palpable but not quite real. 

“Really? Do you normally smoke with your clients?” 

His wicked grin widened. “I do with the cute ones.” 

You choked on a laugh, rolling your head back until it hit the headrest and Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen or heard anything so fucking beautiful in his life. That laugh would haunt him in his dreams to a blissful paradise. 

“First I’m pretty, now I’m cute… what’s next?” 

Damn the rules he set himself. Damn the restrictions he forced when it came to someone who piqued his interest. It was about time Azriel took what he wanted for once. Even if that meant he started with no longer feeling guilty for flirting with you. 

Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Azriel started up the engine and shifted the gearstick. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

[ragzonacamrencruise]

for this ask right here:

okay so, hear meowt, yeah?? ***

THE PROPOSAL (REVERSED)

Azula isn't dumb. She swears she isn't. She literally conquered Ba Sing Se without a single casualty and with only three people. She's the greatest mastermind in the whole world and she knows how to manipulate people like she knows the back of her own hand.

So, she really should've seen this coming from miles away when she had the chance, right? RIGHT?????

Right . . .

She fucking did NOT!

...

[Three months ago]

"I- uhm . . . It looks really . . . sharp? Yeah, sharp. Thank you?"

Katara blinked, her face slightly loosing its glow as Azula said that. "You don't like it?"

Azula ran her eyes over the blue stone, neatly carved and linked to a blue ribbon, a truly marvellous speciman for a betrothal necklace. She knew of its culture from the Water Tribe, of course, but didn't really get around to the specifics of it.

But, what she didn't understand was, why was Katara of all people, giving her a betrothal neclace?!

Then she looked at Katara's neck. It's almost impossible to imagine the girl without her iconic necklace that was given to her by her . . . who was it now, mother? Yeah, she specifically remembered the conversation she had with the waterbender like an year ago, or something. Why she rememebered it? She had no clue.

The necklace lay on her lithe neck almost like it was a part of the girl's skin itself. Well, Azula thought, if mothers can give their betrothal necklaces to their daughters, then maybe, the whole betrothal necklace thing doesn't just have a singular purpose, right?

The girl had told Azula how her friends thought she was too motherly or something. So, when Azula had opened up about how her own mother thought she was a monster and never loved her, the girl had comforted her saying that Azula never has to worry about not having a mother anymore cuz she herself was going to take care of her.

And taking care of Azula, she did spectacularly. She never left Azula's side even for a minute, annoyingly so, and always sided with her whenever a Royal General Meeting was afoot. Sometimes, she even held Azula's arm while they walked through the Royal Gardens, much to Azula's irritation.

So, yeah . . . Maybe, the waterbender gave it to her because . . . she thought of herself as Azula's . . . mother? No, wait that's a weird thought and Azula shouldn't be having it while she's thinking of slamming the girl to the nearest wall and going to town at the very neck she's looking at.

Azula shook herself away from her thoughts. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the waterbender had been growing on her for the past 3 years, and Azula trusted her with her life. She will never admit it, though. It'll make her look like a fool.

"No, I like it." Azula said, as she placed the necklace on her own neck, tying it into place. "We have a matching set."

Katara looked down at her own necklace. "Oh, yeah." She said, and clutched a strand of her, shifting her weight from her toes to heel.

Azula had been around the girl for enough to notice that that was a nervous tick. Don't as ask her why. She just liked to study people. That's all. She's a people person. She definitely did not pay attention to the waterbender whenever she had the chance to.

Azula looked all around the Royal Garden awkwardly, trying so hard to diffuse the tension. Like, why was it even so tense in the first place?!

"I'm really glad you accepted it." Katara said slowly, looking at Azula with her chin down. "I was really nervous about it and then Sokka hit me on the head really hard saying that-"

"Wait-" Azula interrupted her. "Why wouldn't I accept it?"

Well, sealing friendships in the way of gifts wasn't new to Azula. Firelord Sozin sealed his friendship with Avatar Roku with a gift, right?

Katara blinked. And then her lips spread out in that shy little smile that Azula will never admit as her favourite. "I thought you wouldn't want to." Katara explained. "Aang thought that too. But Zuko and Sokka said I was being an idiot and I should've given this to you sooner."

Azula frowned. Why would Katara consult with Azula's wimp brother and his idiot boyfriend over a simple gift? It's not really that big of a deal, right?

"Okay, rule number one," Azula said, hoping to get the weirdness out of her head, "Never listen to anything our stupid brothers say, yeah? One moment you're all knowledgable and then the next moment you talk to them and lose your brain to the dark spirits."

Katara laughed. A really pretty sound. But Azula had no idea why she was laughing. She didn't even make a joke, for Agni's sake!

But, she was doing something right?

...

[One month ago]

Katara's visit to Azula's chambers had been frequent ever since she'd given her the necklace. Azula had been complaining (but not really) about how she needs to respect the Fire princess's boundaries and personal space.

But, Katara, had just barged in through her door, plopping down right next to her on the bed. If she'd been any closer, she would've landed right on Azula's lap and the princess would've exploded from the sheer pressure of proximity.

"Hi." Katara beamed, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Don't you have any other person you'd like to torture with your presence?" Azula rolled her eyes, trying to put some distance between them but failing miserably.

"No." Katara slid in closer, making Azula's heart rate skyrocket. "Not when you're right here."

Azula gave her a look, that conveyed pure annoyance. And yet, the waterbender only grinned wider.

"You're annoying." Azula stated.

"I know."

"But today it's tenfold."

"Not without reason."

Azula looked at her with a slight raise of her brow.

Katara seemed to read her like a book as she opened her mouth to explain. "I went down to the printer with Aang, and guess what?"

Azula rolled her eyes. "No."

Katara squealed and pulled out a scroll and unrolled it. "The invitation! It's ready!"

Azula looked at the neatly painted design of the invite held in Katara's delicate hand. But she was more enraptured by the hand that was holding it rather than the invite itself. She traced the smooth, brown fingers with her eyes, moving up along the arm and to Katara's neck where her necklace hung. She gulped, thinking of the time when Katara gave her a necklace and the thoughts of the very neck that had plagued her brain after it had happened. Her eyes then landed on Katara's lips and they looked so soft, so full, that Azula wanted nothing more than to know what they tasted like.

When she lifted her eyes up, her heart stopped when she found Katara was looking directly at her. Her blue eyes shined of something that Azula couldn't quite pin-point. It was like the vast expanse of the entire ocean had come crashing down on Azula and she was drowning. Fast.

Azula's hand found a mind of it's own, placing itself on Katara's thigh in a feather light touch, feeling the roughness of her fabric all the way up to her hips where her body curved.

She let out a rough breath, her mind not really catching up with her mouth as she asked, "When?"

She wasn't really sure what she meant by asking the waterbender that question, but she had strong suspicions that it had nothing to do with the invitation the girl was holding and rather had everything to do with the girl herself.

Katara, seemed to be stuck in the same daze as her, her eyes glossing over when it landed on Azula's lips and meeting her gaze again. "Soon." She panted out.

Azula's foggy brain couldn't really register what they were talking about, but before she even had the time to ask, Katara stood up from the bed and rushed out of the room, her face glowing red.

Only then, air seemed to fill Azula's lungs. She shook her head, trying to make sense of what just happened. But then her eyes fell on the scroll splayed on the bed, and she recognised the shape of Katara's and her own name written on it.

She wanted us to go as dates to this wedding? That was what she was excited about?!

Azula groaned as she fell back on her bed.

...

[Present day]

Azula feels rough hands pulling her aside.

When she stepped inside the wedding hall, she did not expect it to be this . . . lavish. And she certainly wasn't prepared to get man-handled by-

"Sokka?!" Azula exclaims. "Get your filthy hands off me, peasant!" But when she saw panic filling his eyes, her demeanor became more serious.

"Why aren't you dressed up?!" He whisper-yells so that no one could hear it except them.

"What do you mean?" Azula looks confused. "I'm the Fire princess. I'm always dressed up!"

"No, you idiot!" And Azula would've smacked him right there if he didn't sound so worried. "Why aren't you- . . . Okay, you know what? Come with me."

He pulls her outside to the way leading to their respective chambers.

...

Azula feels good about her appearance. She really does. Whether she'd like to admit it or not, but Sokka did a wonderful job picking out her outfit and appearance. But what she doesn't feel good about is how her brother Zuko, is making her hold his arm while walking her down the aisle that is meant for the people getting married and their best, closest people.

She looks all around, extemely confused.

What in the name of Agni is going on?!

She doesn't really get it. Is this a sick joke that they're all trying to play on her?!

But that Admiral from a Fire Nation Colony wouldn't be sitting over there, picking his ear if it was really a joke, right?

"It's a big day, Azula." Zuko whispers beside her. "You can at least try to smile, right?"

She opens her mouth to respond. To ask him what the heck is going on. But before she could open her mouth, Zuko steps her up to the stage, and silently relieves himself to the sidelines.

She blinks, trying so hard to wake up from this stupid dream. She came here as Katara's date, right? Then why is her brother making her get on stage?! Why are all the people she knew her whole life and and a bunch of other people who are majorly from the Water Tribes are occupying the hall right now?!

And where the hell is Katara?!

Azula thinks hard. Really hard. But she really can't put a finger on it. Something's strange and it feels like she's the only person in the room who doesn't get it. Standing up here on stage, next to Sokka's big grin, and a bunch of other 'important' people looking up at her from their seats below the stage, wasn't really the place where she thought she'd realise she's dumb.

Maybe she was going crazy, after all.

She turns to Aang sharing the stage with her, who's wearing his traditional monk clothing he wore for her brother's coronation. When his eyes fall on her, he gives her an encouraging smile.

Suddenly, a traditional Water Tribe flute begins to play a tune and everyone in the hall stands up.

Azula recognises the tune. It's the wedding tune played for when the bride enters the wedding hall. Then she suddenly realises that the same tune was playing when she entered the hall too with Zuko holding her hand.

Wait-

She's the bride?! How and why is she the bride?! And why is the tune playing again if she had already entered the hall?! There are TWO brides?!

Suddenly, all heads turn to the entrance of the hall and Azula whips her head around too; to see what the hell it's all about.

The moment her eyes land on the entrance, her jaw practically hangs. Walking in, wearing a blue, flowing, elegant dress Azula's ever seen on a human, is Katara. Her hair's in a bun, her iconic hair-loopies hanging loose to frame her face. And somehow, the prettiest thing she's wearing is the smile on her face.

Her hand is tucked inside her father's arm, who's wearing the traditional Water Tribe Chief's attire, walking the waterbender down the aisle. She's holding a bouquet of fire lilies in her hand and they contrast pleasantly with her blue dress.

When they finally reach the stage, Katara steps up while her father moves to the sidelines to stand beside Zuko.

And that's when Katara's eyes fall on her.

And just like that, Azula's head falls into a spiral, realisation hitting her like a battering ram.

The necklace . . . The invitation . . . The wedding-

OH LORD AGNI, SHE'S GETTING MARRIED TO KATARA!!!!

Panic grips her heart.

Azula isn't dumb. She swears she isn't.

She literally conquered Ba Sing Se without a single casualty and with only three people. She's the greatest mastermind in the whole world and she knows how to manipulate people like she knows the back of her own hand.

So, she really should've seen this coming from miles away when she had the chance, right? RIGHT?????

Right . . .

She fucking did NOT!!

Katara looks at her with a furrowed brow. "Hey . . . Are you okay?"

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED?!?!"

The entire rooms falls silent.

Katara looks taken aback by the question. "What-?!"

"WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?!?!"

Katara's frown deepens. "Azula, what are you talking about?! Of course you knew!"

"No, I didn't!!"

"What?!"

"I didn't realise it until now! You've all been lying to me?!"

Katara gets a bit closer to her, in a attempt to calm her down. "No one was lying to you, Azula, what are you talking about?!"

"I thought you invited me to this wedding as your date! You didn't tell me that WE are the ones getting married!!"

The waterbender's eyes are wide, taking a moment to grasp the information. "What do you mean?! I literally gave you a betrothal necklace and showed you our wedding invitations!!"

Azula blinks. "I thought the betrothal necklace was a gift of friendship. I didn't know you were actually asking me to marry you!!"

