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her-satanic-wiles · 7 months

Text

October 30th

Body Worship, Papa Emeritus II x Catholic!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.1k.

Warnings: Body Worship (okay, turned out less body worship and more just worship in general but fuck it, I wanted to write it this way lmao); fingering; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; marking; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; praise kink; y’all this is soft soft, and I love it; religious symbolism; corruption kink; hair pulling; multiple orgasms;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons

Author's Note: This is a continuation of October 3rd, so if you haven’t read that, please go and do so before you read this! Thanks!

Recommended listening: Chase Atlantic with their self-titled 2017 album.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Under the cloak of night, he crept through the ancient cobblestone streets of Rome, heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The Vatican’s towering walls loomed before him, a fortress of faith and secrets. Driven by a love forbidden by both church and society, he had come to breach the sanctum’s impenetrable defenses.

His leather-soled shoes barely made a sound as he approached the towering stone wall that guarded the Vatican’s secrets. In the moon’s pale glow, he could make out the shadows of security guards patrolling the perimeter. He crouched low, his heart racing with each passing second, and carefully assessed their movements.

Timing was everything. With the precision of a cat, he found his moment when two guards turned their backs, engaged in hushed conversation. In one swift, heart-pounding motion, he scaled the wall, fingers gripping the rough stone edges, and muscles straining with urgency. His breath held, he cleared the top, dropping silently to the other side, where the hallowed ground of Vatican City stretched out before him. It was almost as if he could feel the soles of his feet burning as it touched the hallowed ground, and forced him to move forward quickly.

Silent as a whisper, he navigated the maze of corridors of the Vatican’s residential quarters. The opulence and history that surrounded him seemed at odds with the clandestine nature of his mission. Portraits of pontiffs from centuries past stared down at him from gilded frames, their judgmental eyes seemingly aware of his transgressions.

He moved with caution, avoiding the gaze of any servants or clergy members who might cross his path, clutching onto his Grucifix pendant in his thick hand in an attempt to shield his true identity. His knowledge of the Vatican’s layout was limited, but the urgency of his desire propelled him forward.

Finally, he found himself outside a front door, familiar to him only by the number he’d been given. He knew this was where you resided, his forbidden lover, a cardinal of the church with all the responsibilities but none of the titles or accolades. With trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob, his heart pounding louder than the sacred hymns echoing through the Vatican’s hallowed halls.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the richly adorned tapestries that lined the walls. He had finally found your apartments, and with a mixture of apprehension and longing, he pushed the door open, revealing the inner sanctum of the Pope’s daughter.

Inside, you sat at a writing desk, the dim light revealing the weariness etched into your features. Your modest dress hung off your frame just as pristine as you liked it. You looked up from your work, your eyes widening in shock and disbelief as they met his.

Time seemed to stand still as your gazes locked. Words failed you both, as the weight of your forbidden rendezvous hung heavy in the air. You stood from your seat slowly eyes fixed on the now cocky Secondo whose arms were outstretched as though he wanted you to run to him and welcome him into your home. Run to him you did, but no words of welcome were exchanged.

Your palms reached his shoulders and with a force, you pushed him, anger now taking hold of your body. “What are you doing here!?” You hissed, clearly livid by his intrusion. This was not how he wanted things to go. “My father will be here any minute! What do you think he’d do if he found a Cardinal of the Satanic Church in his daughter’s room?”

Secondo grinned, his black upper lip stretching into a lacivious smile. “Hopefully he’d understand my intensions and close the door behind him.”

Your hand connected with his cheek, a red mark forming instantly. Just as you were about to lay into him, you heard a familiar voice sounding from the entryway. “___?” Your father had arrived.

Secondo’s eyes widened, now understanding the gravity of the situation. Though the Catholic church was supposed to be a pinnacle of moral upstanding, it wasn’t uncommon for Popes to take drastic measures to protect their Papacy, even if it meant defying their God’s wishes. Thou shalt not murder - unless of course they pose a threat to your power and need to be eradicated. Secondo knew that given he was a footsoldier of the Devil, a Satanic rat sent to plague the people with “immorality”, your father would have no problem crucifying him on the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica.

“Hide!” You shout-whispered, your panic even greater than Secondo’s.

Secondo wasted no more time, diving into your bedroom and throwing himself under your bed, thankful that you didn’t use it as storage. He did so at just the right time, because while he couldn’t see your father from his position, he could hear him and he was right where Secondo had stood just thirty seconds prior.

“What are you doing in here?” Your father asked, his tone certainly suspicious. “Why didn’t you come when I called?”

“Sorry, father, I was doing some work. Correspondances.”

Your father hummed in acknowledgement. “There’s a meeting tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. We’re gathering officials to discuss how we’re going to remove the vermin.”

