#sydney heavy metal

[redlettermediathings]

[sonic-gonzo]

Saturday past at Centennial Park Sydney Australia - SLIPKNOT (250323) 

[annionebutme]

Shit lighting because its bed time but i just got done with my jacket for Babymetal. The chosen 7 skulls but they're fox skulls and it says human god instead of fox god. I really liked the chosen 7 and think fox skulls are weird and cool so I have been wanting to do this for a while. Happy I got the chance!

[thingsihavedoneandenjoyed]

Got a pyrefly at pyrefly. He's articulated, can tailbang.

[thrashntreasure]

Ep15 Audrey II: This Time It's Personal w/ Ryan Touzell! (Brave Today)

This week, Aaron has kicked Gareth out of the studio but is instead joined by his oceanic mate, Ryan Touzell from Sydney Metal band, Brave Today. Meanwhile, Ryan takes a snip of Little Shop of Horrors, whilst Aaron circles Periphery II: This Time It's Personal. www.facebook.com/bravetoday -- https://open.spotify.com/artist/5Cw9Smxnnin5V5Qoxp7dMs -- twitter.com/bravetodayau

[l4long-winded]

i really wanna see carmy groveling 🤭 might be fun, after a fight or something

how cruel... i like the way you think! i tried to write him as close to his character here while still adding in that groveling element. i hope i've done it justice!

o.s. a guilty heart's plea(s)

summary: carmen's said some unforgivable things to you. and yet here he is at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: as much as i pride myself in my ability to write scenes and descriptions, i still struggle a lot with making dialogue sound good while flowing with my writing. i think this has been good practice for me to really get inside this character's head and see what he could possibly say with a prompt as heavy as this. this took me about a week to write so i really hope i gave it the time and energy it deserves. thank you all for reading and feedback is always welcomed, appreciated, and encouraged!

warnings: cursing, angst, established relationship, implied smut, reminiscing, they're on a break, inner monologue, carmen's pov, rambling, self-loathing, carmen pleading, inability to express feelings, apologies, missed calls, insecurities, acts of service, sydney sweeney mention, smoking, somewhat happy ending (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,132

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

Carmen knocks on the screen door ahead of him. It’s his seventh time doing so, the clattering and aggravating sound of metal reverberating against the second door behind that one. Dust coats his knuckles because it transferred from the opaque metal, a small spot shinier than the rest of the door because he continued to rap at the same area. Maybe he should clean it for you later if you actually decide to speak to him again. His hands fidget at his sides, clenching and releasing, staring blankly as he thinks of all the times he’s come over. For his first initial visit, you unlocked the door, gave him a cautious glance over your shoulder, and then led him inside. During the second time, you held his hand as you stepped past the threshold, squeezing it in reassurance.

On Valentine’s Day, when he surprised you with an assortment of flowers from the farmer’s market, you greeted him with a deep kiss, tugging the collar of his shirt to pull him inside of your house. He didn’t show any resistance, blindly following your lead, dropping off the flowers onto your couch as your hands lifted his shirt, and your mouths departed from one another for a smidgen of a second before they found each other again, more impassioned and desperate.

“Open the door, come on, I’m sorry,” he says, more so to himself than your screen door. He’s been close to shouting at it this entire time, making his pleas, encouraging you to open it for him so he can have a discussion with you face-to-face.

He’s called you plenty of times. Each one has either rang for as long as the line allowed or went straight to voicemail. Two weeks have passed without seeing each other. Two long weeks of unanswered text messages he’s sent day by day and missed calls clogging up your phone’s notifications. You’re ignoring him and he knows he deserves it, guilty as the hand in the cookie jar, but he still can’t shake this overwhelming feeling inside of him to see you again. The albums dedicated to you in his gallery are not enough to satisfy this. His fingers twitch every time he swipes at an image and relives the sensation of running them along your skin. That’s when his nose begins to miss the scent that clings to your neck. That’s when his ears long to hear the lilt of your laughter and that particular way you say his name. That’s when his tongue rejects the nicotine and implores him for a taste of your chapstick, or the bubblegum flavor lingering in your mouth greeting him after a shift at work, or the giggles you fall into as he chases the subtle pecks you graciously feed him.

The door behind the one he’s attending to opens. There you are. He can’t see you since the sun is positioned right behind him, warming his back as it sets into the background. At most, he makes out the silhouette of your frame, recognizable to his eyes as he’s acquainted himself with every curve and slope of you, but he’s aware you fully see him on the other side. He wonders if you’re able to tell how little he’s slept since a look in the mirror this morning painted the picture of an exhausted man through dark rings under his eyes and a slackened jaw.

“What do you want, Carmen?” You ask. Not Carmy. Not Bear. Not any of that cheesy shit Richie pokes fun at him for. Carmen. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved to hear the sound of your voice or offended he’s lost every sweet moniker you’ve bestowed upon him.

“To talk,” he explains quickly, “I just want to talk. If you want me to fuck off, then,” he inhales sharply. It would kill him if you told him to fuck off, but he’s also not about to make you uncomfortable for an issue he caused. “Then I’ll fuck off.”

Unlike Carmen, you’re not rapidly firing away sentences in response to him. You’re quiet for a beat and it’s rather agonizing for him because even though there’s only a door separating the two of you, you’re still so far out of his reach. He’s tempted to cup his hands over his eyes and look past the individual holes of the door to check if you’re still there.

“Go ahead,” you say, interrupting his thoughts and refuting his fear you’ve stalked back inside your living room.

“Talk.”

He gulps. He was hoping to at least do this without a barrier in the way, but he’s not about to fumble the one opportunity and chance you’ve given him after two weeks of nothing. He’d be a fool to.

“Fuck… I…” Well, this is off to a great start. He tries to think about the texts he’s sent. He had time to sit down and write out apologies and yet none of them are splurging onto his tongue to save him the awkward discomfort currently stirring in his stomach.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said,” Can you let me figure this shit out without breathing down my fucking neck ringing in his ears, haunting him like a phantom stuck on his shadow because it’s one of the last things he said to you before you took off and rightfully gave him the cold shoulder.

“I was stressed and frustrated and, and I wasn’t thinking. Those aren’t excuses for being shitty,” he shakes his head so hard that his hair untucks from his hat and grazes his eyelashes, “If anything, they make me more shitty because only assholes do that and that’s what I am. I’m a fucking asshole and and and and…” He’s rambling, losing the point of this. He’s got a talent for berating himself. He falls into it naturally if he’s not careful.

“And I fucked up. I really, really fucked up. I didn’t mean any of it. I never wanted to hurt you.” But you did. “I don’t know why I do that. I don’t know why I ruin shit, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but something is and you, you, you always… you’re always there and and and then you weren’t and…”

This is hard. He’s never been good at articulating his feelings. He wants nothing more than to just tell you how he’s fucked up and you’re one of the only people who doesn’t think he is, but after his true colors have splintered out of him and sliced at you as they have other people in his life he cares for, your perception’s possibly changed from that. He believes he’s confirmed every horrible thing he’s ever thought and said about himself and usually, he can handle that self-loathing and dissonance on his own, but consternation bubbles in his ribcage and sparks embers licking at the lining of his stomach at the very idea of you becoming desensitized to the version of himself you’ve fallen for. He wants to shove the curtains back into place, pretend you never stumbled upon the man behind them, and continue walking hand in hand with you in the reverie he knew wouldn’t last. But damn it. He wants it to last longer than this. It wasn’t enough time. He craves more of it, grasping for the seconds in his hands despite how much they’re attempting to evade him as the clock ticks and ticks. 

