#that’s enough Sabaton for me

[thebunnylord]

I think I’ve been listening to too much Sabaton because I am now planning out my ww1 themed Halloween costume and trunk decoration

P.s does anyone know where I could find barbed wire and a steel helmet?

[lieutenantselnia]

thanks for the tag @kyuoki! <3

I feel the need to explain that I'm the kind of person who rarely ever listens to music per album (unless maybe when a new one has just released), usually it's either "complete discography playlist" or "one to three particular songs on constant repeat", there's no in-between😂 That's why I also have a hard time deciding on a favourite album, because I tend to have some songs I really enjoy as well as some songs that don't interest me as much in almost all of them. But I think these are some that I especially like :)

No tags this time (partly bc I just straight up forgot them when clicking on "post"💀 and I'm not sure if the tagged people would be notified if I add them in later), but feel free to continue :)

[pissmoon]

I hate sabaton with every inch of my heart and its precisely why I find this whole thing extremely funny. Idc theyre not actually christians, they are 'just' total sellouts who would do anything thatd get them hype among military nerd types, so they went with 'deus vult' crusader crap to appeal to trads who want to bring back byzantine empire or whatever. Yea doesnt matter, they just sound like shit. How do you make 'metal' that sounds like something from spongebob?

I have no words

[starfirebird]

i've listened to quite an interesting variety of songs in the past few days so now the audiation part of my brain is alternating between "i am unworthy of your love, chaarliee" and "unopposed under crimson skies, immortalized over time, their legend will rise," etc, and it is /disconcerting/

[mlmxreader]

date night w/ MK characters

『••✎••』

: ̗̀➛ characters involved: Kitana, Mileena, Sindel, Ashrah, Tanya, Li Mei, Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Kuai Liang (Sub Zero & Scorpion versions), Syzoth/Reptile, Kenshi Takahashi, Tomas Vrbada

: ̗̀➛ x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ a few swear words here and there

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Kitana

Kitana leads a busy, tiring life. her idea of a perfect date night is kept simple and easy; maybe a walk in the gardens if the weather is kind enough. or just chilling together in bed with a good book if the weather is absolute shit. she's the queen's daughter, after all, she appreciates just being able to spend time with her s/o, especially if she's had a long day.

Mileena

Mileena likes to go all out if she's got the time, but if not, she likes to keep things simple. dates can either be her taking you into a very public, very busy situation like a ball or a festival, or they can be as gentle and simple as a long walk together, hand in hand. it entirely depends on how much time she's got on her hands and how much of it she can spend with you.

Sindel

very, very quiet dates. Sindel doesn't really like her love life being in the spotlight when there are more important things to worry about; she'll take you for a nice meal somewhere quiet - there's a little café in an alleyway, tucked behind a few other shops, that she often takes you to - and somewhere that she can really spend some quality time with you.

Ashrah

Ashrah doesn't really understand dates, but she knows that you like to show her all the different things on offer; museums, art galleries, restaurants, zoos, cafés, aquariums. she loves every moment of each one, but her favourite is definitely the museum; she loves how you light up when she asks you to explain something, and could listen to you talk for hours.

Tanya

Tanya doesn't really do dates, and never has. she cares, of course she does, she adores you - but dates are just one of those things. she'd prefer to bring you home some food from your favourite place, or get you a book she knows you wanted - things like that. but, occasionally, she does take you out; she likes to take you dancing, more than anything.

Li Mei

Li Mei isn't really the date type, either, but sometimes she'll offer to take you somewhere; it comes out of nowhere, a complete surprise each time, but she'll offer to take you to museums, to festivals, to sports events. she enjoys the quality time, and not having to look over her shoulder all the time, but she loves it when you get invested as much as she does.

Johnny Cage

FLASHY!!! FLASHY!!! the best restaurants, always. concert tickets to bands you've always wanted to see live, VIP included. expect a new outfit being bought for you every time. Johnny loves to spoil you, and date nights are no exception; you want to see Sabaton live? he's taking you, and after, he'll make sure that you can sleep in the backseat of his car.

Kung Lao

film nights, 100%. there is nothing that Kung Lao likes more than to either take you to the cinema for a few hours and then out for tea afterwards, or to snuggle up with you in bed and watch old films you both love with a platter of snacks. he adores film nights, and he'll take turns choosing what to watch with you. just don't watch Marley & Me with him.

Sub Zero!Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang doesn't really do the whole dating thing. he'd prefer to just sit in bed with you and read for a while, or to sit near you while you're doing something. any quality time is good for him. there'll be a rare occasion where he can take you out, but it's usually just for a few drinks and a meal - it's simple, but it's always a good time.

Scorpion!Kuai Liang

an absolute gentleman, expect the very basics in the best way. a few drinks and a meal, sure, but you can bet he's taking you somewhere that he knows does your favourite food and drinks. he might be basic, and he might not be flashy, but the dates you have with him always make you grin when you kiss him goodnight. simple, but brilliant.

Syzoth

he likes to take you out for long walks, doesn't really matter where or when; he isn't really big on dates, but he loves going for a long walk with you. just strolling hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing all the same. he just likes being around you, and he likes when you stop to pick up little snakes and arachnids, telling him all about them. it never fails to make him smile.

Kenshi Takahashi

ADORES taking you dancing. maybe it's just the closeness, maybe it's the fact that he gets to have you all to himself. but he adores taking you dancing for date nights; he always throws in dinner afterwards, too, and it's usually put on Johnny's tab. you still don't know why he lets him get away with it, but you know better than to ask. every now and then, he'll take you with him to Johnny's new films, as well.

Tomas Vrbada

he loves nothing more than to go to the zoo with you. sitting down in the picnic area and sharing drinks and bites of each other's sandwiches; it's nice for him to get away with you for a while, to just relax and enjoy being around you. trying not to laugh at people getting chased by geese. Tomas loves it when he can take you to the zoo for the day; just you and him, nothing else to worry about except seagulls stealing your crisps.

[penny00dreadful]

This is so fucking stupid and I'm not sorry. Inspired by this video of the two guitarists from DragonForce taking the piss out of Sabaton(affectionately).

Jeffington: Just ended your whole career on live 😘

Eddie scrunched his eyes closed then wrenched them open again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his screen. It was too early in the fucking morning for this shit. 

Whatever.

He buried his face back in between Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

Corroded Coffin had only started making it big in the early 90’s when they split right down the middle. As time went on they started to drift towards different subgenres. Jeff and Grant had wanted to explore a more international sound, while Gareth and Eddie were happy to stay in the power metal scene with just a touch of neoclassical. 

They had tried to make it work, but the sounds were just too different and while Eddie and Grant wanted to continue on with lyrics full of fantasy and gothic romance, Jeff and Grant had wanted to focus more on ‘the human condition’.

So they separated. Eddie and Gareth had kept the Corroded Coffin name while Jeff and Grant travelled, exploring their sound.

There was no animosity. They were all still the best of friends. Even as Jeff and Grant had settled in Stockholm, where they had quickly shot to stardom with their new band members, Eddie and Gareth made their home in California enjoying their own success. They met up as often as they could, whenever tour dates aligned or they were booked into the same festivals.

Eddie and Steve were godfathers to Grant’s youngest daughter.

He and Gareth had been groomsmen in Jeff’s wedding.

They were solid.

Which was why the text from Jeff was more exasperating than worrying. 

Plus it was like… nine in the morning which, granted, wasn't early, early but Eddie was a damn rockstar.

And he might have lost track of time reading last night and stayed up until four but that's besides the point. 

But then Steve was handing him his morning coffee with a kiss, saying Robin had sent him a link to something and fine. He’d go watch whatever stupid shit Jeff pulled.

Eddie settled back into bed because he could and it was a Sunday.

Sue him.

But he couldn’t decide if he should be fake-mad or wildly entertained because the link Robin had sent opened the VOD about an hour into the stream, just in time for Grant to say “Should we do Corroded Coffin?”

Both Jeff and Grant were sitting in Jeff’s studio space in front of Jeff’s computer with a range of instruments behind them, grinning at each other.

“Oh shit, definitely!” Jeff stood and seemed to think about it for a second before picking up one of his guitars, a bright acid green with black tendrils running throughout. “The most dramatic of the bunch,” he leaned into the mic, gesturing at the guitar before taking his seat again, “just like their frontman.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

“You think you can shred like Munson?” Grant asked, leaning forward and starting to tap out drum beats on the laptop.

Jeff scoffed. “Yeah right. Let me just play at five-fucking-thousand bpm and sing at the same time. It’s gonna be an approximation at best.”

Surprisingly enough the music they came up with did sound very close to Corroded Coffin’s sound. Grant relied heavily on the kick-drum and high hat to a ridiculous degree for Gareth's part and yeah, fair.

Gareth did love his high hat.

Jeff played the fastest guitar riff he could muster which honestly wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t go quite as hard as Eddie could but guitar was always Eddie’s first love and he was a master at his craft. Jeff gave the camera a cheeky wink as he used the computer to speed the guitar solo up, making it sound far more complex.

“I swear to god,” Eddie muttered to himself, “if they insinuate that I do that, I’ll fucking-”

“Eddie would never.” Jeff said, responding to someone in the chat who’d asked that very question.

Grant looked up with a sly smile. “Oh, god no. He’d never. He’s too proud for that.”

Cheeky bastards.

“You know what this needs?”

“Female backing vocals?”

“Yes!" Jeff snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Like something pulled from Jackson’s Lord of the Rings!”

“Oh come on!” Eddie pouted, but even still he could tell they weren’t actually making fun.

A notification popped up on Eddie’s phone.

Gare-Bear: Have you watched the stream?

Eddie: Watching right now. They’re starting on the lyrics.

Gare-Bear: Did Robin send you the link?

Eddie: Yeah.

Gare-Bear: Okay, keep watching.

