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zorciarkrildrush · 6 months

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I think the essence of what drives me crazy about current Enlightened Online Leftist Discourse Regarding My Life Personally And Whether This Time Killing Me Is Morally Correct (as in, commentary about the latest episode in i/p violence) is this:

I want a free Palestine.

I don't personally know a lot of people that don't! They might bristle at the tagline, because it's co-opted by people who do in fact want them dead, but as soon as I lay out why it's in literally everyone's best interest, how a non-free Palestine is horrific both to the people of Israel and to the people of Palestine, how pragmatically ridiculous the occupation of the west bank and the siege upon Gaza are (and I am a very pragmatic person), they get it. And I don't mean I debate people online about it - this, too, is a ridiculous concept - I mean having, time and time again, the deradicalization conversation with my friends, and colleagues, and my family. Obviously not only now - I've always been a very principled and argumentative Jew, ever since I became an adult - and I've been alive for, I don't know, a dozen flashpoints and operations and wars at this point, and I don't stop being argumentative and loud in peacetime either, but especially now.

But that's not what "from the river to the sea" means.

When you, gentle soul from across the sea, echo this slogan, you are either:

By apathy or will, ignoring that the sentiment cheers for the mass expulsion and killing of Jews. Indeed, any non-Muslim present from the river to the sea. This doesn't even begin to cover how even Muslim arabs still will not be safe under Hamas rule - and trust me, I don't care if a Hamas apologist told you different. A victory for Hamas (And we're ignoring the fact they do not have the military capacity for it - I hope you are aware of the privilege inherent to not understanding military conflicts) means exactly that. No "rule by the people". No socialistic, Palestinian utopia to be had, which is a fantasy I'm seeing alluded to a lot recently. Just an extension of the horrific power structure in Lebanon and Syria, where Hezbollah - friends and allies to Hamas - have been playing a tango for decades of both refusing to participate in actual government and betterment of civilian lives, while still draining their resources and controlling them with no real contest. "From the river to the sea" is not a sentiment for freedom fighting - it's a sentiment for a final solution to the people living here who are either Jewish, or for some Very Strange And Weird Reason would rather not submit to Hamas rule. You know - Israeli Arabs, secular and Muslim and Christian, Druze, Circassians, Bahai, take your pick. Their suffering, and my suffering - you know, a person who made the strategic error of being born in Israel while Jewish, which is inherently problematic and not okay of me - don't matter to you. Just the fantasy of an easy, morally correct cleanse of the land.

Are well aware of all of the above! You just don't care. You either smugly chuckle that I, and anybody else who will die, deserve it - or that it's an acceptable loss for the aforementioned fantasy. "Decolonization is an inherently violent process", you'll say to me, chillingly, before implying I have a summer home in Brooklyn I can just retreat to when things get tough. Israel is basically Rhodesia, a very popular blog here mentioned flippantly, so what's the issue with all of those lily-white Jews fucking off back home before the righteous freedom fighters strike them down? Well. This might be the part I urge you to open a book, or even Wikipedia or any god damn thing that will explain to you these upsetting, dense things you clearly struggle with.

So finally:

It's easy for me to discount islamophobes. Like, very easy. It's very easy for me to discount insane evangelistics who "advocate for me" simply because I'm a pawn in their religious rapture. It's easy for me to fight against Israeli and Jewish fascists - I have been long before this news item came across your feed, as did the insinuations that some civilian deaths are okay, actually.

It's easy for me for me to see promotions for donations to non-political aid in Gaza. It's easy for me to see the sentiment that hey! Palestinians deserve safe, healthy lives. That they have deserved an independent state, and were unfairly denied one, for decades. It's easy for me to see people saying "You know, the Israeli government is shit, actually, and their actions endanger and promote to the misery of innocents". Because that's right! I wouldn't be voting and protesting and donating for all of these sentiments otherwise!

It's not easy for me to see people, who I honestly held in high regard and saw having well thought out opinions on important matters, inadvertently echo the sentiment that my death is acceptable. That a terrorist organization, who rule over their own territory with fear and violence, are righteous freedom fighters, vox populi, only out to establish a free state. Like hey, their manifesto said otherwise, so it must be all there is - right? That Jews are just hysterical, they can easily live elsewhere - ever since that nasty holocaust business everything's fine abroad. Besides, it was just so long ago who even cares stop talking about it. Hamas, Hezbollah, ISIS, the Ayatollahs in Iran, the fucking Islamic Jihad - are not interested in freedom. They aren't, and echoing their slogan tells me you are either ignoring that, or support them anyway. If antisemitic rhetoric, half truths and lies by omission work on you today, they would have in any period of time. I'm sorry this makes you uncomfortable. I'm not, not really.

Know what your fucking words mean. Have a cursory glance at the history of the MENA and why it's so fucked, one that doesn't boil down to "The Jews, with American help, rolled into where they don't belong". This isn't even a joke. I've seen this braindead, history-revising sentiment repeated so many times, both online and in actual textbooks, that I feel I'm going insane. So many well-meaning people handwringing and assuring each other that repeating genocidal slogans is fine, that calling the i/p conflict "a simple problem" (which means it has a simple solution, right? Just kill the Jews.) is a well-adjusted and intellectual take. That "only the Zionists should die! The rest will be fine :)" I dare you to say that and also give me a correct definition of what Zionism is. Why I, a Jew that advocates for Palestinian statehood and rights and safety and always have, won't also face the wall in your little fantasy.

Freedom to Palestine. Peace in the middle east, fucking yesterday.

A curse and a plague on those who don't want either of those, and just want to cheer on the death of "the other side".

A curse and a plague upon you, when you tell me, smugly, from somewhere safe and far away, "from the river to the sea".

#selfpost #long post #i/p #israel #palestine #antisemitism #antizionism #I pondered linking every word of every claim I make to sources like Reuters and Wikipedia and what have you #but honestly? Please just read them #don't get your news off fucking Twitter #my respect for “critical thinking” online leftists is already at an all time low

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brighteuphony · 1 month

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@xoxo-lahh

So in this verse, Tsunade never ends up teaching Sakura- as that role is fulfilled by Chiyo. (But she DOES return to Konoha eventually).

And Chiyo's first rule (for everything lol) is: Nothing is Free.

Chiyo always demanded something in return for healing, and unlike Tsunade, she considered medical jutsu a part of her arsenal. If it could kill, then it was always an option.

So Sakura learned from that mindset, trading her services and using her rare skillet as a powerful negotiating tactic, especially during Tea Country's civil war. Her healing effectively kept her, Enji, and Saeko in relative safety and provided her a card to play when she needed.

And, while Sakura is nowhere near as jaded as Chiyo is, and often enough of a bleeding heart to help people for damn near free, (a place to stay, food for the night, a new holster for her kunai), she is also VERY pragmatic about her skillset. The civil war taught her that sometimes, letting someone die is better. This puts her at odds with Tsunade, who has a very different mindset (and was, historically, bitter enemies with Chiyo).

Another issue that arises with Tsunade, is that the Godaime is a doctor- while Chiyo is more of a healer. Their understanding of the human body comes from a different place.

Tsunade can name every bone and muscle and perform open-heart surgeries. Sakura can heal bone and stitch back together muscles and flesh on a very basic level, but she's never going to be able to open up a human body and revolutionize medical history like she does in canon. (In canon, Sakura creates a Jutsu that allows her to do a four-man surgery alone; she can't do that here.)

However, she can do some stuff that Tsunade claims is impossible—like reconstructing/altering someone's chakra network, unblocking tenketsu, sometimes turning off someone's dojutsu from a distance, and lite-healing remotely (Tsunade is very upset about this one specifically). A lot of it comes from her mastery of Genjutsu.

Genjutsu, as I reworked in my comic, requires a complete understanding of someone's chakra network to control ALL their senses. Sakura's understanding and control are so prodigious that she can almost autonomously control people's bodily functions (a skillset that is GREATLY aided by training with Chiyo's puppet mastery).

She uses Genjutsu as a tool to understand the body and employs it as both support (helping an ally maintain a sense of gravity as they're pulled underground or flung in the air, etc) and offense.

