#that’s enough Sabaton for me

[lordvonbunnyv]

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/

[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.

[metal-album-of-the-week]

Album of the week: Brothers of Metal - Fimbulvinter

Release: 2024

Length: 57'24

Thoughts: I've followed BoM since probably 2020 when their debut single was included on a Metal Hammer CD. They take the mythology somewhat seriously (though with some humor) but not themselves and that's super fun.

They make really solid power metal but what really makes them stick out is the vocals - Ylva Eriksson is a FANTASTIC singer, with a lot of power and emotion, and she's expertly framed by her co-vocalists who both use different types of rough vocals that are used as the song demands. It gives the songs some bite when needed - although the 80s parody Heavy Metal Viking is badass enough with Ylva alone :D

It's coincidentally one of my favorites, from the cheesy sound to the hilarious lyrics. They knew what they wanted and did it. Blood Red Sky is very rhythmic and folky, almost like the call and response of a shanty. We also get the treat of some swedish, with the choral section of Flight of the Ravens - one of my favorite songs btw, the melody just has me in an iron grip.

This album also has some songs that are surprisingly heavy without losing their melodic nature. The intro to Heart of Stone for instance sounds very much Sabaton, and Berserkir is just brutal in the best sense. Mats and Joakim bring rough power where it is needed.

Lots of catchy songs on this one, which is exactly what I hope for in power metal with incredibly skilled vocalists who have improved even more over time. BoM are also master entertainers live and lovely people when meeting them after the show.

Favorite Songs: Flight of the Ravens, Blood Red Sky, Berserkir

[sky-kenobye]

For the Spotify (Deezer in your case) top 100 ficlet game

1/100

Hi! Thank you for sending all the prompts! (I assume you're all the same person)

Sorry it took so long, it'll take me a little while to get through them but I promise I'm not forgetting about them

The number 1 on my deezer wrap of the year is Bismark by Sabaton (which is a song about a WWII battleship)

-

"Wait what? I'll have my own Venator-class star destroyer?!"

"Your own float actually. Which means at least three ships at all time. Although I believe Admiral Yularen wouldn't appreciate too much hearing you say they are your ships."

Anakin was gaping at him in wonder. He silently mouthed 'three ships' too himself. Obi-Wan smiled indulgently. "Are you going to be okay?" he teased.

"Three Venator-class star destroyers! Do you know what that means?!"

"Well, yes, I'll have my own float, you know."

But Anakin didn't pay any mind to his answer. "They're- they're... Venator class. They're over a thousand meters long! 568 meters of wingspan! That's over 500 000 tons of durasteel, with full hull armor plating! And they have shipwide defector shields. They can carry 7400 beings of regular crew plus room for 2000 extra troopers, 7000 metric tons of cargo capacity, and enough consumable to be self-sufficient for up to two standard years-"

Obi-Wan blinked at the sudden barrage of information.

"-and don't even get me started on the engines! They have eight ion thrust engines-" he kept going on about technical details that flew far above Obi-Wan's head, gesturing passionately with his hands as he gushed about the engineering of it all.

Obi-Wan's smile grew at Anakin's enthusiasm. Of course he would get excited about starships. Big starships. He wasn't sure why he had been surprised in the first place.

"-did you know that at maximum power they can consume up to 40 000 tons of fuel? Which is actually very fuel efficient for a ship of this-" He suddenly interrupted himself, looking suspicious. "What?"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "'What' what?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like... that." He frowned "Stop it!"

An adorable little blush was starting to take over his cheeks and Obi-Wan finally realised what he must look like. He could feel the overwhelmingly fond look on his face, but Anakin's endearing reaction did the opposite of wiping it away. Perhaps he should have been trying harder to look more like the dignified Jedi Master and Council Member he now was, they were in a public part of the temple after all, but... oh to hell with it, they were going to war and he knew that joys, small and big, would only become harder and harder to find in the future.

He reached out with both hands to cup Anakin's face and tugged him down so that he could press a soft kiss to his forehead, something he hadn't done in far too long. Pulling back but not letting go, he could relish in his deepening blush, which only got worse at Obi-Wan's next words:

"You're adorable."

Anakin squawked. "I am not- you're-" he made an unintelligible noise before covering his face with his own hands and tipping forward to hide in his master's shoulder.

Obi-Wan laughed in delight and wrapped his arms around the young man's back, holding him close. Embarrassing Anakin with heartfelt sentiments was far too much fun, and he resolved to do it more in the future.

[fprantsfromasoldier]

Sometimes I ask myself I’m obsessed with FP. The answer is, “I have no fucking idea bro.” I like that he likes history, I like that he likes the military. I think that’s pretty cool. He also likes Sabaton and Civil War. Apparently that’s enough for me to obsess over. OH AND HES A DAMN GOOD ARTIST BRO??? I LOVE MY FP!!!

[Pt. image one: We are radqueer. This means we are pro trans ID. all paraphilias, and endo-systems. Please follow your own DNI. We love our FP. End pt one.]

[Pt. image two: Pro-contact and xenosatanists DNI. End pt two.]

[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?”

[unpopularvivian]

Tobias, that’s it! I’ve had enough of you! Come out now and fight me and my battalion of polish winged hussars whether you agree to fight, or not!

They’ve already arrived, they’re all currently waiting to come down the mountain side.

Tobias, with a fucked up back: OH MY GOD NO NO NO NO PLEASE I HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT ALREADY!!!!!

Tobias: PLEASE GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

[kenziewrites14]

ok so i am a metal fan, i listen to metal like every day and i love the genre. i personally prefer power metal the most, bands like sabaton and powerwolf. i also love symphonic metal.

well enough about me let's talk about mayhem, but not like the band but the lords of chaos movie.

what was that.

i know absolutely nothing about mayhem, black metal or death metal. i don't listen to it and know nothing about it at all.

i decided it would be fun to watch lords of chaos because it's a movie about metal music (and rory culkin plays euronymous...). it was fine at first but when pelle died? when euro took those pictures of him? i was grossed out. utterly grossed out. and that varg guy? he pissed me off SO BAD. knowing his real name is christian makes me giggle but he pissed me off like crazy. varg you pmo.

you know what grossed me out too? when mayhem performed with that pig head and all that blood, ugh gross. but no one can beat varg in being gross though. this movie was weird, especially when they started burning churches. like what? WHAT?

and that ending, what the actual? this movie felt like a fever dream. but the actors did do a good job and i stand by that. i think rory did his best.

this was my opinion about the lords of chaos movie.

[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.