Eddie: 👍

By the time the guys had hashed the lyrics out, punctuating them with high falsetto points that freaked Jeff’s cats out, Eddie was giggling into his coffee. The lyrics were so comically bad but they were so Corroded Coffin at the same time.

I wear armour and I am sad. I'm all alone and I am sad.  Such a lone wolf am I.  Except I'm not because here comes this hot man who's totally not my husband. Bats and demons and darkness and death. Bow down to me.  Kneel before me.  I am your master.  This is about sex. Oh, look, a dragon! I'll suck your blood then I'll fuck you through the wall. Except I won't because you're an allegory for my husband again. I'll fuck him instead. Every song involves him in some way. Because I'm a big fucking sap.

And then it happened. That crafty wench.

A message popped up in the chat.

BuckyBirdie: Needs more dick sucking lyrics.

“Holy shit.” Grant whipped out his phone. “R- Birdie? Is that you? Stay right there, hold on.”

While Jeff continued to play through the guitar, Grant disappeared, raising the phone to his ear before coming back a few minutes later and whispering something to Jeff.

Jeff’s whole face split into the most mischievous of smiles and Eddie only had time to think oh no before Robin’s face appeared, joining the stream with a tired if not slightly manic expression, all topped off by her yummy sushi pyjamas.

The first thing Grant said to her was “What fucking time is it over there, Birdie?” 

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down at her watch. “Like half six in the morning?”

“Oh. Could be worse then.”

“I haven’t slept yet.” She said with a bright smile.

“Dude! Why not?”

“I got into cryptography again last night and I haven’t stopped. Don’t tell Steve.”

Oh, I am so telling Steve. Eddie thought to himself.

“God. What a fuckin’ nerd.” Jeff punctuated his statement with a loud strum of his guitar.

Robin stuck her tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch. Right in my middle schooler heart.”

“Anyway, a little birdie told me you boys need some backing vocals?”

Eddie didn’t know how he was going to get her back for this, but he was sure he’d be able to figure something out eventually.

Like banging pots and pans in her hallway while she slept off her cryptography binge.

Though it was almost worth the hilarity because noted lesbian Robin Buckley happily sat there, singing about dick and tongues and assholes in a high ethereal voice that was then layered behind Jeff's.

By the end, the chat was going wild asking when it was going to be available to stream because even though it was a parody song, it was annoyingly catchy. Just before they signed off, Jeff and Grant let their audience know they’d ask Eddie and Gareth for permission before they’d do anything.

Eddie minimised the video and opened up his chat with Gareth.

Eddie: You wanna let them release it?

Gare-Bear: Fuck yeah!

Eddie: Awesome.

[leonanette]

16 years old when I went to the war To fight for a land fit for heroes God on my side, and a gun blade in my hand Chasing my days down to zero

And I marched and I fought and I bled And I died and I never did get any older But I knew at the time that a year in the line Was a long enough life for a soldier

We all volunteered And we wrote down our names And we added two years to our ages

Eager for life and ahead of the game Ready for history's pages

And we brawled and we fought And we whored 'til we stood 10,000 shoulder to shoulder

A thirst for the Hun dire We were food for the gun fire And that's what you are when you're soldiers

I heard my friend cry And he sank to his knees, coughing blood As he screamed for his mother

And I fell by his side And that's how we died Clinging like kids to each other

And I lay in the mud And the guts and the blood And I wept as his body grew colder

And I called for my mother And she never came

Though it wasn't my fault And I wasn't to blame

The day not half over And 10,000 slain, and now There's nobody remembers our names And that's how it is for a soldier

Lyrics: 1916 by Motorhead/Sabaton (slightly altered - to fit House of the Dragon - by me)

Again, I'm not trying to be deep or clever with this. I just really want to see more Sabaton + House of the Dragon content. Plus, the line 'clinging like kids to each other' really made me think of the Cargyll twins.

[lonewolflupe]

I thought it would be fun to write a little bit about myself, so come over and get to know me! (As far as I know myself because I didn't come with a manual so I'm still figuring myself out..) If you have any more questions, feel absolutely free to ask them!

Expect a karkload of ramblings below the cut, this turned out so much longer than I intended I am so sorry, no one is probably going to read this but I'm just leaving this here anyway because I don't really have people to share my ramblings with

PERSONAL

My name's Julie (she/her)

Lupe is actually my OCs name, but I adopted it as a nickname here on Tumblr when I first started posting and I kinda stuck with it

Quickly approaching my 30s help

I'm from the Netherlands 🇳🇱 so my first language is Dutch

That obviously means English isn't my first language, so please excuse any errors in my writing

I am Dutch, therefore I love cheese 🧀 (like Gouda, NOT cheddar)

I am an archaeologist! I've been a history nerd all my life

I work in a museum (obviously one with a history collection)

My #1 all-time favourite animals are wolves

In RL, I am super introverted and people scare the kark out of me

I never got any diagnosises, but I'm pretty sure I'm neurodivergent

I prefer the internet over meeting people IRL, because I feel way more comfortable to be myself and ramble about the things I love online than IRL

I tend to switch between my several hyperfixations from time to time, but I really hope to stick around the Star Wars fandom for a long time <3

HOBBIES

Star Wars obviously ahahahaha what are you doing here otherwise?

Drawing, writing, photography, gaming, history, nature, collecting, listening to music

Drawing: has always been one of my favourite pastime activities. I used to draw wolves almost non-stop, until life happened I guess? I only recently picked up drawing again. Drawing humans is a struggle, but it's so much fun practicing with clones <3

Drawing: I'm currently drawing with my ergonomically irresponsible mouse in Photoshop CS6 (I've been using the same software for over 10 years now and I am too afraid to switch to something newer)

Writing: I used to write stories about wolves (shocker) but same as with drawing, life happened. Until I recently picked up writing again! I started writing fanfiction for the first time when I started posting on Tumblr around June 2024

Writing: publishing a book has been on my bucketlist for a long time but I'm not sure that's ever going to happen, so let's keep it with fanfiction for now (which I am REALLY enjoying)

Gaming: I prefer gaming on my PlayStation 3 and 4, but I occasionally play PC and Nintendo Switch games. I mostly play single-player games. Assassin's Creed got me into gaming and is still my favourite series. I also really enjoy The Witcher III, Red Dead Redemption I + II, LA Noire and Far Cry Primal. And others, obviously

Gaming: I play Pokémon GO! If you're a player as well, shoot me your friend code and I'll add you (:

Music: I'm a metalhead; metal is my favourite genre! But I also like (hard) rock and (folk) punk. My favourite metal subgenres are power metal and folk metal. But I can listen to movie/game soundtracks for weeks as well!

Music: Rammstein got me into the heavier stuff and is still an all-time favourite. I was a die-hard Volbeat fan for years, but I haven't felt drawn to their latest releases. My current favourite band is definitely Powerwolf (more wolves lol)! Other favourites are (among many others) Sabaton, Amon Amarth, Slipknot, Nightwish, Within Temptation, Dropkick Murphys, Flogging Molly, The Real McKenzies, Heilung, Wardruna, Eluveitie, and some amazing older stuff like Alice Cooper, Pink Floyd and E.L.O.

STAR WARS

This is where the fun begins

I've been a Star Wars fan for as long as I can remember

My brother and me used to watch the OT and Ep I on VHS when we were kids and were lucky enough to see Ep II and III in cinemas

I missed watching EP I in cinemas this May (due to its 25th anniversary) because I was moving homes during that time and I am still crying about that, see you in 5 years I guess

What I like about the Prequels: everything? Obviously the clones ahahaha. But kinda everything. The setting, the plot, the characters, the tragedy. I know there's a lot of hate on the writing, but I grew up with them and I think they're awesome. Definitely not perfect, but (and please don't hate me) I would choose the Prequels over the OT anytime. Also the meme material coming from this?? Legendary.

What I like about the OT: the story and the characters! It felt less complicated back then, more about good and evil (there's a lot of grey area now, which is obviously more realistic; but as a kid growing up with the movies, good vs evil was less complicated)

What I like about the Sequels: BB-8, porgs, and the Somehow Palpatine Returns-meme, that's it. Maybe Poe Dameron, but that's probably because it's Oscar Isaac.

I also VERY MUCH like Rogue One; what a wonderful and sad story. I won't shut up about how much I love how this story blends into Ep IV/the OT; I think this was so well done, I- aaaaaaah I love it

What I like about the animated shows: CLONES. Clonesclonesclones. And Ahsoka. And a lot more, but at this time, the clone brainrot is real. I actually really like how some things are further explained in the animated shows (I think they're a real addition to the movies/story). And the angst and the tragedy, ugh my heart. Also the animation style of course! And clones, did I mention the clones?

Favourite characters (non-clones): Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi (prequel era), Plo Koon, Aayla Secura, probably Darth Maul too, Jyn Erso

Favourite clones: Hunter (he started it), Fives (I cannot put into words how much I love and feel for this man I just need to wrap my arms around him and tell him it's alright and that he and the clones deserve so much better and that I'm there to listen to him and it's going to be okay I'm going to make all his problems go away and also some adult stuff I'm not going to write here), Echo (my beloved), Wolffe (awooooooo), Cody (good man that Cody), Rex (obviously), Fox (you matter but please stop drinking caf and get some sleep), Vaughn (my love, my heart, my soul; I would die for you) (> I get obsessed over a different clone pretty often but it's safe to say I love all clones)

Favourite droids: R2-D2, Chopper, BB-8, Gonky, K-2SO, (also BD-1 is super cute), the droids helping out Ahsoka during Shattered/Victory and Death (R7-A7, CH-33P, RG-G1), mouse droids, (I haven't played Outlaws yet but I have normal feelings about ND-5)

Favourite animals: loth wolf (duh), tooka, massiff, varactyl, acklay

I used to collect Star Wars LEGO and Hasbro and I would love to put those on a shelf/into a cabinet one day

I would love to go to some sort of fan con one day but I'm afraid I won't survive all the stimuli/amount of people there

I did visit the Star Wars Exhibition in Brussels somewhere in the late 2000s/early 2010s; it was kriffing majestic

I used to play Star Wars Battlefront II (2005) with my brother all the time. We played it so much the disc got damaged by the PlayStation 2 itself and obviously we bought it again to keep playing

I played Jedi: Fallen Order (2019) and it was awesome! I really need to replay it so I can play Jedi: Survivor (2023) afterwards (haven't played it yet, I need to get myself a PlayStation 5 first, RIP)

Since we're talking about PlayStation 5, I'm dying to play Outlaws (2024) help (I need to know what is happening between Kay and ND-5??)