And that's it for the wall of text! Once again, thank you SO much for the amazingly kind words and all the interest in this AU! <3

#naruto #haruno sakura #tsunade #why yes that is a human heart she medical scalpeled right out a nin's chest #this isn't a scene that happens but the VIBES #But that time she killed a bunch of enemies because she altered their sense of time to be so slow #that she just walked right up to them and slit their throats was pretty damn lit #also I feel like puppet ninjutsu and genjutsu and medical jutsu have alot of similar concepts- all about controlling someone else #also u remember Tsunade's 4 rules for medic-nin? Yeah Chiyo's got her own lol #also Tsunade can't heal Gai's 8 gates but Sakura sure can #but if you've got a tumor that needs to be excised ur better off with tsunade #coven!Sakura

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okaylikesmomo · 4 months

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Birthday Part 3: Dinner

~5k words, Nayeon smut, male reader

The gentle chime of a notification stole your attention as you tapped away on your phone, looking for inspiration. Allegedly, Sana had your gift waiting back at her apartment. It was a bit reassuring to know she didn’t actually forget your existence, but you still had one stop to make first before addressing your irrational worries.

As soon as you entered Nayeon and Momo's apartment, your nose was pleasantly surprised by those delectable fumes that you knew all too well. The smell intensified as you moved further inside the flat, forcing your mouth to water.

“This smells absolutely divine,” you announced as you finally walked up to the kitchen where you found Momo juggling multiple pans. She dropped the little wooden utensil she was stirring with into a pot and turned on her heels.

“You made it,” she cheered while launching her arms to the roof. “Happy birthday!”

Without hesitation you stepped up to her, hugging her tightly and lifting her off her feet.

“Of course I made it,” you spun her around playfully, relishing in the joyful squeals escaping her mouth. “Is there anything I can help you with?” you mumbled into her shoulder, just now taking in the sweet perfume she wore as your nose pressed into her, swaying back and forth with her in your arms.

“You could start by letting me down,” she answered pragmatically.

“I don’t want to,” you whined as you put her down carefully. “Really though, need help?”

“Nope!” she replied cheerily while turning back to the pot and resuming her stirring. “Actually, go ahead and set the table, it’s almost ready.”

Ignoring her suggestion, you stepped up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“What if I’d rather just hold you?”

“That’s fine,” she giggled. “It’s your birthday after all, but I do need you to pass me that spoon then.”

After giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, you let go of her and handed her the spoon before leaning against the countertop.

“Where’s Nayeon? Wasn’t she supposed to be back by now?” you asked, watching as Momo worked.

“She said to eat without her, she’s running late,” Momo replied, her cheery demeanor disappearing for a brief moment before returning as she held a spoonful of broth up for you to taste. “Poor girl is working late every night it feels like.”

“I know, I kinda felt bad taking the day off, but she insisted,” you leaned forward and opened your mouth. “Mmm,” you gasped as the hot broth entered your mouth, nearly burning your tongue. “That’s delicious, way spicier than I expected.”

“You like spicy,” Momo smiled proudly to herself, turning back to the pot. “Don’t feel bad, you’ve been with her every single day, she’ll survive one without you.”

“Of course she’ll survive, I just want to make sure she has support.”

“She has a lot of support, stop worrying,” Momo said as she turned off the burner. “What about you and Sana? How does she feel about you spending almost all your time with Nayeon?”

“She understands.”

“Does she understand even when you’re too tired to go back home and end up spending the night here?” Momo continued, pulling dishes out of the cabinet as she spoke.

“She… did she say something to you?” you asked while accepting the two bowls Momo handed you. “Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Momo clarified, leaning over and pecking you on the cheek. “I’m just asking. In case you forgot, Sana is one of my best friends”

“I believe her,” you walked the bowls over to the table. “Plus, she knows I’m the one who ends up sleeping alone in a bed while you two share, we usually end up video calling.”

“Ew, I’m washing my sheets,” Momo scrunched her face. “I don’t wanna hear about that, not about my own bed.”

“We don’t do anything like that,” you laughed, taking the next dish from her hands. “Also, seriously, as if your bed is a sacred place,” you added with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s different when it’s with me,” Momo scoffed while scooping rice into two smaller bowls.

“Right, because we’ve totally never also had other girls in your bed with us,” you chuckled, picking up a dish of kimchi.

“Is that what you want tonight? I’m sure it can be arranged,” she asked in her sultry, teasing voice.

“Slow down there tiger,” you sat down at the table. “How about we start with dinner?”

“I can be your dinner,” Momo whispered as she took a seat across from you, flashing her seductive eyes in your direction.

“In that case why don’t we head straight to your bedroom?”

“No wait, I’m joking,” Momo quickly dropped the act to focus on the real priority at hand. “I put way too much effort into this meal to waste it.”

“It looks amazing,” you took a whiff of the stew. “Thanks for all this, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble, you know I would have been perfectly happy with something simple or takeout.”

“I wanted to!” Momo smiled as she started pouring broth into her bowl. “I tried some new things this time, so I hope you still like it.”

“In my experience, I’m usually a huge fan of when you try new things,” you smirked while filling your own bowl.

“Good, because lately I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing?” you repeated, holding your spoon up to your mouth. “With whom?”

The conversation was interrupted by the clicking of the front door.

“I’m home!” Nayeon announced, walking up and basically falling onto you. “Happy birthday cutie,” she sighed as she hugged you from the side before she gave you a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, how was today? Did they fix the-”

“Not now,” she shushed you, bringing a finger to your lips. “We’ll talk about work stuff later,” she added before leaning forward and planting another kiss on your cheek. “And I hope you saved some for me,” Nayeon added while turning over to Momo.

“Of course,” Momo smiled up at Nayeon, her eyes twinkling.

What happened next was unexpected to say the least. Nayeon bent over, tilted her head slightly, and pressed her lips against Momo’s mouth. The two of them began kissing; it wasn’t a little playful peck, it was full-blown making out. You watched in awe as Nayeon grabbed Momo’s face with her hands while Momo reached up and grabbed Nayeon’s waist.

They kept on kissing, ignoring the fact that you were right there. You had never seen them do this before, and you frankly didn’t know how to react. As shocking as it was, it was also incredibly sexy, but your mind was too confused to truly appreciate the scene. It felt like an eternity before they finally stopped and Nayeon stood back up.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Nayeon said casually as she walked away. “Can you send birthday boy into my room after you’re done eating? I have a present for him.”

“Sure,” Momo answered indifferently as she returned her attention to the food. “Are you not joining us?”

“I’ll eat later, I’m not particularly hungry,” Nayeon replied.

After Nayeon’s door slammed shut, you sat there staring at Momo.

“What’s up?” she asked after noticing your staring.

“What’s up? Are we not going to talk about what just happened?”

“Huh, what do you mean?” Momo asked before scooping a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

“You just… you and Nayeon… hello?”

“Chaeyoung’s also in that one,” Momo commented nonchalantly while sipping on the broth.

“What?”

“Hello we up run this city yo-”

“Momo really, what just happened?”

“What, the kiss? That’s nothing, just a bit of friendliness.”

“Friendliness?!” your eyebrows shot up. “That wasn’t friendliness, that was more like ‘what are we naming our kids’ territory.”

“Are you jealous or something? Come here, we can kiss as well,” she pouted her lips playfully.

“Momo…” you chuckled. “Is there something I should know about going on?”

“It’s not that serious,” she began laughing. “I’ve just been doing some extra stuff for her to help her relax after all these long days.”

“Wow.”

“Even if it was serious, how come you’re fine with Mina and Chae, but when it’s me and Nayeon it’s an issue all of a sudden.”

“First of all, it’s not an issue at all,” you clarified. “Secondly, Mina and Chae don’t kiss like that.”

Momo raised an eyebrow at you.

“Do they?”

“Really?” Momo giggled. “If Chae didn’t like living with those two so badly, Mina would have moved in with her by now.”

“Is it really that serious?”

“No, I’m kidding,” Momo giggled again. “Since there’s only one of you to go around, sometimes we just pretend to be extra romantic with each other, it’s all just for fun.”

“Extra romantic for fun…” you repeated while contemplating. “That could be an interesting premise for a TTT.”

“Are you thinking about work right now?” Momo scolded you, giving your shins a light kick.

“Sorry, you’re right, I should be focused on this phenomenal meal.”

“That’s right,” Momo smiled to herself.

You reached across the table and grabbed her hand, leaving her with a shocked face reminiscent of a deer in headlights as she looked up at you.

“Seriously, it’s delicious. Thank you again for the thousandth time,” you said sincerely.