"Don't be riddiculous, Azula. Stop it. This isn't funny!"

Azula shakes her head. "No, it really isn't funny. I swear until like twenty minutes ago, I was standing way over there waiting for you to be my date for the wedding. Sokka literally had to dress me up again!!"

Katara gasps, her eyes getting glossy. Silence hangs heavily in the hall, the people looking at the both of them like a volleyball court.

The waterbender takes a moment to speak. "So . . . So you . . . You really didn't know?"

"I did not."

A single tear falls from Katara's eye and Azula's heart shatters. "Y- You don't . . . You don't want to marry me?" Katara's voice is feeble, at the verge of breaking down.

Azula closes her mouth, pulling her head back, stunned. She looks around the hall, to see shocked faces, looking at the stage with wide eyes.

The gravity of the situation decends on Azula. She singlehandedly is ruining the most extravagant wedding she's ever witnessed. And the irony is that it's her wedding. She's wanted nothing more than to call Katara her own, but this truly is shocking to anyone who doesn't even realise that they're getting married! Like, seriously. Why didn't people make it more clear to her?!

Seeing Azula's lack of reply, Katara does break down. She lets out a loud sob, before stepping down the stage quickly to walk away.

"Katara, wait!" Azula exclaims. The princess's nerves finally, FINALLY do their goddamn job and jolts her muscles awake, and as quick as her own lightning, she steps down the stage behind Katara and grabs her wrist from behind. The waterbender lets out a gasp, being pulled to a sudden stop.

Azula flips the girl around, pulling her close. Katara's eyes are filled to the brim with tears, leaking out now and then and Azula can't help but wipe them away.

"You're annoying." The princess says softly. "You're stubborn and irritating and you stick to my side like an elbow leech. You're a pain in my ass and I've been wanting to make you my wife ever since, just to pay you back on how much you annoy me."

Katara's lips fall open, her eyes wide and attentive.

"So, stop crying those pathetic little tears and come marry me." Azula says as she wipes another steak of tear falling down the waterbender's cheek. "Come on."

Azula pulls Katara's wrist back to the stage, and the whole hall erupts in cheers. Aang reads the vows and much to Azula's delight, Katara's tears stop.

But she still isn't 100% herself, and Azula notices it. When Aang asks them both whether they would care for each other in sickness and in health, and take each other as wives, Katara only replies with a feeble "I do" and falls silent again.

"I do." Azula says with a smile, but it falters when Katara doesn't smile back.

...

Azula enters Katara's chambers that night, noticing at once that it was decorated completely with rose petals and fire lilies. A pleasant smell hits her nose and candle lamps light up the entire room with an incandescent glow.

She steps inside, closes and locks the door behind her. When she turns around, her eyes fall on a small frame, sitting on the bed hugging her knees with her head tucked in between them.

Katara.

Azula takes determined steps forward. She reaches her wife in no time and sits beside her cautiously. She's pretty sure Katara's aware of her presence but the waterbender doesn't really respond to it. Azula blinks, her head racing with a million thoughts.

"Hey . . ." Azula says softly. "Look at me . . ."

"Go away." Katara's muffled voice demands, and to Azula, it sounds like she's been crying again.

"I will not." Azula says firmly. "Not unless you look at me."

A beat passes, before Katara sniffles and lifts her head up. Azula's gut bottoms out as she takes a look at her wife's face. It's puffy and red from all the crying and the princess had to admit that she looked kinda cute.

"Leave me alone!" Katara says before letting her head fall again.

"Nuh-uh." Azula disagrees before moving closer and wrapping her fingers around Katara's wrists to pry them open. "We're going to-"

As soon as Azula touches her, Katara bursts. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

The waterbender pulls her hand away from Azula's grip and starts hitting her, landing blows blindly, anywhere she can find, all the while screaming, "Leave me alone!"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW! Stop it, Katara, STOP IT!!"

But Katara doesn't stop. "How dare you do that to me?! How dare you scare me like that?!"

Azula lets out a laugh.

"Don't laugh, you idiot!" Katara hits her shoulders, then arms, then legs, and Azula braces herself from the blows, laughing non-stop. "I thought I made a terrible mistake! Like I was forcing myself on you! I hated myself for it!! How dare you scare me like that?!"

Azula finds a gap between blows and wraps her arms around Katara's hips, pulling her forward to her body and holding her close. Katara struggles to get out of her grip, to land some more blows, but Azula's stronger.

"Well . . . you guys are pretty shit at informing people about their own wedding!!" Azula guffaws, placing her hand on Katara's head and pulling it close to her shoulder.

Unable to hit Azula anymore due to the proximity, Katara gives up, clutching onto the firebender's collars desperately. "And you are pretty shit at marrying me!" She shrieks, moving closer to Azula and burying her face in her neck. "I will absolutely murder you, if you do something like that again!"

Azula could do nothing but chuckle. "If only it were true."

Katara looks up at her instantly, pulling Azula forward by her collar. "I mean it, princess! Don't you ever think about doing that to me ever again. And if you leave me for somebody else, I will personally track you down and kill the bitch who stole you from me. Understood?"

Azula smirks, getting lost in Katara's stare. "Yes ma'am."

"Okay. Good." Katara says, before slowly letting her lips curve into that shy smile that always took Azula's breath away.

"You're mood swings are worse than falling from an airship."

Katara giggles before hitting Azula's chest playfully. "Shut up!"

Azula gasps. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Actually, I can. I'm your wife now, remember?" The waterbender lifts a single eyebrow, a smirk on her face.

"Well, in that case-" Azula says before pushing Katara flat on her back on the bed. "-I believe we have some wife businesses to attend to."

Katara gasps. "Like what?" She whispers.

"For starters-" The princess dips her head down place a feather soft kiss on Katara's neck, finally getting to experience a fantasy that's been hogging her brain forever.

"Azulaaaaaa" Katara whines, low and deep, not really wanting her mood to shift.

Azula stares at her wife. Her annoying, defiant, resilient, stubborn, head-strong, spirited, sophisticated, and beautiful wife.

If she's dumb, then she's the luckiest dumb person on the planet.

***

😭😭😭

there you have it!

thank you @edy-lyy for sending me this wonderful idea through your ask!!!! i had soooo much fun writing this.

also, if you see any typos, no you didn't 🙈🙈

[elementroar]

I thought the reason ABA wants Paracelsus to be human is because she’s based their whole relationship on what she’s learned through osmosis about romance and humanity? So like, she wants to be husband and wife specifically because of societal expectations, and wants him to be human to fit into that image even more?

I would say she did base her ideas on how to 'act human' from prolly books and things around Frasco in her 10 year isolation. We dunno what books she was reading in Frasco, other than apparently a lot of books containing idioms and things that she never quite remembers right (this is based on her random quotes back in XX/ACCENT CORE). She was also obsessed with laws, so I think that's how she view society really - through the words of law dictating behavior. And that included the idea of men and women, married couples etc. etc.

Her GG World Xrd entry implies she immediately fell in love with Paracelsus, decided they were married, and the natural next step in her reasoning is that he needs to have an artificial body like her to as you say, fit the image/idea of what they should be in her head.

Honestly, I think Daisuke kinda wants to move away from this being her sole focus for years in STRIVE, hence why no one brings it up during the conversations between all characters in any route in the arcade mode, other than when ABA falls back to that plan and drags a protesting Paracelsus away off-screen.

I think it's kinda resolved in her conversation with Elphelt, where she admits she understands what 'love' means academically, but she doesn't know what it really means to be in love. So it kinda applies to her singleminded plan to put Paracelsus into a human body? Like the 'why' of it is not even clear to her, and her getting better is her finally let go of that obsessive plan.

Also since Paracelsus is revealed to be able to shapeshift into whatever she wants, or what he wants for that matter, that means there's a natural way Paracelsus can get a human body now. With consent from both parties. I personally think that may actually be where the story is headed, plus if Para learns to shift between any form he wants, then ArcSys won't have to worry about how A.B.A. remains playable in future games! Para just turns back into an axe-key when needed (or she swings him around in human form lol).

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

I know he's canonically infertile, but do you think Big Boss would have kept the kids if they weren't clones, or at the very least be involved in their lives?

Hello Anon! "They're no sons of mine." "Just a bunch of cells grown in a lab?" "What they are is much sicker than that." -Big Boss and Ocelot, Truth Tapes, MGSV.

Oh man. This is one of those things I waffle on hard. Because I think the real root of BB not wanting to have anything to do with the kids is because their creation, and existence, was born of betrayal.

BB knew people were thinking about him passing his genes along. It's hinted at a little bit in MGS3, if in a sort of 'off-handed' way, but he was certainly aware people around him (like Para Medic) thought about it and had considered it.

To me, one of the key issues with the clones is that he wasn't given a chance to say 'yay' or 'nay'. Everyone just did it behind his back, because they had access to his DNA. That alone (the non-consensual aspect) is more than enough for him to reject his 'sons' completely.

And he isn't wrong to do so, in this regard. The sons themselves are innocent, but that doesn't make it easy for BB to accept them as 'his' when he wasn't given a choice, or any form of capability to consent.

There was also the timing. NOT that him being cloned against his will would ever, in any circumstance be okay, but at the time, BB was still grieving the Boss, and had been used and betrayed by the USA. I tend to keep in mind that the US using him was a betrayal for BB, because before that, he willingly followed the will of the government.

Something the Boss herself warned against.

Caps: DiamondDogs

After all that, people he considered his friends, also betray him. By this point BB must've truly felt that he can't trust anyone, and that no matter where he goes, someone out there is only going to see him as some kind of glorified tool; no matter how much he might've trusted them, or how strong their relationship was.

With all that being said, if we do remove the cloning aspect, and assume the twins to have been born the normal way (that is, the old-fashioned consensual way with Eva) would he have kept them?

I'd say it would depend on the circumstances. There's a brief period after MGS3, before The Patriots are formed where BB is working odd jobs, and just trying to find his place again. Could he ostensibly settle down and be a standard all-American family man?

Honestly, I don't really think so. I think that he knows and understands warzones the best; and that he has a level of discomfort with society that is hard to ignore. I think BB would end up finding a warzone or war-adjacent zones anyway, and that anything else just ends up being a temporary delay or temporary reprieve.

Having children would get in the way of that. (Until later, of course..we know he has Chico and children in Zanzibarland, by the time he's a full-out warlord)

Which shifts me into the secondary aspect, or a possible alternative-BB accepting his sons when they're old enough to be 'useful' to him. In this case, they'd be part of his soldiers, his men, and work under him. Obeying him the same way any of his other soldiers do; and working for the same 'end' goal.

I think he and Liquid would clash even without Liquid's ever-present desire for patricide, but I imagine he and Dave would get along to some degree, if they had aspects they could bond over. Even if that bonding only ever boils down to 'sitting side by side doing some task or another, and not saying a word' Maybe hunting together, or other things they can share.

I don't know that BB would ever see himself as a 'family man'. But I could see him accepting them as his sons if they were wanted by him to some degree. Or slowly accepting them in his life, if they were brought into the world with his consent.

There could maybe be an argument of him accepting them despite the non-con aspect, but I think it'd be more with an element of 'you're men that I respect and like, but I can't call myself your father'.

Which is..essentially what ends up happening, way at the end.

Caps: Shirrako

TL'DR: Maybe he would, but it would be a victim or a situation of circumstance, IMO. I'm open to thinking about it further and discussing it more, though.

[lasunsettia]

para ti papá | miguel o'hara

miguel o'hara & g/n reader (platonic but there's love in everything amirite)

4.2k words

miguel hates wasting time. you hate seeing people pretend to act tough. miscommunication, trauma bonding, and a movie night(?) ensue.

this will be a two parter, so enjoy the first bit of (belated) father's day hurt/comfort... aka the hurt

also available on ao3

“hey! you took all the frosting!”

“you did smush the cupcake on my nose, cariño.”

swipe.

“dad, what’s a hickey? and why does uncle gabriel say you have to keep covering them up?”

“… i’ll tell you when you’re older.”

swipe.

“if spider-man can stay up past 10 pm, why can’t i?”

“mija, he’s way older and has a whole nueva york to defend. you still need me to tie your shoes. and you call pigeons street chickens.”