I really want to play Republic Commando (2005) (I even have a PS4 copy laying around) but haven't found the time yet

LASTLY

So one of my other hyperfixations is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002), the 2D-animated movie by DreamWorks. (I know, I'm super weird; I'm a metalhead switching between Star Wars and an animated movie about horses (and some other hyperfixations but let's not go there).) I even created a fansite, if anyone's interested (which has still lots of WIP-pages I'm sorry I'm into Star Wars at the moment)

Alright that was a lot of super random information no one asked about. If you've come this far, holy kark my utmost respect to you, please leave a comment so I can send over some cookies because you kriffing deserved them?? I might consider writing a ficlet for you.

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[moondustgleam]

Every Armor Description in TDP: Xadia

There will be no accompanying visuals on this post, the designs are already on my blog under the individual character's tags. This is a compilation of all of them for people who don't want to scroll through all the images to get to the juicy lore. I reccomend everyone read Rayla/Runaan's, Callum/Karim's, Claudia's, and Soren/Viren's if you care about the show's lore.

They're organized by order they appear in the hero select menu in TDP: Xadia, region, and type of armor if you were wondering.

Rayla & Runaan’s Armor

Firebrand Wraps - Seize what is yours and burn away the rest.

Firebrand Waistcoat - Meant to keep the heat out!

Firebrand Runners - Let your colors shine in the light of the Sun.

Shadowblade Gloves - An assassin knows she holds fate in her hands.

Shadowblade Cover - An assassin knows she is already dead.

Shadowblade Footpads - An assassin knows we are all, in the end, alone.

Nightsky Grips - The Nightsky Bandit had no interest in the Great Climb, only in its climbers’ pockets.

Nightsky Vest - While the others sought a single treasure, he had his pick of plenty.

Nightsky Buckleboots - Only the Nightsky Bandit ever grew rich from the Great Climb - and his feet never left the ground.

Amaya & Zeph’s Armor

Katolian Gauntlets - “We are the hands of our kingdom…”

Katolian Surcoat -“...we raise blades, we bear shields, we carry the scars of the past…” 

Katolian Greaves - “...but we are the strongest when joined with others.” - Katolian Soldier’s Oath

Nightguard Gauntlets A relic of long-ago warriors who served the Dragon Queen, Luna Tenebris.

Nightguard Brestplate The Nightguard vanished with their Queen, but their spirits remained.

NIghtguard Sabatons Now they roam the Moonshadow Forest, searching for Luna’s heir.

Stormrunner Gauntlets - Maybe you could punch the Eternal Storm in the face!

Stormrunner Cuirass - Armor that really says, “Come at me, Eternal Storm! Bring it on!”

Stormrunner Sabatons - You know what? The Eternal Storm could use a good kick in the butt, too.

Callum and Karim’s Armor

Flamedance Tassels - Dance, little flame, dance to a silent song.

Flamedance Chemise - Warm our hearts and bodies, keep our spirits strong.

Flamedance Sandals - Dance, little flame, dance - for the night is very long.

Illusionist Handwraps - “Most people believe that reality is truth and appearances are deceiving…”

Illusionist Amice - “...but the Moon Arcanum tells us we can only truly know the appearance itself…”

Illusionist Treads - “You can never touch the so-called reality that lies just beyond the reach of your own perception.” -Lujanne

Feathered Wrists - Let nothing clip your wings.

Feathered Jerkin - Let nothing weigh you down.

Feathered Footwraps - Let nothing keep you from the sky.

Claudia’s Armor

Dawnheart Maniple - No shadows escape the wrath of the Sun at its zenith.

Dawnheart Amice - You buried your shadows deep - but the Light sees them still.

Dawnheart Slippers - When the darkness in you burns away, what remains?

Silvergrove Bracers - The traveler told a breathless tale: a village, there one moment and gone the next.

Silvergrove Vest - Impossible, they laughed at him: the forest’s magic has simply played a cruel trick.

Silvergrove Boots - But when the Moon is dark, is she not still there in the sky…?

Daybreak Reach - “I found my lover weeping, gazing up at the night skies…”

Daybreak Doublet - “... I took his hands in mine and said, my darling, dry your eyes…”

Daybreak Walkers - “...the dark is not forever, love! The sun must always rise.” -Skywing Song

Janai’s Armor

Golden Knight Vambraces - Gold, for the Sun’s light.

Golden Knight Hauberk - White, for her radiance.

Golden Knight Treads - Red, for her power.

Moonfire Grips - Some say the Moon is the Sun’s shadow, a pale imitator, a sad reflection.

Moonfire Tunic - Some say the Sun kills the Moon hen she dares grow bright enough to challenge her radiance.

Moonfire Greaves - The truth? The Moon and the Sun are sisters, a fire charred between them.

Empyrean Gloves Some - Great Climbers keep an open mind about strategy.

Empyrean Brigandine - One path to victory is to beat everyone else to the prize…

Empyrean Stompers -  …another path to victory is to beat everyone else with your fists.

Soren and Viren’s Armor

Blacksteel Grips - Something echoes in the metal.

Blacksteel Aegis - Does it sing, or does it scream?

Blacksteel Boots - What did they bury down there beneath the earth?

Ghostfeather bands - “Bit by bit the moon fades away, then bit by bit it will brighten again. That is our cycle.”

Ghostfeather Treads - “...for those who will come after you, think on all you will give them.” - Lujanne

Ghostfeather Tunic - “For those you have left behind, think on all they have given you…”

Skyblazer Vambraces - A group of elves called the Skyblazers were the first to ever attempt the Great Climb

Skyblazer Collar - Their ambition drove them higher, higher, and higher still…

Skyblazer Sandals - …but hubris brought them down again.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Adularescence

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 Characters: Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm Length: ~2700 words Rating: T, for canon-typical violence and implied sexual content

Summary: Dame Aylin is returned to the fold of time, and so also to the sensations of the world.

A quick little something that grew out of a bunch of warmups and noodling from the past week or so, and me challenging myself to do a ficlet with zero dialogue. Also I just love Aylin.

Also on AO3.

---

Adularescence

It starts with loss. 

The mounting tension of her fate balancing on a knife's edge culminates in her would-be murderer's hand on her shoulder. Barely-felt and fleeting, it takes away with it the weight of a century. A lessening so sudden Aylin falls to hands and knees, catching herself before hitting the cold, rough ground of her prison fully - a drearily familiar concept, by now.

The claws that have dug deep into her for so long she has forgotten to feel them loosen and fall away, becoming almost disquieting in their absence. The sickly glow of the runes of her cage fades into dull, washed-out grey. The hideous leeching pull on her very soul melts and trickles away, until there is nothing there at all.

Into the void left behind comes the rush of her Mother's moonlight, bathing her, reaching her, the long-denied answer to so many snatched-away prayers. With it, her armour, encasing and enveloping and hiding. Gone the chill and chafe of rags, their place taken by steel so cool and solid it makes itself felt even through a thick layer of wool and gambeson. Perfectly moulded to her, mobile and uncannily light and weighty with the heft of duty all at once. But hers and hers alone.

Then, the grip of her sword in her hand. Cast away into the shadows, once; torn from her hold and kicked away by Ketheric's boot. Its touch is the touch of purpose and meaning, belonging nowhere else but at her side. Missing for a century like a limb.

And wings--

How it is possible to feel as if they were cramped and aching even when they were absent, stolen from her, Aylin does not know. But the relief of being able to stretch them out at long last is bone-deep and luxurious. Even the howling, churning miasma of the Shadowfell whispering over the feathers is a delight.

There is a split-second sliver of trepidation that she will not remember how, but it is banished by the familiar plunge in her stomach as she launches upwards - and soars. It does not take conscious thought to recall exactly how to catch the currents of air beneath her, when to beat and when to coast and when to dive. It is hers and it is writ into her very being, carved and set far deeper than the gold.

The exhilaration foaming up her throat is cut off only by the scalding rage that mounts and mounts and mounts as she takes in the full scope of what was done to the land and its people, as she charges to her promised reckoning.

-

The dull ache of long-idle muscles shoots insistently down her back after the strain of that brief flight to the top of Moonrise. It is joined soon enough by the familiar burn in her arms from wielding her sword without respite or mercy for far longer than any mortal champion ever could have. 

And yet, even the pain is welcome, for it is not Ketheric's, but her own. There is the bite of blades and spells, the rhythm of battle, the strikes of weapons she can see and account for and brace for - no more tensing and curling in anticipation of unseen assailants and undeserved, unearned wounds. No more shadowy whispers in her ear the moment she dared let her guard down even a notch, no more bones broken and shattered without ever feeling the impact. No thieving knives dripping with malicious intent. No, these blows she could repay tenfold, should her foes outmanoeuvre her enough to ever land them. 

It ends with the crunch of skull under her boot, with tenacious residue gumming up her sabatons as they sink into soft matter, over and over until all of it is one unrecognisable mass. Until he is as unrecognisable as he'd made Moonrise, as he'd made Reithwin, as he'd made her.