Secondo didn’t need to visit the Vatican often to know that the vermin your father was referring to was the Satanic Church. He rolled his eyes and contorted his face to childishly mimic and mock your father - though he knew no one could see him, it was a knee-jerk reaction and he thought it was funny.

You hesitated before you spoke. “Yes, father.”

“Something you want to say?”

There were, in fact, several things you wanted to say to your father and none of them were kind. After spending as much time as you did with Secondo, you had grown to understand that they weren’t the monsters you used to fear and that the way your father and other members of your church talked about them was terrifying. You wanted to yell at your father for not treating you as you deserved, as well. How you were always promoted within the church, but could never retain the title as “women didn’t hold powerful positions”. But he had no problem using you to benefit his politics and Papacy. But all your thoughts would fall on deaf ears, and so you settled on a, “No, father.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As the Pope finally left the room, you sank back against the door you had closed behind him, your emotions in turmoil. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. That was the moment Secondo had been waiting for. He emerged from his hiding spot, his presence a comfort and a promise in the midst of your forbidden… whatever this was. The silence between you was palpable, broken only by the flickering candles and the distant echoes of Vatican life outside your apartment. He watched as you composed yourself, trying to calm yourself of the anger your father had left you with only to feel it flare up when you saw the Satanic Cardinal standing in your bedroom doorway.

“Why did you come here?” You quietly shouted at him, anger ever present in your voice. “You know what would happen to you if someone saw you - what would happen to me, too!”

You stood there, lecturing him about his behaviour, hands flailing about the room in your frustration and a small amount of hatred dancing in your eyes. As you unleashed your fury, your words cutting through the air like a storm, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the raw beauty of your anger. Your eyes blazed with intensity, your voice resonated with passion, and your fierce determination only made you more captivating. In that moment, your rage seemed to enhance your allure, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to you. Never had he seen a woman before so beautiful than you in that moment.

He thought back to when he first met you, how your anger and hatred towards him had fuelled his lust, and how it forced him to act against his better judgement to take your virginity on a desk that didn’t belong to him in the bowls of the Ministry.

Caught between the tumultuous emotions swirling around them, he took a step closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your presence. Your anger had laid bare the depth of your relationship, and he knew that your illicit connection was a flame that refused to be extinguished. As you continued to vent your frustrations, he reached out, gently taking your face into his hands and pressing his lips against yours, silencing you, a fervent promise that he would stand with you against all odds, consequences be damned.

You pushed against him at first, not because you didn’t want to kiss him, but because he had the nerve to silence you when you were talking. But the more you melted into his arms, the less resistance you put up, and allowed yourself to be caught by him as you began to fall from grace. Though your descent from righteousness started when you gave yourself to him, it was that kiss that solidified your feelings, and made you realise that however much you loved your God, you were sure you loved Secondo more.

Passions grew when he pressed you against your door, trapping you between him and the wood. His hands moved from your face, down your arms, and tickled at the bare skin until he finally settled at your hips. Your hands gripped at his cassock, holding on tightly and pulling him as close as he could possibly be to you, but even then that wasn’t close enough. His kisses ignited a fire in you that shouldn’t have been lit in the first place, and had you submitting and bending to his wishes willingly. When his fingers tightened on your hips and began lifting your dress, you let him. When his tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, you let it. When his hand found the gusset of your panties, you spread your legs to allow him easy access. When he dipped below the waistband, and stroked a tentative finger over your clit, you moaned into his mouth to encourage him to do it again.

In this moment, he wasn’t a servant of Satan. He was yours. Your ardent and eager slave, a genie sent to grant all of your wishes even if you didn’t know that he had them. His lips travelled South from yours, roaming over vast expanses of your body in search of a single destination. He moved to your jaw, your neck, your clothed dress, your stomach, hips, thighs. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his glove-covered fingers pulling your panties down with him as he knelt before you. You watched him hesitate for a moment, before wide eyes stared up at you as if to plead with you to grant him permission. His eyes were mismatched and popped against his Cardinal paints, a gentle yet emblazoned fire in his eyes as he waited for you. You couldn’t say no; you simply didn’t want to. You needed him probably more than he needed you. You nodded.

He gently lifted your leg in his hands and kissed it from ankle to knee. The higher up his lips went, the more passionately he kissed, and once more he played using his tongue. But now, in addition to kissing, he started sucking, leaving a trail of numerous dark brown hickeys on your thigh. No one would be able to see them here, but every time you caught a glimpse of your naked body, you would be reminded of them. Of him. Of what he did to you and the shame that was supposed to come with it. Shame that you refused to feel because that would imply you regretted letting him have his way with you. But even when you were worshipping your Lord, when you were in the confessional booth, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your actions.