“okay i’m returning your father’s day gift.”

“wait what-”

swipe.

“i love you dad. even if you stink sometimes.”

“hey now, i don’t smell that bad.”

“you sure?”

“… pass. but… i love you too.”

finishing with loud giggles, the final video ends. silence gradually fills the room, the echoes of long-lost laughter fading out. the thrum of miguel’s workstation shifts into white noise.

a fragment of the life miguel had with his daughter, gabriella, lingers on the expanded screen in front of him. the gabi on the screen stays stuck in miguel’s lap, trapped by his arms as he leans down to tickle her. a mischievous grin flashes on that miguel’s face.

but as the screen and that reality flickers away, miguel shuts his eyes. he hangs his head low, letting out a deep sigh. jessica and peter and the others have asked him countless times why he keeps doing this. going over memories of a life that was never his to begin with.

over. and over. and over.

it’s equal parts selfish and self-denying. that world may not have been his. but he still mourns what bits of it he could experience. the joy. the love and safety he could provide. having a genuine reason to smile….

at the same time, he resents himself for the lives he’s destroyed. a whole dimension, gone. all because of his blind longing.

he’s lost too much, inflicted too much pain and destruction, to not remind himself of what he’s fighting for. what the whole spider society is trying to achieve.

“earth to miguel. reality check coming in.”

miguel glances to the side as lyla appears above him, glitching between sitting with her legs crossed and standing with her hands on her hips. he furrows his brow at her sly expression. the heels of his palms dig even deeper into the workstation desk.

“yeah yeah, i’m listening,” miguel exhales. he leans back, swiping away a lingering hologram screen and looking across the surveillance setup. “is there something i should be seeing or…?”

lyla reappears beside the screens. “well, there’s an anomaly on earth-2444. some goons from spider-man noir’s world got sucked up during a botched bank heist.” the surveillance screens flash images and video clips of said anomalies breaking into a banquet hall, holding some attendees hostage and engaging in a standoff with security and police. “made a dinner party a heck of a lot more interesting, buuut technically those people may still be in danger.”

miguel raises an eyebrow. “and noir’s not handling the case himself… why?” the cynical, black and white-dressed vigilante usually loved any excuse to hand troublemakers’ asses to them. especially those from his dimension. it seemed weird to miguel that noir wasn't eagerly rushing to save the day.

“he’s on an in-world crime bust.” lyla points to one of the screens. a brief montage of noir in a standoff flashes and quickly slows to a still photo.

“okay, then alert the local spider-man. this is a one, maybe two-person job. they can handle it and ask for someone on standby if need be.”

“they’re also busy.”

"well then we’ll send someone else.”

miguel grows more irritated by the moment. why is lyla making this more difficult than it has to be?

“there’s no one else to send, miguel.” the videos on the surveillance screens freeze, highlighting the ongoing dimensional deviation that needs addressing.

“en serio, lyla, you’re telling me there’s no one we can dispatch for this?”

“no, miguel.” lyla’s blunt, almost annoyed-sounding response claps back at miguel’s exasperation. she counts off on her fingers as she continues, growing to a human size in front of him. “everyone else we have is sick, on patrol, or on break for today.”

except you.

lyla doesn’t say it, but miguel can feel it in her tone.

he swallows a groan, resting his hands on his hips. it’s a simple job, really. take down a few anomalies. send them back home or toss them in a laser cage overnight. and then get back to trying not to burst a damn blood vessel over preserving the delicate balance of the multiverse.

still, there’s something that tugs him back a bit. makes his body more sore than usual, even though he took his last injection a few days ago. something calls for him to stay put. review the surveillance footage to see if there’s something bigger he can tackle.

or if there’s another video of gabi he can not so subtly revisit and ease his lingering emotional ache with.

“lyla….” miguel cringes a bit at how tired his voice sounds. “i–”

“hold up boss. i got some new info.”

lyla interrupts miguel with a status update. two of the surveillance screens depict a spider on the move, another screen flashing their background notes and mission statistics. “we got a familiar face on the way, but from the looks of things, they may need an assist…”

the meaning behind lyla’s words hits miguel almost immediately. that unmistakable get up and the record of their recent mistakes and mishaps catches his attention.

and so does a roster of the stupid nicknames this spider has referred to miguel by for the last year. lyla’s been keeping a secret record, apparently.

ese pinche pendejo.

the irritation radiates tenfold off miguel as he presses a button on the workstation, initiating its descent. he impatiently taps at his watch while the workstation takes its time. regardless of how shitty he feels today, he’s not going to let this dumbass screw up handling some small antagonists yet again.

“patch me through to them,” miguel demands. “now.”

lyla sighs, glitching to miguel’s shoulder in miniature form. “thought you might say that,” she deadpans.

miguel turns, jumping down the remaining distance between the platform and the floor. he can’t waste any time. he doesn’t want to.

he presses the big yellow dot representing earth-2444 on the watch interface. a burst of blue-hued rays illuminate the entryway to the room before forming the glowing, golden hexagonal portal entrance.

“well, they’re not answering but they know you’re on the way,” lyla reports, appearing next to the portal and giving a mini salute.

miguel mutters under his breath, summoning his mask over his head. taking a deep breath, he steps into the shimmering portal, ready to confront the nuisances awaiting him in earth-2444.

and to knock some damn sense into the idiot that hopefully doesn’t screw things up in the next few minutes.

—

“OW! FUCK ME!”

the baking sheet drops with a loud thud from your hand onto the tiny stove. red hot heat and pain flashes across your fingertips. cursing under your breath, you shake your gloved hand, blowing on it in hopes the pain will quickly subside.

whichever spider person gave you the tip for making your suit gloves heat resistant was a damn liar. they’d be hearing your angry complaints later. for now, you nudge the oven closed with your hip and peek over at the empanadas scattered on the baking sheet. the pastries don’t look half bad, gleaming a nice shade of brown. at the very least, the kitchen air smells absolutely heavenly. hints of savory spices, herbs, and the fillings… it's blissful.

hopefully they’re enough for miguel to forgive my ass, you wish internally. deception and some white lies aren’t exactly your favorite tactics to use. but when it comes to making headstrong leaders slash close-ish friends confront their suppressed emotional turmoil, you decide it’ll do the job.

it’s your way of offering that stoic tight ass some support. you’ve known miguel for a little over a year, and you two weren’t super close friends. sometimes he acted more like he wanted to punch you in the jaw than chat with you about your lives or an upcoming mission. but you ended up crossing paths more often than coworkers who tolerate each other generally do. and the way you both gradually got in the habit of calling each other first for an assist signaled some level of trust. even if you were the one to call on him a little more.

after jessica and peter, you were first in line for lyla to contact when miguel needed to strategize. or pull his head out of his ass. or, in rare moments, have someone to talk to and be a normal person. especially after a particularly rough day.

it was during the rare moments of guard-down vulnerability that you caught glimpses of the little things miguel o'hara usually kept under heavy wraps. like his love for homemade food. how he's somehow only seen a grand total of fifty something movies in his lifetime. and the soul-crushing inner turmoil he held onto on a day like father’s day.

which was today. and without a doubt, you knew miguel would try to act tough and soldier on like it was another boring sunday unless someone did something about it.

you double check that the oven’s turned off before moving to grab a cool drink from the fridge. a variety of sodas, teas, and water with brands parodying those of your world greet you. along with some other basic groceries. you make a mental note to thank the spider of earth-2444 for their generosity.

any other thoughts or drink selection is quickly interrupted by a rapidly growing thrumming sound. you notice too late that the sound isn’t coming from the oven or the refrigerator. a loud banging and crashing emerges from down the hallway.

shit… is that–?

the string of growls and curses in spanish coming from the bathroom answers your question. to your mental checklist, you add any toiletry replacements and bathroom repairs miguel might be wracking up.

“mierda, lyla, where the hell did you send me?”

the muffled yell springs you into action. blindly grabbing a pair of drinks from the fridge - one for you and miguel each - you attempt to cool off your hand while speeding over to the couch. the fridge shuts with a click as you sit down and swipe the remote off the tiny table in front of you. the tv’s loud chimes while turning on send your heartbeat shooting up even faster.

“shut up shut up shut up,” you command under your breath. this whole encounter is feeling less like revealing a surprise and more like awaiting your imminent chewing out on behalf of miguel o’hara. speaking of…

the bathroom door bangs open down the hall. an exasperated snarl spills out of miguel’s mouth, his heavy footsteps thudding against the tiny apartment’s hardwood floors. you nervously shuffle through the viewing options on the tv, finding just the one you had in mind and clicking it right before the footsteps slow.

miguel blinks behind his mask. disbelief fills him for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a cloud of anger. here he is, transported into some random, dimly lit apartment rather than the grand, glowing banquet hall currently under threat. he’d just ripped a tangle of shower curtains out of determination to get out sooner. all for the signs to continue to point to lyla having directed him to the wrong place.

or so he thinks. until he sees the very spider person he’d come to make sure wasn’t making the hostage situation worse. kicking back here. watching some fucking movie.

he calls out your name in a lowered, explanation-demanding voice. “what the hell is this?”

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. it’s obvious from his tone that he’s beyond pissed. still, maybe a little charm can stun him.

you place the drinks on the table and turn towards miguel, resting an arm on the back of the couch. “it’s a movie night, mig,” you reply casually, nodding back towards the tv. “was waiting for you to show up.”

the eyes of miguel's mask narrow as he takes in the scene, his anger simmering beneath the surface. he had expected to find a high-stakes hostage situation. not a seemingly relaxed movie night in progress.

"we've got a serious situation on our hands, and you're here watching… whatever that is?"

you can practically breathe in the tension in the air. “it’s the godfather,” you start in defense, pulling yourself off the couch and slowly walking towards him. “and i already took care of it.” you mirror miguel’s signature hands on hips intimidation pose, stopping just a small distance in front of him.

“oh, really ?” his voice drips with bitter sarcasm. “you single-handedly saved the day while i was tearing shower curtains? without revealing your face to bystanders? or letting the anomalies almost slip into a whole other universe?”

he’s mocking you now. dragging your failures out to try to put you in your place. but little does he know those screw ups don’t phase you like they normally would.

they were intentional, after all. just bait to lure him in, right here, right now.

tugging your mask off, you meet miguel's gaze with unwavering confidence. "and i made it back here in less than 10 minutes,” you respond. “everyone’s got off days, gorgeous. but i really did handle it this time. you can trust me."

miguel scoffs. “you said the same thing about the prowler from earth-4269. then he broke out of his cage and almost tore a hole through your stomach.”

“ugh, don’t remind me,” you shudder. “hobie still hasn’t let me live that one down. or stopped trying to convince me to get a belly button piercing.”

the mix of skepticism and frustration in miguel’s stare doesn’t waver at your joke. instead, a moment of silence save for the tv in the background falls between the two of you.

“lyla.” miguel finally breaks the lull, turning his attention to the ai assistant appearing beside him. lyla offers a little wave, waiting for instructions. “show me what happened,” he demands.

“sure thing,” lyla chirps, immediately projecting a holographic display in front of miguel.

the room fills with a projected recap of your earlier crime-fighting events. your swift and agile movements as you expertly wrangled the anomalies. tossing and tugging them away from hitting, shooting, or otherwise harming the hostages. the attendees expressing their gratitude as you kicked the bad guys into a portal home.

and the unceremonious ending where security and the police chased after you and you swung back here to hide away and breathe. lyla had made sure to cut out all the surprise-related details. including the part where you almost fucked up the empanada recipe with a shit ton of sugar instead of salt.

“what’d i tell you?” you chime in, crossing your arms as the recap ends. “had to make sure there were no distractions for ou- i mean my. my godfather watch party.”

the skepticism seems to have mostly faded from miguel’s masked expression, replaced by agitation. leaning to the side slightly, you release a web towards the kitchen. you grin as you successfully capture and pull back an empanada. “made some snacks too. wanna try one, sweeth– ah shit, it’s still hot.”

lyla chuckles while you juggle the empanada between your hands. miguel, on the other hand, remains unamused.

“if you already covered everything, why didn’t you report that back to lyla?” miguel questions.

you stiffen, gripping the slightly cooler empanada in between your gloves. “well, about that…" you start to say, easing him into your ulterior motives.