“Fucking fuck,” he bellows, “Man, fuck me, fucking fuck me.” Vulnerability is so fucking repulsive. Who the hell invented it? He can’t finish a keynote to save his life.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he settles on.

“I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t fucking eat, Richie keeps calling me a dumb shit like I’m not already thinking that. I-I-I need you. I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t, but I do. I don’t blame you for leaving and I don’t blame you for ghosting me, but please, I can’t fucking do this anymore. I know I’m being a selfish fuck, but I can’t shake what you make me feel and I won’t leave until you talk to me.”

He stares hard at the door. The sun’s lower in the sky, making it more difficult to see if you’re still standing there listening to what he has to say, as jumbled of a mess that it is. His hands leave his sides, anxiously pressing palms first into the metal like it’ll ground him. An urge presents itself to rip it off its hinges and see it for himself rather than wait for verification, but he manages to remain steady where he stands. It’s about the same experience he’s had over the past two weeks of texting and calling to no avail. You’re not saying anything. You’re not denying his insecurities, you’re not soothing his temper, you’re not reflecting it, and you’re not engaging like he’s envisioned time and time again. You’re eluding him. You’re slipping past his fingers like liquid as he desperately grasps.

“Please, please, please say something.” His forehead leans into the surface, eyes shutting tight. “Tell me I’m not shit, tell me you never want to see me again, please talk to me.”

Please forgive me, he swallows. Please forgive me and take me back.

“Just… please… I… I want to fix this. I want to make it up to you. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please don’t shut me out. I’ll make you something? Yeah? Your favorite? What about that place you wanted to go off Lake Shore? Or, or that movie you wanted to see with, uh, that Sweeney girl? What the fuck was it?” Carmen’s eyebrows knit together as he tries to remember the name. “We can go see it… we can go to dinner… I can make dinner. I can take time off work and we can travel somewhere, we can take a trip like you wanted, whatever—I want what you want. Please…? Hello?”

Carmen speaks your name a few times among his pleading. His forehead slowly detaches from the door, indents of the mesh left behind on his skin. He goes quiet to listen for any movement, but he can’t even hear your breathing like this. He can’t hear anything besides the wind picking up, blowing cold over the tips of his ears sticking out from his hat. He steps away from the door, a lump in his throat alongside all the affection he doesn’t know how to let out that he swallows with great difficulty. Instead of walking away from your house, he sits on the cement step leading up to the walkway. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave until you talked to him.

He camps outside your house. One hand fishes for his carton of Sapphires, plucking a cigarette from the box. He’s got about two left since he’s been chain-smoking to fill the void. Carmen greatly considers trying to make his plea again on his knees in front of the door if that’s what it’ll take as he lights the end away from his mouth. The pressure of the cement will be a motherfucker, but he’s concocting another game plan to gain your attention since he’s already here and the walk back to his apartment is too long for him to jump at it. If that doesn’t work, then he can leave and come back in the morning before work. He can afford to be slightly late as his normal is showing up early and Sydney and Tina know the prep work that needs to be done.

All his thoughts fade as he hears the door behind him creak. He glances back suddenly, catching it as it slowly swings open. He’s in the midst of standing to his feet and flicking his cigarette into a patch of dirt when you come into view. Your hair’s messy, a white tank top on your torso, and a pair of fleece pajama pants he knows are new. His hands yearn to become acquainted with them as he has your other bottoms. Carmen stares at how you’re hugging yourself, presumably because the cold air is filtering into your warm house. The goosebumps littered over your biceps and forearms confirm his theory.

He’s on you in an instant. His arms wrap firmly around your frame, sighing out as his stress undergoes the mitigation of your own arms embracing him back. Your hand finds his hair, incidentally causing his hat to fall off to the floor, but he doesn’t care. He’s far too busy stamping your temples, cheeks, jawline, and lips with kisses he has weeks of time to make up for.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles into your hairline, “so, so, so sorry. Missed you.”

[thebearer]

Teddy would be the cutest preteen, when Carmy still dropped her off she’d be embarrassed and would tell him to not kiss her goodbye but once he’s home she’d be jumping in his arms to tell him all about her day

oh god but that would destroy carmen. like absolutely wreck him the first time it happened.

"What's wrong with you?" You frown, watching Carmen shove a pan onto the stove, so hard it clanged against the metal backsplash.

Tina and Sydney had side eyed him carefully, sharing a mutual look with you that screamed the same thing- Carmen is in a mood.

"Nothin'." Carmen grumbled, huffing and turning in a semi circle, looking for his lamb. "Chefs! Where the fuck is my knife?"

"Right behind you, Jeff." Tina nodded towards the space behind him, where the knife sat- right where he left it.

"Hey," You move towards the stove, a pet peeve of Carmen's that always had him huffing, batting at you to move away from the surface. "What is the matter with you? You're in such a mood today."

"'m not in a fuckin' mood." Carmen snapped, huffing when you leaned back on the stove. "Can you stop? Gonna fuckin' burn yourself."

"No," You glare at him. "Not until you tell me what's got you in such a bitchy mood."

Carmen glared at you, eyes heavy and set in a firm stare. You knew it better than anyone. He was... hurt?

"Hey, come in the office with me." You nod, tugging at his hand gently. Carmen sighed, running a hand down his face, the start of an excuse on the tip of his tongue. After almost fifteen years together, you knew every single quirk and what it meant.

"Come with me." You glare, firmly, turning off the heat and moving the pan off the flame. You nodded at Sydney, a knowing look passing between the two of you as she commanded one of the new cooks to pick up for Carmen.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" You crossed your arms, leaning against the office door when it closed.

Carmen fell into his office chair, elbows on his knees, sighing heavily. His knee bounced, running an inked hand over his face, eyes rising to meet your curious, raised brow. "I, uh, I dropped Teddy off at school today." Carmen started.

You waited, lifting a brow for him to continue. "And?" You press. "Did she... say something?" Teddy was a pre-teen, officially. She had just turned twelve in August, started middle and it had been a whirlwind for everyone. Hormones, raging emotions, changes all around; it was too much almost.

"No. I mean... fuck, kinda. It wasn't- she didn't mean it bad, I don't think." Carmen rambled, knee bouncing harder and harder.

"What did she say?" You ask.

"She, uh... I was walkin' her to the drop off, ya know? And-And she, uh, she told me- asked me not to kiss her goodbye anymore." Carmen's lips tightened in a line, swiping a finger under his nose to hide his emotions. "It embarrasses her now."

"Did she say that?" You hum, walking over to him slowly.

"No, but it was, uh, it was implied." Carmen pouted, watching you stand in front of him.

You bite back your own grin, sitting in his lap instead. "She didn't mean it bad, Carm." You give him a soft look. "She's just..."

"I know." Carmen grumbled, pulling you closer into his chest. The rational side of him knew not to take it personally, that she didn't mean it in a malicious way.

"You still have Willow." You add with a grin. "She'll still take her drop off kisses. Still hold your hand and all. You still have a few years left of that."