He immediately dove in and started licking and sucking at your clit. He forgot to take it easy and instead allowed himself to just take from you what he wanted because he was so desperate and needy for your taste. He was encouraged to continue his movements by the faint and low whimpers that escaped from your partially opened mouth.

“Yes! Just like that!” Due to the strong suction he applied, you whispered, ending your sentence with a particularly breathy moan.

One of your hands flew to his head, gripping onto his hat and throwing it to the side allowing you to rest your hand there, pushing his face into your heat. Your hips bucked in pleasure, riding his tongue and taking what you needed from him. “Secondo!” The hand that wasn’t resting on his head flew up to your mouth, covering your exceptionally desperate moans as you came on his tongue, silencing yourself as much as you could so the Clergy wouldn’t hear your pleasure from the other side of the door.

When your orgasm had completely subsided, Secondo released you from his suctioned hold, his chin glistening with your juices and a small grin on his face. That grin altered your brain chemistry and instilled a confidence in you that you didn’t know you had. You pulled him by his cassock back to his feet and crashed your lips against his, kissing him much harder than before. You could taste yourself in his mouth, your own essence moving onto your tastebuds and heightening your arousal. Your hand gripped onto his and pulled off the first glove, still with your lips attached to his, and once it was off his hand, you threw it somewhere in the room. The second glove met the same fate.

You pushed him away from you and pulled at your zipper, undoing the dress and letting it pool around your feet. Your bra was the next to go, falling to the floor and exposing your breasts to him. You stood completely bare in front of him, looking at his face as his eyes ran over your body, drinking in every part of you he could see and committing it to memory. You then took his hand and walked him to the bedroom.

Before today, all your secret meetings had taken place after or during official meetings between your churches, sneaking off while representatives met to discuss peace or something redundant that both sides would ignore. Your meetings had been limited, but over the course of that week had been frequent. Yet for each of your encounters together, Secondo had taken charge. Despite how much he degraded you, how disrespectful his words were, you had grown to trust him entirely. He would never push you passed your limits, or do something to deliberately hurt you that you hadn’t already asked for or expressed your wish to try. Though he always used his experience to heighten yours, you were very much the pace-setter.

This was never more evident by his willingness for you to push him down onto the bed once his cassock and underwear was on your bedroom floor. How he happily lay on his back and watched you crawl up his body, tongue laving over his hairy stomach and chest and driving you further upwards. In your hubris, as your mouths connected in a passionate kiss, you took his length into your hands and lined him up with your sopping entrance, preparing both of you for the stretch you were about to experience. You felt Secondo’s hands move to your hips, supporting you as you sunk down onto him, taking him inside you in one fell swoop. This motion had you both breaking the kiss, mouths falling open in a perfect ‘o’ and your eyebrows raising while his furrowed, darkening his eyes.

You sat up, taking him even further down, and when you bounced for the first time, you ripped a growl from his throat. His back arched, his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. “Fuck!” He gasped when you did it again.

Your inexperience made it difficult for you to find a rhythm, your hands falling to his stomach to support you but failing to give you both the pleasure you needed. Secondo changed your motions for you, instead of helping you bounce, he used his hands to move you back and forth. “No, grind on me, little lamb.” He told you. You found a rhythm pretty quickly. “Just like that. Good girl.”

This position had your clit rubbing against his pubic mound and his cock moving inside you perfectly. The slight upwards curvature of him meant that each time you moved back, he hit that sweet spot inside you and caused you to cry out.

The more you moved, the more confident you became in your ability and allowed you to relax and just feel him - feeling the way he felt inside you, hitting your walls with each movement, his hands gripping onto you tight enough to leave more marks for you to admire later. While your eyes were closed in pleasure, his were wide open, drinking in every inch of your body and admiring you from below. He got to see you in your full glory, breasts bouncing with each thrust, thighs jiggling, mouth agape in ecstasy. The placement of your bed in the room in contrast with the overhead light created an ethereal glow, almost giving you a perfect halo around your head.

An angel.

You were an angel - you were his angel. The once good, Catholic girl who he loathed to look at, who made his life Hell in all the wrong ways. The righteous child who preached to those who didn’t want it, who was so sure in her decisions being the right one, now warmly accepting her mortal enemy into her body without much of a second thought. Now giving into temptation and pleasuring herself, against the will of her Lord, with the very man her book warned her about. The daughter of God using the son of Lucifer to commit sin after sin within the walls of the most hallowed building. It was almost as if he could feel your soul tainting with each thrust of your hips, your purity disintegrating along with his willpower each time a moan fell from your lips.

“Please,” you whimpered, “talk to me. Like you normally would.”