“It’s… it’s the least I could do,” Momo stammered as the rosiness crept up into her cheeks.

Her slender fingers gave your hand a little squeeze before letting go, leaving her staring at the food spread in front of her. The two of you finished the meal in mostly silence, conversing over mundane topics of little interest to you; all you truly cared about was spending time with Momo.

Every time you got the opportunity to sit down and have a one on one with her, you were reminded of just how much you enjoy her company. With the hectic nature of your careers and the juggling of all the members, sometimes you found yourself trying to make excuses to spend more time with Momo alone.

Whether it was those late nights watching Netflix when Nayeon would pass out, or giving her company at the offices when she would come to visit. Momo always managed to make your heart beat just a little bit quicker. Nayeon would record her songs while you would spend time watching Momo dance, single handedly being her entire audience.

“I know I’ve already said it, but that was delightful,” you commented as you scraped the final bit of rice out of your bowl.

“Any time,” Momo smiled peacefully.

“Maybe I should spend the evening here more often.”

“Hey, don’t forget that you have a girl who waits for you every night.”

“That’s true,” you agreed, silently feeling less upset about Sana not being there this morning. “She’s a special girl.”

Momo suddenly stood up and began stacking the empty dishes.

“Nayeon’s probably done showering, I can clean up.”

“I’ll help.”

“No, you don’t have to,” Momo said curtly before carrying the dishes to the kitchen.

Once again, you ignored her instructions, and picked up the remaining plates and cups.

“I said you didn’t have to do that,” Momo said without looking back as she began dropping the dishes in the sink.

“I know” you said as you placed the dishes in the sink before turning off the tap.

“It’s going to be difficult to wash these if you do that.”

“You’re not washing dishes right now,” you whispered into her ear from behind as you slid your hands around her waist.

As your hands moved toward her chest, you quickly discovered that she wasn't wearing a bra. You began to gently squeeze Momo's plush mounds as you admired her flawless form.

“Then what am I doing right now?” Momo asked.

“Not dishes.”

Your palm grazed against Momo's firm core as it moved down her body.

“Not tonight,” Momo whispered quietly.

“What’s wrong?” you asked while standing up straight and immediately pulling your arms away. Before you could let go of her completely, she grabbed your hands and kept them placed on her waist. “Momo?”

“Hold me.”

There was a tension to her voice, one you couldn’t quite comprehend, but you satisfied her request and wrapped your arms around her stomach once again. While squeezing her gently enough to where you could feel each and every breath she took, you leaned your face into the back of her neck.

That sweet scent she wore was addicting; your mind stood no chance. It wasn’t entirely clear what she wanted, yet the way her hands softly wrapped around yours was enough to make you want to hold on forever. Holding Momo forever didn’t sound that bad in your head - the logistics of how that would work hardly mattered.

“Everything alright?” you asked quietly, giving her a quick squeeze.

“Yeah,” she mumbled back. “You should go to Nayeon, I’m probably going to bed.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

Momo turned around in your arms and faced you with a smile - one that you could see right through.

“Absolutely.”

“Is that offer still up for grabs?” you inquired.

“Offer?” she asked with a confused tilt of her head.

You pouted your lips playfully which earned a heavy exhale from Momo alongside a genuine smile. She leaned forward and pecked you on the lips before beginning to walk away.

“Goodnight.”

“Momo,” you grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

She spun around, tripping just enough for her to fall into your embrace in the most drama-esque ridiculousness. Her hands landed on your chest, catching her fall, while you wrapped one arm around her body to support her. That direct eye contact sent epinephrine coursing through your veins. Your heart rate elevated, and a warmth flooded into your core, proliferating throughout your limbs.

Without saying a word, you leaned into her until your noses gently brushed. For just a second, you held yourself right in front of her before she angled her face enough to press her lips against yours. Her soft lips squished against yours as she kissed you, her breath entering your mouth.

It was intoxicating. Addicting to the point where you didn’t even notice your hand subconsciously sliding down and resting on her lower back. You were too immersed in the kiss - a proper kiss. The emotion could be felt all the way to your fingertips and toes, that warmth in your core burning throughout every segment of your body.

After the kiss finally ended, the two of you stood there in silence with your foreheads gently touching. You became acutely aware of where your hand traveled and subtly moved it back up to her waist, but she was unbothered by it. Her deep breaths were steady, telling a story in their own way, a plot you followed closely.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, leaning back and using your free hand to push her hair out of her face.

Momo nodded silently before turning around and slowly walking to her room. She paused in her door frame for a second as if she was considering options, showing you her side profile before making her decision, disappearing behind the shut door, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your thoughts.

—

“No way this is for me.”

“It is!”

“Seriously?”

“Alright, no it’s not,” Nayeon laughed before pausing the song. “It just turned out to be a cute coincidence.”

“I knew you weren’t that sweet,” you teased, giving her ribs a playful little poke.

“Hey now, I wouldn’t be too quick to say that,” Nayeon replied while batting your hand away. “This one actually was inspired by you.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Are you calling Sana a liar?” Nayeon smirked before switching the song.

My eyes, your eyes, let’s go.

Your confusion was quickly erased after hearing the next line as you recalled Sana’s reference back in Oakland. The melody was amazing, it sounded so comforting to your ears - and the lyrics were painfully catchy.

“Baby I just wanna be your lover,” you quietly sang along while Nayeon proudly watched your reaction. “Nayeon, this is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she sighed, unable to hide her nerves. “I’m not worried about the other tracks though, it’s the choreo that’s still stressing me out.”

“Pop pop pop,” you muttered while flipping your hands around.

Nayeon gave you an odd look as you butchered the choreography before the two of you burst out laughing. She lowered the volume a little and extended her hand for you to join her on the bed. As soon as you took her hand, she tugged you onto her while she lay on her back. Her bathrobe slipped open to reveal her chest, but she didn't appear to mind at all.

“You’re going to be fine,” you whispered while resting your cheek on her chest, her right breast directly in front of you.

“I’m glad at least one of us is confident,” she sighed while stroking the back of your head absentmindedly.

“I’ve seen you practicing,” you said while reaching your hand up to her breast and cupping it, letting the bathrobe fall completely. “You’ve nailed every part other than the gang signs.”

“Gang signs?” Nayeon laughed while you began squeezing her tit. “Is that what they are?”

“How else would you describe them?” you chuckled, playing with her nipple between your fingers. “I already know that part’s going to be all over TikTok.”

“Oh great,” she said sarcastically.

“I know filming a hundred dance challenges is exhausting,” you responded while rubbing your hand in circles. “Thanks for being a good sport about it.”

“They’re not too bad, honestly,” she yawned loudly. “Exhausting, yes, but at least it’s an excuse to spend some time with idol friends.”

“Tired?” you asked as your hand left her breast and slid down her body to her thigh, giving it a light massage.

“Very,” she yawned again. “What did the others end up doing? I didn’t get a chance to read the whole group chat, all I know about is Dahyun’s and Momo’s plans.”

“We had a bit of fun together,” you answered while untying the half-removed bathrobe and fully tossing it open.

You began to rub your hand between Nayeon’s thighs, sliding upwards until your fingers grazed her intimate bits.

“Wait,” Nayeon grabbed your wrist. “It’s your birthday, let me-”

“Oh shush,” you turned your face into her and took her left tit into your mouth.

At the same time, you slowly slipped your fingers up and down her slit, pausing each time to press down against her clit. You sucked on her left nipple until it was fully erect before releasing it from your lips with a wet pop.

The hand you had between her legs kept moving up and down, teasing her entrance as you moved your face over to her right tit. Your other hand replaced your mouth on her left tit, squeezing it softly, flicking at her taut nipple.

Just as you took her breast into your mouth, you slowly eased your middle finger into her pussy at the same time. She moaned gently, completely relaxed to your touch. Nayeon’s natural lubricant made slipping in easy, and you wasted no time before slipping your ring finger in as well.

“Birthday or not, I’m still in charge of taking care of you,” you said while admiring the shine of your saliva on Nayeon’s tits. “Fast? Slow? What kind of mood are we in tonight?”

“Slow,” Nayeon moaned, eyes closed, head pressing into the mattress.

“Slow it is,” you smiled at her before following her request, gently moving your fingers back and forth in her pussy, going all the way down to the knuckle.

Even with Nayeon’s exceptional wetness, tonight she was tighter than usual. It was almost like you could feel the stress and tension she was under through her pussy. You put full effort in your movements, trying your absolute best to make it feel good for her.