"Yeah." Carmen grumbled, looking at the picture on his desk. You, Willow, and Teddy- the two girls wrapped under your arms, smiling widely at the camera. It was taken when the booths had been changed at The Bear. Carmen had cooked for the families as a celebratory, "break-in" of the new and improved seating. Teddy had just lost her front teeth, Willow was still small enough to sit in your lap, both sharing your smile and Carmen's wild curls.

[dollya-robinprotector]

Personal ID portrait Commission OPEN

Slot: 1/3

Waitlist (Start after ~26/12): 0/4

Price: 35$ - 40$ depending on your level of detail required. Transaction through Paypal!

Commission sample belongs to @zola-no-kanojou

More details below cut:

Messages and discussion through Discord or Tumblr DM. Please DM me first, and I'll secure your slot and send you my discord. After I finish the sketches, please send me 100% of the agreed payment through Paypal. Then I'll start finishing your commission. You can totally ask me to livestream my drawing process.

The final pieces (PNG, with and without background) will be sent to your Gmail.

It's a Portrait ID drawing, meaning it will at most show the character standing still, from the chest up. No hands allowed, if you want to include hands holding objects or doing something we will have to discuss more and turn it into a regular portrait commission.

For this kind of commission, I can draw: Humans, kemonomimi, anthro, casual clothing, "details level Genshin/HSR/HI3" I don't accept: Furry, mecha, metal or heavy armor, sci-fi clothing, gore or body horror, disturbing details.

I can use the final product (with watermarks, resolution reduced) to post on my social networks and use them as self-promote samples. If you want to make it private I will charge a "private fee". You're free to use the final product and edit it to be ava, icon,... or print it out for personal use, as long as it's not commercial and profitable. If you wish to use the product as part of your branding, please contact me for more discussion.

Also, I'd like to open ONE (1/1) slot for the comic commission.

This kind of commission often takes longer and requires much more communication effort, so I can only accept one at a time. I also kindly ask my client to be patient because I'm not a native English speaker, so I might need more explanation to truly get what my client wants.

Each page will be 35 - 50$ depending on the details, we will discuss more about it in the process. I recommend doing a short strip, about 5 - 10 pages for our first time working together.

Examples are The Sydney Nymphs comic, DDD short, or this small one

[hd-junglebook]

Neutral

Part 1 : In the Shadow of Greatness

word count - 3,813

You stand in your mother's room, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort as you contemplate your future. Your eyes roaming over the family mementos lining the shelves - relics of a simpler past.

The weight of her expectations hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating reminder of the greatness you're expected to live up to.

You're tempted to change your mind, to refuse the mission and defy your mother's wishes. But before you can voice your doubts, she interrupts your thoughts with a sharp command.

"You have no choice but to go," she declares, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Our people need you. You must do this for them."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring a sense of duty that you can't ignore. Despite your reservations, you know she's right. You may have doubts, but you also have a responsibility to your mother.

You drew in a shaky breath, gathering what courage was left in your body. "I just don't know if I'm ready for this..."

Before she can respond, the door swings open, and a guard enters the room, their presence a reminder of the reality of your situation.

"It's time," they announce, their voice devoid of emotion.

With a heavy heart, you follow the guard out of the room, your mother trailing behind you. As you make your way through the corridors of the Ark, you can't help but feel a sense of finality settling over you.

Outside the drop ship, the guard motions for you to board, their expression unreadable. You hesitate for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind.

A flicker of movement catches your eye, and you turn just in time to see a curly-haired guard slip onto the drop ship in front of you, but before you can react, they vanish into the shadows of the ship's interior.

Ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, you push the unsettling sight to the back of your mind as you glance back at your mother, her eyes filled with determination, you know there's no turning back.

With a resigned sigh, you step onto the drop ship.

You may be Diana Sydney's daughter, but you're also so much more. You vow to make your mark on the world, to carve out a legacy of your own, one that shines as brightly as the stars themselves.

---

The drop ship shuddered as you and the other prisoners were herded aboard. The floor trembled beneath your feet as you were strapped into your seat, the metallic clang of restraints echoing through the cramped compartment. You were the last one to board the ship.

The hatch closing behind the guard echoing in the cramped space. You found yourself seated beside Clarke and Wells, their expressions mirroring your own mix of apprehension and determination.

Chancellor Jaha's voice boomed over the intercom, his words heavy with gravitas as he addressed the assembled prisoners.

"Prisoners of The Ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself.," he declared, his tone solemn.

“We have no idea what is waiting for you down there If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

The significance of his words hung heavy in the air as the drop ship's engines roared to life, drowning out any further explanation. With a lurch, the ship lifted off from the Ark, hurtling towards the distant planet below.

Clarke leaned in closer, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Return to Earth? But how?"

Jaha's voice swept over the group once more. " The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years. But make no mistake, this is a one-way trip. There will be no return journey."

The turbulence of re-entry rattled the shuttle around you, sending a jolt of fear through your body. Shocks from the atmosphere shook through the vessel as it descended through Earth's atmosphere, jostling you and your fellow prisoners in your seats.

Clarke gripped the armrests tightly, her knuckles white with tension, while Wells tried to maintain a facade of calm despite the worry etched into his features.

Abruptly Wells broke the silence speaking to Clarke as the ship continued its descent, “Clarke, there's something I have to tell you. I'm sorry I got your father arrested.”

Just as turbulence around you reached its peak, Clarke's voice cut through the ship, sharp and accusing. "Don't you talk about my father, Wells!" she spat, her eyes blazing with anger. "If it weren't for you, my father would still be alive!"

Wells flinched at her words, his expression pained. "Please, I can't die knowing that you hate me," he shot back, his voice tinged with regret. "You know that."

Their argument filled the compartment, adding to the already palpable discomfort as the drop ship hurtled towards its destination.

Despite the chaos around you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of the challenges you would face on Earth.

Wells reached out and squeezed your hand, his eyes locking with yours in silent reassurance. "We can do this," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around you.

And as the drop ship hurtled towards the surface of Earth, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you below.

With a final jolt that sent a shockwave through your body, the drop ship touched down on the planet's surface, kicking up a cloud of dirt that enveloped the vessel in the patch valley on earth.

---

**On the Ark**

The sterile walls of your mother's room felt suffocating as she laid out her plan, her expression grave and determined. She spoke with a fervent intensity, her eyes shining with determination as she sat in front of you.

"Our society is facing a crisis unlike any we have seen before,” she began, her voice echoing off the metal walls of the cramped quarters. "The Ark can't sustain us much longer. We need to find a solution, and we need to find it now."

You listened in silence, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to comprehend the magnitude of what she was proposing. To be sent to Earth, the very planet that had been deemed uninhabitable for generations, was a death sentence. And yet, there was a glimmer of hope in your mother's eyes,

“We have no choice," she Diana declared, her steely gaze boring into yours. "You must be the one to lead this mission. To sacrifice yourself for the greater good."

You shook your head weakly, "You're asking too much. I can't...”

“I know it's a lot to ask, but you are the only one who can do this for me. You must get arrested and be sent to Earth.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and you felt the weight of your mother's expectations bearing down on you. To be the one to leave the safety of the Ark, to journey to Earth.

“I can't”

She gripped your shoulders firmly , her nails digging into your shoulders. “You can, and you will. Think of the legacy you will leave behind, the hero who saved humanity from extinction.”

You jerked away from her. "I don't care about glory, Mom! I care about..." you faltered, emotions choking your voice.