Degrade you? Now? He couldn’t possibly. He couldn’t find it within himself to tear you apart when you looked as you did: red-faced, sweating, panting and gasping for air as you felt him all the way up in your stomach. “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Why?” He didn’t answer at first, hoping you’d drop this crusade. But you were determined to get what you wanted and so, you stopped moving. “Why?”

“Little lamb, move.”

“Why?”

He lifted your hips a little more and tried to thrust into you, but you fought against him. “For fuck sake!” He sat up, his nose mere centimetres from yours, his eyes burning with anger and lust, pupils blown so far out the colour had disappeared entirely. His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled at the roots of your hair, lips brushing against your neck as he spoke, “Because you are divine. Move, please.” When he lay back down you picked the pace back up exactly how you did before you stopped, working towards your orgasm. His eyes remained on you the whole time. “You want me to tell you how sinful you are, hm? How much of a bad girl you are for defying your Lord?”

“Yes!”

“I won’t. I won’t use the same words that they do. Fucking shit! I can’t use those words when Lilith herself blessed you with ethereal beauty. When she placed her most beautiful creation on this Earth to walk amongst the mortals; art amongst the rats. I will not degrade one who was made to conquer men.”

You were breathless, both from the exertion and his words. “I c-conquered you?”

“Body, mind, soul,” he gripped hold of your hand and pulled it to his rest on chest, “and heart.” Your eyes met his in surprise, and your body shook as though electricity was running through it. “Conquered and enslaved. I will forever be yours, and worship you like the goddess you are.”

His large hand that had completely covered yours moved up your arm and began to rub both of his around your body, gripping onto pieces and stroking gently.

“Secondo!”

By the way your walls were fluttering around him, he knew you were almost at your peak. “Cum for me, little lamb. Bless me with your holy water.”

This orgasm was much more intense than your first, your body shaking and your eyes glazing over. Your back arched as it washed over you, your fingers digging into his arms and leaving half-moon prints in his skin. “Fuck!” You screamed softly, like your body had just been plunged into cold water.

“That’s it. That’s right. Give it to me.”

“Secondo! Oh my God!”

He pushed you off his cock and put you on the bed beside him, turning you to lie flat on your stomach. Your hips were lifted just enough for a pillow to sit below you, then you felt him mount you from behind, draping his entire body over you. His lips found their way to your ear as his cock lined up with your hole once more. “Your God doesn’t deserve you.” He told you as he entered you again, pressing you against the mattress. His hand found yours and interlocked his fingers with yours as he began to thrust into you, moving at a similar pace to when he usually fucked you. Hard, fast, dirty. But this time there was something new, something tender in the way he touched you, the way his other hand rested atop your hip.

“I will forever get on my knees for you,” he told you between grunts, “and worship between these hallowed walls.” He kissed your shoulder blades. “I will thank you for all that you give me. I am yours.”

“I’m yours, Secondo.” You turned your head to capture his lips and give him a deep kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his cock continued to slide in and out of your tight, wet heat.

He surrounded you, every inch of his body running against yours and trapping you between him and the mattress in a way you’d never felt before - making you feel safe. His words told you that you were loved, despite the violent speed they ran through your head as he occupied every inch of your mind. His scent, woody and musky, filled your nose. His grunts and growls swallowed by your mouth in your unbroken, needy kiss. He loved you. He’d risen to catch you as you’d fallen for him. In that moment, nothing else mattered. God and Satan be damned. They’d ruled your lives too much, you both deserved this.

“Cum for me.” You whispered into his lips. “Give it to me, give me everything.”

“Where can I cum?”

“Inside me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Fucking hell!”

His hips snapped faster and more erratically until eventually he pushed himself as far as he could inside you, painting your walls with his cum. His eyes were tightly shut and a growl escaped him. He could feel his heart in his throat. His fingers tightened around yours when he came, gripping onto you and never wanting to let go.

As he came down from his high, he peppered your skin with kisses, black Cardinal paints very much wiped away at this point and his body exhausted from the exertion. He stayed inside you, softening with each passing second but not wanting to leave the warmth of your body just yet. You didn’t want him to, either. But it had to happen eventually. He rolled off you, but kept his hand on your hip as he did and rolled you with him, wrapping you up in his capable arms and holding you close.

The later into the night it got, he knew he’d have to leave the Vatican and wait to see you for who knew how long, and that thought hurt him more than he could possibly. He did everything he could to commit you to memory; how you looked, felt, smelled. He needed something to see him through until the next time you managed to see him. And so, he held you close, doing his best to fight off sleep.