“Nayeon sweetie, relax,” you whispered, leaning closer to her face and giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

Her breathing began to calm down, the muscles in her pussy throbbing gently with your touch. Her pussy didn’t loosen up much, but her contorted facial expression converted into one displaying more satisfaction.

“That’s better,” you gently encouraged her, curling your fingers inside her slightly.

“Mmmmmhh,” she moaned out. “That’s nice, keep… that…”

Your fingers kept moving while you made your way down her body, pausing briefly to kiss her tummy. Her lower body began to squirm, and you could see her back start to arch towards the roof.

As your mouth approached her pussy, you gave your lips a quick lick before pressing them against her crotch. You loved her taste. The freshness of her just-showered skin, the subtle scent of her products, the lust emanating from her pussy. Eating Nayeon out was the best gift.

Her pussy made your mind go numb. The slight tang of her fluids had your tastebuds overwhelmed, you even removed your fingers so that you could focus entirely on licking her thoroughly. It went on for a while, longer than it usually took for Nayeon to cum, when you decided you wanted more.

With your hands on the back of her thighs, you pushed her legs up, knees to her chest. You ran your tongue down her slit one last time before going lower, kissing her on the way down. Once you were face to face with her tight little asshole, you gently pressed your mouth against the entrance.

“Oh,” Nayeon moaned softly while reaching one hand down between her legs, rubbing her pussy.

It wasn’t until you pushed your tongue past the tightness of her little asshole when you felt her hand grab your hair. She began guiding you, treating your hair like reins, making you pleasure her in exactly the way she desired. It was working, you could feel her body begin trembling.

At some point you noticed you had lowered your own pants and began gently stroking yourself. Truthfully, you don’t even remember when it happened, you were too distracted with Nayeon’s body. She was riding the edge of her orgasm - you knew she was close.

Finally, you removed your mouth from her body and straightened your body. She looked up at you, eyes begging for what you were about to give her. She needed to get fucked by you in this moment, there was nothing else she could think about. You positioned yourself between her legs, pressing down the insides of her thighs to spread them wider.

First you went deep into her pussy, making her exhale softly. The soft warmth of her pussy felt amazing, and this was just the warm up. You fucked her gently for a bit, but you could see the gears turning in her head, you could see she was getting desperate for you to take her in another way.

As you withdrew your cock from her warm pussy, her wetness making your shaft glisten, Nayeon pulled her knees together slightly. You pushed her legs up this time, lifting her butt off the bed slightly, giving you the perfect angle into her ass. Carefully, you pushed your tip into her tight little asshole. Once it was in, you threw away any considerations of tenderness and shoved your cock balls deep into her ass.

Nayeon inhaled sharply, squinting her eyes for a moment before relaxing and slowly exhaling through her mouth. You could see her pussy leaking before you, even without any thrusting. Once you were satisfied that she was alright, you began moving your hips back and forth. It was slow, but not gentle. Each time you pushed your cock into her, you made sure she took the entire length.

“Fuck,” Nayeon moaned after one excessively rough slam. “Faster…” she added in a whisper.

You leaned forward, pressing the back of her knees to press her femur against her chest, squishy her soft thigh gently. The new position let you go just a bit deeper, perfect for what you were about to do.

Then you began fucking Nayeon relentlessly. Her mouth shot open, silently screaming as her hands gripped the bed sheets until her knuckles went white. That orgasm she had been on the edge of for so long as approaching rapidly now - you could feel it coming.

Her asshole was squeezing your cock unbearably hard now, and her pussy was flowing freely. It was magnificent, you could see her physically losing control the harder you went. After just a few finals thrusts, her pussy shot up like a fountain. She couldn’t stay silent, she let out a loud shriek before panting heavily, pulse after pulse of pleasure running through her body.

Normally you’d slow down, let her ride out the orgasm gently, but you were nearing your own. You kept fucking her, roughly, and it was blatantly obvious that she was enjoying it. Her cries of pleasure continued, her orgasm continued, her pleasure continued.

Then it finally hit you. You could feel your own orgasm rapidly approaching, but you suddenly went over the edge without warning. The warm cum erupting from your cock began filling Nayeon’s tight asshole, the numbing pleasure finally becoming too much for you to handle.

The thrusting had to stop, the sensory overload was too much. Your body couldn’t handle any more stimulation as you lay there, balls deep in Nayeon’s asshole, pumping her gently until you had no more cum to give. You fell forward, falling between her legs as she quickly spread them, making room for you.

Your mouths connected and your cock slipped out of her asshole. The two of you kissed passionately, Nayeon telling you how much she enjoyed what just happened without speaking a single word. She had a way of expressing herself in times like this, a way that you could understand so well.

The last thing you could remember was the feeling of Nayeon’s soft lips against yours before you passed out.

—

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes before launching your body up. “Morning? Oh shit, Sana…”

“Under normal circumstances a girl would be pissed if her man woke up after sleeping with her and said another girl’s name,” Nayeon chuckled.

“I need to go,” you panicked, looking around the room for your pants.

“Calm down, you only slept for an hour,” Nayeon grabbed your wrist as you tried standing up.

“Holy shit, don’t scare me like that,” you scolded her before sitting on the edge of the bed with your face in your hands.

“I’m sowwy’,” Nayeon cooed into your ear from behind as she wrapped her arms around your chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s really not your fault,” you replied, turning slightly to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I just know she’s waiting for me, I didn’t want to disappoint her.”

“If she knew the first words out of your mouth when you woke up included her name, I’m sure she’d be far from disappointed,” Nayeon giggled. “You really care for her, everyone can see that no matter how hard you try to hide your relationship.”

“We’re not hiding it-”

“But you’re intentionally not flaunting it,” Nayeon interjected. “The girls won’t say it, but some of them definitely appreciate it.”

“I…” you began. “Sometimes I feel like this isn’t right.”

“Which part?” Nayeon asked, joining you on the edge of the bed and handing you your pants.

“I don’t really know how to explain it, but it just feels a bit wrong committing to one girl knowing…”

“That some of us also have feelings for you?” Nayeon finished your thought.

“Yeah…” you confirmed. “I know it’s an open relationship and all, but still…”

“I think you should ask yourself if you’re happy,” Nayeon said gently, resting a hand on your thigh. “If you’re happy with this arrangement, then it’s your right.”

“Of course I’m happy, I really do love Sana, but…”

“You think you might have feelings for someone else?”

“How do you-”

“I’m not stupid,” Nayeon smiled. “This might come as a shocker to you, but I do talk to the girls from time to time.”

“So what should I do?”

“You’re going to have to figure that out yourself, and until you know what you truly want, I don’t see any reason for you to make any drastic changes,” Nayeon suggested calmly. “You clearly still have feelings for Sana, as long as the two of you are on the same page I don’t see why you need to change anything.”

“Is it fair to the others, though?” you asked hesitantly.

“It’ll never be easy,” Nayeon responded cautiously. “The nature of your job… complicates… things. It makes sense that you have feelings for some of the girls, and it makes sense that they develop feelings for you.”

“God, I must sound so stupid right now,” you chuckled meekly. “I should just be grateful for what I have, shouldn’t I?"

“You’re not stupid,” Nayeon reassured you. “Your job basically made this inevitable, but as long as you’re honest about what you do, I think the ten of us will be able to get through whatever happens.”

“It must be so difficult for the members who have started to develop feelings, knowing that I’m still sleeping with their friends.”

“You’re right.”

“Nayeon…” you turned to stare into her eyes, noticing now they weren’t dry.

“Don’t apologize,” Nayeon whispered, wiping her eyes clean. “I did for a moment, but not anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I said don’t apologize,” Nayeon cut you off before standing up. “But you should really go see Sana, like you said, she’s waiting for you.”

You stood up as well, standing right in front of her.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” she smiled at you. “Really, those feelings are gone, this is just a mutually beneficial, if not somewhat unorthodox, agreement between two adults.”

Hearing that would have probably hurt if you believed a word she just said.

“Have a good night, Nayeon.”

---

A/N:

Huh, how long has it been since I updated this story? I hope I have the time to keep working on it because I have SO MANY PLANS. I've also become a bit more sappy, so I think I might be releasing some more emotional chapters with less smut? We'll see!