Soot and blood and grime drip down to her lips and bathe her tongue in pungent bitterness as she proclaims her fealty to her newfound allies. But now that Aylin has washed over her foes like a tidal wave, violent and inexorable, she thinks - prays - she might once more come to know the taste of peace, as well.

-

It is difficult to pick individual voices out of the clamour. The newly recaptured audience hall of Moonrise Towers, where Ketheric Thorm set himself upon a throne of treachery and corruption and purloined power, is nothing like the deafening silence and howling storm of the Shadowfell. But in the midst of it all--

"Aylin."

One voice rises above all others, even when it is softer than any of them. The one voice Aylin longs to hear, and the one voice she feared was to forever stay in the realm of reminiscence and fantasy.

But then… Isobel. Her hand on Aylin's chin and cheek as she kneels before this wonder and wages a raging battle against disbelief. An unfamiliar chill permeates the leather of Isobel's gloves and sinks into Aylin's skin. And she would curse the thin fabric for the impudence of attempting to separate them even now, but all is driven from her when Isobel's arms come around her and she is pulled close into an embrace. Soft hair tickling her face, lips pressed against her own - all the simple sensations Aylin once came dangerously close to taking for granted. Richer and more magnificent than any dream could ever hope to be.

She is lost, enraptured by the sight and feel of Isobel alive and in her arms and on her lips and--

Aylin barely notices someone thrusting a goblet of wine into her hands. A celebration has begun amongst the ghoulish, deathly decor that had invaded Moonrise; a haphazard, makeshift affair, with the wounded patched up and enemy remains hastily removed.

Isobel laughs, pressed close against her side; soft, bittersweet, with a slightly concerning rasp at the end. But there is true joy to be found in the world once more, finally, finally, and so Aylin simply smiles back, the gold lines pulling oddly on the corner of her mouth and on her bottom lip, and clinks their mismatched goblets together.

She takes a sip - the first thing other than blood or steel or Isobel to touch her lips in a century. Flavour bursts on her tongue like sharpened memory, shards digging in.

It is the same vintage she drank during that final supper, when Ketheric and Balthazar called her back from blazing some vengeful trail or another, in the absence of Isobel. When they discussed the purpose of their summons with her over a cup and a light repast.

She did not eat much - and now, she recalls, neither did they; perhaps because guilt already brewed and churned in their traitorous guts, even as they played at hospitality and broke bread with her. Or perhaps it was fear of her and her Mother and the inevitable divine retribution they knew would find them, after the unspeakable transgressions they planned. But Aylin's own still-fresh wounds, the feeling of her heart having been pulled from her chest, made indulging a distant thought. Still, she'd had that cup, finished it to its dregs, before launching to her feet and insisting they mount their rescue immediately. Playing right into their hands. 

Aylin sets the full goblet on a nearby table. It is too sour to bear.

-

The moonlight scoured the worst of a century's worth of filth from her, but there was more still to cleanse. Black ichor from the necromancers' puppets, the blood of the sea of cultists, then her own, and Ketheric's… Undesirable battle trophies all, with vile fluids from the mind flayer nest and the brain itself, sticky and viscous, melding with Myrkul's bonedust into a horror Aylin is eager to be rid of.

She does not divest herself of her armour by dismissing it, this time. She takes it off slowly and laboriously, piece by piece, and sets it in a corner of the room to catch the glint of candle and firelight handsomely, reassuringly present in vivid blue and silver.

A bowlful of lukewarm water, a rag, and a bar of plain soap are not the perfumed luxuries or moon-bound hot springs her Mother's temples liked to greet her with, but tonight Aylin is prepared to call them the best thing she has felt on her skin.

Until the light sting and fresh-scrubbed feeling they've left behind is joined by Isobel's fingers - no gloves, at last - so achingly tender, so unthinkably careful and gentle and kind that they are a balm unto themselves, no healing incantation required. 

The smell of autumncrocus fills Isobel's room in the inn; it is a wonder how a single basket of half-dried blooms is enough to permeate every corner of the place. The bright fire crackles merrily as they lie before it, ensconced in a nest of Isobel's making. 

There is no warmth or colour in the Shadowfell, and everything brought into it is leeched away and lost between one breath and the next. Within an hour of their retreat to the upstairs sanctuary, a century-old storm of shivers dislodged itself from somewhere deep within Aylin, and refused to let go of her. Isobel responded by stripping the bed of its contents, emptying the cabinets and the wardrobes in her hunt for every scrap of fabric, then bundling all of it and the both of them close to the fireplace. 

Clean, safe, warm, cherished - Aylin feels a singularly stubborn burning crawl up her throat, and, for the first time in a very long time, she feels hot tears roll down her cheeks. They trickle down her throat, following a golden crack along her jugular. The joy is overwhelming. She would almost name it painful.

Isobel, pressed against her side in quiet, stalwart adoration, is oddly cold herself - it is impossible not to notice. Not as cold as the last time Aylin held her in her arms and wept over her, no - and would that she could scrub that stain from her memory as she'd just scoured her skin! Neither of them are unscathed, but both of them are here, and more than that even Aylin, fearless, would fear asking for.

The sheets Isobel has pulled from the bed are aged, rough linen, the blankets are musty and moth-eaten, and the pillows are lumpy, but finding fault with them is the furthest thing from Aylin's mind. Silken finery woven in Argentil, magicked-up celestial feather-filled duvets to sink into - there would be time and opportunity to revisit them once more.

Now, however, there are yearned-for kisses so familiar and so new; there is plush, pliant flesh and skin that seems stretched tauter over ribs than she remembers. A soft stomach and hips rising to meet her, the silk of damp curls, and then rich, encompassing, breathtaking, slick heat. And the heavenly music she has coaxed from beloved lips before as she will do again and again and again and again. A miracle in itself.

Pleasure eventually settles into the ache of a body long-unused being put into motion, under strain, and run to its limit. But it is also the welcome ache of everything within her that is responsible for feeling happiness, every one of the long-dormant particles or organs or limbs that make her up in this mortal, material plane. Just as unused and just as rusty.

As the evening rolls on, the fire needs to be fed - and so, they both decide, do they. Aylin is shrugging on an almost-large-enough robe and preparing to set off in search of sustenance, when a knock sounds on the door. When she opens it, there is nobody there, but a tray with a meal enough for two has been left just to the side of the entrance to their room - theirs! What a thought to wrap a restless mind around!

Isobel, for her part, does not seem terribly surprised. Aylin feels her mild curiosity and vast desire to know and share every bit of time she has missed with her beloved take a step back as they sit down to eat. The slide of the first warm bite of food down her throat and into her belly is, Moonmother forgive her, divine. The salty tang and the slightly bitter aftertaste, the sharpness of some unnamed spice, then overwhelming sweetness coating her tongue.

Aylin is ravenous. Isobel nibbles at her dinner and laughs at her antics, but this, too, is bittersweet enough to subside earlier than Aylin would have wanted it to.

Isobel is exhausted, grieved, overwhelmed - and though Aylin would prefer not to close her eyes and miss another moment of her precious presence, she follows the gentle tug on her arm, and lies down in their pile of blankets once more. Isobel lies behind her, wraps her entire small form around her, and does not let go even as sleep claims her quickly. Prone, bonelessly languid, unarmoured, Aylin cannot imagine feeling safer.

-

Aylin sleeps and does not dream. She had her doubts that she ever would again.

But now, perhaps, the grounding touch of something soft, something warm, something ticklish… something, is more than enough. Anything that isn't cold hard rock, enveloped in the blurred sense of unreality that blankets everything in the Shadowfell. A realm of absence and denial unfit for her in so many ways, least of all that Dame Aylin has never been a creature wont to deny herself. Indeed, it is not in her Mother's doctrine at all. Life is to be lived in all its fullness. The Moonmaiden's gaze is generous with blessings, widely encompassing and permissive above all else.

Perhaps, Aylin has contemplated, this was one of the reasons she was born and sent to Faerûn, a part of her destined duties - to experience. Touch and taste and hear and listen, perceive in all possible ways. And then act, decisive, resolute, informed. When her Mother, separate, remote in her realm, could not, for all her reach. And her avatars and embodiments always under Shar's threat, preciously rare and short-lived. 

What rouses her fully from her contemplative doze is the searing sensation of a beam of sunlight pouring into the room and onto her skin. With it comes a sound that she hasn't heard in so long it takes her a moment to place: birdsong. Trilling chirps and whistles, from somewhere right outside their window.

Morning is a new phenomenon in these lands - Isobel's wide-eyed sleep-addled gaze confirms as much when she shifts awake, tangled up in covers as much as in her beloved. And Aylin - she is a creature of light, to be sure, and it should not bother her. But it is her Mother's soft, silver twilight that embraces her. And it has been a century. For all her glorious divine heritage, her eyes grow damp and itchy when confronted with the full, harsh might of the sun, and Aylin grits her teeth and blinks frustration away quickly.

From a gnawing doubt that it was all a dream that could be snatched away like smoke on the wind, to the point of there being too much reality to handle. After a century of nothing, suddenly there is everything. For a moment, Aylin feels a twinge of fear that she will be like a starving woman at a feast, sick after the first morsel.

But hers is no mere mortal constitution. Her body was purpose-made just as the rest of her; it is built to match the challenges of eternity.

Aylin draws a deep breath of air freshly cleansed of shadows, and perseveres.

[pinguphd]

Soldier of Heaven Chapter 1

I spent like 3 days editing this, but at least I finally have chapter one of my fem!Shep/Kaidan fic. Taking place after the events of ME3, we're going to explore just what happened to our dear Commander Amira Shepard and her love, Kaidan Alenko. I would like to thank @the-californicationist for putting up with my rambling, and especially @tealenko for helping me work out some of the ideas I had. Wouldn't have done it without you two, this goes out to you!