That was until your voice broke the silence. “How would the Ministry feel if I left with you tonight?”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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mayhem-things · 1 year

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Y/N starts to work for Euro in Helvete but when the heat between them grows they almost get caught by a customer

tw: slight mentioning of nsfw content

(1329 words)

thanks for 40 followers! It means a lot to me

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In the small town of Oslo, Norway, nestled amidst the cobblestone streets and historic buildings, there was a record shop called "Helvete" Owned by the enigmatic Øystein Aaserth, it was a haven for music enthusiasts seeking solace in the world of vinyl. Øystein had always been passionate about music, and his knowledge was unmatched in the region. He took great pride in his carefully curated collection and longed to share it with someone who could truly appreciate it.

One sunny morning, Y/N, a young and vibrant individual with an immense love for the depths of Norwegian black metal music, found herself wandering the streets of Oslo. Y/N had recently moved to the city, seeking new adventures and a fresh start. Upon noticing the sign which strongly reminded her of the Venom logo belonging to Helvete, she couldn't resist stepping inside. The door chimed as Y/N entered the record shop, greeted by the warm and inviting scent of aging vinyl. She marveled at the neatly arranged rows of records and couldn't help but feel an immediate connection to the place. Lost in the melodies that floated through the air, Y/N didn't notice Øystein's intense gaze as he observed her from behind the counter. He had a way of spotting genuine music lovers, and Y/N's energy resonated deeply with him, differencing her from the other posers who would step into the store from time to time. As Y/N made her way through the aisles, meticulously sorting vinyls and occasionally humming along to a tune, Euro couldn't help but be captivated by her presence. The way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her slim fingers danced delicately across the records, it all fascinated him. With a smile on her face she purchased multiple vinyls of Venom, Bathory and Dissection.

She left the store yet the thought of her beauty stayed. To Euro's surprise she came back, purchasing more vinyls.

Days after days she returned, and Y/N became a regular fixture at Helvete, much to Øystein's delight. They would engage in lively discussions about artists, albums, and the magic of music. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, a harmony of shared passions and budding connection.

One evening, as the sun cast a warm glow over the record shop, Euronymous couldn't contain his growing affection any longer. With a gentle smile, he approached Y/N, their eyes meeting in a moment of anticipation.

"You know,"

he began, his voice filled with vulnerability,

"I've been searching for an employee for this place. I've been searching for someone who understands the profound impact music can have on our lives. Would you like to work for me?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected offer, her gaze locked with Øystein's. Unable to contain her excitement, she eagerly accepted, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her.

As Y/N began her new role at Helvete, she found herself immersed in a world of musical enchantment. Together with Euronymous, they spent countless hours organizing the records, discussing rare finds, and delving into the depths of the underground music scene. The more they worked side by side, the more they discovered the profound connection they shared.In the quiet moments between customers and the sound of vinyl spinning, Euronymous and Y/N engaged in deep conversations about their shared love for music, their dreams, and the mysteries of life such as the depths of satanism and the true evil hungering inside them.

Their thoughts intertwined effortlessly, forming a tapestry of understanding and intimacy.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, their relationship deepened. They became each other's confidants, trusting one another with their secrets and vulnerabilities. In the hallowed space of Helvete, their bond evolved beyond that of colleagues; it became a friendship forged in the fire of their shared passion.Yet, amidst the rhythmic beats of their growing friendship, a subtle undercurrent of something more began to surface. A flicker of attraction danced between them, both aware of the unspoken desires that lingered in their shared glances and lingering touches.

The chemistry that had sparked from their initial encounter continued to simmer, yearning to be explored.

One evening, after the shop had closed its doors, Euronymous and Y/N found themselves alone, surrounded by the echoes of music. In the soft glow of the dim lights, Euronymous looked into Y/N's eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, there's something, well uhh, fuck it" He uttered as he couldnt find the right words to admit to his feelings. In the end the instinct overtook and consumed him. As a result he grabbed the back of her head , bringing her lips up to his. Y/N's heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. The kiss hung in the air, pulsating with anticipation. With a mix of vulnerability and determination, she reached out, her hand finding Euronymous's, their fingers intertwining. while giving in to his lips, leaning in to deepen the intimacy they just commited to.In that moment, the barriers between them dissolved, and they surrendered to the undeniable chemistry that had simmered beneath the surface. Their lips met in a passionate kiss once again, igniting a fire that burned brighter than any record on the shelves. The world around them faded away as they explored the depths of their desire, their souls intertwining like a harmonious melody.

In that moment, the boundaries of Helvete blurred, and the music that surrounded them served as the backdrop to their love story.

As Øystein and Y/N shared an intense and passionate kiss after another, their connection grew stronger with each passing moment. Lost in the heat of the moment, Y/N's back accidentally bumped into one of the shelves in the vinyl store. The records rattled and shifted, momentarily breaking the spell of their embrace. But the interruption did little to deter their desire. Ignoring the commotion they had caused, their lips found each other once again, fueled by an undeniable chemistry that electrified the air around them. Her arms found their way behind his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his breath against her soft skin. The world outside ceased to exist as they surrendered themselves to the intoxicating dance of their intertwined souls. Euronymous couldn't help but slide down his cold slender hand down her torso, finding it's way under her shirt. Y/N froze as she felt his hand finding place at her left breast, drawing circles around her nipple. It gave Y/N goosebumps and shivers found their way down her spine. The action caused both of them to feel more aroused and their longing just fueled with lust even more with each passing moment.