Once again I must admit, I am putting a bit less effort in the sense that I am just writing with how I feel instead of overthinking and planning every little detail. Maybe less effort isn't the proper phrasing, but basically I'm just going more with the flow.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, I actually planned on including Sana's part in this chapter, but I made a few changes and decided it should be a separate chapter. Cliffhanger and all that I guess.

#kpop smut #smut #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #male reader #twice smut #nayeon #nayeon smut

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Heroes vs. Villains : Octavinelle [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Octavinelle vs. Rielle Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Octavinelle Version, Part 2 ie. Your red-headed hero arrives at Night Raven College and your other aquatic friends are less than enthused.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

The VDC is going to be one of the biggest events in Night Raven College’s history. It’s going to be spectacular, awe-inspiring, one for the history books. And somehow, by the grace of the Gods (or, well, Vil and Professor Crewel) you have tickets.

So naturally, Azul wants you to work through the entire thing.

“I know you don’t like people,” he’d smiled, as if he was offering you salvation on a silver platter. “And just think of it—all those crowds of sweaty, screaming, humans running around. It only seems right that I, as your employer and friend, do my due diligence to keep you safe during all of it, hmm?”

“We’re just thinking of your wellbeing,” Jade had piped in, a gloved hand pressed to his chest all innocent-like. You weren’t fooled for a second.

“And think of all the extra Thaumarks you’ll earn in tips!” Azul chirped. “I know being in a new world has been difficult for you in more ways than one, and that the financial burden in particular has been terribly unpleasant. So really, we’re just doing everything we can to assist you!”

Lies about being considerate for your ‘delicate mental health’ aside, money was good. Money was great. And besides, all you really cared about was the Choral Competition. As long as you could sneak away for that one, camping out in the Lounge didn’t actually seem like the worst idea in the world. The food was excellent, the atmosphere soothing, and the company was—

…Well.

‘Less than desirable’ would probably be an understatement. But Azul always let you take home the leftovers at the end of the night, and sometimes on colder nights Jade would make you a cup of cocoa with no mushrooms in it or anything. So maybe you could excuse a bit of sadism here and there.

So the VDC came and little, poor, you were squirreled away behind the gilded doors of the Mostro Lounge. Aside for the influx of costumers (and subsequent ‘event price hikes’), it was hardly different than any of your other shifts. The one notable difference was how often Azul swapped your station. Normally you were on door duty, or acting as part of the wait staff. But every time a group of RSA students strutted by in their fancy white uniforms, the Octo-Mer would shuffle you off to the kitchens. Or the bar. Or even his office sometimes, demanding assistance with clerical work.

Someone called your name and you lifted your head from your cloud of misery and menial labor—only half paying attention to the people you were ushering in towards the seating area. But instead of another unfamiliar blob waving you down, you actually recognized this guy. Him and his brilliant shock of red hair that you wouldn’t be able to miss from a mile away.

Lo – it was fork dude.

Or, well, Prince Rielle Tidal of Atlantica. But whatever. Man had pushed a utensil into your hands and told you to brush your hair with it. There was no coming back from that.

Your sun-kissed savior swerved through the line to greet you, nearly bowling you over in his enthusiasm. His RSA uniform was a blotch of bleached brightness against the sea of Night Raven’s black ensemble. Normally your rival academics seemed to travel in packs—safety in numbers and all that. But Rielle was weaving through the mass of grumpy NRC faces like he was perfectly at home.

“I decided to pop by to see Azul and his business—because, you know, he was always so smart and pragmatic so I knew it’d probably be really cool and whatever—but wow! It’s really you!”

“It’s really me,” you repeated, fighting to keep the chirp in your customer service voice. “So, would you like a table or—"

“Wait a second—Azul has you working during the festival?!” Rielle gawked, as if he was just realizing that he had stepped into a place a of business, and that you were wearing the uniform of said establishment. “That’s so cruel!”

Yes. Yes it was. But Azul was nothing if not cruel. And if this guy actually knew anything about him at all, he should be perfectly aware of that.

“Someone has to do it,” you shrugged. “Anyways, can I get you something to—”

“Wah, look at this! Shrimpy’s slackin’ on the job!”

Maybe you could put your head through the wall. That would probably be less painful.

Floyd, Jade, and Azul materialized behind you seemingly out of thin air. The terrible trio greeted your dour frown with varying degrees of spiteful glee. And… something else? There was a sort of tension about them that didn’t mesh with their usual haughtiness. It had cropped up for the first time a few weeks ago—that day at the beach. And subsequently the hours after when Jade had pulled Azul into his office to whisper all kinds of nonsense that was apparently ‘too delicate’ for you and whatever tolerance you’d built for these sociopaths.

“Actually, it’s my fault!” Rielle blurted, stepping smoothly in front of you with all the chivalry of a knight. You wanted to warn him that dipping into Floyd’s bite radius was a terrible idea, but at the same time, you were tired, and hungry, and very curious to see how this would all play out. “And I was just wondering—well… I—I mean…”

The young Prince was starting to splutter, his cheeks burning that same, hot, pink that they had all those weeks ago at the beach. He took a moment to clear his throat, compose himself, and then grasped your hands with both of his very neatly manicured ones.

You thought you heard someone gasp. Like in a period novel.

“I actually heard that you were at Night Raven too! And I’ve been looking all over for you! So—I—Would you—” More throat clearing. Floyd’s teeth were grinding together so loudly it almost sounded like a buzzsaw. “Do you want to get something to eat with me?”

There was a deafening crack and you watched as Jade nearly put Floyd through the floor in an attempt to keep him from lurching forward. You observed the scene before you with pleasant sort of surprise as the trio across from you erupted. Or, well, Floyd had erupted. Jade just had that perfectly polite smile on his mouth that let you know he was planning someone’s murder. And Azul looked like he’d just taken physical damage.

Huh. Interesting.

Then again, you’d known they were a proprietary bunch. And you also knew that you were the favorite chew toy around these parts. No one else was sturdy enough for the role, apparently.

“Oi, Princey,” Floyd snarled from behind Jade’s gloved fingers. “What do you think you’re—"

“I—” you interrupted, stepping between the rabid Merfolk and the would-be-mincemeat. “—would love to.”

Silence.

“…What?” Azul squawked.

“I’m due for my break anyways,” you shrugged, enjoying the horrible little surge of satisfaction warming your gut. Take that, you obnoxious fucks. You weren’t sure why Rielle and his crimson-monstrosity of a hairdo had set the three of them off so terribly, but you’d been on your feet for hours now. And missing all the food stalls, and your other friends, and you were going to take this petty revenge where you could.

You turned to Rielle with a polite little smile that you hoped looked more demure than scheming, and his eyes sparkled.

“You don’t mind eating here, do you?” you asked before shooting Azul an award-winning grin. “I’m sure having a Prince dining in would be great advertisement.”

“But of course,” he grit out. “Who would I be to turn down such a ringing endorsement.”

Rielle tossed an amiable arm across your shoulders and laughed that tinkling, church-bell, laugh of his. Floyd’s lip twitched and Azul snagged his arm quicker than a snake could strike. The snarling behemoth was promptly dragged off into the depths of the Lounge—Azul muttering something frantically under his breath that you couldn’t make out. He looked hunched, panicked. And whatever he was saying must have been serious enough to snag Floyd’s fickle attentions, because the too-tall henchman stayed firmly at his boss’s side. The pair of them vanished into the kitchens, the door slamming behind them.

“Just this way then, if you’d please,” Jade beamed, positively glacial.

“This’ll be great!” the Prince preened, keeping a loose grip on you as you both trailed a very stiff Eel through the front parlor. “I get to see all of Azul’s awesome accomplishments and have lunch with you at the same time!”

“The Mostro Lounge is a lovely place to dine,” you chirped, repeating your familiar, scripted, server prompts from memory. “There’s something for everyone.”

“Is that so?” Rielle hummed, as if in deep thought. “That’s very considerate of them.”

Plenty of people at this school liked to insult your intelligence, and you in turn liked to remind certain someones (Ace. Sebek.) that it was best not to throw stones in glass houses. But this was—you may have really found an actual, factual, ditz. Was this how Azul felt all the time? Looking down at you mere mortals with his superior IQ and cunning? Listening to Rielle’s innocent rambling made you feel like Einstein. It was… sort of nice.

My God, you were going to have be responsible for him, weren’t you? Is that was parenthood felt like?