Each chapter, including the name of the fic itself, is named after a song. I will update the playlist with each chapter so you can listen along with me. Enjoy!

“I won't be coming home

I won't be going anywhere

I will guard this post forever

Here on the alpine slope, where I did my final stand, I shall remain

Among the ice and snow that binds me to this mountain”

Soldier of Heaven-Sabaton

It took close to two months in the aftermath of the Reaper War for things to return to any semblance of normalcy.  While the makeshift hospitals were still full, they did not seem so utterly overwhelmed as when the Catalyst was fired, finally eradicating the Reaper threat and ending the horrid cycle.  Much of humanity’s home was destroyed, yet the overall mood in London was one of optimism or cautious enthusiasm at the society they are rebuilding. 

Amira Shepherd, the famed Savior of the Citadel, first human Spectre and one of the best biotics the galaxy has ever seen was one of the people still in hospital.  The doctors and nurses had no idea who she was, and Amira wanted to keep it that way.  Best they could figure was she was probably an Alliance soldier, but it was hard to be certain when she would not speak to any of them.  The combination of watching a man she considered to be a father figure to her-Admiral Anderson die right in front of her, the comedown from the six months that she had spent going from here to kingdom come gathering everything she possibly could to ensure the continued survival of everyone in the Milky Way, and, perhaps most heartbreakingly, saying her final goodbyes to her beloved Kaidan took its toll on her.

Having survived 3 different suicide missions, curing the genophage and watching Mordin die, saving Kaidan on Virmire, even her fraught reunion with him on Horizon was distressing.  She has seen enough trauma, heartbreak, and death to last her many lifetimes (quite literally, in her case). She could still recall every second of her final moments with him.  Helping him up after being fired upon with that beam, even forcing him onto the Normandy even as he begged her not to make him go and his anguish as she left him was the worst of all of it.  She loved him so deeply she made him go, although it broke her heart to do so.

That did not make the aftermath any easier.  After she had fired the Catalyst, she had very little recollection of what it was like in the midst of all that rubble.  Her armor was in pieces and near nonexistent and the burns and injuries she had, she almost couldn’t feel.  All she could remember was the feeling deep within her that she had to get back to him, no matter what.  Despite the risks to what she knew had to be incredibly fragile health, she did her best to keep a biotic field about her in the hope search and rescue would find her.  Dead or alive, she owed it to Kaidan to know how she ended.  Not another Alchera, not on her watch.

From what she had been told by the medical staff, she was in the smoldering rubble for around 3 days.  By the time she was found she was incredibly weak and in what she could only imagine was a rough state.  Bad enough to the point where the staff at the hospital, full to the brim with Alliance doctors, nurses and support staff had no idea she was Commander Shepard.  This fact suited her just fine.  

For some unknown reason they were keeping her there, so in a show of defiance, she kept her damn mouth shut.  She filled her time not in PT with a sketchbook and canvas a well meaning woman visiting her friend at work gave her.  It’s not right dear, you being here all alone. She was one of the only people in the few months she had been in hospital who was not interested in making her talk.  I understand dear if you don’t want to say anything she said to her on her first visit.  She enjoyed the companionship anyway.  

This sweet older woman was completely and utterly empathetic, expecting nothing in return.  Selfless too, visiting her.  She seemed to have a way with, what did Kaidan call them? “Old soldiers.” Huh.  Guess those words ring truer than she thought.  When the woman, Elizabeth, she eventually learned was her name, had come to visit, she always had a mug of tea and biscuits with her, armed to the teeth with even more art supplies for her.  

Elizabeth would sit with her in her room, chattering away about everything and nothing at all.  She heard stories of her kids and grandkids, all gone now.  She heard about her troubles finding ingredients for the teas and biscuits she brought with her on her daily visits.  More than once the doctors, nurses, therapists and technicians chided her for being rude in not talking to her friend who was so kind in visiting someone she had never met before.  Elizabeth came to her defense more than once, shutting that attitude towards her with a fury only known to a mama bear protecting her cubs.  

It was on one of these visits, Elizabeth chatting away while Amira worked on a scene of her and Kaidan’s last goodbye, that Elizabeth had said something particularly interesting.  “Apparently some Admiral is even in the area today.  Think he might be visiting some of the Alliance folk.”  Hearing this, Amira felt the blood in her veins run cold.  Beyond hope she prayed it both was and was not Admiral Hackett.  Desperate for word of her crew on the SR-2, she studiously focused her attention back on the pad in her lap, whilst Elizabeth prattled on and left her to get lost in her thoughts.  It was something she did a lot since she was found.

Okay, she was lying to herself.  She knew full well why they were keeping her there.  The combination of how heavy she used her biotics in her final moments before she made it to the Citadel, the injuries she sustained, and lying half dead (well, mostly dead if she was being honest with herself) using the very last of her reserves to emit a strong enough blue glow to be found had completely destroyed her implant.  The cybernetics and nanites Cerberus had given her had protected much of her fragile state and had served to speed up the healing process.  

In order to distract herself from the train of thought that thinking of Cerberus always led her down (the awful reunion with Kaidan on Horizon, almost losing Garrus on Omega, the suicide mission that was the Omega 4 relay…) she instead forced herself to use her famed laser focus on running down the list of why she had not been identified, her pencil stilling against the pad of paper in front of her.  Feeling a sense of calm overcome her after Elizabeth’s seemingly innocent remark at the visiting Alliance brass, she ran through the logistics she knew by heart.  

During and after any skirmish, battle or war, communications were in some form of disarray.  In this case, they were all but destroyed.  To that end, she knew connections to Alliance systems in particular were nonexistent.

When they had to replace her L3 implant with a highly experimental L5 type model similar to what she retrieved from Grissom knowing that the logistics of obtaining a safe and extraordinarily well tested L3 implant like what she had previously (she groaned internally at that, it would be her third damn implant) it was so badly damaged they couldn’t easily trace it back to the Alliance database, if they had the access at all.

With so few resources, they did not have a chance to thoroughly scan her like they would have done pre-war.

Over half of Earth’s population was dead, and with medical staff on or near the front lines their numbers had been particularly affected. With so few staff, and an extraordinary number of patients to tend to, she was able to stay safely under the radar.

Those who needed tending to number in the many thousands.  As fond as the medical field and Alliance tended to be of rules and protocol, the ability to follow such things went out the window in wartime, which she knew very well.

She thought of these 5 things, over and over, during the course of her visit with her friend.  It distracted her and calmed her nerves.  Anxieties she had become all too familiar with since Alchera reared their ugly head once more, however, when she heard a flutter of activity outside the small room she had been given.  She looked towards the door, with a mix of fear and well-disguised terror in her eyes in contrast to the awe Elizabeth had held in hers.  Elizabeth’s heart softened when she looked upon Amira, the older woman coming up to her to place a weathered hand on her bare shoulders.

Listening to the conversation in the hall with her well-practiced hearing, she heard a very familiar voice talking with the nurse that was particularly horrid to her over the course of her stay.  Prone to letting her mind wander since the war's end, she thought of all the ways this woman had tried to goad her into talking.  Attempts at withholding food, being more aggressive in the treatments she was giving, waking her at odd hours or abruptly, the list goes on.  She guessed that was part of why Elizabeth had visited her so often, after the first time she witnessed “the wicked harpy” draw blood with a rather vicious looking needle that left a pretty purple bruise at her elbow.

“Oh, how did you enjoy your visit sir?  We have had a great many Alliance soldiers grace our halls.  I myself have taken care of many of them.” She could hear their muffled footsteps walking away from the corner of the hospital. Elizabeth had given her shoulder a gentle squeeze, rolling her eyes. If by “care” she means acting like a wicked harpy armed with a syringe full of medi-gel, then by all means, she took great care of you dear. The two people in the corridor were unfortunately not far enough away, because the Alliance Admiral had heard some of their words and turned back around, heading right toward the door.  To her.

“Oh no sir, you wouldn’t want to go in there.  This silly woman doesn’t bother to talk to anyone.  No one knows her name and no one comes to visit either so clearly whoever she had in her life either is dead or she was so miserable to them like she is to us they just don’t care.”  She giggled a bit at that, letting just enough of her facade crack that the man's steps came to an abrupt halt and turned about face towards her.  Coming close enough to the windowed door, Amira’s eyes widened.  She knew that silhouette anywhere.

With a stern voice, he addressed Harpy.  “With all due respect ma’am, you were fully apprised of the reason for my visit today.  I did not put up with your company for the last hour for nothing.  I did not stand next to you blabbering about your skills as I visited my men and women, many of whom were under my command or under the command of a good friend who is also missing.  If there is a soldier in there under MY command, I will see her.”  Despite the stuttered protests of Harpy, trying to recover her “reputation”, he swiftly held out a hand to push open the door. 

Amira froze and dropped her pencil.  Clearly startled, Elizabeth raised her stature and wrapped both hands around her shoulders, standing protectively over her adopted charge.  “And just who in the hell are you?  Barging in here like a raging krogan like that, have you no manners man?”  Amira placed a hand over hers and shrugged them off, standing up.  The man’s eyes widened.  Yes, they knew each other very well.

“Commander Shepard?”

[the-marron]

When I was a kid I used to love Britney Spears. Her music videos fascinated me - they were colourful and they seemed to have a story to tell, so I adored watching them and making up my own stories that went along with what was happening on the screen. I didn't know English back then at all, so I didn't understand a word, but her songs brought me joy and I adored her.

When I got a bit older, around maybe 8 or 9, it turned out that liking Britney Spears is BAD TM. Because she is a stupid blonde, you see. My parents told me I was too smart to listen to trashy pop. They helped me get the CDs, yes, but they were always given to me with a 'eh, I hope you will grow out of it soon'. I was a smart kid, I shouldn't listen to stupid things.