Her eyes darkened. “About what y/n? About your own selfish desires? This is bigger than you. This is about the future of our people, about ensuring that generations to come will have a chance to live.”

You stared at the floor, despair and frustration simmering within your body. "There must be another way..."

"There is no other way," she interjected harshly. "Either you accept this mission, or you condemn us all to oblivion."

You finally met her piercing gaze again, anger inside your chest. "And if I refuse? What then? Will you cast your only daughter out like garbage?"

“Refusal is not an option y/n.” she snapped at you, struck by your defiance.

"But why me?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Diana's expression softened, a mixture of pride and sadness crossing her features. "Because you're the bravest person I know," she replied, her voice catching in her throat.

"Because you have the strength and the intelligence to succeed where others have failed.” She lifted your chin gently. “Because... because I believe in you."

Her words stirred something deep within your soul. Despite the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your insides, you knew that your mother was right.

“You don't have a choice, my dear. You are my daughter, and you will do as I say. You will accept this mission, or you will be condemning our family to death.”

"I'll do it," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I'll go to Earth."

Diana reached out, taking your hand in hers, her grip tight with determination. "Thank you, my child," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're the best hope we have."

Squaring your jaw, you gave her a single firm nod.

---

Consciousness slowly seeps back into your mind, you find yourself disoriented, the lingering effects of the drop ship's bumpy descent still echoing in your senses.

Blinking away the haze, you realize you're still strapped into your seat, the unfamiliar restraints digging into your skin.

Pushing yourself upright, you glance around the compartment, noting the absence of your fellow travelers. Panic grips your chest as you realize they must have already disembarked, leaving you behind.

With a sense of urgency, you unstrap yourself and stumble to your feet, swaying slightly as you brace yourself against the nearest surface. The drop ship is eerily quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the engines as they slowly wind down.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you make your way to the ladder that leads down to the first floor. The sound of your rings clanging off the metal of the bars.

You jump off the ladder searching the crowd for any familiar faces when your eyes catch sight of someone unexpected—a guard stationed at the door, his gaze fixed on the approaching delinquents.

Despite the disorder unfolding around him, he remains calm and composed, a striking figure amidst the turmoil.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as you lock eyes with the guard, his presence commanding your attention in a way you can't quite explain. There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite never seeing him.

You begin to push through the crowd, your eyes catch sight of the guard speaking to a raven-haired girl by the doors. Their exchange is terse, tension simmering just beneath the surface as they trade words.

Clarke's voice rang out in warning from her place in the crowd, her concern evident as she spoke. "No, we can’t just open the doors.” She continues, “stop! The air could be toxic."

The guard dismissed her concerns breezily, his confidence unwavering, “If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.”

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” The raven-haired girl snaps back at Clarke, her words sharp with frustration

A ripple of dissent passes through the crowd as the delinquents anonymously challenge her claim, “No one has a brother!”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor," someone explained.

The pressure threatens to escalate as the delinquents continue to pitch in, but the guard intervenes, his authoritative voice cutting through the chaos,

“Octavia. Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by,” he says as he smiles at his younger sister.

Reluctantly, the raven-haired girl nods, her defiance tempered by the realization that she has little choice but to comply. “Yeah, like what?” she bites back.

The guard's voice swelled with pride. “Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.”

Octavia considered this for a second, the gears turning in her head as she headed to the door with a determined stride, her hand outstretched as she prepares to step onto the unknown surface below.

The crowd watches in silence, holding their breath, the girl's boots makes contact with the ground. For a moment, nothing happens, the world holding its breath in anticipation.

“We’re back bitches!” Octavia exclaims, sending a ripple of relief through the crowd.

You're greeted by the sight of your fellow delinquents racing ahead as your feet touch solid ground, their figures disappearing into the distance.

---

You and Wells climb down from the top of the dropship while you both discuss the concerning state of the wires atop the Ark, Clarke approaches with urgency etched into her features.

“We got problems. The communications system is dead. We went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires.” You remark, voice tinged with worry.

Clarke wastes no time in redirecting the focus to their immediate priority. "Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather," she asserts, her voice resolute as she gestures to the map spread out before them.

"See? Look. This is us. This is where we need to get to if we want to survive."

You exchange a glance with Wells, a knot of worry tightening in your stomach at Clarke's words.

Wells, though concerned about the malfunctioning communications system, is quick to acknowledge the urgency of Clarke's point. "Where'd you learn to do that? Your father," he muses.

Jasper, ever the optimist, interjects with a lighthearted remark, eager to lighten the mood despite the gravity of their situation. "Ah, cool, a map. They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer," he quips, a hint of humor in his voice.

"It's not about beers, Jasper," you say with a wry smile, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. "It's about survival." You admired his positive attitude in such unfortunate circumstances.

Wells, however, remains focused on the task at hand, his expression serious as he turns back to Clarke. "You mind?" he asks, seeking permission to take a closer look at the map and join in the planning for their journey to Mount Weather.

Before you can respond, Bellamy Blake inserts himself into the conversation with his characteristic rudeness. "We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?" he challenges, his tone dripping with skepticism.

Wells, undeterred by Bellamy's hostility, presses on. "We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."

Clarke, however, refuses to be drawn into their petty squabbles, ending their fight.

"Do you think we care who's in charge?" she retorts, her voice cutting through the tension. "We need to get to Mount Weather because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be."

Bellamy, ever the provocateur, offers his own suggestion with a sneer. "I got a better idea. You three go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change."

Without a second thought, you step forward, closing the distance between you and Bellamy until you're mere inches from his face.

"Privileged? You think we're privileged?" you shoot back, your voice sharp with indignation. "We're all in this together, Bellamy. Every single one of us has to do our part if we want to survive."

Bellamy's sneer only fuels your anger. "We're alive. That’s what matters, that not good enough for you?" he retorts, his tone dripping with disdain.

"You have a better idea, Bellamy? Or are you just too afraid to get your hands dirty?" you retort, your voice laced with equal parts anger and defiance.

The tension between you crackles like electricity, the heat of your argument fueling an unexpected and undeniable attraction.

In spite of the gravity of your situation, there's a palpable energy between you that neither of you can ignore.

Bellamy's jaw tightens, his gaze challenging. "You think you know what's necessary? You think you're the one in charge here?" he scoffs.

Before your argument can escalate further, a voice interrupts from above. "Enough!" Finn's commanding tone cuts off your voice as he jumps down from the dropship, his presence immediately shifting the dynamic.

Clarke steps in, her voice firm. "We don't have time for this, Bellamy. Finn's y/n's right. We need to focus on finding Mount Weather."

Wells nods in agreement. "Let's get moving. The longer we wait, the harder this'll be."

Jasper, ever the optimist, chimes in. "I'm with you guys. Let's find that place and get some answers."

---

Your group ventured deeper into the unfamiliar woods, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer vastness of nature surrounding you.

Towering trees stretched their branches towards the sky, their leaves filtering the sunlight to create dappled patterns on the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of earth and pine, and the sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves filled your ears.

Clarke led the way, her eyes scanning the underbrush for any signs of danger as finn followed closely behind. Jasper and Octavia walked side by side, their laughter and banter breaking the quiet of the forest.

"You know, I've never seen anything like this," you remark, taking in the scenery with wide eyes. "It's like something out of a storybook."

Monty nods in agreement, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's amazing, isn't it? I never thought I'd get to see something like this."