Jade led you to a quiet booth in the back—the one with a direct line of sight to both the kitchens and Azul’s office. The one reserved for problem customers. You folded yourself neatly onto the cushioned bench and Rielle followed, sitting at your side rather than across the table. Something in Jade’s jaw twitched.

“What do you recommend?” Rielle asked you cheerfully, practically radiating enthusiasm. “I’m sure everything is fantastic!”

“Hmm… How about the Mixed Seafood Platter to start I think,” you grinned, turning your polite beam back on your unfortunate server. “With the Unagi, please.”

Beneath all that bubbling irritation, something in those bi-colored eyes gleamed with the barest hint of respect.

“But of course. If you’ll excuse me.”

Once Jade had retreated, Rielle relaxed back into his seat with a theatrical sigh. He brushed his neat swoop of hair off his forehead, like he was wiping away sweat from a workout.

“Phewf! Not that Azul’s friends aren’t nice and all, but they always give me a bit of the heebie-jeebies.”

That was the kindest word for ‘intense murderous aura’ that you’d ever heard.

“A bit, yeah,” you agreed easily enough. “So how do you know Azul?”

“Oh!” he perked right back up. “We were classmates! When we were younger. He was always really quiet, but also really smart! Is he still like that? Quiet—I mean. Reserved.”

A memory struck you then—of standing at Azul’s side in the lobby of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. You remembered his hesitant determination as he replaced his old class photo on the wall. The picture of a tiny, rounder, Azul standing off to the side—hunched, grey, and miserable amidst a sea of laughing faces. You couldn’t remember if there had been a brilliant slash of red mixed in there anywhere. You hadn’t even bothered to check. Because why would you have even deigned to look at the faces of a group of bullies?

Something soured in your gut.

“I wouldn’t say that, no,” your smile sharpening a bit at the edges. “He’s actually very talkative. It’s hard to get him to shut up most of the time.”

“Really?” Rielle gaped. “Wow! That’s awesome!”

Jade slithered by to drop off your appetizers, and if he noticed the slight drop in your mood he didn’t mention it. He was in and out in a flash. You could just see the whisps of his teal hair disappearing back into Azul’s office.

“Enough about Azul though,” Rielle waved off, reaching for the platter. “Tell me about you!”

“Me?” you echoed, bland. “But isn’t Azul your old friend?”

The Prince waved you off once more, cheeks pinkening all over again. “I can talk to him whenever. I’d much rather hear about you! You’re—You’re interesting!”

Now, that was probably a genuine compliment. You doubted Rielle actually meant to slight your friend companion boss by implying that the most ambitious, intelligent, cunning, and well-dressed merman on campus wasn’t interesting enough to converse about—that all of Azul’s efforts to bring himself out of the shadows and onto center stage were still wanting. But that bitter thing in your stomach was raring for a fight.

So you ruffled around in your uniform pocket and pulled out the little notebook you used to tally orders. You shot Rielle the brightest, sweetest, smile you could and watched his stupidly pretty face light up redder than his hair.

“Actually,” you giggled—giggled. Like a freak. “I’d love to hear about you.”

“He’s going to say something!—”

“What doesn’t Shrimpy already know, huh?” Floyd griped. “And I mean, didn’t you steal Ramshackle? You really think bubble-butt out there can do anything to make the Prefect hate you?”

Azul paced. And paced. And paced.

“It’s not about hating me,” he hissed, fighting the urge to wring his hands. “It’s about realizing there are better options out there, and—”

“Bubble-butt is a better option?!” Floyd cackled.

“Stop interrupting me!”

“Then stop whining,” the eel droned, flopping his head back against the couch. “You shoulda just let me squeeze ‘em.”

“We do not need to spark an international incident in my restaurant,” Azul repeated. Though it sounded less like he was trying to convince Floyd than himself. “Rielle Tidal is a Prince—”

“—a shitty, turd, leftover, Prince—”

“—who we must treat,” Azul grit out, “as such.”

There was a firm rap against the door and Jade slipped inside. Azul had to fight the reflex to pounce on him immediately. Instead he took a moment to pause and straighten his suit jacket. His fingers were shaking and he was sure that Jade would have seen, but thankfully there seemed to be a single shred of mercy left in his Vice-Warden’s cold, withered, heart, and the trembling limbs were not mentioned.

Jade cleared his throat and Azul leaned forward, anxious.

“I think you may be overthinking things,” he said, calm as a cucumber, and Azul wanted to scream.

“It’s not paranoia, it’s being prepared,” he snipped. A pause. “But why do you say that? What happened? Did something happen?”

Jade smiled that placid smile of his. “No.”

“No?” Azul repeated, flabbergasted.

“No,” Jade shrugged.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Floyd piped in.

Azul was just about to turn and remind his wonderful subordinate just how terrible he could make his existence when there was another knock at the door—lighter than Jade’s but just as familiar. Not a moment later, your head popped through the crack and you peaked inside wearily.

Azul hastily cleared his throat and Jade’s grin turned smug.

“Pr-Prefect! Can I help you with something?”

Floyd snickered under his breath and Azul mentally added another three hours onto the bastard’s nightly dish duties.

You stepped inside and tossed a tiny notebook down onto his desk.

“Here,” you said, with a grumpy sort of frown on your face. “All of Prince Rielle of Atlantica’s stupid wants, hopes, and dreams. You better be able to put this to good use you stupid mafioso wannabe, because I’ve been listening to this guy ramble on about himself for ages now, and I’d rather get drowned by Jade and Floyd again.”

You turned without another word and slammed the door behind you.

Azul gaped wordlessly at the pile of tiny pages splattered across his desk, and the familiar curl of your handwriting filling each and every one of them.

“Oh,” he breathed.

“Oh indeed,” Jade grinned.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #Jade Leech x reader #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #Floyd Leech x reader #Rielle x reader #My Writing #Octavinelle x reader #twst x reader #the tweels #jade leech #floyd leech #Rielle #Heroes vs. Villains #Heroes vs Villains Octavinelle Part 2

3K notes · View notes

voidpetrova · 8 months

Text

all mine — derek hale x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, p in v sex, vampire!reader, rivalry trope, creampie, sadism, requested fic!!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: he needs recruits for his pack, you need recruits for a pack of your own. the town is big enough for only one supernatural phenomenon, but you refuse to go down without a fight.

✧.*

the night air was thick with tension as you prowled through the dimly lit streets of beacon hills. moonlight spilled onto the asphalt, casting long shadows that danced around you. you were far from the usual supernatural resident of this town. you had no pack, no allegiances, and no high-and-mighty purpose. your existence was fueled by something simpler, more primal—you relished the act of feeding on humans.

stiles and scott, your two unlikely friends, often warned you about the dangers lurking in the supernatural world, and tonight had proven their point. they were your allies in this strange town, and while you didn't exactly need their protection, you enjoyed their company. the trio had faced numerous challenges together, but tonight, you were in the spotlight. derek hale, the brooding alpha werewolf, had been pursuing you relentlessly. he saw you as a potential recruit for his pack, a means to strengthen his power. however, you had no intention of bowing to his authority or becoming a pawn in his game.

tonight, the confrontation reached its climax in a desolate alleyway. derek, muscles rippling beneath his taut skin, blocked your path. the full moon accentuated his fierce demeanor, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint as he growled, “join my pack, or face the consequences.” you sneered, your lips curving into a wicked smile. your voice dripped with the an almost seductive arrogance as you purred, “consequences? darling, you really don't know who you're dealing with, do you?”

his nostrils flared, and he lunged at you, his claws extended. in the blink of an eye, you moved, a blur of motion, easily sidestepping his attack. his fist struck the brick wall with a resounding thud, creating a shower of debris. the alpha stumbled backward, wincing in pain.

with a self-satisfied smirk, you approached him, your eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. “derek, darling, let me make something clear. i'm not joining your pack. in fact, i'm here for recruits of my own. i have no noble agenda like yours—i simply have the need to feed.”

derek's rage and frustration were evident, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak. you had compelled him, and he was left powerless to resist. as he helplessly watched you, his hatred slowly morphed into something entirely different—a fascination that burned brighter with each passing moment.

your smile widened, a predatory glint in your eyes. “so, derek, are you curious yet? i have a feeling you and i could have a lot of fun together.”

and in that alleyway, under the watchful gaze of the moon, an unexpected connection began to take root—an alliance fueled by mutual curiosity, defiance, and the allure of the supernatural world that surrounded them.