“and how didn’t you pick up on the fact that the coast was already clear, hmm?” miguel interjects. his sharp gaze shifts to lyla hovering above his shoulder. he senses that something isn't adding up, and his instincts are honing in on the bluff.

lyla shrugs. “even gorgeous ai assistants make mistakes sometimes,” she responds nonchalantly. “besides, spidey here didn’t pick up, so i was going off what information i had at the time.”

miguel lets out a dry laugh. mentirosos. los dos. his mask disappears to reveal his piercing red eyes fixed on you. his tongue darts out to lick a particularly sharp canine, intensifying his glare. his expression demands answers.

"so, screwing up missions wasn't good enough for you, was it?" he accuses, his arms crossed. "you just had to move on to wasting my time with non-existent ones."

you can't help but snort at the accusation. "maybe i just really like your attention and oh so friendly company," you remark mockingly, taking a deliberate bite of your empanada.

miguel's eyebrow quirks in confusion and ever-growing irritation. with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you continue, "or maybe, just maybe, i had something else planned the whole time."

the atmosphere in the room crackles with frustration and impatience as miguel’s eyes narrow. he tries to unravel the truth behind your actions. "wanna tell me?" his tone orders you more than asks.

you meet his intense stare head-on, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "well, miguel, let's just say i wanted to test how you handle unexpected situations. we need to be prepared for anything, right?"

miguel's eyebrows furrow. "wh- testing me?” he shakes his head, baffled by your audacity. “por dios, is this some kind of game to you?"

you take another bite of the empanada, relishing in the flavorful distraction. "kinda,” you answer casually. “and you weren’t gonna take some time off today anyway so… i had to take matters into my own hands."

miguel looks seconds away from either throwing you against the wall or ripping the empanada from your hands. well, at least it gives a sense of how he might respond to what comes next.

“lyla, you can do the thing now,” you say before finishing your snack.

before miguel can ask what thing you’re talking about, a whirring sound comes from his wrist. a series of flashes and glitches flicker across the watch face. his eyes widen in confusion at the display. “what…” he murmurs, tapping at the screen lightly to try to see what’s going on. but his touch only worsens the glitching. he grits his teeth, pressing the seemingly-malfunctioning watch in aggravation.

“don’t worry,” you interject calmly. your reassurance earns you a frustrated glare. “the thing’s not broken… it’s just on–”

“lockdown.” lyla’s voice interrupts from miguel’s and your watches simultaneously. the ai is out of sight and at limited capacity for now, according to your carefully-planned programming. “the affected watches are under multiverse jump restriction for three hours. operation 'reel healing' is underway. happy movie watching, cuties….”

both watches’ screens fade to black, only to be replaced by the word "lockdown" in red and a countdown timer starting to tick away the three hours.

peter and jessica had warned you miguel might not respond well to this. a forced but well-intended work break, meant to give him some time off from stressing over the multiverse…. and to maybe get him to stop beating himself up over his tragic inter-dimensional mistake for one night.

are you interfering with spider society work? sure. will miguel hate your guts for a while? no doubt about it. but you just wanted to be a good friend. and good friends don’t let their friends sulk in their dark lair alone on father’s day.

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when miguel’s frustration finally erupts. without warning, miguel snatches you by the shoulders, claws tearing at your suit as he slams you against the wall. the impact against the wall jolts through your body, causing you to wince in pain.

"is this about the 'reel healing' nickname?" you try to joke through a winded gasp. "because peter and gwen were the ones who-"

miguel's grip on your shoulders tightens. all words clear from your mind, your survival mode subconsciously triggered. his voice is strained as he leans in close, shutting down your attempt to diffuse the situation.

"do you have any idea how this little stunt could backfire?" a clear concern lies in his words, but his rage at your actions seems a lot more obvious. his direct eye contact could burn holes into your head.

some regret gnaws at you, but your stubbornness wins out. “i'm pretty sure it won’t,” you retort. adrenaline courses through your veins.

miguel growls. his canines seem even sharper now that they’re right within bite-your-face-off distance. “we have a job to do–”

“and we’ll get back to it later,” you cut him off, trying not to groan at how miguel’s claws threaten to draw blood. “in case you haven’t noticed, we’re stuck here . we either gotta wait for something to happen or chill the fuck out. and even if hq has something come up, i got some people covering for us.”

the grip on your shoulders loosens ever so slightly. miguel’s glare demands answers.

“there’s a bypass,” you continue, “if things actually do go south. immediate contacts that will override the lockdown. but i got a roster of people on patrol and their backups.” gently placing your hands around miguel’s wrist, you finish. “and jess and peter are in charge while we’re gone. so maybe… lighten up a bit?”

for a brief moment, a quiet only broken by the movie in the background hangs heavy in the room. miguel releases his grip, shaking off your hold on his wrists and stepping back from the wall. his anger shifts to a mix of emotions.

inside his mind, miguel screams at you. lighten up, my ass. you dragged me out here for some… movie? intervention? god, what the fuck is this?

a glimmer of belief and hurt flickers in his still sharp gaze. he can barely look at you, staring anywhere but your face. regret starts to seep back into your thoughts. taking control from the control freak like this was beyond a bad idea. it was a violation of trust. regardless of how much progress you’d made with picking past miguel’s tough guy exterior, his open wounds were off limits.

miguel opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for the incoming insults and backlash. but for whatever reason, nothing comes out. miguel just shakes his head, muttering under his breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

your hands fall limply to your side. slight fatigue aches in your muscles. today’s mission and orchestrating everything to make this little get together possible is taking its physical and mental toll.

looking towards the screen, you observe a wedding day scene playing out—a rare, relatively blood-free moment in the godfather. although you haven't watched the movie – at least, not recently – your intuition tells you that this is one of the few upbeat scenes. it seems like the perfect opportunity to sit down and immerse yourself in the movie.

from the corner of your eye, you notice that miguel's attention is also drawn to the tv, his expression still clouded with an emotional storm.

"you… wanna sit down?" you suggest cautiously. "enjoy some empanadas and ruthless mafia violence? maybe talk about our days…?"

miguel looks back at you, his frown deepening at the sight of your small, nervous smile. the unspoken turmoil within him seems to wrestle with the idea.

but he chooses to pull away. put up barriers. he lets out a heavy sigh before turning away from you, retracing his steps down the hallway he came from. the distance between you widens in more than just the physical sense.

fatigue weighs even heavier on your shoulders, both physically and emotionally. it squashes your desire to go after him, to admit you stepped way out of line. yet, deep down, you wish he would stay. just to make the apartment feel less stifling than it’s growing to be.

"mig… wait," you call out weakly, the ache in your chest and body mirroring the ache in your voice.

the sound of your voice hangs in the air. miguel ignores it, opening the bathroom door and quickly slipping inside. the door swings shut with a loud click. miguel seals himself away from you and any chance of immediate resolution.

a suffocating sense of disappointment settles over you. how could you have been so stupid?

with a heavy sigh, you make your way towards the couch. the sounds of the movie and the scent of empanadas fill the air, but they fail to mask the pain and loneliness that lingers.

miguel’s left you with the weight of your actions.

and according to your watch, you have two hours, fifty-six minutes, and thirteen seconds to review just how foolish and self-centered you were to think making miguel o'hara watch a movie with you would make his father’s day any less shitty.

[siriusleee]

you're stunning

Rodolfo Para x f!reader For @glitterypirateduck's Fall4Rudy challenge. Prompt: It's your choice A/N: #6! Four more to go for my 10-part drabble series! The challenge ends in 2 days so I can do it lol. Although I may be a rebel and post one a day late, since I will be working the homecoming game on Friday. tags: borderline smut. nothing to explicit, but it's enough. To see others in this series, you can find them at my masterlist here.

Rudy doesn’t love like other men you’ve been with: a race to the end, to see who finishes first and forget about the other. He doesn’t even undress you quickly, instead opting to touch you above your clothes.

It’s a wonder the bed sheets haven’t gone up in flame from the heat rolling off the two of you; you’re sweating and panting before he’s even done anything other than touch you, his fingers tracing your jaw.

“I need you Rudy,” you practically beg, lips parting as his thumb traces the outline of your lip. You capture the tip of his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue and savoring the taste of him. 

You can see his pulse quicken, and you want to kiss him at his pulse point, like away the sweat that’s starting to form there. 

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Rudy whispers against your skin, sliding your shirt up, pulling it off of you. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask, hands wrapping around the hem of his white shirt, marveling at the contrast between the color and his skin as you tug it over his head. 

“You never called me Rudy.”

You never thought you needed to. The sleep is burnt from your body as Rudy hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down until you can kick them across the room.

Rudy shifts so that he’s kneeling between your knees; he bats away your hand when you try to reach for his belt buckle. His eyes linger on the stitches at your temple, the bruises you collect through each operation, the little scars picked up from everyday living. 

Your whole body bushes beneath his gaze. 

“You’re stunning; you know that?”

You’ve heard others say it - but not once had you ever felt like it was anything other than an excuse to move forward, but when Rudy says it you know he’s telling the truth.

Rudy takes his time with you, refusing to let you touch him until you’re nearly broken from the overwhelming feeling of him, and when he finally bury’s himself in you, he doesn’t fuck you. He holds you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, pressing into you enough to stretch you out, hands caressing every inch of your body he can reach.

He doesn’t stop when you come undone beneath him; he talks to you in slow Spanish, kissing you when it gets too much.

He doesn’t leave after he finishes, a rush of belt bucking and searching for socks. 

He presses a gentle kiss to the stitches on your temple, rolling you over so that your back is pressed tight against his chest, hands drawing soft circles on the sensitive skin of your stomach. Outside it’s dark, stars rolling across the sky, and you fall asleep again to the warmth of him.

[maryantihill-collective]

BLANKQUEER COINING: MERRYQUEER

☆ if the name exists, use orangeboxqueer or grapeburgerqueer ☆

A blankqueer stance made for us personally, but anyone who identifies with it can use it. Emoji(s): 🤡🪡 (merry), 🟧🟧🌈 (orangebox), 🍇🍔🌈 (grapeburger)

This Label Supports:

(Most) TransIDs (including ones like transharmful and transmentalillness) and TransID alternatives

Endogenic/Non-Traumagenic Plurals + Created/Willowgenic/Tulpa Plurals

Anti-Harassment/Proship/Profic

Para, CNC, kink & consensual contact (for those not listed in the anti section)

MUDs (Medically Unrecognized Disorders)

Fictosexual/Romantic + other Ficto attractions + F/Os

Non-harmful Parasocial Relationships

Fictional* Consang, Ins-Sys Consang, and Consang Roleplay (*this includes F/Os who are related to S/Is, as well as shifters who are/do shift(ing) to fictional worlds where their romantic/sexual/queerplatonic parter(s) is/are related)

Transition for non-harmful TransIDs/alt TransID labels

Ex-Radqueers

Ex-Antiradqueers

POSIC+ and PAISIC

Objectum

Controversal, confusing, "contradicting," and "cringe" LGBTQ+ identities (including mspec lesbians/gays, amab transmascs, afab transfems, xenogenders/xenoidentities, etc) + MOGAI/LIOM

All non-cult/non-harmful religion

RAMCOA survivors

Demonized disorders like NPD, AVPD, and BPD

Recovery as well as not wanting to recover

IRL Yanderes, IRL Hikikomoris, etc (as long as it doesn't hurt anybody)

Alterhumans, Other-Kin and Therians

Harmless Fults/Faux-cults

This Label Is Against:

Transition for harmful TransIDs/alt TransID labels (any IDs that may harm you or others, mentally or physically, such as transharmful, transabused, and transaddict)

Transrace or Trace, and especially transitioning for Trace identities [yes, we are poc by the way.] (this applies specifically to Trace, and not alternative labels)

Harmful Parasocial Relationships (like those that involve stalking the person of interest)

Genuine IRL Consang (Consang with actual members of your family (or body's family, if you're plural))

Antiship/Pro-Harassment

Cult Religions

Contact for the big 3 paras (pedo, zoo and necro* (*if not consented to beforehand)), and other parties that cannot consent

Conabuse and harmful Fults/Faux Cults

Adult-Minor Relationships (this applies to romantic or sexual relationships, abusive or harmful relationships, and/or relationships where romantic or sexual activities occur. all other relationships exempt from the previously stated conditions are fine)

This Label Is Neutral On:

Radqueer

The use of Tulpa as a term

Kin-For-Fun

Merryqueer is purely neutral on radqueer, meaning both anti radqueers and radqueers can use it. It's focused mainly on non-harmful identities (those that do not cause physical, psychological or sexual harm) and consensual activity.