However, just as their passion reached its peak, the sound of the door chime echoed through the shop, announcing the arrival of an unsuspecting customer. Startled, Øystein and Y/N quickly broke apart, their faces flushed with a mixture of desire and embarrassment.T

he customer, a middle-aged man with a bemused expression, walked in and glanced around, oblivious to the momentary indiscretion. Øystein, the consummate professional, composed himself and greeted the customer, while Y/N attempted to regain their composure.

As the customer browsed the shelves, Øystein and Y/N exchanged nervous glances, their hearts still racing from the intensity of their kiss. They realized they needed to act quickly to avoid any suspicion. Y/N discreetly adjusted her clothing, smoothing out the creases and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. With a newfound resolve, she joined Euro at the counter, ensuring that their actions betrayed nothing of their intimate encounter. The customer, seemingly unaware of the charged atmosphere, made a few purchases and left the shop, leaving Øystein and Y/N alone once again.

As the door closed behind the departing customer, a shared sense of relief washed over them. They exchanged a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgement of the powerful connection they had just experienced. It was a moment they would cherish, a memory woven into the fabric of their budding romance.

With a renewed sense of anticipation, Øystein and Y/N resumed their duties in the record shop, their fingers delicately handling the vinyls with a newfound tenderness. Their gaze lingered upon each other, a silent promise of more intimate moments to come, as they continued to explore the melodies of both music and love in the enchanting space of Helvete.

#mayhem #rory culkin #black metal #lord of chaos #depressing shit #depressiv #euronymous #fan fic stuff #fan fiction #fanfic #oystein aarseth #øystein aarseth #lords of chaos #xreader #euronymous x #rory culkin x reader

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hazzabeeforlou · 1 year

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So on yet another road trip I did a dastardly deed and made a playlist of all Harry, Louis, and Niall’s solo stuff. And as I listened on shuffle, I just couldn’t escape the feeling that one of these things was not like the other. Niall’s songs more oft than not are about love—the temptress, desire, being left, the kind of embryonic beginnings and swift endings of someone who actually dates people. But Harry and Louis? You know that saying “history never repeats itself, but it rhymes”? That’s what they do. Album after album, era to era, I could trace a path through greif, miscommunication, petty fights, coffee, stars, too much thinking and too much drinking, annoyance, adoration. There’s a depth that belies an understanding. And going forward in time, songs that tackled other loves, moved to explore friendship (Matilda, That’s the Way Love Goes) and beauty and home and belonging (Common People, TPWK). There’s even the constant reference to smoking.

It’s not so much that I think they’re perfect people with a flawless happily ever after. But they’re bound still, in their songs, in their lyrics, rhyming in ways only visible from a distance, from a collective glance at how these threads weave a tapestry of growing up and getting wiser and healing. I’ve been willing to be disproved of their connection for a while now, and always the stunts are yearly and the articles too predictable, and I come back to listening to them in the only place they have control, and despite the added “girl who looked like you” or “went to your uni” or the pretense that Harry’s albums each have a distinct muse, this rhyming brings me back here. To boys who touched secretly behind tables. Who kissed while potato cameras watched. Who held hands miserably with girl after girl only to press their knees together on interview couches.

It all comes back to this every single time. They are steeped together—intermingled, crushed essence irretrievably bound in boiling waters—and it’s so obvious if you only listen.

#toni is in her emotions and RAMBLING #but yeah #I’ve been crying maybe?#mine #Harry and louis #boys in love

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trendfilmsetter · 13 days

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Apple Music’s ‘100 Best Albums of All Time’ list:

#1. Lauryn Hill — The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

#2. Michael Jackson — Thriller

#3. The Beatles — Abbey Road

#4. Prince & The Revolution — Purple Rain

#5. Frank Ocean — Blonde

#6. Stevie Wonder — Songs in the Key of Life

#7. Kendrick Lamar — good kid, m.A.A.d city

#8. Amy Winehouse — Back to Black

#9. Nirvana — Nevermind

#10. Beyoncé — Lemonade

#11. Fleetwood Mac — Rumours

#12. Radiohead — OK Computer

#13. Jay-Z — The Blueprint

#14. Bob Dylan — Highway 61 Revisited

#15. Adele — 21

#16. Joni Mitchell — Blue

#17. Marvin Gaye — What’s Going On

#18. Taylor Swift — 1989 (Taylor’s Version)

#19. Dr. Dre — The Chronic

#20. The Beach Boys — Pet Sounds

#21. The Beatles — Revolver

#22. Bruce Springsteen — Born to Run

#23. Daft Punk — Discovery

#24. David Bowie — The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars

#25. Miles Davis — Kind of Blue

#26. Kanye West — My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

#27. Led Zeppelin — Led Zeppelin II

#28. Pink Floyd — The Dark Side of the Moon

#29. A Tribe Called Quest — The Low End Theory

#30. Billie Eilish — WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?