My peers also mocked Britney, telling me all the other artists that were better to listen to, like Christina Aguilera. She was the smart, edgy blonde, so if I had to listen to silly songs, then I could at least pick a more mature, better option.

There were other artists I listened to, of course, it's not like Britney was the only one that spoke to me, but when I learned English enough to understand what the songs were about, I grew to like them more - the songs about trying to be your own person, about not accepting what other people tell you you should be. About parents deciding what you should do and like. They resonated with me, even though I was 'too smart' for that sort of music.

As most kids do, I started to hide it. When I was 10, maybe 11, I made a very good impression of being over it. I listened to Rammstein now, sometimes to Linkin Park. It was much better, according to many.

My dad told me he was proud of me when I told him I enjoyed Sabaton. "Finally, you grew out of your stupid era!"

I was sufficiently shamed by that point to never mention my Britney Spears phase. It was the butt of jokes at family dinners still, because it was such a funny thing for a kid to like silly music. Now that the kid was over it, we should mock it as viciously as possible. Just in case said kid wants to revert to the old ways.

To be completely honest, I copied that approach - my victim of choice was Adele. It was in high school already, and I absolutely abhorred her songs. I found them whiny, overhyped, unnecessarily tearful and man-oriented, they all sounded the same to my ears, so whenever someone said that their favourite song was something of Adele's, my first thought was 'but you are smart? Why her?'

Fast-forward to now, and with Britney Spears's book released, it turns out that listening to her is okay now. It's feminist. It's fine and even good to say outright that you are a fan. Because she is a victim of abuse now, so it's fine and morally correct to like her. Her songs and lyrics have value now. Curious.

The thing is, I truly did grow out from my Britney phase. I retain some sentiment for a few songs, but either it's simply not who I am anymore, or I successfully eradicated my interest in her to stop feeling ashamed whenever her name comes up in a conversation. Doesn't matter which one it is, the effect is the same.

However, now I am old enough to see that what was done to my Britney phase, I applied to other singers - Adele, Billie Eilish, to name a few. There is always a woman singer to hate, someone whose lyrics and music "you are too smart to enjoy".

There is no real take away from it really, all of that are just musings born out of an idle mind, but now I believe that songs are a bit like poetry - you either connect with it or you don't, either it touches you or it doesn't. One person will see themselves in Adele, someone else will find themselves mirrored in Billie Eilish, someone else feels seen whenever they listen to Mitski. It's a universal feeling we all experience, to like a song and think 'wow, this speaks to me!', we all just have different tastes and different experiences.

I just know that right now, I no longer want to be the person who says 'I thought you were smarter than this?' whenever someone shares their favourites.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Sending back the topic of "favourite singer + album + song" asking to you! 💚 Bonus: do you have a favourite concert (or any live music performance) you've ever been to?

Awwww how much time do you have? 😂 Sooooo.

Favorite singer? Too many, obviously, but if this was an elevator pitch, there's only one answer.

Hansi! But, he's very closely followed by Anders Friden (In Flames), Nils Molin, Myles Kennedy, Tommy Karevik, Eddie Vedder, Janis Papadopulous (Beast in Black)... as for women, strangely enough, I don't have these strong connection to women's voices. I do adore Elize Ryd, Otep Shamaya, Noora Louhimo and Jennifer Haben.

Favorite album of all time is Keeper of the seven keys by Helloween, followed by Seventh son of a seventh son by Iron Maiden. Other than that, I don't really much follow up on albums, when I like songs I will listen to them until my ears bleed but I might just not know the album.

Favorite song: uuuh that changes. Again, Keeper of the seven keys, the song, is one of my all-time-favorites, just as Can I play with madness by Iron Maiden is. I do have favorites for each of my favorite bands, though, like Nightfall (Blind Guardian), Foregone, Pt 2 (In Flames), Karma (Kamelot), A ghost in the trenches (Sabaton) among many, many more :)

Favorite concert: So. Here's the story. I went to my very first concert at the age of 15 or so, it was Helloween, they weren't that big at the time and played in a small place in my hometown. I went to another small concert the week after (although I was forbidden because I came home from Helloween at 2 in the night lol), but after that, life just changed. School ended (and thus the connection to my other Heavy Metal friends, there was no Internet back then!), work started, and over time, music wasn't that important to me anymore. Fast forward 35 years, it's Covid time and I'm discovering my childhood favorites again. And new bands. And I was so BACK to metal. I'm even in a club now 😂 Thing is, I had cancer in 2022, and that's one of those phases in life where you start to think you should do the things you love because time is short. No worries, I'm fine, I totally recovered. But in 2023, I attended my first concert after all this time, and it was Blind Guardian, and I'm still smiling when I think of it.

Thank you so much for this ask, this was fun!

[tabletennis20]

(NSFW) Submissive Godrick x Dominant Tarnished

Finally got around to finishing this :') Godrick is a whore and you can't convince me otherwise. The Tarnished is relatively gender-neutral, but penetrates. Strap-ons exist though!

A Tarnished makes quick work of Godrick.

Thanks to @elden-shame for letting me rewrite their post!

“What?!” Godrick hissed, incredulous. His fingers dug into the eroded cobblestone from where he knelt in Stormveil’s graveyard.

A slight tilting of the Tarnished’s helmet was all the emotion he got. “You heard me,” they said. “I know you excel at begging, a monument attests to it not far from here.”

Heat rushed to Godrick’s face, obvious on his ghostly skin. “I…is kneeling before thee not enough?” He searched the darkness behind the Tarnished’s visor, wishing he could view their expression. Even with how close they were, his poor eyesight had difficulty discerning much.

The Tarnished chuckled, raising their greatsword to rest it underneath Godrick’s chin. “Do you need further prompting?”

Godrick swallowed thickly, and the motion bobbed his throat against the flat of the Tarnished’s blade. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “I-I— Ah— No,” he stuttered, pausing for a moment before one of his auxiliary arms impulsively jerked towards the hilt of the greatsword. The Tarnished easily grabbed his wrist with their left hand, holding it in a grip firm enough to threaten the bone. 

They dug the tip of their sword into the hollow of Godrick’s neck, a thin trail of blood beginning to snake down the steel. Godrick’s eyes widened in horror and he tried to remain still, knowing the blade’s devastating sharpness from their fight only minutes ago. When the Tarnished spoke again, their tone was severe. “Try something that stupid again, and your corpse will be feeding the dogs,” they growled, delighting in the raw fear that filled the demigod’s eyes. “Now beg.”

A whimper left Godrick, desperate pleas tumbling from his lips as soon as the blade gave him enough room to speak. “P-please, Tarnished! Forgive me, I will not test your strength again, I swear it!” He bowed his head until his crown hit the stone and clasped several pairs of hands above his head in beseeching submission.

The Tarnished stared silently at Godrick’s prostrate form, much preferring his groveling to his arrogant boasting. Finally, they released his wrist, and the arm shot back to press firmly against its host. Godrick risked a glance up at them then, unsure what he should do. Two of his hands wrung themselves together, and he shifted his bulk against the ground.

“You’re a pathetic excuse of a lord,” they said. “Look at you, a craven mess at my feet. How your men continue to follow a greedy fool such as yourself is beyond me.”

Godrick whined, pressing himself lower to the ground as if he could duck the scathing words. It had been a while since someone had bested him so easily, and the power the Tarnished held was unquestionable. He badly wanted to ask what it was they wanted from him, but he feared it would end whatever patience they had left.

“As expected from your cowardly nature, you licked Malenia’s boots after she humiliated you in a duel, yes?” the Tarnished asked.

Oh. The flush returned to Godrick’s face beautifully. “I-I didst not—!” he stammered before his better judgment snapped his jaw closed. Pleading his case would do nothing.

“I’m sure you know I don’t believe you,” the Tarnished replied. “You talk too much for that mouth of yours to not be practiced.”

“Ah,” was all Godrick could manage at that. He weakly tried to avert his gaze before an impatient snap of the Tarnished’s fingers corrected him.

“You will clean my sabatons,” they said simply, and sat down on the crumbled remains of a gravestone only a pace to their right. Godrick nodded, looking at the Tarnished’s feet with dread.

Slowly, the demigod craned his neck down until he was inches from the Tarnished. He shut his eyes, wishing he could plug his nose as well, and let his tongue fall out of his mouth, making sure to lick a broad stripe immediately least he incur the Tarnished’s ire again. Their sabatons tasted of dirt, gore, and things Godrick could only guess the foul origin of. His tongue spilled his saliva over the steel, the dirt mixing into bloody mud that coated his taste buds with a foul, gritty slime. “Swallow,” came the demand from above him, and he did, hoping his innards would accept the unholy concoction.

“Show me.”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Godrick sat up enough to be just below the Tarnished’s face, only able to meet their assumed gaze without confirmation of their expression. He hesitantly opened his mouth for them, proving his obedience, and failed to suppress a small noise as their thumb pried his jaws further apart. The leather pad of their gauntlet ran over his teeth, pausing where one was missing to nudge the gum there. “You poor thing,” they said sarcastically, watching his golden eyes flick towards the entryway of the courtyard as they spoke. “What, concerned your men will see you like this? Your servants? I should have you crawl around behind me on a chain and show you off. Surely I won’t be the only one to find pleasure in your submission. I know I’m not the only Tarnished to enjoy the squirming insect under your facade of power.”

Godrick prayed his mortification would be read as being from the threat, not the dangerously potent heat that pooled between his legs. “What do you mean, other Tarnished?” he asked around the finger in his mouth, unable to help himself. Somehow the notion of Tarnished discussing topics, let alone him, had escaped him until that moment. The thought was not unpleasant, immediately conjuring images of being surrounded by bodies eager for him. He had no current shortage of suitors, but none of them came close to matching his strength.