Coined by Annie of Mary-Anthill Coll.

we have no dni. we block freely, and any assholes will be blocked on first interaction.

[mamadkhalik]

101 Cara Membebaskan Palestina

Sekadar membagikan apa yang ada di pikiran. Tak bermaksud menggurui, hanya ingin urun pikir dalam upaya pembebasan Palestina.

Sebelum mulai, kita dengerin lagu dulu biar semangat :

Cekidot :

1. Gerakan Sholat Subuh Berjamaah (GSJN)

Ada satu cerita yang cukup masyhur tentang sholat subuh. Alkisah seorang tentara israel setiap hari mondar-mandir di masjid saat subuh. Alasanya sederhana, kalau seandainya jamaah sholat subuh ramai seperti sholat jumat, maka kehancuran israel tinggal menunggu waktu. Mengerikan.

Bung Karno hanya butuh 10 pemuda untuk mengguncang dunia, umat Islam perlu menggalakan Gerakan Subuh Berjamaah untuk menghancurkan israel.

2. Dekat Dengan Al-Quran

Brigade Izzudin Al-Qassam memberikan contoh yang nyata bahwa kemenangan yang gemilang berasal dari kedekatan dengan Al-Quran.

Anak-anak Gaza di bombardir sana sini tapi memiliki ketenangan yang luar biasa. Mereka rutin membaca dan setoran hafalan.

Rekomendasi konten Al-Quran yang ringan tapi asyik. Quranreview.

3. Belajar Sirah dan Sejarah

Kisah Rasulullah Shalallahu alaihi wassalam adalah standar tinggi dalam beramal. Selanjutnya, kita perlu mendalami sejarah Islam dari masa ke masa untuk melengkapi gambaran dan pelajaran berharga bagi generasi selanjutnya.

Bisa dengerin podcast Ngaji Budaya Bang Amar

Bisa mampir Youtube Sirah TV Ustadz Asep Sobari

Kalau konten IG bisa ke Gen Saladin Bang Edgar Hamas.

4. Membumikan Adab dan Ilmu

Ust. Wido Supraha dalam sebuah forum online mengatakan, "Bagaimana Islam akan maju apabila kuliah zoom tidak oncam. Ini sederhana untuk menghormati dosen, guru, dan orang yang sedang bicara di depan forum" Perkataan itu singkat tapi menusuk di dalam hati.

Untuk memulai ini memang lama, bisa tipis-tipis membaca Ringkasan Ihya Ulumuddin atau Taskiyatun Nafs Said Hawwa. Selanjutnya perlu berguru dengan Ulama kredibel, bersanad secara tematik agar menambah experience yang nyata, karena mayoritas kita tidak terbentuk di lingkungan Pondok.

Perihal Ilmu, mengacu dari buku Model Kebangkitan Umat Islam, setelah selesai dengan taskiyatun nafs, kita perlu internalisasi dan eksternalisasi ilmu kepada masyarakat sebelum masuk ranah siyasah politik.

Untuk lebih jelasnya bisa mempelajari konsep Islamic Worldview dari Syed Naqib Al-Attas, Ustadz Hamid Fahmi Zarkasy, Asatidz Gontor-insists, Ust. Asep atau Intelektual Sosial Profetik pemikiran Prof. Kuntowijoyo.

5. Menghidupi Organisasi

Teringat perkataan dari senior, apa yang kita kerjakan di lembaga dakwah saat ini, jadikan sebagai bekal persiapan untuk naik ke level pengelolaan organisasi yang lebih tinggi. Ketika berada di puncak kepemimpinan, jadikan organisasi itu untuk memperjuangkan Islam dan Palestina.

Diksi menghidupi ini jangan dimaknai sempit tentang materi, tapi juga soal ide-ide terbarukan. Kita perlu mengakui lembaga seperti LDK, KAMMI mulai ketinggalan zaman untuk menjawab kebutuhan pemuda. Perlu adanya shifting pengelolaan tanpa meninggalkan ashalah dakwah kampus.

Aku rekomendasikan e-book dari activist class x FSLDK ini. Semoga terpantik.

6. Gerakan Boikot

Sebagai warga sipil biasa kita perlu mengkonsolidasikan kekuatan bersama dan gerakan boikot adalah solusinya. Saya menyarankan untuk fokus dengan gerakan boikot yang diinisiasi oleh BDS Movement. Mereka terstruktur, akademis, dan masif secara internasional. Banyak FAQ yang akhirnya menjawab pertanyaan kita. Untuk produk lain saya mengambil refrensi dari Bang Amar.

Follow akun BDS Indonesia

Podcast Refrensi Boikot oleh Bang Amar Risalah

7. Gunakan Gadgetmu

Saatnya kita FOMO dengan kebaikan. Saatnya kita nyampah di timeline untuk dapat Pahala. Saatnya kita sebarkan Palestina ke penjuru Followers kita. One Day One Palestine.

Rekomendasi bahan propaganda :

Flyers For Falastin

Paliclub

8. Yaudah Gerak Apa Aja Untuk Palestina

Intinya gerak aja. Ini posisinya israel udah nggak masuk akal. Bikin setiap agenda dikaitkan dengan Palestina. Hiking for Palestine, CFD for Palestine, Bookdate for Palestine, Run For Palestine, writing for Palestine (termasuk saya nulis ini)

Saatnya kita beraksi. Kaum rebahan, gen-z, alpha, milenial, k-popers, skena, senja, introvert, dan semua umat manusia di muka bumi.

***

Dari 101 cara, baru 8 yang bisa saya tulis, masih ada 93 lagi. Intinya, gemakan genderang pembebasa dan bersiap menjadi bagian pembebasan Palestina!

[caffeinated-eccentric-polymorph]

What is a para? I have seen the term a lot in madd circles and suspect is has to do with paracosms yet people use the term to refer to what seem to be like character/ ocs like an entity? What does it mean. Could u break down the common used terms in the madd community and perhaps some other kin things or give links or find where I might find information? -from someone who also has madd

Sure, with pleasure!

In short, a para is a character in your daydream. If I recall correctly, the term was created because "oc" didn't feel fitting, as madders often spend a lot of time daydreaming, and therefore most have a special bond with their characters.

As for some other madd terms, well! (in very simple terms once again)

A paracosm is a world/storyline you daydream about!

You might also find the terms immersive daydreamer and neuronarrator around. Those are terms for vivid daydreamers who's daydreams aren't maladaptive.

A parame is the "main character" of your daydream, the one you "fol.low" during.

A paraself is a version of you in your daydream.

For more about all this (more terms, resources,...), i'd like to redirect you to @acircusfullofdemons 's Ultimate Daydreamer's Guide , it's a great resource!

For kin vocab, it's quite large but I can give a few words of info ^^

Fictionkin, fictionfolk and isofic are terms for people who kin a character or pop culture creature.

Objectkin is similarly built: it is a term for people who kin objects.

Conceptkin follows the same pattern: term for people who kin concepts (like chaos, life, death, fear,...)

Otherkin is a word for the comm unity, a bit like alterhuman. It's an umbrella term.

Therians typically refers to people who kin animals existing on this Earth.

Kinsidering is a term reffering to discovering a new kin, thinking about it.

A mental shift refers to when you have a period of time during which you think like your kintype (more so than usual)

A phantom shift refers to a period of time during which you feel your phantom limbs, aka the limbs and body parts your kintype has, but your current form doesn't.

[taylor-titmouse]

"Kenta?"

"Hm?"

He turned toward the sound of Taki's voice, sitting beside him in the old shrine. A sudden spring rain fell in sheets through the open doors, and pelted the roof. The pair of them were safe and mostly dry, between Taki's mastery over the water, and the care of the small, shy spirit housed within. Though the roof leaked, none of it landed on its guests.

Kenta felt light fingertips graze his forehead and push the hair from his eyes. He'd let it grow too long, but it so rarely bothered him anyway.

"Why have you never asked me to grant you sight?" Taki asked, rather suddenly. "I am a god. I could do it any time, if you only asked."

Kenta was taken aback. He tilted his head. "Why should I ask you to do that?"

"Why? So you could see! So you could see me, and the world, and everything! Why shouldn't you ask me to do it?" Taki replied. He added, somewhat abashed: "That is why I asked. Why haven't you?"

Kenta turned forward again, to the cool air of the doors. It was morning. The smell of wet grass filled the air, and the mist of rain kissed his skin and clung to his hair. He listened to the para-para of water on the roof, and the shifting of Taki's robes, and his breath. He felt the physicality of his presence as an extension of his own body, sitting as close as they were, and there was that ever present something about Taki that set him apart from men, that could draw Kenta to him through any crowded street.

He reached for Taki's chest, and traced his way up to his neck, and his cheek. Taki leaned against his touch, warm and alive and soft.

"I don't know. I've never thought to," said Kenta. "Why don't you ask me again, fifty years from now? I should have an answer for you then."

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER NINE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

masterlist | previous | next chapter

CHAPTER NINE - FORGOTTEN MEMORIES & INEVITABLE TRUTH.

You summoned and stepped through another portal, the world around you twisted and shimmered like a mirage as you returned to the solitude of your residence in Surrey, England. The familiar scent of aged books and ancient relics greeted you as you crossed the threshold of the study once more.

Your ceremonial suit of armor shifted seamlessly back into your olden clothes as the punong babaylan (head priestess), marking the end of another night's service as Mayari’s avatar. The soft, silver glow of the moonlight bathed the room, casting eerie shadows on the bookshelves and arcane artifacts that lined your study. Mayari's divine presence filled the room once more, and you turned to face her as she materialized at your side.

"Salamat sa iyong paninilbihan ngayong gabi," Mayari spoke, her voice filled with gratitude like the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind. Both her luminous and blind eyes held a warmth that seemed to reach deep into your soul. "Nalalapit na ang kabilugan ng buwan sa mga susunod na linggo, kaya’t maghanda ka"

Thank you for your service tonight. The next full moon is approaching in a few weeks, so make the necessary preparations.

“Paghahandaan ko ito, aking diwata”, you replied with a nod, knowing that another night of rituals and magic awaited you. 

I’ll be ready, my goddess.

But as Mayari's words hung in the air, your thoughts were already drifting into the depths of your own mind. A nagging unease suddenly crept into your heart as vague, unsettling memories of the full moon from two months ago began to plague you like fragments of a forgotten dream. The furrowed brow and worried expression on your face did not go unnoticed by the moon goddess.

"May bumabagabag ba sa iyo, aking anak?" Mayari inquired, her silvery hair cascading like liquid moonlight around her shoulders.

Is something troubling you, my child?

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to voice your concerns. After all, you had come to trust Mayari with your life and your secrets. "Hindi ko magawang maalala ang tunay na wangis ni Darius,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Para bang ang alaalang iyon ay unti unting nawawaglit sa aking isipan"

I... I still cannot remember Darius’s face, not clearly. It's as if his memory is slipping away from me.

Mayari's eyes widened, and for a moment, a shadow of concern flitted across her radiant features. She reached out, her cool fingers touching your cheek in a soothing gesture. "Kaunting paghihintay pa, mahal kong Mira" she said gently. "Pinagtutulungan nating mapanumbalik ang iyong mga alaala nitong mga nakaraang buwan. Nalalapit na ang mga kasagutang ating hinahanap, kaya’t manalig ka"

You need to have patience, my dear Mira. We are working to restore your memories these past few months. We are nearing the answers you seek, so have faith.

But you couldn't let it go so easily. The thought of never being able to remember Darius's face, the warmth of his smile, or the love in his eyes was almost unbearable. You loved him with all your heart, and the fact that this man who had perished right before your eyes was now just a hazy figure in your mind didn’t sit well with you. It frightened you a great deal, and you needed answers as to why and how it happened.