#31. Alanis Morissette — Jagged Little Pill

#32. The Notorious B.I.G. — Ready to Die

#33. Radiohead — Kid A

#34. Public Enemy — It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back

#35. The Clash — London Calling

#36. Beyoncé — BEYONCÉ

#37. Wu-Tang Clan — Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)

#38. Carole King — Tapestry

#39. Nas — Illmatic

#40. Aretha Franklin — I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You

#41. OutKast — Aquemini

#42. Janet Jackson — Control

#43. Talking Heads — Remain in Light

#44. Stevie Wonder — Innervisions

#45. Björk — Homogenic

#46. Bob Marley & The Wailers — Exodus

#47. Drake — Take Care

#48. Beastie Boys — Paul’s Boutique

#49. U2 — The Joshua Tree

#50. Kate Bush — Hounds of Love

#51. Prince — Sign O’ the Times

#52. Guns N' Roses — Appetite for Destruction

#53. The Rolling Stones — Exile on Main St.

#54. John Coltrane — A Love Supreme

#55. Rihanna — ANTI

#56. The Cure — Disintegration

#57. D’Angelo — Voodoo

#58. Oasis — (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?

#59. Arctic Monkeys — AM

#60. The Velvet Underground & Nico — The Velvet Underground and Nico

#61. Sade — Love Deluxe

#62. 2Pac — All Eyez on Me

#63. The Jimi Hendrix Experience — Are You Experienced?

#64. Erykah Badu — Baduizm

#65. De La Soul — 3 Feet High and Rising

#66. The Smiths — The Queen Is Dead

#67. Portishead — Dummy

#68. The Strokes — Is This It

#69. Metallica — Master of Puppets

#70. N.W.A — Straight Outta Compton

#71. Kraftwerk — Trans-Europe Express

#72. SZA — SOS

#73. Steely Dan — Aja

#74. Nine Inch Nails — The Downward Spiral

#75. Missy Elliott — Supa Dupa Fly

#76. Bad Bunny — Un Verano Sin Ti

#77. Madonna — Like a Prayer

#78. Elton John — Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

#79. Lana Del Rey — Norman F*****g Rockwell!

#80. Eminem — The Marshall Mathers LP

#81. Neil Young — After the Gold Rush

#82. 50 Cent — Get Rich or Die Tryin'

#83. Patti Smith — Horses

#84. Snoop Dogg — Doggystyle

#85. Kacey Musgraves — Golden Hour

#86. Mary J. Blige — My Life

#87. Massive Attack — Blue Lines

#88. Nina Simone — I Put a Spell on You

#89. Lady Gaga — The Fame Monster

#90. AC/DC — Back in Black

#91. George Michael — Listen Without Prejudice, Vol. 1

#92. Tyler, The Creator — Flower Boy

#93. Solange — A Seat at the Table

#94. Burial — Untrue

#95. Usher — Confessions

#96. Lorde — Pure Heroine

#97. Rage Against the Machine — Rage Against the Machine

#98. Travis Scott — ASTROWORLD

#99. Eagles — Hotel California

#100. Robyn — Body Talk

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slutdge · 3 months

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I only have 2 flavors of music reviews

"This was a monumental album for Bingo Scrompus as it was the groundwork for the signature sound he would establish on later albums. Many virtuosic guitarists think that simply the impressiveness of virtuosic guitar work on a technical scale is enough to warrant praise while falling into the cycle of repetitiveness, but Bingo is not one of those guitarists, he weaves a rich tapestry through his playing that never leaves you bored OR unimpressed. I detracted half a point just because this is very derivative of Scrunkle Mcgee's work, but I understand that Bingo was a young artist feeling out his own sound at the time, a phase that all young artists must go through. 8.5/10"

"thgis album makes me feel like im in a haunted shopping mall. 10/10"

#🎧

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eyeslikewatercoolers · 4 months

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Pancake Morning (Wedding Planner AU drabble)

A little Tumblr-exclusive drabble to go along with Sushi Night. I've had this idea for a while, but couldn't find a good place for it until now. Enjoy some family fluff!

Kerri didn’t know for sure when she started calling Sasha by Mom.

In all fairness, Sasha didn’t know when it started, either.