the tension between you and derek lingered in the air, palpable and charged. he remained on the ground, pinned not by physical force but by your compelling presence. you exuded an aura of enigmatic allure, a dangerous beauty that drew him in like a moth to a flame.

derek's anger, once fierce and unyielding, had transformed into an intricate web of conflicting emotions. he found himself captivated by your honesty, or perhaps it was the brazen way you embraced your darkness that intrigued him. it was a quality he rarely encountered in the supernatural world—a ruthless pragmatism that echoed his own.

his breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as your words slithered through his mind. he could feel the delicate tendrils of your compulsion wrapping around his thoughts, and he was powerless to resist. there was a raw honesty to your confession, an unapologetic embrace of your true nature that struck a chord within him. “you—you're different," he stammered, struggling to find his voice. "most vampires i've encountered are colder, more ruthless.”

your laughter, like the tinkling of glass against glass, filled the alley. “i assure you, i can be just as ruthless when necessary. but what sets me apart is my honesty. i don't pretend to be something i'm not. i revel in the darkness that courses through my veins.”

the moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, casting a halo of radiance around your form. it was a stark contrast to the shadows that clung to derek, a constant reminder of the beast that resided within him. serek's eyes never wavered from yours, and in that moment, he realized that he was drawn to you in a way he couldn't fully comprehend. it was a dangerous attraction, one that defied logic and reason. he knew that aligning himself with you could lead to consequences he couldn't yet foresee, but he was willing to explore this uncharted territory.

with great effort, he pushed himself to his feet, his movements cautious and deliberate. “i won't join your pack,” he said, his tone resolute. “but i won't stand in your way either.”

and so, in that alleyway bathed in moonlight, a fragile truce was born. two supernatural beings, bound by their dark desires and their defiance of the norms of their respective worlds, began a dance of intrigue and temptation. the world of beacon hills had just become a little more complicated, and derek hale found himself entangled in a web of shadows, drawn by the enigmatic allure of the vampire who refused to conform to the rules of their supernatural existence.

in the days that followed that fateful night in the alley, derek found himself unable to shake the allure of your presence. he watched from the shadows as you moved through beacon hills, a graceful and deadly predator in your own right. it was a stark contrast to his own pack, where strength and dominance were measured in more traditional ways.

he observed you with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, like a moth hovering on the edge of a flame. there was a certain elegance to your brutality, a refinement in the way you dispatched your victims. it was as if you took pleasure not only in the act of feeding but also in the artistry of it all.

one evening, he watched you from a distance as you entered a dimly lit bar, the neon sign flickering above the entrance. you sat alone at the bar, a glass of crimson liquid in hand. it was a curious sight—the vampire who reveled in the darkness, seeking solace in the anonymity of a human establishment. derek couldn't help but wonder what thoughts swirled within your enigmatic mind as you sipped your drink.

as the night wore on, he approached the bar, taking a seat a few stools away from you. you acknowledged his presence with a sidelong glance, a faint smile playing at the corners of your lips. the air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a palpable awareness of the connection that was slowly forming.

“you seem to have a fascination with me, derek,” you purred, your voice as smooth as silk. “or is it curiosity?” he didn't respond immediately, choosing instead to study you with those intense, cobalt eyes. “maybe it's a bit of both,” he admitted finally. “you're unlike anyone I've ever met.”

your laughter was low and sultry, sending shivers down his spine. “that's because i refuse to be confined by the rules of our kind. i embrace my nature without apology, and that terrifies some.” derek nodded in understanding. he knew all too well the weight of expectations and the burden of legacy that came with being an alpha. but here, in the presence of a vampire who was unapologetically herself, he felt a sense of liberation, a flicker of something he had long buried beneath layers of responsibility.

days turned into weeks, and your encounters with derek became more frequent. he found himself drawn to your boarding house, a place that exuded both elegance and darkness. the scent of bourbon hung in the air as you sat in solitude, contemplating the world beyond the shadows.

one evening, he joined you on the porch, the creak of the wooden floor beneath his boots breaking the silence. he held out a bottle of bourbon, a silent offering. you accepted it with a nod of appreciation, pouring a generous amount into your glass.

“sometimes,” you began, your voice soft and reflective, “i wonder if it's all worth it. this existence, the darkness that consumes us. but then, i take a sip of this,” you raised your glass, the amber liquid catching the moonlight, “and i remember why i embrace it.” derek studied you, his gaze searching for answers to questions he couldn't quite articulate. “we all have our demons,” he said finally. “our own reasons for living in the shadows.”

a knowing smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “that we do, derek. and perhaps, in each other, we've found a kindred spirit—one who understands the allure of the darkness and the beauty that can be found within it.”

and so, in the quiet moments shared on that moonlit porch, derek hale and the vampire with the seductive allure formed a bond that transcended the boundaries of their supernatural worlds. it was a connection forged in the fires of curiosity and defiance, a fragile thread that held the promise of something deeper, something neither of them had anticipated.

a few weeks into your growing connection with derek, you decided to make a memorable entrance at the local bar. you had a reputation for leaving a lasting impression, and this night would be no exception. the bar was buzzing with activity when you walked in, the dim lighting casting a seductive haze over the patrons. a tray of martinis passed by, and with a swift, graceful movement, you snatched one from it, the crystal glass glistening in your hand. all eyes turned toward you as you made your way through the crowd, exuding an air of effortless confidence.

stiles, always the first to dive headfirst into any opportunity, was the first to approach you. he leaned in intimately from behind, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “fancy a game of pool?” you turned to meet his gaze, a wicked gleam in your eyes. “why not?” you replied with a playful smile.

stiles's hand found its way to your waist, his touch possessive as he guided you toward the pool table. as you bent over to line up your shot, he leaned in even closer, his chest pressing against your back. the scent of his arousal hung in the air, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity.

meanwhile, derek watched from a distance, his jaw clenched with a mixture of frustration and jealousy. he could smell Stiles's arousal, and it gnawed at him, igniting a fierce possessiveness deep within him. unable to contain his emotions any longer, he strode forward, his movements predatory. he reached out, firmly snatching your wrist and pulling you away from the pool table and stiles's grasp. with an apologetic glance at stiles, you allowed derek to guide you through the crowded bar and out into a nearby alleyway.

the cold night air hit you both as you stood in the dimly lit alley, the sounds of the bar fading into the background. derek's eyes bore into yours, his voice low and demanding. “you don't belong to anyone, especially not him.” you met his intensity with a challenging gaze of your own. “i don't belong to anyone, derek. i told you, i make my own choices.”

his grip on your wrist tightened, his anger and frustration evident. “i won't let him touch what's mine.” the possessiveness in derek's voice sent a shiver down your spine, and a dangerous smile curled your lips. “oh, der, i'm not anyone's to claim. but perhaps,” you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, “you can convince me otherwise.”

in the alleyway, amid the tension and desire that crackled in the air, a new layer of complexity was added to your evolving connection with derek. the dynamics within the beacon hills supernatural circle had shifted, and as the night continued, the flames of intrigue and temptation burned brighter than ever.

you liked the way his breath felt on your neck. warm, but still somehow able to raise goosebumps across the surface. it was the same way his touch ignited fire, yet left coldness in its wake. he made you dizzy with his attention to detail, the way he'd leave your head spinning and vision blurry all because he knew exactly what buttons to press and when to press them. he was rough, and yet careful, like every move was calculated in an effort not to cause you unnecessary pain, and he never left any unintentional bruises. he made you feel intoxicated by the taste of his tongue—sometimes, his spearmint toothpaste and sometimes, you. he was god-like, when he had you like that, and you knew he liked the power trip—to feel superior in this one part of his life he could control.

he pressed his lips against yours, stubble prodding at your soft cheeks as his lips melted against yours. it started off slow and sensual, but only for a splot second. his right hand grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he pushed you into the wall. you struggled against his touch, but against the lust that fueled his every move, you were unable to pull your wrists out of his grip.

“you're not going anywhere,” he purred against your ear. you struggled some more, but for the first time in forever, you gave up. you gave up and succumbed to him. “just like that, that's good.” you stopped resisting, finally melting into his touch completely. he smiled against the crook of your neck, stubble littering goosebumps against his skin as he peppered kisses against your neck. you bit back a moan when the kissing turned into sucking, his teeth pulling on your soft skin, popping vessels and leaving bruises that threatened to stay for a while.

you felt weak under his touch, the hairs on your neck standing up as you felt the straps of your tank top slide down your arms. derek's rough, veiny fingers hooked each strap as he pulled them down, revealing your lacy bra as you slipped out of the top. he couldn't help but grunt at the sight of your tits bursting out of your bra, his hands involuntarily rushing to your boobs. he could only toy with them in awe, your moans bringing him pleasure. never had you been able to imagine yourself so powerless, especially not in his presence.