"Ngunit bakit ito nangyayari sa akin?" you pressed, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. "Bakit hindi ko maalala ang kanyang wangis, Mayari?"

But why is this happening to me? Why do I forget his face, Mayari?

The moon goddess hesitated for a moment, her silvery eyes clouded with a sadness you couldn't quite comprehend. "Ikinalulungkot kong ang mga nangyayari sa iyo ay dulot ng pakikipagtulungan mo sa mga diwatang pinaglilingkuran ng iyong namayapang asawa," she finally spoke, her voice carrying a weight that seemed to pull at the very fabric of reality. "Hindi mo ito natatandaan, ngunit isang mintala ang iginawad sa iyo ng diwatang si Set bilang kaparusahan sa iyong pagiging tapat kina Darius, Anubis at sa Ennead” 

I’m afraid what’s happening to you is a consequence of you and your late husband’s alignment with Anubis and the Ennead, my dear. You do not remember it, but the god Set has cursed you as punishment for your choices.

Your heart sank at her words. Set, the god of chaos and disorder, was known for his ruthless punishments. You had been warned by Mayari of the dangers of dabbling in the affairs of the gods, but your love for Darius had driven you to help him in joining Anubis’s cause to prevent Set’s destruction from wreaking havoc on Earth. And now, it seemed, you were paying the price.

"Ginawa ito ni Set sa akin?" you whispered, feeling a chill run down your spine. "Anong klaseng mintala ito, Mayari? Ang makalimutan ang wangis ng lalaking aking pinakamamahal?!"

Set did this to me? What kind of curse is this, Mayari? To forget the face of the one I love?!

Mayari's gaze remained steady, but her voice quivered ever so slightly as she replied, "Isang makapangyarihang mintala na nagbubura sa iyong isipan ng wangis ng iyong pinakamamahal, at nag-iiwan ng isang huwad na alaala na hindi maipaliwanag. Isang mapaghiganting diwata si Set, at pinaparusahan niya ang kahit sinong umaanib sa kanyang mga kaaway."

It is a curse that erases the memory of your beloved's facade, leaving only a void in its place. Set is a vengeful god, and he does not take kindly to those who align themselves with his enemies.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away, unable to bear the weight of your own grief and despair. "Hindi ito maaaring mangyari," you muttered, your voice choked with emotion. "Pakiusap, Mayari, kailangang may gawin tayo."

I cannot let this happen. We must do something, Mayari, please.

Mayari's hand reached out to touch your shoulder, her touch gentle and comforting. "Narito ako para sa’yo, aking anak," she said softly. "Gagawa tayo ng paraan upang alisin ang mintalang iginawad sa’yo, ipinapangako ko iyan. Hindi kita pababayaan na mag-isa sa iyong pagdurusa"

I am here for you, my child. We will find a way to break this curse, I promise you. Until then, know that you are not alone in your suffering.

You nodded and accepted her answer, grateful for her support, though a lingering doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind. Something in Mayari's words, in the tremor of her voice, had struck you as odd. But you chose not to press further, not wanting to burden her with your doubts.

With a final reverent bow, you turned away from the moon goddess as she vanished from the study. The night had been eventful, but your duties as the avatar of Mayari were far from over. As you left the study and descended the grand staircase, the moon's silvery light bathed your path, and the mysteries of your past remained shrouded in darkness.

You made your way to your sanctuary in the master’s bedroom, magically shedding your ancient head priestess robes on the way in favor of the modern clothes you previously wore that night. As you lay in bed, the image of Darius Carter slipped further from your grasp, and tears welled in your eyes as you missed his presence the most. The weight of the curse bore down on you, but you were determined to undo Set’s punishment on you and avenge Darius’s death at his hands.

Outside, the moon bathed the world in its gentle light, a silent witness to the secrets and sacrifices of those who served the gods. And in the stillness of the night, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the challenges that awaited you in the days to come.

Meanwhile, as the chill of the London night embraced him, Steven Grant made his way through the bustling streets of the city. His thoughts were consumed by the delightful evening he had just experienced, still basking in the warmth of your company. He had just returned to his modest flat in London, a cozy haven amidst the cacophony of the city. It had been a night of revelatory conversation and shared laughter, all with the one person who had become a source of intrigue and affection in his life.

He couldn't help but gush to Marc about how the dinner went as they settled into the familiar rhythm of their shared existence.

"Marc, you wouldn't believe it," Steven exclaimed, a dreamy smile on his face. "Tonight has got to be the best night of my life ever"

Tell me about it. Marc’s voice echoed in Steven’s head, his voice slightly groggy as if he just awoke from his slumber in their shared headspace.

"It was splendid, mate," Steven enthused, stepping into the comfortable living room of their flat as his eyes met Marc Spector’s reflection in the nearby mirror. "Mira and I talked about almost everything under the sun - the history of Ancient Egypt, and even about her home country. She’s been an absolute delight."

Sounds like you had a fantastic time. Marc replied in his head with a hint of a smile, quietly listening to Steven's effusive commentary on their dinner companion. Despite being more reserved, cautious and always considering the potential consequences of their actions, Marc couldn't help but feel genuinely happy for Steven. Try as he might, he couldn't deny the genuine connection that had been forming between the two of you.

“I really did”, Steven said happily as he slowly changed into his indoor clothes. “She showed me the mockup of her upcoming exhibit, me! I mean, she must have shown it to all the tour guide applicants since it was a part of her evaluation, but still. And she has some really nice feedback from the guided tour I gave, even though I almost fainted…”

Marc listened intently to Steven rambling, appreciating the genuine happiness that radiated from him. It warmed him to know that his headmate’s budding relationship with you was flourishing. However, as Steven continued to gush about you, Marc's thoughts drifted toward the inevitable discussion that had been looming over them for some time.

That sounds wonderful, Steven. Marc replied, his voice tinged with a hint of approval. I'm glad you and Mira are becoming fast friends.

Steven's enthusiasm was contagious, and he seized the opportunity to broach a subject that had been on his mind for a while now.

"You know, Marc," Steven began cautiously, "I can feel how strongly you're drawn to her, and she seems to feel the same way about you. We can't keep avoiding this conversation forever."

Marc sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair as he knew this conversation between him and Steven was inevitable. He had always been more guarded as their shared existence had always been a complex circumstance that not many people can understand.

I know, Steven. Marc conceded, his voice tinged with frustration. But you know how I feel about this. I can't just bring her into our mess. What if she can't handle it? What if she leaves?

"You're selling her short, mate”, Steven shook his head in mild frustration, his British accent accentuating his exasperation. “She's shown nothing but kindness and understanding to us both, separately. You can't keep her at arm's length forever, I mean. Life's too short for regrets, and you should know that"

Feeling conflicted, Marc decided to avoid pursuing the topic altogether. He and Steven finally changed gears, allowing Marc to be on the driver’s seat of their shared body. Glancing at their shared desk, Marc noticed your calling card neatly placed there. It had been a parting gift from your delightful time together on the plane back to London, and after Steven already used it for his benefit, Marc had been unsure of what to do with it next. 

It had been a simple and innocent gesture on his end, inviting you to meet for coffee on Sunday. But with his conflicting feelings currently in the forefront, Marc simply cannot deal with seeing you again right now.

“I can’t do this”, Marc muttered, picking up the card and studying it for a moment. “I can’t meet her tomorrow.”

Why? She must be looking forward to it. Steven's eyebrows shot up in surprise from his reflection in the desk. Mate, don’t do this, you’re being very dramatic.

Ignoring Steven's protest, Marc’s fingers poised over his keypad. Briefly saving your phone number in his contacts, he then swiftly typed out a text message to cancel your plans for tomorrow. He pressed send on the message, and a small sense of accomplishment washed over him. The message was simple enough, but it carried the weight of Marc's internal struggle.

Hey, Marc Spector here. I’m really sorry to do this, but something urgent came up for me and Steven tomorrow. Rain check on our coffee lunch?

You really are a nutter, Marc. Steven sighed, shaking his head in disbelief as he retreated into the depths of their shared consciousness. You can't live your life in fear like this - give it a chance. Give her a chance.  

Feeling the weight of his alter's words, Marc sat there for a moment as he allowed himself a moment of reflection. His heart then raced with a mix of anticipation and anxiety, briefly second guessing his earlier actions. What had he just done? Had he been too ahead of himself and painstakingly obvious for pushing you away?

Of course, Marc, I hope it’s nothing too serious. We can definitely reschedule, just let me know. It's no problem at all.

Your reply loomed over his screen, prompting Steven’s words about your true depth of understanding to circle his inner thoughts once more. Marc couldn't help but give what his head mate said some thought: maybe he had been too cautious, too guarded. 

He could no longer deny his growing feelings towards you, and perhaps there will come a time when he can finally let you in. To let you see the complexity of his existence. After all, he had already taken a huge step toward bridging the gap between his two selves. 

And perhaps, just perhaps, you would be willing to meet him halfway.

The sun painted the London skyline with hues of gold and pink, heralding a new day for Marc Spector and Steven Grant. As the day's first light streamed through the window of their modest London flat, Marc awoke, the muddled memories of the previous night's recurring vivid dreams lingering in his mind.

He stretched, his muscles protesting the slumber's grip, and sat up in bed. In contrast to the Chicago life he once knew, London had become his new home, thanks to Steven. His British alter had embraced this city as his own, and Marc had slowly come to terms with that. Sometimes, he even found solace in the bustling streets and the gentle cadence of British life.

With a sigh, Marc swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his temples. Today, he decided to venture out to the nearby Tesco's to buy groceries for both him and Steven. It was a routine task that allowed him to have some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of their unique existence. 

As Marc strolled down the aisles of the supermarket, a sense of calm serenity washed over him. He felt in control, disconnected from the relentless turmoil of his mind. He picked up a few boxes of Twining’s, his hand momentarily steadying as he remembered that it was Steven's favorite.

But fate had something else in store. As Marc turned a corner, his heart leaped into his throat, and he felt as if the ground had been ripped from beneath him. There, standing in the fruit section, was you, dressed in a casual, cream-colored Sunday dress, your hair arranged in a messy bun. You were engrossed in selecting quality fruit, your laughter filling the air as you discussed your shopping choices with another young woman who he suspected to be your secretary. William “Bill” Jones on the other hand, the middle-aged man Marc had been introduced to not long ago, was on your other side, observing the girl banter before him with a polite smile.

Panic surged through Marc as he ducked behind a shelf of canned goods. He watched you from afar, hidden in the shadows as his heart pounded in his chest. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring him face to face with you once more, against his wishes. What were you doing here? Why was fate so intent on entwining your lives?

Steven, lurking in the corners of Marc's consciousness, was equally bewildered and frustrated by this unexpected encounter. 

Marc, mate, we need to get out of here. He muttered urgently, remembering Marc’s not so good alibi on today’s canceled coffee lunch. This is not looking good for us.

But Marc couldn't tear his eyes away from you. He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your presence. With a reluctant sigh, he murmured back to Steven, "Just a few more minutes. I need to see what they're doing."

As you continued your shopping, oblivious to Marc's hidden presence, he discreetly trailed you like a silent specter. His military training and mercenary instincts had honed his ability to remain unseen, a skill that now served him well in this clandestine pursuit. The tightrope he walked between curiosity and caution threatened to snap at any moment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you and your companions checked out with a massive amount of shopping bags before heading for the exit. Marc hurriedly paid for his groceries and followed you from a distance out onto the bustling streets of London. His heart pounded in his chest as he kept a safe distance, careful not to alert you or anyone else to his presence.

To Marc's astonishment, you led them to a place he hadn't expected: St. Mungo's, a homeless shelter that he and Steven had heard of but never visited. They collectively watched from a discreet vantage point outside the window as you walked inside with a radiant smile on your face. Bill and the other young woman followed, their expressions mirroring your own.

From the shadows, Marc and Steven observed the scene unfolding before them. You greeted everyone in the shelter with genuine warmth and kindness, your happiness infectious. It was as if a ray of sunshine had descended upon the homeless souls gathered there, dispelling the darkness that clung to their lives.