As you continue along the winding path, you stumble upon a picturesque lake nestled among the trees. Its surface glimmered in the sunlight, inviting and serene.

Octavia's eyes light up at the sight, and before anyone can stop her, she's stripping off her clothes and diving into the cool, clear water.

“Octavia what the hell are you doing?”

You watch in awe as Octavia swims gracefully through the lake, her movements fluid and effortless. She's like a mermaid, ethereal and otherworldly in her beauty.

The water around her glistened in the sunlight as she continued to glide in the Lake.

But your admiration is short-lived as a sudden commotion erupts from the water. “Oh… Octavia, get out of the water! Get out of the water now!” Jasper screams from beside you, you run towards the edge contemplating jumping in. Octavia's joyful laughter turns to screams of terror as a snake slithers out from the underbrush and strikes at her.

Without hesitation, Jasper springs into action, leaping down the rocks to reach Octavia's side. You watch in horror as he runs to save Octavia from its grasp.

"Jasper, be careful!" you shout, your heart pounding in your chest as you scramble down the rocks to join them.

Jasper focused solely on the task at hand, his face a mask of determination. With a final, desperate push, the group manages to push a boulder into the other side of the clear water, sending the serpent away from Octavia, it’s large figure slithering back into the water.

You rush to Octavia's side, helping Jasper pull her out of the lake and checking her for injuries. She's shaken but barely harmed, thanks to Jasper's quick thinking and bravery.

"Thank you, Jasper," Octavia says, her voice trembling with emotion. "You saved my life."

Jasper smiles weakly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Just doing what anyone would do," he replies, his gaze never leaving Octavia's face.

"Note to self, next time, save the girl."

---

** On the Ark**

The air in your room on the Ark feels heavy with tension as you watch your mother enter. Without a word, she fixates on you with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Diana's expression is dark as she strides towards you, her movements calculated and precise.

There's a fire in her eyes, a dangerous spark that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here. The daughter who thinks she knows better than her own mother."

"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you here?"

"Why am I here? Why do you think y/n? Because of you, that's why."

You recoiled at the venom in her words, the accusation hanging heavy in the air between you. "Because of me? What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's because of you that I've been removed from the council." She continues.

“It's because of your disobedience, your insolence, that I've been removed from the Council."

"Mom, please, you know I would never intentionally hurt you," you plead, your voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Her voice rises with each word, a crescendo of rage and frustration that threatens to consume you whole. You shrink back, feeling like a small, insignificant creature in the face of her wrath.

"Oh, I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses. You think you're so clever, so independent, but you're nothing but a fool. A foolish child who thinks she knows better than her own mother."

You feel the sting of tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“You've always resented me, haven't you? Resented the fact that. I'm more powerful, more influential than you could ever hope to be." Her words cut through the silence like a knife, each syllable dripping with scorn and resentment.

"That's not true!” You feel frustration and anger bubbling up inside you. "I'm not responsible for your mistakes, Mom. You brought this upon yourself."

"Don't make me laugh. You've always been jealous of me, jealous of my success, my power. And now you've finally gotten what you wanted, haven't you? You've finally managed to bring me down. Just like your father."

The mention of your father's name sends a pang of sadness through you as Diana's jaw clenches, her fists tightening at her sides. "You've always been so quick to shift the blame onto others. "

Her accusations hung in the air, poisoning the space between you as you struggled to find the words to defend yourself.

"He would never have wanted things to end up like this," you retort, your voice tinged with sorrow.

Diana's expression softens for a moment, a flicker of regret crossing her features. But then, just as quickly, it's replaced by a steely resolve. "It doesn't matter now.”

---

[sonic-gonzo]

Yesterday at Centennial Park Sydney Australia - MEGADETH (250323) 

[neobiohazardus]

Kaijune2024 - Day18: Spirahedrul

Kaijune 2024 - Day 18 [Chiral] It took way to long for me to land on a design for such a basic-looking kaiju lol

[I'm following this prompt list]

===== BIO:

The second kaiju to appear simultaneously alongside The Royal Throne, Spirahedrul was a snake-like kaiju twirled around itself. One of the largest kaiju on record, it lazily floated towards the city of Sydney, Australia soon after spawning. As the KDF were occupied at the time, and the Ascent had limited resources, it landed on the Eco-K to attempt to move Spirahedrul away from Syndey.

As an interdimensional being, it was unclear what Spirahedrul would do, but some birds flying into the translucent shield around its body disambiguated it's ability as turning anything it touched into spirals. Seeing the obvious danger this would cause, and already being in viewing distance of the city, Eco-K had to act fast. None of their Nailgun mechs were able to stop the kaiju, as the giant brackets they shot were simply deflected off. Multiple of the mechs had to risk themselves in trying to punch and tackle the kaiju, each of those mechs sustaining heavy damage as people were ordered to evacuate.

It eventually took some creative thinking by one of their experienced pilots, Yutaro, to defeat the kaiju. Finding a damaged Skipper drone in a local junk heap, Yutaro shoved the dron into the bracket gun of his suit, using the spire-like antenna as a makeshift baton, repeatedly smacking Spirahedrul into the ground, eventually ejecting from the mech as he body-slammed the kaiju, turning the entire machine into a giant bracket, spiraling itself into a metal cord due to the influence of the kaiju's ability. Getting stuck in the dirt, the kaiju dissipated, leaving a giant spiral gouge in the city where the kaiju had been.

Eco-K is looking into ways to subdue kaiju from other dimensions, as well as figuring out ways to defend against attacks non-lethally, as the attack proved that Nailgun suits alone were insufficient.

[dolyx]

pc used to belong to sydney's faction. after weeks of careful preparation, which includes convincing him to let you join your trades with another faction, you finally slipped away to safety - away from his faction, away from him. sydney isn't quite happy with your decision.

You halt to a stop.

You find yourself in the school hallways. Shards of broken glass and tattered clothing litter the marble floors. Muffled chatter can be heard from the school cafeteria, but you are too far away to listen to the commotion. You scan your surroundings a bit more, looking for signs of ambush.

Once satisfied, you sit.

It has been a while since you returned to your faction. You are now a rouge. More dangerous encounters await you.

Carefully, you unwrap your bandages. Thanks to your protective wrap, none of your injuries require special medical attention. Blotches of blue and purple snake around your arms, some darker than the others. Few scars surround them. Your legs have less visible injuries, but your fatigue wears you down. Walking around felt like dragging a heavy sack of potatoes behind you. You're relieved to have a moment of rest.

Still, you grimace at the sight. Your previous faction has instilled in you the value of cleanliness and purity, but you know you cannot afford to indulge in your practices in these circumstances. However, you begin to suspect that your faith has rendered you helpless. Your necessities have always been guaranteed back in the library. You didn't need to hunt nor talk your way out of dangerous encounters when food was always handed to you on a silver platter. Overall, your skills have deteriorated. You didn't mind it back then, but now that you have escaped, you wonder; would your situation have been different had you not joined Sydney's flock?

Guilt floods over you. It reminds you of graces bestowed upon you, of arms wrapped around your sleeping figure, offering warmth in the coldest of days. You are still shackled to your faith. You push your suspicions away. | - Awareness

You reach for your backpack. Inside are items you have acquired throughout your journey—a handful of granola bars, three unopened bottles of unfiltered water, one opened bottle of filtered water, one unopened bottle of filtered water, and one first aid kit. You try not to think where—and from whom—you have gotten your supplies.