“what's the matter, princess?” he practically taunted, his voice thick with lust as he licked the outline of one of your breasts, the tip of his tongue tracing your nipple before engulfing it whole. “cat got your tongue?” you couldn't help but tug at his locks of black hair, a gasp passing your lips despite your best efforts to bite back your moans.

“i've had better, hale,” you retorted, a small smirk painting your lips as his piercing gaze shot upwards, meeting yours. he was all but pleased with your answer, and he proved that by tugging at your nipple with his teeth, provoking a sensation that was flooded with pain and pleasure. it was his turn to smirk.

he had you crying in a matter of seconda. he had his palm splayed over your mouth, your cute little cries muffled while he bullied his thick cock into your pussy. your nails scraped at his back, marking his broad muscles with your desperation. he was so big and mean—didn't let you move, didn't let you speak, whispering in your ear, telling you to take it. to take what's yours and be his good little bitch. he bit your neck, running his teeth along your skin, telling you all you’re good for is warming his cock. when he finally lost himself in the feeling of your fleshy cunt squeezing around his dick, he told you to pick a number. “six,” you barely managed a whisper. he forced you to count all his hard strokes in your cunt until tears started to spill onto the slope of your cheeks, until you were gritting your teeth at how deep he was fucking you, until you were finally screaming as he came, spilling his white sticky cum into the used pocket of your pussy.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and low, little strands of hair clinging to his forehead while he stared at the way his cum spilled out your pussy, dripping lewdly into your soft, moist folds. you nodded weakly, gasping as he collected the cum out of your pussy onto his finger, licking the sticky white liquid with a sadistic smile.

he knew that if you were still conscious, he must not have gone hard enough.

#tw #teen wolf #teen wolf smut #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf angst #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf x reader #derek hale #derek x reader #derek hale x reader #derek hale smut #derek hale angst #derek hale fluff #derek hale x reader smut

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slavghoul · 6 months

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Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful.

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through?

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview #prequelle era

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kiaxet · 1 year

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Sooooo y’all see the latest @somerandomdudelmao comic update? Because once again it is living in my head, which means once again my brain has generated fic. This one’s ~1200 words and slightly less tragic, depending on whether or not you take dramatic irony into account.

~~~~~~~

It starts fairly innocuously.

One of the surviving technicians monitors a computer as it finally, finally boots up successfully, whooping when the Genius Tech loading screen pops up. He grins and pats the power cable. "Thanks, Raph!"

It catches on.

A water purifier, disconnected to save a struggling power supply, gets plugged back in. It chugs back to life, and the kids responsible for its upkeep cheer and high five. One of them waves at the ceiling, where a power conduit runs overhead. "Thanks, Mister Raph!"

And it spreads like wildfire.

Every time something works the way it's supposed to - every time a much-needed device pops back to life, or the emergency doors close correctly, or a dying lightbulb flickers on one more time - they thank Raph. In gleeful shouts and careful whispers, they show gratitude for the person who gave up his life - and his second chance at life, at that - to keep them safe. It makes the emergency base, ramshackle and barely held together as it is, feel a little more like a home. A little more alive.

It doesn't take long for a few unspoken rules to develop.

They never say it in front of the metal shell. It's one thing to say it to the walls, the cables, the electricity; it's something else to say it to a figure with a face, seated against the wall like a sentinel that will awaken and protect them when danger arises.

(Nevermind that they've been in danger, constant and unending, for decades, and that this sentinel is already protecting them in smaller, everyday ways.)

They learn very quickly never to say it in front of Raph's surviving family, either. Master Leonardo gets angry when he hears it. It's an anger born of grief and loss, painful but not dangerous to allies, but given how terrifying Master Leonardo can be on the battlefield or a bad day, nobody really wants that anger directed at them. Master Michaelangelo just stops when he hears it, lips curling up in an expression too devoid of life to truly be called a smile. It's almost worse to witness than Master Leonardo's anger. No, they learn to watch themselves in front of the family, carefully taking their gratitude towards a dead man elsewhere.

Until the day someone forgets and says it in front of Casey Junior.

The kid looks up at Roger with wide, almost hopeful eyes. "Why did you- is he here? Can you feel him?"

Roger stares back at him with equally wide eyes. He'd just been grateful the computer had booted correctly for his monitor shift, and he hadn't been looking, and now he has to try to explain this to a kid who's never known a life outside the apocalypse. Oh boy. "No, uh- I mean- I don't have magic like your dads do, Casey, I couldn't-" He sighs. "It's just...a thing people do, when things work. Before the Krang, we had all sorts of machines that made life easier, and...we'd talk to 'em. Thank 'em when they worked, yell or beg when they didn't...I remember threatening a fax machine once, not that that made any difference. I think that just...kinda carried over here." Wait. "Not that your uncle was a machine or anything-"

"His body was a machine," Casey says simply, with a pragmatism that Roger hadn't been expecting. Apocalypse-raised kid. Right. "That wasn't what made him Uncle Raph. He was- it's-" Casey falters, expression starting to crumble. Pragmatism be damned, the kid is still grieving-

Rem, just coming off her shift, steps in smoothly. It's not the first time she's saved Roger's ass, both on and off the battlefield, and it won't be the last. "We know," she says gently, putting an arm around Casey's shoulders. "What Roger means is that we're grateful he's keeping us going, and that people like to bond with machines even when they're too simple to bond back. We all used to name our cars - can you believe it?"

"I named mine Red Rider," Roger says wistfully. He still misses that car.

"And I used to sneak out of the Hidden City with my cloaking brooch and go joyriding outside of human cities," Rem says, a grin splitting her feline muzzle. "I named every car I stole Phantom, like I thought I was cool."

Casey smiles - small and watery, but there nonetheless - and Roger breathes a sigh of relief. "What else did you name?"

"I mean, it was mostly cars, but some people named their computers."

"I had a friend who named her phone and just kept adding numbers when she had to replace it. It was Duchess O'Brien the eighth last I'd heard."

"I know some Yokai named their weapons, but I never really kept track of those. It was more of a Battle Nexus fandom thing."

Another Yokai leans in - a four eyed lizard whose name Roger could never remember no matter how hard he tried - and Roger shuts up. She's in charge of security now, and honestly she intimidates him. She looks around - at him, at Rem, at Casey - and then intones seriously, "I once named a kitchen appliance Toasty McToastFace."

There's a beat of silence. Casey has a lopsided grin growing on his face, like he doesn't get the joke but he knows it is one, and that's enough to lift his mood.

And then Rem doubles over, cracking up, and Bob smiles carefully. "Really loved that toaster, huh?"

"It was my closest friend," the lizard Yokai replies, deadpan as hell, before leaving the conversation.

Casey turns that confused grin on Roger. "Was she serious?"

"Kid, I have no idea. Some people are just really into this kinda thing."

Rem finally straightens up, wiping a tear from her eye with a paw. "Ohhhh boy. Oh, I needed that." She turns her smile back on Casey. "Point being, naming something makes it a little more real, and makes you a little more likely to take care of it. The system here...already has a name. We're just saying thank you, you know?"

The grin on Casey's face settles down into consideration. "Yeah, I think I do. I- Thanks. I'm gonna-" He waves at the door to finish his sentence.

"Go for it, kid." Roger waves him off as he departs, then sighs once he's gone. "God, that kid is just hemmhorraging family, isn't he."

"We all are, Roger, it's the fucking apocalypse." Rem flicks an ear.

"Yeah, but still. It's rough." There's a second or two of silence. "Also, if he says it in front of Master Leonardo, I'm denying all knowledge of this conversation."

"Spirits, same."

Roger learns a few days later - from Rem, of course - that Casey has named his chainsaw hockey stick Killer, because it's what his mom used to call him. Well damn, if kids like him are gonna be the future, then maybe they have some hope after all. He raps on a wall lightly, just below where the power conduit is mounted. "I know you didn't have a lot of time with the kid, but you did a good job." He can't help but smile. "Thanks, Raph."