The Tarnished laughed, thumbing Godrick’s tongue idly as they thrust their sword into the ground. “Your reputation precedes you for most, yet I know you have bastards scuttling around the castle grounds. Do you really find it so surprising that there are those who would bend you over your own ego?” they asked, the rhetorical nature of the question clear once they swapped their thumb for two fingers.

Squirming with hardly-suppressed arousal, Godrick gave a final look towards the graveyard’s entrance before letting his eyes fall closed again. He cautiously licked around the gauntlet in his mouth, grateful the mild taste could be ignored easily. When his tongue found no harsh edges to cut itself on he grew bolder, relishing in the approval his efforts gained. Soon he shallowly bobbed his head, his tongue freely swirling around the Tarnished’s fingers as he tried to restrain the needy whines threatening to burst from his chest.

“You behave surprisingly well once put in your place,” the Tarnished observed smugly. Their gauntlet briefly dipped further into Godrick’s mouth, a lust-filled huff leaving them as the demigod gagged, his throat tightening around the tips of their fingers. “One would deem you practiced in the art of pleasing others.”

The Tarnished pulled away, leaving only a trail of saliva connecting the two. Godrick moved to wipe his mouth with his cloak, but startled as the Tarnished made a disapproving sound.

“You’re not done,” they said. They stuck out the handle of an axe—his axe, he realized, unsure when they had claimed it—expectantly, making sure wipe their gauntlet briefly against Godrick’s cheek to stain it with a smear of his own spit. The demigod eyed the thick shaft of the axe nervously. “Well? You were so eager before,” the Tarnished said, mocking him. “Open your mouth.”

Godrick wished he could ignore the rush of heat the Tarnished’s words breathed into him, fortunate his position did not yet give away his trembling legs. Obediently, he leaned up until his lips where equal to the pommel, loosening his jaw enough to sate the Tarnished without being overly inviting. Immediately, the cool metal kissed Godrick’s lips before pushing past them, heavy on his tongue and forcing his jaw wide. He grunted in discomfort and tried to glare at the Tarnished, but they only scoffed.

The pommel pushed firmly at Godrick’s throat until it was forced to yield, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he choked around the girth. The Tarnished made quick work of him, opening his throat with a surprising efficiency that had Godrick groaning with masochistic pleasure. “You have some nerve to call yourself a lord of gold,” the Tarnished said, delighted at Godrick’s submission. “You’re nothing but a desperate Leyndell whore. Look at how you work a shaft.”

The neediness in his own unabashed moan had Godrick blushing furiously, ducking his head to take the handle deeper. He sunk down as far at he could go without causing himself to vomit and hoped his weak gurgling communicated as much. The Tarnished fucked his throat then, pumping the axe in and out with a surprising amount of precision. Godrick’s hands clutched at both the ground and the Tarnished’s legs desperately, his lust-filled gaze cast up at them as they forced him to drool and slobber all over the metal handle. “That’s it,” they said, the fingers of their free hand curling tightly into Godrick’s hair. They held no qualms about jerking the demigod around on the handle, quickly yanking him back and forth. A uniquely fervent noise had them pausing to watch hands pump at his lengths, which had hardened considerably. “You better not cum,” they said with false disgust, forcing Godrick’s head a fraction to the side so they could watch him work himself. 

Without the Tarnished guiding him, Godrick laved his tongue around what was in his mouth, his throat spasming around the intrusion as he swallowed. He got a few moments of reprieve before the Tarnished returned to forcing wet squelches out of him, his mind going pleasantly hazy from the lack of oxygen. 

The Tarnished scoffed, their gaze flicking between the axe handle bulging Godrick’s throat out and his cockheads drooling onto his eager hands. “If you crave being put in your place this badly, we can make this a regular occurrence,” they mused. “I have enough time to reward and punish your behavior as I see fit.” They smirked as Godrick tugged at himself faster at that, no longer having to do anything but hold Godrick’s axe up for him to work diligently. As his hips started to jerk uncontrollably, the Tarnished lowered their voice to a sensual purr. “If you spill, you’ll be unbearably sensitive when I fuck you,” they teased, sliding the axe out of Godrick’s throat to toss it aside.

Godrick’s eyes widened and his hands immediately left his cocks, which throbbed precariously. The heat the Tarnished’s words spurred in him nearly pushed him over the edge, and he grabbed at anything he could reach to ward off the sensation.

The Tarnished slowly walked around Godrick, ignoring the hands that pawed at their armor. “Behave,” they said firmly, patting the demigod’s back once he stilled.

Lifting Godrick’s patchwork robes revealed his anus and genitals, and the Tarnished smirked at the shiver that ran up his spine. They paused to admire the grafted mess of the demigod’s intimate areas, pleased when they noticed his cocks had begun to twitch again even in Stormveil’s cool air. “Are you enjoying this?” they asked, reaching out to cup the heavy sack hanging from between Godrick’s shaking legs.

“Y-yes,” Godrick groaned, his hands crawling over each other in anticipation. “Very much so.” It became difficult to think once the Tarnished began to tug on him cruelly, forcing him backwards to alleviate the pain. The Tarnished walked him in reverse this way for a few paces, soaking up Godrick’s uncomfortable panting.

“Good,” they said, moving their hand to one of his lengths. Godrick gasped and throbbed in their grasp, his other cock jerking as it stiffened impossibly more. “Do you usually get this hard when you’re about to take it up the ass?”

Godrick shuddered, the cool touch of the Tarnished’s gauntlet oddly soothing to his engorged shaft. “Yes,” he admitted, too aroused to feel ashamed. Could he be blamed for being impatient? Surely anyone would be in his situation, he reasoned. The teasing only served to worsen his anticipation. It seemed as though the Tarnished knew exactly how to play him, and oh, did it ever feel euphoric.

The blunt pressure of the Tarnished’s cock appeared suddenly at Godrick’s entrance, causing him to get as comfortable in the rubble as he could. He rested his torso against the remnants of a pillar and eagerly raised his hips, watching the Tarnished from between his right shoulders. They moved their helmet enough to spit on Godrick’s hole, prodding their saliva in with shallow thrusts. Their difference in stature allowed the Tarnished to work Godrick open easily, their hands spreading him apart as they nudged his rim. “Tell me how bad you need this, and I’ll make you cum,” they said, roughly digging their fingers into the flesh of the demigod’s ass.

“Oh, please, Tarnished,” Godrick begged without hesitation, trying to impale himself the rest of the way. “Cease this teasing and take me fully! I has’t been nothing but obedient for you!” Unused to being denied his urges, his voice took on a feverish pitch as he craned his neck to shoot the Tarnished a pleading look.

The Tarnished ran their palms across Godrick’s back, wishing they could save the view. Not one to miss an opportunity, they landed a few more hardy swats to Godrick’s rear and earned themselves rough groans. “This is true,” they said. “I suppose good whores deserve some compensation, hmm?”

“Yes, I do! Please!” Godrick cried, unsure how much more he could take without relief. He felt like he was overheating, sweating even in the breeze. A part of him desired to simply finish himself in his hand before the Tarnished could drag out his arousal, but it had been buried by his long-unfulfilled fantasies of being dominated and claimed in such a bestial way.

Godrick groaned as the Tarnished’s cock slid in to the hilt in one firm thrust, biting his lip a second too late to muffle the sound. Each pump of their hips weakened his resolve to maintain some semblance of dignity. His limbs shook with the effort of keeping him kneeling, the pleasure coursing through his nerves faster than he could hope to manage. He clung to the collapsed pillar with every hand that could reach it, his lilting whines obvious even against the wind. The head of the Tarnished’s cock continuously pushed against Godrick’s walls in a way that had him moaning, blood seeping into his mouth as his teeth broke the skin of his lip. Distantly aware that he was unable to hide his enjoyment, he rocked his hips back to meet the Tarnished’s thrusts.

“You’re such a pathetic slut, Godrick,” they said, properly fucking his hole open. “I bet you’ve been hard since I forced you to kneel. Is that right?” The pace became brutal as the Tarnished’s orgasm began to build.

“Y-yes—!” Godrick yelped, his arms shaking violently before giving out. His chest hit the stone with a muted thump, and he panted with the exertion of keeping his back half raised for the Tarnished. Their shaft thoroughly tormented his prostate, the perfect length to repeatedly batter it with their cockhead. Bliss threatened to overwhelm him as they pushed him rapidly towards his climax, his breath coming in desperate gasps. 

“Scream your gratification for me,” they growled, slapping a palm roughly against his ass. “All your men will know you came undone by my hand.”

“Tarnished, I-I’m going to spill!” Godrick shouted, his masochistic urges thrilled. His voice sounded raw, even to his own ears, and the thought of his guards hearing him in such a vulnerable state stirred the molten tension in his loins. The noises leaving his slack jaw were nothing short of lecherous, the pitch sharpening with each harsh drag of the Tarnished’s cock against his walls. The pleasure built to a dizzying peak and Godrick drew stiff, babbling his thanks helplessly before his cum splattered against the rubble in waves. His broken scream echoed so loudly across the graveyard the Tarnished would be surprised if none of his men correctly assumed what was happening. The Tarnished finished soon after, the wild clenching of Godrick’s hole milking their cock.

Godrick moaned weakly as the Tarnished pulled out, blearily looking up at them as they walked around to his front. His hair was plastered to his face where it had been yanked free from his braids and his limbs limply rested against the ground. “Well, you look absolutely fucked out of your mind,” the Tarnished said, clearly proud of themselves. Godrick only half-heartedly covered his face in exhausted humiliation, his head too foggy to think of a retort. “Enjoy your night,” they said, fixing themselves up. “Try to not let your soreness be too obvious to your men.”

“Wait,” Godrick rasped. “If I so desire to repeat this…how shall I contact thee?”

The Tarnished chuckled and gave Godrick’s head a pat. “Send for me when that happens.”