You are ravenous.

You ignore your stomach's pleas and begin to dress your wounds. As you rewrap your arms, you focus your gaze elsewhere, avoiding the symbol inked on the back of your hand.

You decide to cover it as well. Best not to tell people who where you once belonged to.

Torn pieces of mismatched cloth soon cover your arms. Your legs remain bare, but there's nothing you can do.

You examine what was left of your stock. Your supplies are running low. Anxiety gnaws at your mind, not knowing where you can sa

You examine what was left of your stock. Your supplies are running low. Anxiety gnaws at your mind, not knowing where to go to safely replenish them. | + Stress

After another inspection, you lean your head against the wall, close your eyes, and fall into a light sleep. | - Fatigue

You jolt awake at the sound of metal clanking against the floor. Hushed whispers follow soon after, apologies and reassurances echoing in the corridors. Something about spilled water…? You're not quite sure.

The noise settles down just as your eyes adjust to your surroundings. You're still intact, surprisingly. Your backpack is safe from burglars as well. Your body isn't as heavy when you stand, crouching down to gather your things.

You are in the school hallways. Pieces of shattered glass and debris litter the marble floors. An eerie silence fills the area.

A chill runs up your spine, a warning from some primal instinct. You are being hunted. You hear someone hum a faintly familiar tune.

notes:

forgotten au is by @digenerate-trash! i am. very obsessed with cannibal!sydney i think he's neat.

if you were particularly close w/ sydney, i think sydney and/or their followers wouldn't "hunt" you exactly but instead... ask you to come home? lure you home? they'd simply think you're confused and have lost your way and it's their responsibility as members of the same faction to guide their lost lamb back home. hence, them luring you back in with the song jordan taught them. you'd still be punished but you might receive special treatment of some sort. that and sydney's 24/7 surveillance on you because apparently u can't be left alone.

[glassprism]

I wonder if you feel like with every new non-replica production, the creativity and the novelty of a "different production" get's more stale? Set's getting more and more similar/ not many new ideas etc?

I actually felt the opposite! The first two non-replicas, which were in Budapest (2003) and Warsaw (2008), felt pretty derivative of other productions: Budapest had some interesting changes but aesthetically and in terms of blocking, still felt really beholden to the replica, and the Warsaw production was just a full on stage copy of the 2004 movie. Not all that innovative to me.

The next non-replica in Prague (2014), felt even more similar to the replica than Budapest. It wasn't until the one in Tallin/Tartu (2014) that I started noticing some interesting differences, at least according to reviews, in that it shifted the timeline somewhat (the auction takes place between the World Wars and the rest of the show seems to be Edwardian in aesthetic) and added some Leroux-ish influences. We then have the Helsinki (2015) non-replica, with its heavy metal aesthetic, and while the original Bucharest (2015) non-replica felt pretty derivative of many other productions, like the restaged tours, it led to the Oslo (2019), Greek tour (2020, 2023), and Middle East / European Tour (2023-present), which I've found quite fascinating and different.

And from there I think the non-replicas have spun off into a lot of variations: we've got the Belgrade (2017) production's weirdly modernist vibe, the Sofia (2019) production basically going "We only have a budget of $2 but we will make the most of it", the Kristianstad (2020) production that also feels very independent and fresh, and then Sydney Harbour (2020), which hews a little closer to the original but was set in an outdoor theater and went absolutely bombastic with some of the spectacle. And on top of that we have the Italian tour / Madrid non-replica (2023, 2024), which swings back and forth between "we're clearly inspired by the replica and just tweaked things a little" and "okay now for something completely balls to the wall wild" and the second Bucharest non-replica (2023), which used AI for a lot of its design, so... yay, I guess.

Now, do I necessarily like all the choices made in these productions? No, I think I've made fun of quite a few of them in the past. But if you're asking me if non-replicas are growing more stale and repetitive, then I would say that no, they're not; if anything, it feels like more and more of them are willing to stretch out and do something different, rather than lingering in the (admittedly long) shadow of the replica. And I think that's kind of cool!

[orgyupdates]

Jay interview with Music Festivals Aus

California Nu-Metal pioneers Orgy are rearing and ready to embark on the first ever tour Down Under! Following on from sell out dates across the US, Orgy and fellow patriots Cold are gearing themselves for three massive back to back shows this October. The Orgy + Cold Australian Tour kicks off at Melbourne’s Max Watts on October 25th, The Metro Theatre, Sydney October 26th and rounding off at The Triffid, Brisbane October 27th. Now celebrating 25 years since the release of debut album Candyass, we caught up with Jay Gordon from Orgy to discuss the renowned Family Values Tour , the cause and affect of Napster and the evolution of Orgy since conception.

Interview behind the cut

Thanks for meeting with me today, Jay. I first found Orgy on the Family Values tour back in 1998 in possibly one of the most standout performances, and one that's remained with me for all of these years. Can you tell me about that tour and what it meant to you then and now?

 

Oh, yeah. I mean, it was our first tour ever. So it was what a way to break into the music industry. I mean, play with all of those great bands and all that kind of stuff. So it was fantastic. You know, definitely a learning experience. I learned how to navigate through the Big Boys you know, so it was cool. Messed up a lot. Had a lot of fun with Rammstein. It was chaotic. You know, we had we had a great time. But yeah, they cost me a lot of money. But it was cool. Yeah.

Yeah, it was definitely a rite of passage back in in the in the 90s. In Australia in those years, we had to physically import albums from overseas. Candyass was definitely one of my first and favourite imports. So, it’s 1997 and Korn’s Jonathan Davis signed Orgy as one of the first artists on their debut label Elementree Records, what impact did this have as an up-and-coming artists in the pre digital era?

 

Huge, you know. Korn was like a massive band at this point. And, they're good friends of mine, thank God and I owe them everything. They, you know, paved the way and opened up the doors for me along the way. So that was cool.

 

There is something candescent about your sound, in some forums labelled as electronic rock or alt metal, but more famously, as a pioneer of the nu metal movement? What were some of your biggest influences at the time?

I mean, I think always, you know, people like David Bowie and I just love the way his brain worked. I really can identify and relate to a lot of his music and stuff like that. But also, like, really heavy stuff, too. Like, where I came from, you know, the San Francisco thrash metal scene and things like that. So, adding like futuristic, melancholy weirdness with heavy stuff from the era at the time. Metallica and Testament and all those guys coming from where I'm from. So that all helped and kind of paved the way for me. And obviously Korn I suppose at the time. They were my favourite band. And so that's how I got to know those guys. And Jonathan would come stay at our house and stuff when they would play in town and it kind of started off a pretty, pretty basic friendship from then. And so they were a huge influence on me like I loved every song.

 

What impact did these artists have on you, personally and professionally?

 

Just Korn has such an original sound and they had a really big impact on me, all the way through my career. I’m always excited to hear what they come up with and what their next sound is going to be and what their next song is going to be. We get to play with each other every now and then like, in Sick New World. That was really cool. And just a huge impact.

Candyass was a pivotal album of the 1990’s, not only for myself but a deluge of young adults transitioning life. As a parent, it’s hard to pick between, but what is your favourite album release and why is it Candyass?