As you began distributing the numerous shopping bags filled with groceries, both Marc and Steven felt an unfamiliar tug at their hearts. It wasn't just attraction or curiosity anymore; it was something deeper, more profound. Your selflessness and compassion resonated with them in a way they hadn't anticipated. 

"Steven, do you see this?” Marc was the first to break the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “She's… she's incredible. The way she cares for those people."

Aye, mate, she’s a literal ball of sunshine. Steven, too, was moved by the scene before them. It’d be hard not to fall for her after seeing this. 

Marc nodded, his eyes never leaving you. Their shared realization hung in the air, binding them together in a newfound purpose. As you continued your acts of charity inside St. Mungo's, Marc and Steven knew that their lives had taken an unexpected turn. They were no longer mere observers; they were drawn into the orbit of someone who had touched their souls in ways they couldn't explain.

It was a revelation that left Marc both awestruck and conflicted, unsure of how to navigate the intricate web of emotions that had entwined his and Steven's lives with yours. As he continued to watch you from the shadows, Marc could no longer deny the undeniable truth. 

He was falling for you, and there was no turning back.

END OF CHAPTER NINE.

masterlist | previous | next chapter

[peachdues]

peach oh my LAWD phanta 3 was so good 🥺. Would you consider explaining the title a little more? i read the para at the end with it and i kind of got it, but i wanted to pick your brain a little too!

(I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to this pls don’t hate me too much).

First, thank you!! Second, I love this question bc honestly, the Phanta brain rot is still real. More below the cut since I went off lol.

spoilers below.

Almost everything in Phantasmagoria is, well, a phantasmagoria — an exhibition of optical effects and illusions; a constantly shifting complex succession of things seen or imagined.

Nearly every part of the story — character interactions, perspectives, plot points — is distorted in some way, whether it be by Wisteria/alcohol, grief, or just individual stubbornness.

The Wisteria is probably the most obvious example, as it literally distorts Reader’s perceptions of both herself, her environment, and her interactions with others

I was particular with not describing the Reader physically (even beyond her clothing) past that initial scene in Part I when she goes to the Kizuki for the first time with Mitsuri. When she does describe herself, she speaks of herself as a “raving princess” and “effervescent” — but nothing truly descriptive.

Why does it matter? Contrast that with the comments Sanemi makes about how he “wouldn’t have known it was her” (which later we find out is literally true); he also tells her, point blank, she looks gaunt, and she has no reaction whatsoever — not even an internal reaction. That’s the wisteria distorting her self-image, until she finally looks in the mirror at the end of Part II and fully sees herself for the first time in a while — and realizes what it has done.

But the Wisteria distorts other things too, namely, the appeal of the club/rave life that Reader throws herself into. At first, she calls it a paradise — it’s her escape from both her heartache and from herself in general. The club then distorts her perception of others — namely, Sanemi, like when she describes him as “menacing” under the club lights, and yet the flashback that immediately follows is one of the saddest in the series — and it shows that Sanemi is hurting just as much as she is. But the wisteria distorts everything around her, so she’s only seeing what she wants to see. Yet, when the illusion starts to crack, what happens? She panics — she describes the Kizuki as too loud, too claustrophobic; the Wisteria quite literally leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

The other major example of a phantasmagoria in the story is its main theme — grief. Anyone who has been up close and personal with grief can probably attest to the way it quite literally changes how you view everything — even if that means it narrows your perception (I.e. distorts it). Both Reader and Sanemi are grieving significant losses, and those losses make them blind to the other’s suffering in return. It’s not so much miscommunication as it is two kids who were forced to bear the weight of the world way too fast.

That grief then continues to distort their reality, but not in the sense that they’re misremembering events. Everything they say happened, actually happened. Y/N was abandoned by Kyojuro and Sanemi; but she distanced herself from them first, and she also abandoned Sanemi when he needed her. Neither of the boys were there for her while her mother was sick and when she died; but they didn’t know until it was too late. Sanemi did return her feelings 100% at the train station; but he was so overwhelmed and reeling from Genya’s death that he reacted poorly. Sanemi did see Y/N that day at the crosswalk; he just didn’t recognize her. Y/N was isolated after her mother died, but Sanemi was desperately trying to find her the whole time.

Thus, everything happened exactly the way both Y/N and Sanemi said it did, but their grief prohibited them from stepping back and seeing the broader picture — so their interpretation, though objectively true, is still distorted. This translates into other things as well, such as Y/N constantly misinterpreting Sanemi’s motives and efforts to make things right between them, because otherwise, it wouldn’t square with the understanding she has of what happened and why. She thinks he’s using her for convenience; he’s actually letting her use him in any way she wants just so he can have a chance to take care of her. She accuses him of being possessive because he feels entitled to her affection, but he actually loves her (deeply), and is terrified of losing her, because she is quite literally wasting away in front of him. She says he doesn’t care about her, yet she won’t let him. He tries to talk to her about everything right after they start hooking up, yet she refuses to engage. She runs away. She’s cold, and she shuts him down harshly even when he tries to offer her bare minimum affection and care (this also is supposed to contrast with what we know as the Reader, which is that she is still very much in love with him). We also find out that Sanemi spent every other weekend taking flowers to her mother’s grave — again, shattering that illusion she’s created in her mind that he doesn’t care about her.

It’s not until they finally hash everything out in the kitchen at Tengen’s that both realize they’ve been focusing on one narrow part of a much larger picture, and that they’ve both let their grief blind themselves to one another. When Y/N finally steps back and looks at the whole instead of the part, the illusion shatters. Love is the final phantasmagoria. Y/N realizes that she’s mistakenly believed she was running away from love (and thus, Sanemi) only to realize that not only has she been running in circles, but Sanemi has been running opposite of her the whole time. They’re two sides of the same coin; they were bound to crash into one another at some point.

This is just like, a bird’s eye overview of the mind map that I drew out in my journal for Phanta, and I’m sure I’m leaving something out. If y’all have any thoughts, I’m always happy to hear them (seriously).

Thank you for the ask, and I apologize that I went off the deep end lmao.

[roses-bah-garden]

can we claim artificer and paladin? :)

hi! here you are, 2 d&d packs for you.

a new flower has blossomed! 🌹

feminine artificer + androgynous paladin ... [LVL 4 PACK]

══════════════════

name(s) ;; beetle, talia, scarab, vex, annemarie

pronouns ;; she/her, gold/golds, bronze/bronzes, rust/rusts, shx/hxr

age ;; 35

species ;; gnome

gender(s) ;; demigirl

orientation(s) ;; pansexual lesbian

role(s) ;; socializer, online manager, ADHD symptom holder

source ;; brainmade (inspired by the world of dungeons and dragons)

sign-off(s) ;; – ⚙ ; – Artificer ; ⚙🪲

══════════════════

appearance ;; 3'6", with a lean muscular build. light olive skin. black hair in a bob. dark brown eyes. steampunk style. see below for picrew.

personality ;; confident and competent. she is creative, technologically savvy, and intelligent. gold can be egotistical and rude at times.

══════════════════

likes ;; puzzles, campfires, figure drawing, roller coasters

dislikes ;; sugary foods, being bored, things that are deemed "childish"

possible front triggers ;; blogging, hyperfocus

══════════════════

cisid(s) ;; guild merchant background, artillerist, rock gnome, cisADHD

transid(s) ;; transAmputee (right lower arm), transProsthetic (cannon arm)

kink/fetish/para(s) ;; robophilia

══════════════════

name(s) ;; zuriel, uriel, azria, zinnia, ezra

pronouns ;; they/them, ey/em, ve/vem

age ;; 30

species ;; aasimar

gender(s) ;; pangender

orientation(s) ;; demisexual, panromantic

role(s) ;; protector

source ;; brainmade (inspired by the world of dungeons and dragons)

sign-off(s) ;; – 🛡 ; – Paladin ; 🛡🕊

══════════════════

appearance ;; 6'2" with an average to large build. deep brown skin. long, curly black hair. eyes with shifting hues. large facial scar. wears plate armor. see below for picrew.

personality ;; kind and caring. despite their size, tries to blend in and shrinks away from social settings.

══════════════════

likes ;; seafood, home-cooked meals, world religion

dislikes ;; violence, modern art, cursing in public

possible front triggers ;; feeling unsafe

══════════════════

cisid(s) ;; oath of devotion, city watch background, cisBlack

transid(s) ;; transDating, darlGroomer, transHarmed, transPTSD, transDPD

kink/fetish/para(s) ;; masochism, biastophilia, zeusophilia

[thebrightestlodge]

I'm currently watching Mandy because I recall you really liked it, and it's so cool to recognize so many details I find in your art and Godcleaver! It makes it even more interesting! If you feel inspired to say some things that you found particularly inspiring, I do want to hear! But you don't have to! I just wanted to thank you for making me discover this movie!

I must warn, it isn't even a "I really like it". It's a "rewired me on a level to the point of it's jsut my world". I'm glad it can be recognized as a huge influence! It's my fav movie so it's very near and dear to me, I have two old art pieces for it I did even (I might recolour the first pic and redraw the second). I'm glad you discovered it! It's really underrated for sure.

As for inspiration? Putting it under a read more because it will be insanely rambling and spoilers but know this is like ...a movie that is so important to me and IS me

There's a lot to the film that really speaks to what you see in my art. Music being it's own breathing heaving beast, a silent participant in the plot. The use of violent visceral colours like I'm staring at a bruise under blacklight that scratches such specific parts of the brain that frames this in an alien way, even if it's "the real world". Characters not being bad got being rightously angry and it drives them to the point of frenzy.

Dead wife/sad man stories are incredibly boring but something about this really spins the framing to the point I wouldn't even say it's one of those movies. Mandy is so fleshed out and important. We know who she is, we know she's had an incredibly horrible life before we met her/she met Red, but even with it, we see the sort of quiet cool person she is. She's someone we want to know. Dead partners in movies are so bland that we really in a way can't figure why we want to avenge them. We FEEL for her, we know who she is so the weight of her dead hits harder than anything. The death scene is incredible too, where it's jsut the throbbing synth, no sounds beyond that. We the the sleeping bag shaking and thrashing and we know what's happening, but nothing is ever exploitative on her part. We view the scene through the spectators and all their winding emotions, from Red's horror, the cultist's glee, the young girl, and Jeremiah's silent anguish and hate.

Mandy's dream sequence and the scene of ehr and Red talking of the starlings, another visit into these characters worlds, says so much without forcing a backstory. Red is almost an interesting foil here. We have just enought to figure what sort of character he is. He maybe was military/para-military and he has a drinking issue (by the scenes of him refusing a beer and him looking in the bathroom for a secret vodka bottle). He's a blank enough slate though that it let's us get to be the ones to experience Mandy. He truly loves and cares for her and we get to feel it because in how he is written and how scenes between them are shot, we ARE Red, with our own issues brought in.

Now to the meat of this situation. Mandy's death really is what makes the movie special because in how it's written and even stated by Panos Cosmatos himself, she IS the film. When Mandy dies, we no longer exist in our world. Mandy has moved into a another plane. She is Galactus and has devoured our world and we live in hers. The movie's sharp grinding as we start to peak into the phantasmagorical horror shifts because Mandy is being affected. When she gets high, everything is warped. When she dies, plots are set in motion.

My aggressive belief is when Red tastes the Biker's swill, Mandy takes him over. Not to say Red wasn't first motivated in revenge! He's the one to seek out his old friend and his weapon, he forges The Beast, he drives out to fight the bikers. We see though in the face of all this, he's jsut so emotional about it. His haunting response after Mandy dies, stumbling into the house and then the howling and chugging in the bathroom. When he's chained up and nailed to the floor in the house the bikers take over, he's jsut sobbing. Even fighting those two bikers, he all mania and emotion tearing them up. The moment he tastes the swill though? Something shifts. When he faces the main biker, there's no emotion, jsut quiet stalking, until the mention of "SHE'S ...STILL ...BURNING!"

Theory continues, we see Mandy in visions from Red, these nightmare shots of her rotting away, her adrift in the lake we see them in in the beginning, and extracting a jewel from an animal's corpse. It's like she speaks from whatever void she has now taken. The book Mandy reads is made for the movie, BUT I managed to track the fake cover. A story of a man stealing the power of witches stolen from a she-wyrm. A lone female warrior trudges to stop him. Fits the theory enough. When Red finds the Chemist, inferred to the the creator of the sludge, the way he speaks to Red is interesting. We don't have enough fo Red's character to know, but we have enough of Mandy's to make this scene interesting.