The demigod watched the Tarnished walk back the way they came from where he lay on the ground, feeling content. Soon enough, the Tarnished left Godrick’s line of sight, and he was only accompanied by the sound of birds and a pleasant, full-body ache. He peeled himself off the ground, deciding he would sleep in the throne room. His legs could certainly make it such a small distance. Then, of course, tomorrow he would let his men know about this particular Tarnished…and that they may be a frequent guest.

[mlmxreader]

Unexpected Guest | Tomas Vrbada x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I request one from Smoke with the prompts 7 and 16?? ❞

: ̗̀➛ it feels like you and your boyfriend never get any actual time together

: ̗̀➛ swearing

•─────────────────★•♛•★────────────────•

Tomas rarely got the chance to see you; between working to establish a new clan with his brother and attempting to juggle Johnny Cage and Kenshi and everyone else along with it, he rarely got the chance to actually be your partner and to be present.

He didn't mean to let you down so often, but it was difficult; of course, you understood more than anyone and you encouraged him to let you down if it meant that he could be there for his brother, especially.

You knew that the betrayal of Bi-Han still weighed heavily on his shoulders, you couldn't blame him. But things did get a little easier for you both when, after some pretty awful personal circumstances, you ended up moving in with Johnny Cage.

You were glad of it, really, and even agreed to work on Johnny's social media accounts when he asked you; you never expected him to be so generous, giving you a roof over your head, paying you a more than healthy wage for your time - even on days you didn't work, he still paid you - and letting you keep all your money.

No rent, no bills, no food and drinks to buy; you didn't have to worry about anything except Tomas.

You missed him, in all honesty, when he wasn't around. When he didn't call and text, you always wondered if you would get a call from Kuai Liang to say that something terrible had happened.

Yet tonight, as you sat on your bed with your earphones in, listening to 'The First Soldier' by Sabaton, you had an odd feeling; your window was wide open, big enough for Johnny to get through - as he had done before when he had forgotten his keys - and the rain had only just stopped.

You were all alone in the mansion, with Johnny out on a recent press tour for his latest film, and you couldn't sleep for some reason. Something deep inside your stomach had told you to stay awake, although you couldn't say why exactly. You figured it was probably just nerves at being left in charge of the entire property on your own.

But when you heard a scuffle, and what sounded like a grunt from your window, you froze; your shoulders became tense as you grabbed your phone and pulled up Kenshi's number. Your thumb trembling as you held it over the call button.

But then you caught a glimpse of silver hair as the sneaky phantom pulled itself through your window, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. Tossing your phone aside, you were quick to put your earphones away as you watched Tomas haul himself onto the bedroom floor with a firm thud.

He smiled when he stood, dusting himself off.

"I wasn't sure if the door was locked," he explained, his features all a dull pink, "and I wanted to surprise you." 

You couldn't help but to laugh softly, moving over on the bed slightly to make room for him; keeping your gaze on his frame as he kicked his shoes off and unzipped his hoodie, closing the window before he practically launched himself on the bed beside you and grabbed your laptop. Big grey eyes staring at you for a moment as he cleared his throat.

"Sorry if I scared you."

"You didn't," you reassured gently, leaning into his side and wrapping your arm around his tightly, your head on his shoulder. "You wanna stay the night?"

Tomas nodded, opening the laptop and shoving it onto your thighs. "If you'll let me?"

"Tomas…" you grumbled, grinning at him for a moment before shaking your head so fondly. "Of course I'll let you - it’s just an excuse for me to have an opportunity to show my feelings.”

Tomas was about to open his mouth and ask what you meant, when you moved the laptop aside and straddled his waist; he smiled as he chewed at the inside of his lip, the weight of your hands on his shoulders all too familiarly heavy as he let out a quiet sigh.

His hands settled on the sides of your thighs as he leaned into you slightly, hoping that you were thinking the same things that he was; his heart pounding in his chest.

Every kiss always felt like the first one, every date always felt like the first, and every time he stayed the night, he could have sworn that he had never done it before - but maybe that was more because of the frequent distance and the lack of contact.

The second that you leaned down slightly to kiss him, Tomas couldn’t bite back his grin as he eagerly kissed you back, groaning softly when your hand found its way to his hair, gripping the soft grey strands tightly to keep him close.

He almost didn’t want to pull away, but his chest began to feel hollow and tight, and he knew that he needed to take a breath; guilt washed over him when he broke the kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” you said softly, gently tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Tomas.”

Tomas smiled, leaning into your touch when you gently rested your hand against his cheek, just shy of closing his eyes as he swallowed thickly. “I missed you, too… maybe one day, we’ll have time.”

“Time has never been on our side,” you told him quietly, shaking your head. “You know that.”

“But,” gently, he held your wrists, pinning your hands to his chest just above his heart. “We make it through, don’t we?”

“I suppose…”

“Just remember it’s for love,” Tomas gently pleaded. “Just… please, don’t give up on us.”

“Give up?” You scoffed, daring to laugh for a moment. “I’d never give up on us - you’d have to drag me away kicking and screaming and clawing at the floors and…”

“And?”

“I’m pretty sure you’d also have to deal with Johnny,” you joked. “He’s been rooting for us since day one.”

“So has Kuai Liang,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “So, what film did you have in mind?”

[death-to-posers]

As promised, here’s that list of people I will/won’t write for, and also my boundaries etc.

Will do:

Smut✅

Angst✅

Fluff✅

Some averagely kinky stuff✅

x reader fics✅

platonic ships & fics✅

sodomy✅

Queer fics (f character x f reader, m character x m reader etc, I will write for non binary readers too. Please specify the gender you want the reader to be when you request or I will default to non binary)✅

Won’t do:

R*pe/Non con❌

Adult x minor ❌ (no weird pedo shit)

Anything that glorifies or sexualises severe domestic abuse❌

Pregnancy fics (I can’t I’m sorry.)❌

Shit kinks💀 (come on now..)❌

Vomit kinks (why.)❌

Foot fetish related stuff❌

Incest❌

furry/zoophile shit❌

vore❌

eating disorder/self harm stuff (I know a lot of people originally used this as a coping mechanism but it eventually evolved into the romanticism of anorexia and self harm and I do not stand for that.)❌

Might do, depends on the request:

Ships between two real people (unless they’re an actual couple I will probably be against this)

People/bands I will write for:

AC/DC (all members)

Alestorm (all members)

Abbath (all members)

Alice In Chains (all members)

Abbath Doom Occulta

Bathory (all members)

Behemoth (all members)

Billy Idol

Björk

Black Sabbath (all members)

Bon Jovi (all members)

Burzum (all members but it’s just Varg so this goes without saying)

Cannibal Corpse (all members)

Carpathian Forest (all members)

Courtney Love

Celtic Frost (all members)

Darkthrone (all members)

Disturbed (all members)

The Doors (all members)

Dream Theater (all members)

Evanescence (all members)

Foo Fighters (all members)

Ghost/Ghost B.C. (all members)

Gloryhammer (all members)

God Seed (all members)

Gojira (all members)

Gorgoroth (all members)

Green Day (all members)

Hanoi Rocks (all members)

Helloween (all members)

Hole (all members)

Immortal (all members)

Iron Maiden (all members)

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (all members)

Joost Klein

Judas Priest (all members)

King Ov Hell

KoRn (all members except David Silveria)

Lamb Of God (all members)

Lana Del Rey

Limp Bizkit (all members)

Marilyn Manson/Marilyn Manson & The Spooky Kids (all members)

Mayhem (all members)

Megadeth (all members)

Metallica (all members)

Misfits (all members)

Morbid (all members)

Motörhead (all members)

Murderdolls (all members)

My Chemical Romance (all members except Bob)

Necrobutcher

Nickelback (all members)

Nirvana (all members)

Old Funeral (all members)

Ov Hell (all members)

Ozzy Osbourne

Pantera (all members)

Powerwolf (all members)

Pearl Jam (all members)

Queen (all members)

Rammstein (all members)

Rob Zombie

Repugnant (specifically Mary Goore)

Ronnie James Dio

Rotting Christ (all members)

Sabaton (all members)

Serj Tankian

Sirenia (all members)

Slaughter To Prevail (all members)

Slayer (all members)

System Of A Down (all members)

Type O Negative (all members)

Twisted Sister (all members)

Tool (all members)

Varg Vikernes

If there are any members I’ve excluded it is most likely because I fucking hate them. If you submit a request for someone and I refuse to do it then it’s either because: it makes me uncomfortable to write for said person especially if it’s smut, I don’t know enough about them to write a fic or I hate them. It’ll probably be one of those three reasons so please understand and respect that. If there’s someone/a band not on this list or the “won’t do” list, it doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t do them. I might have simply forgotten to add them so please ask.

I will also write for certain non-musicians such as historical figures and/or fictional characters. Give me a shout in requests and I may or may not be willing to write for them. As an example, I will write for Manfred and Lothar von Richthofen. Not musicians but I adore them.

People/bands I will NOT write for:

Any kpop bands.

Any actors/actresses

Deftones (there’s no negotiation. I will not write for Deftones. End of discussion.)

Blink-182 (same as Deftones)

Falling In Reverse (Same reason as Deftones)

Yungblud (come on now. Be serious. Be so for real.)

Panic! At The Disco (fuck no.)

The Beatles (no.)

Mötley Crüe (no❤️)

Tokio Hotel (nothing against them but no thanks)

One Direction (come on.)

C*rey Taylor/most of Slipknot. (I will write for Joey and Jay though, my pookies)

Mindless Self Indulgence (foul ass band I despise all of the members)

And when I said I won’t write a romantic fic between two real people I meant it. Platonic is more than okay, we love some platonic bandmate fluff but beyond that is a fat no unless they’re actually married/dating. So it goes without saying that I will NOT write Davisdurst, don’t even start. Do not.

- 𐕣𝕶𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𐕣