 

I don't know that it’s the best album that we've ever released. But I mean, it's probably my favourite. I don't know I was just in a different headspace. Candyass came from, let me see. So myself and Josh Abraham, were watching Depeche Mode show downtown and these three drag queens walked up to me and one of them’s name was Candyass. And, you know, he asked me, my name, I was like, “Jay” and he's like, “why don't I know you?” And whatever. And he goes, “you know me, my name is Candyass” and I thought it was so funny. So I said, I'm gonna name my first album Candyass and that was it. Then, you know, we became friends and everything, and they will come over to the studio and like, you know, mess up the board when I'm working. Like, I'd go to the bathroom and I come back and like, why does it sound like ass, you know, they were just like, him and Alexis Arquette, you know, RIP but I love Alexis Arquette and they would come over to the studio where we recording you know, it was just funny. Yeah, so that's why I named the record Candyass after him.

As most 80’s kids, I’m a sucker for a synth and electronic drum kit. The amalgamation of this soundscape with industrialism is none more evident than your cover of New Order’s Blue Monday. Before Stitches, this is one of my favourite releases. What was the inspiration behind your sound and its’ evolution?

 

You know, I wanted to do a cover song. And we were messing with a couple of different ones I liked it's called ‘Something Going On’ and Frida Lyngstad was her name. Her and Phil Collins, I guess got together and they did this song called I know ‘There's Something Going On.’ And that was gonna be the first one that we did. And then so we're playing around with that one and the Blue Monday one and we just went with Blue Monday. Yeah, just kind of, it's kind of clicked and worked out.

 

Vapor Transmission and Punk Statik Paranoia celebrated the unique sound encapsulated by Candyass, both in their own right. What was the progression in sound as traversed through the years and these albums?

Well you know, Vapor Transmission, I think definitely a progression, sonically, and things like that. I think we're headed for something really different on that record, but at the same time, that's when Napster dropped, you know.

“Napster kind of came out and kind of really killed the record industry, so to speak”

So, the record sales weren't there anymore, and things like that. But that's not an indicator that it wasn't doing what it was supposed to be doing. It's just that music was free after that, like, so it kind of just, it was a vibe killer on that, on that level, because our record had just come out, it was literally like, two weeks out. And then you see this big change in the sales of records because everybody caught on to Napster so fast. So that's kind of what happened there. And then Punk Statik Paranoia, that record just came out, like way too late. That was more like to me, like a bunch of glorified demos, you know, like, it never really got mixed, right. We never had a chance to really finish it up, because we were going through a lot of label stuff and trying to figure out what we were doing, if we were still going to be on a label or not, I think we were trying to get off Warner Brothers at the time. And that took some time. So the record just came out so late, and we ended up just putting it out in the end. Yeah, it took a long time for that to be able to happen. So we were sitting on it for like a year waiting for the lawyers and to get everything solid, so we can actually put the record out.

Carlton Bost first joined Orgy circa 2011 after an equally successful career as guitarist in parallel bands such as Deadsy, The Dreaming and the bass player in Stabbing Westward. What kind of dynamic did Carlton bring to the Orgy party?

I mean, Carlton's, he's great, like he's, he's a great band member. He and I actually, you know, when it comes to the more now orgy, you know, we kind of do a lot more stuff together. Whereas before in the past, you know, the first few records I just did by myself, you know, a lot by myself, you know, everybody did their part. You know, they played on the records and did whatever but, but as far as writing and stuff like that, I just did a lot of that on my own. And then I'd say, Paige wrote quite a bit of stuff on those records. And, you know, like a riff here a riff there and he was always really good at coming up with stuff on the spot. So, Oh, first, you know, he's like the new Paige in this era, but we actually just write a lot of stuff. Like sometimes he'll write like entire songs like Spells and Wide Awake and Dead. He had a big part of those songs. So it's more like a team on this one.

In October, Orgy embarks on the first ever tour down under alongside fellow patriots Cold in a three city rampage including Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane. What kind of energy are you anticipating from an Australian crowd?

 

I have no expectations. Because I've never been there. I don't really know a whole lot about it other than like, you know, the typical kangaroos and this and that. I mean, I want to see all of that stuff when I come there. But I have no idea what to expect from the crowds I think I think it'll be a good show. I think the crowd will love it. And we're gonna bring the energy that's for sure. And, you know, we just killed it out here. We sold out every show but one with Cold here, it was a great tour. And I anticipate it being similar to that and hope the turnouts there and the turnout there is going to get a great show, you know, and we just signed Orgy, Carlton, and I we signed a Tucson deal with Golden Robot, which is an Australian label. So we're gonna try to get those songs done and be playing those live when we get there.

A huge congratulations on the 25th anniversary of the debut album Candyass. You've just answered my question. can fans expect any new Orgy releases within the near future? So yeah, as a fan, I'm very, very excited about that one.

 

Me too. You know, I have no idea what the release dates gonna be on those two songs. But yeah, we get them done and get them out before we show up and play so we can play them.

 

I do follow you on social media, so I will be definitely keeping an eye out myself for that. Following the tour, what's next for you, for you, both individually and professionally?

 

I'm kind of getting into, I'm going to be getting into like film stuff like Sony and direct some stuff. So that's kind of my next chapter in life. But yeah, other than that I'm also producing music. So I'm gonna keep doing that and work with other artists and things like that.

Full Interview, Aus dates/tickets, and pictures here.

[metalmonki]

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 8

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings boring filler chapter?

Note Short filler chapter. The next chapter will start seeing the slow burn come to an end!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Four weeks evaporated faster than a desert mirage. Another team of hunters had cleared out the vampire nest I'd targeted, forcing me to scramble for a new lead. My gaze darted across the laptop screen, searching for a hunt far enough from Sydney that I could just jump in my car and disappear as soon as the casts came off. Dean, meanwhile, had mastered the art of the disappearing act himself. Most days, he was a ghost in my own house, materializing only to grab intel on the next hunt before vanishing again.

Truth be told, I didn't need the Winchesters anymore. I was a functioning weapon again. They could have left the day we were discharged, but Sam, bless his heart, insisted on sticking around until I was fully healed. He'd even convinced Theresa to return to the States with them. I genuinely felt happy for her, a bittersweet ache blooming in my chest. It stung that Sam, despite the grim realities of our work, could find solace in companionship, while Dean and I seemed perpetually adrift in a sea of loneliness.

The tension between the brothers simmered just beneath the surface, erupting into low-grade hostility during their late-night conversations. I tried my best to tune them out, but the sound of my own name being tossed around like a grenade always snagged my attention.

The last week was a blur of activity. Sam spent his days drowning Theresa in paperwork for her move, while Dean fussed over his beloved Impala, babbling about some shady contact who could "sneak her" past customs. I, on the other hand, was a silent observer, counting down the minutes until I was free. My escape plan was already hatched. Despite promising Sam I'd take it easy, my duffel bag sat fat and expectant in the closet, crammed with everything I needed to hit the road running.

Finally, the day arrived. The Winchesters and I piled into the car, a strange, tense silence hanging heavy in the air. Dean, still grumbling about his "baby" being in the hands of strangers, insisted he could feel the difference between his car and mine. Sam and I exchanged tolerant smiles, knowing it was pure delusion.

The hospital visit was a repeat of the last one, only this time, a sliver of hope flickered in my chest. The x-rays seemed to confirm it. The doctor, a man with a perpetually weary smile, announced, "Looks like we can ditch the dead weight."