Chemist: Jovan Warrior, sent forth from the eye of the storm

-Mandy mentions in the beginning of her favourite planet being Jupiter, especially because of the eternal storms. Jove was one of the many names of the Roman god Jupiter.

Chemist: Oh man, they wronged you! Why they gotta be like that? You exude a cosmic darkness ...

-This is definitely inference because, as said, it's not like Red can't experience this, but it's so pointed. Mandy, destroyed by this cult that saw something in her, and the starling story, and the dream of the dead deer fetus. Something in her sits, dark and heavy, like the music tracks.

Red does not speak this whole time, but the Chemist talks as if there's conversation. The Chemist, so shot into another existence, maybe he IS talking with Mandy, on another level we can't comprehend. He sees the folding of worlds

When we go to find the cultists, another interesting thing comes up. The one cultist who never really comes off as feeling purposeful and involved is the young girl. The one who is willing to let Jeremiah blow her head off, the one he calls for after being upset about seeing Mandy. When Red kills Swan, the girl just watches. Mandy did see her there and maybe a kindred spirit of sorts, two people violently affected by events then and now in their lives. Maybe it's because she wasn't as malicious, who knows. Maybe it's Mandy who spares.

And finally, the last confrontation ...

In a way, I think Mandy killed Jeremiah first. His seduction and obsession, trying to impress her. Mandy is sent ROCKETING with how high she is and the scene where he speaks with ehr, their faces constantly melded, some sort of different thing is happening. Sure it's style for the movie and perhaps I can't put into words, but "You're a special one, Mandy" has meaning here. When he finally sheds his coat and is front of her, naked and showing her whatever he thinks passes for the divine, she laughs. It's a chuckle into a laugh into a cackling furious howl, ebcause we're seeing she's knowing she's pissing him off ow. This moment, he's crushed in front of his constant followers. He's embarrassed. In the spirit, I think he dies here, it's the first time someone tells him no and ridicules him.

In our final confrontation, it's the first time since the sludge, we hear him speak. A garbled, laid-over second voice

"The psychotic drowns ...while the mystic swims ...

You're drowning. I'm swimming."

When ahd our last Mandy dream already happen. Mandy taking a jewel from some great beast. This is the final act of revenge, killing the last monster. Jeremiah's desperation to make it up, but there's no emotion facing this, no mania or sadness. Red crushes his head, the garbling speaking

"I am your god now"

The movie ends with Red driving off. We see Mandy next to him in the Camaro and we see a vision. A shot of teh first time they met. And with all we know and all we've seen, this is finally the end. The manic iconic grin of Red looking to her as we driveoff into this alien fantasy landscape. The final bit of the film stating they are reborn into this carnal new world. They become one here finally.

And I mean, you can add your trans narratives in here, or even just state they are trans. Something about the total take of bodies, two sharing in one body, being whatever you choose to headcanon them as. I don't remember the thoughts I had on this, will edit when I remember, but I think it's a very trans film.

We're swallowed into this world of Mandy's. I know Red wears the Tiger shirt but I think Lizzie represents Mandy more. The tiger set loose into the Pacific Northwest is jsut what it is. We're watching her and Red's love become one huge angry beast, their love isn't corrupted. A frenzy and compassion and caring between two broken people that becomes so ravenous after this trauma, it takes chunks out of this world and rebuilds it, sharpens its fangs so it can devour the violators who encroached. A winding grizzled thing that pulses like the beatof the soundtrack. I jsut think it's a cool movie, sorry for any tangents or my being incoherent when talking about it.

Stream this, sound of the summer

[theforbiddeneden]

Metal Hammer issue 388 (18/05/2024) - The 100 Songs that Changed the World

100 SLEEP TOKEN

The Summoning

(TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN, 2023)

The meteoric rise of Sleep Token caught us all by surprise. At the start of 2023, the mysterious masked band were one of the metal underground's buzziest names. Led by enigmatic vocalist Vessel, they were a band to watch, for sure, but firmly attracted the niche passion of a cult following.

A ascensão meteórica do Sleep Token nos pegou de surpresa. No início de 2023, a misteriosa banda mascarada era um dos nomes mais badalados do metal underground. Liderada pelo enigmático vocalista Vessel, eles eram uma banda para ficar de olho, com certeza, mas atraíam firmemente a paixão de nicho de seguidores cult.

Then came the song that would change everything. On consecutive days in early January, the band released two singles from their third album, Take Me Back To Eden: the burning, crashing Chokehold, followed by The Summoning – and it was the latter track that would turn them into an Earth-conquering, expectation-shattering phenomenon.

Então veio a música que mudaria tudo. Em dias consecutivos no início de janeiro, a banda lançou dois singles de seu terceiro álbum, Take Me Back To Eden: o ardente e estrondoso Chokehold, seguido por The Summoning – e foi esta última faixa que os transformaria em um fenômeno avassalador e quebrador de expectativas.

Veering between depraved tech metal, soulful vocals and shimmering electronics, an enormous, hymnal chorus gave way to an Earth-shifting breakdown and screams. In intricate and groove-heavy, The Summoning was more like three songs seamlessly crafted into one genre-fluid modern masterpiece. And it’s still hard to turn out to play: a bending, first-trap, funk outro that went viral on TikTok, turning the internet into a lusty puddle. Suddenly, Sleep Token were the most talked-about band on the planet.

Oscilando entre o metal técnico depravado, vocais soul e eletrônicos cintilantes, um enorme refrão himnal deu lugar a uma quebra de ritmo que abalou a Terra e gritos.

Intrincado e cheio de groove, The Summoning era mais como três músicas perfeitamente elaboradas em uma obra-prima moderna e fluida de gênero. E ainda é difícil não dançar: um outro* funk envolvente que viralizou no TikTok, transformando a internet em uma poça de desejo. De repente, o Sleep Token era a banda mais comentada do planeta.

*Outro: indica que a música está chegando ao fim*

“THERE ARE HINTS OF EARLY SLIPKNOT THERE” Corey Taylor

“HÁ TRAÇOS DO INÍCIO DO SLIPKNOT ALI”

Corey Taylor

“It took me three listens of [The Summoning] to realise that when they do that whole psychedelic section at the end, that it’s actually the same chorus as it was before, only in a completely different way.” Evanescence’s Amy Lee told Revolver. “And I love it even more for that. I thought they just went a whole new direction and wrote a new part, and then I was like, ‘Wait, that’s the same… but not at all.’”

“Levei três audições de [The Summoning] para perceber que quando eles fazem aquela seção psicodélica no final, na verdade é o mesmo refrão que era antes, só que de uma maneira completamente diferente.” Amy Lee, do Evanescence, disse à Revolver. “E eu amo ainda mais isso. Achei que eles simplesmente tinham ido em uma direção completamente nova e escrito uma nova parte, e então fiquei tipo, 'Espera, é a mesma coisa… mas não é.'”

Sleep Token weren’t the most obvious choice for a commercial breakthrough. The success of The Summoning, an unconventional, seven-minute, brutal shapeshifter, bucks just about every music industry trend there is.

O Sleep Token não era a escolha mais óbvia para um avanço comercial. O sucesso de The Summoning, um metamorfo brutal e não convencional de sete minutos, desafia praticamente todas as tendências da indústria musical.

“It’s going to do a lot of different places, and I think there isn’t any other band out there right now that’s able to do that,” Judas Priest frontman Rob Halford said earlier this year.

“Vai a muitos lugares diferentes, e acho que não há nenhuma outra banda agora que seja capaz de fazer isso,” disse Rob Halford, vocalista do Judas Priest, no início deste ano.

The Summoning set a chain reaction in motion that was unprecedented in modern metal. In just a few weeks, the band saw their Spotify figures jump from the thousands into the millions. To date, the track has been streamed more than 110 million times on Spotify and 19 million on YouTube. On release, Take Me Back To Eden went straight in at No.3 in the UK and was the most streamed metal album of 2023. When the band announced a show at Wembley Arena, it sold out in 10 minutes. Earlier this year, they left the metal-heavy roster of Spinefarm Records for RCA, the home of mainstream megastars Justin Timberlake and rapper Doja Cat.

The Summoning desencadeou uma reação em cadeia sem precedentes no metal moderno. Em apenas algumas semanas, a banda viu seus números no Spotify saltarem de milhares para milhões. Até o momento, a faixa foi transmitida mais de 110 milhões de vezes no Spotify e 19 milhões no YouTube. No lançamento, Take Me Back To Eden estreou direto no número 3 no Reino Unido e foi o álbum de metal mais transmitido de 2023. Quando a banda anunciou um show na Wembley Arena, esgotou em 10 minutos. No início deste ano, eles deixaram o elenco pesado de metal da Spinefarm Records para a RCA, casa de megastars do mainstream como Justin Timberlake e a rapper Doja Cat.

“In heavy music, or even in just rock, even in the last decade or 15 years, there’s so few stories of bands ever breaking through,” says Health bassist and producer, John Famiglietti, who supported the band at Wembley and sees Sleep Token’s success as proof metal still can resonate on a massive scale. “This is one of the few times I’ve seen a band go from a fucking club to an arena in six months. And I don’t know the last time that happened.”

“Na música pesada, ou mesmo apenas no rock, nos últimos 15 anos ou mais, há poucas histórias de bandas que se destacaram” diz o baixista e produtor do Health, John Famiglietti, que apoiou a banda no Wembley e vê o sucesso do Sleep Token como prova de que o metal ainda pode ressoar em grande escala. “Esta é uma das poucas vezes que vi uma banda passar de um clube de merda para uma arena em seis meses. E não sei a última vez que isso aconteceu.”

It’s worth pointing out that in the social media era where celebrities and artists are more accessible than ever, Sleep Token have achieved all of this on their own terms. To date they’ve barely done any press, while their masked mystique is all part of the allure. Last year, fans reacted with outrage when bassist III’s identity and birth certificate were allegedly leaked online, seemingly leading to a decision to wipe the band’s Instagram.

Vale a pena destacar que, na era das redes sociais em que celebridades e artistas são mais acessíveis do que nunca, o Sleep Token alcançou tudo isso em seus próprios termos. Até agora, eles quase não deram entrevistas, enquanto seu misticismo mascarado é parte de todo o charme. No ano passado, fãs reagiram com indignação quando a identidade e a certidão de nascimento do baixista III foram supostamente vazadas online, levando aparentemente a uma decisão de apagar o Instagram da banda.

“There are hints of early Slipknot there” Knot vocalist Corey Taylor told The Allison Hagendorf Show in 2023, thinking back to the early internet days before Slipknot removed their masks. “At first, if we were masked, you just got nothing. This is what you get, you figure it out. We’ll let the music speak for ourselves.’”

“Há traços do início do Slipknot ali,” disse o vocalista do SlipKnot, Corey Taylor, ao The Allison Hagendorf Show em 2023, lembrando os primeiros dias da internet antes do Slipknot remover suas máscaras. “No começo, se estivéssemos mascarados, você não recebia nada. Isto é o que você tem, você descobre. Vamos deixar a música falar por nós mesmos.”

Already, Sleep Token are being mentioned in the same breath as potential future Download headliners Ghost, Gojira and Architects. The only difference? Sleep Token have managed to ascend to the arena level those bands are in a fraction of the time. Metal needs new superstars who will push things forward, innovate and keep the scene relevant – and with Sleep Token we have a band we can believe in. DL

Já se fala que o Sleep Token está sendo mencionado no mesmo nível de potenciais futuros headliners do Download como Ghost, Gojira e Architects. A única diferença? O Sleep Token conseguiu ascender ao nível das arenas em uma fração do tempo que essas bandas levaram. O metal precisa de novas superestrelas que impulsionem as coisas adiante, inovem e mantenham a cena relevante – e com o Sleep Token temos uma banda na qual podemos acreditar. DL

Fontes:

Metal Hammer 388, click here Magazine Scanners, click here Portuguese translation theforbiddeneden Transcription English Version from theforbiddeneden