"This one first," I declared, holding up my arm, the itch beneath the cast a maddening fire. "It's driving me insane."

The doctor chuckled. "That'll be the built-up…evidence of your resilience." He set to work with a saw, and the moment my arm was free, I cradled it close, both rubbing and scratching with fervor. The stench that hit me was ripe and metallic, like a forgotten gym bag. My skin, exposed for the first time in weeks, was a stark contrast of shades - a sickly brown under the cast giving way to the healthy pale of my upper arm. The doctor, unfazed, explained the science behind the offensive odor – trapped sweat and bacteria. Charming.

As quickly as they came off, the casts were relegated to the dustbin of history. Relief washed over me, mingling with a raw, exhilarating anticipation. Back in the car, the weight of the situation settled on my shoulders. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Tonight, when the Winchesters were safely on their flight, I'd be gone. Johnny, a fellow hunter with a nose for trouble, had sent me a juicy case on the other side of the country. People were vanishing along a desolate stretch of highway in Western Australia, all last seen at the same gas station. Humans? Or something more sinister? Johnny had arranged for me to meet a local hunter to investigate.

"Earth to Y/N," Dean's voice broke through my thoughts. "You zoning out on us, or are you ditching us at the airport?"

"Relax, your chariot awaits," I offered a tight smile.

"Seriously, what's got you lost in thought?" Sam asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just contemplating the best way to break something and convince you two to stick around a bit longer," I deadpanned, then burst out laughing.

The joke landed with a thud. Dean muttered something about me being a "psycho," and slammed on the gas, eager to get the goodbyes over with.

At Theresa's place, a "for sale" sign sat like a grim sentinel in the yard. She wore a bittersweet smile, a reflection of my own conflicted emotions. We shared a hug, her goodbye a mix of excitement and sadness. As they disappeared into the bustle of the airport, I lingered for a moment, watching them go. Then, with a deep breath, I climbed back into the car. The airport shrunk in the rearview mirror, replaced by the endless ribbon of highway stretching before me. The ache in my chest sharpened – a potent cocktail of grief for the life I couldn't have and the thrill of the hunt that pulsed through my veins.

The drive was a blur. Every passing mile chipped away at the lingering vestiges of the Winchesters. The radio, usually a source of unwelcome distraction, remained silent. My thoughts were consumed by the case file Johnny had sent. The disappearances in Western Australia were unsettling. People, mostly lone travelers – men and women – vanished without a trace, their last known stop a deserted gas station along a desolate stretch of highway.

Johnny, ever the pragmatist, suspected foul play – a human trafficking ring or a deranged serial killer. But a sliver of doubt lingered in my mind. The isolation of the location, the pattern of disappearances… it all felt uncomfortably supernatural.

The local hunter Johnny had arranged for me to meet was a woman named Maya, someone with a reputation for handling the strange and unsettling. Her contact information was a single cryptic sentence: "Look for the blue ute with the bumper sticker that reads 'Honk if You've Seen Chupacabra.'"

A wry smile touched my lips. This was going to be interesting. The promise of a new hunt, a chance to unravel a mystery, fueled me forward. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted highway, I pushed on, the ache in my chest replaced by a steely determination. The Winchesters were a fading memory, a chapter closed. The hunt was on.

[quiltedpomegrantes]

Can I pretty please get some soft fluffy little dating headcanons for syd? pure or corrupt! Thank you so much. Have a wonderful day <33

Pure!Sydney

They're so, so lovely.

-They adore your hair. You'll find them braiding it, running their hands through it, and softly apologizing when they catch their hand in a tangle. Sometimes after a long school day, or a long day at the church, the way they scratch your head makes you doze off.

-Dates are very traditional. Ice skating with hot chocolate afterwards. Movie theatre dates where you sit in the middle, not the far far back where no one can see you. Never starting after 7pm. You can never be home together without Sirris being within the house, and Sydney never locks the door. Not until you're promised. If you bring up being promised, a flush will start to creep up his neck. Their views on "procreation" typically is that it should be romantic, focused on creating children or strengthening your bond. Not for "frivolous" reasons, like pleasure.

-Gets you a promise ring 8 months or so after you guys make it official. It'd be simple. Maybe a gold plated band. It's dainty, lacking any jewels but theirs and yours initials are engraved on the inside. But you won't become "promised" till after you guys have graduated, after at least a year or so. Yeah, sure, you guys are head over heels for each other. He believes you guys are soulmates. Forever bound. The Creator put you in their path, and them in yours. But they're not irrational, and god forbid they ever end up like their parents.

-They're so in love with you. They begin having impure feelings. Impure, ungodly urges. Urges to feel all of you. Urges to tug on your beautiful hair, skim their fingers along your soft, delicate neck, maybe even see how it tastes. They want to know what all of you looks like. They want to feel the heat in-between your thighs. Feel your thighs clamp around their ears as they get to... "taste the forbidden fruit."

-These urges continue to drive them mad. They stay up late, hand jammed between their own thighs, massaging themselves over their bottoms until they feel release. When you finally become promised, it's like the flood gates have opened and they end up releasing almost 20 years worth of repressed desires.

-So many kisses. Every square inch of you has been kissed. Sydney kisses lightly. Lightly, as light as a feather. They've never risk truly acting out the urge to sink their teeth unrelentingly into your flesh.

-Public displays of affection are never an issue with Sydney. They don't mind holding your hand, or light kisses on the cheek. In fact, they adore it. They adore the way your eyes cast downward in embarrassment. The way you giggle when the marker starts brushing against your skin. But what they love even more is when you reach for them. When you reach for their hand, or when you brush your leg against theirs. It melts their heart.

-Sydney after awhile gets into the bad habit of sharing their food. They'll feed you bite after bite, even if you shake your head. They say it's because they think you're so cute when you eat. When they eat, they tend to take their time. Small spoonfuls, savoring every small piece of their meal. Except, sometimes you'll catch them staring at you in the middle of every meal. It drives you nuts.

Corrupt!Sydney

-Dates are typically something fun, even a little silly. Roller skating or ice skating in the winter, where they hold your hand as you cling to the wall and creep along the wall. Beach dates where you two end up sun burnt and fatigued. Their favorite kinds of dates though, are late at night. Watching the late night horror flicks, where the theatre is so empty you guys don't even have to hide in the back. Strolling along the beach, breaking into the changing rooms for the hell of it. In fact, he becomes surprisingly good at lockpicking.

-Instead of a promise ring, or being promised, he buys you a collar. Not a thick, heavy metal one. A simple leather one with a buckle. It matches a small leather strap around his wrists. His initials are carved onto the inside.

-His dream would be matching tattoos. He doesn't know what he'd want, but the idea of a permanent mark symbolizing him on your body drives him wild.

-PDA is something he's an expert in. You're on his lap as much as possible, with zero regards to location or who is around you guys. Fuck who stares. That's your place. Sydney develops wandering hands as well. He'll keep it to only squeezing and groping your thighs when others are in the library, but as people trickle out throughout the day his hands might end up somewhere else.

-He's not into the whole marriage thing, or promise rings, but if you kept your faith, he'd (slightly begrudgingly) participate. Even if you decide to save yourself for marriage. But if you think he'd completely abstain from pressuring you, or teasing you about it, you're wrong. He wants nothing more than to possess every inch of your body.