One day, Kerri started using that word when referring to Sasha, whether Sasha was in the room or not. It was a natural change for both of them. Sasha was her mother, so she was called Mom. Sometimes Momma would be used, but nobody batted an eye when Kerri called her anything maternal.

Yet she was still calling Anetra by, well, Anetra.

Kerri loved both her mothers just the same and was close to both. She just hadn’t found the moment when it didn’t feel forced yet to call Anetra by mom.

It was a sunny Saturday morning when the teenager was hit with the smell of pancakes when she left her bedroom. Kerri knew Sasha was working at a wedding this weekend, so it couldn’t have been her in the kitchen.

Lately, Anetra was hardly seen in the mornings. Kerri didn’t know what caused the sudden change, but she did try asking about it. Sasha would make quick excuses for her wife like, ‘She’s not feeling well.’ or ‘She’s sleeping in.’ and then change the subject.

Kerri found her way to the kitchen and found Anetra scooping batter from a large bowl and pouring it onto a small griddle. She didn’t even know they even had a griddle in the house.

Carole King’s Tapestry album played from the small speaker they kept in the kitchen, but was only used a few times a year. She could hear Anetra softly humming along to the music while swaying her hips gently.

Kerri felt herself smile when she saw Anetra feeling upbeat. Every time she’s seen her mother lately, Anetra looked exhausted. She’s even caught her falling asleep on Sasha’s shoulder during a family movie night last week.

“You want some pancakes?” Anetra asked as she turned her head, opening the cabinet for a spare plate.

“Sure,” Kerri said as she sat at the breakfast bar and watched Anetra prepare a plate with a healthy-sized stack of pancakes. “Why are you up so early?” she asked.

“I felt pretty good when I woke up and the ba-” Anetra stopped herself, before continuing, “I mean, I was craving some pancakes,” she said as she placed the plate in front of Kerri.

Anetra was digging around the drawer to find silverware, “Hopefully the Bisquick recipe is good, we ran out of the other mix that we usually buy.” she said as she handed Kerri a fork, before making herself a plate.

Kerri took a bite as she watched Anetra buzz around the kitchen. The pancakes were light and fluffy but notably missing something.

“Hey, Mom? Could you pass me the syrup?” Kerri asked as she busied herself with putting a pad of butter on her pancakes and letting it melt. She didn’t even notice that Anetra stopped in her tracks until she looked up.

“Y-yeah, I can grab it for you,” Anetra said in a wavering voice. She was facing the other direction as she looked deep into the cabinet, but Kerri could hear audible sniffles.

“What’s wrong?” Kerri asked. She noticed her tone was eerily similar to Sasha’s whenever she was upset over something.

Anetra tried to wipe her tears away with her bare hand, forgetting about the syrup. “You’ve never called me Mom before.” she pointed out as she tried to dry off her face.

“Oh,” Kerri said, realizing what she just said. It felt natural to say it at the time. Anetra is her mother, so she wanted to call her Mom. “Then why are you crying?” she asked. Anetra wasn’t the emotional type of parent that Kerri knew her to be since her adoption.

Anetra took a deep, calming breath and sat on the stool next to Kerri. Kerri now had her full attention on Anetra.

“Sasha and I were going to wait to tell you this next week when she was back, but I can tell you early.” Anetra began to explain. “Do you remember when we told you we were thinking about having another kid?” she asked.

“I remember that,” Kerri nodded, even though they told her almost two years ago. She remembered appointment reminder cards from the Women’s Care Center and the sperm bank on the fridge for months, but they slowly stopped showing up.

“Well, we found out that we’re having a baby in November,” Anetra said as she started smiling. “I’m nine weeks along today.”

“So I’m getting a younger sibling again?” Kerri asked, her smile mirroring Anetra’s. Having siblings was the only thing Kerri missed from before foster care. Even though she was stuck babysitting all the time, she loved her younger siblings.

She had her younger cousins now that she saw on occasion, but it wasn’t the same as a brother or sister.

“You are,” Anetra said, understanding how Kerri felt about missing blood family. “Sasha was really excited to tell you, but I guess I’ll break the news to her that I told you early.” she frowned slightly at realizing that she would take away Sasha’s excitement about announcing the pregnancy to everyone.

“Or we could pretend that you never said anything and she can still tell me? I won’t say a word to her.” Kerri suggested.

Anetra thought for a moment and then nodded in agreement, “Deal. Mum’s the word.”

#wedding planner au #rpdr fanfiction #my writing #rpdr s15 #my fics

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minarixx · 11 months

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𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐍𝐨𝐰 ✯ 𝐀.𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚

'𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙮, "𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚"'

PAIRING. Ex Atsumu Miya x Ex f!Reader

CONTENT. angst, unrequited love

Miya Atsumu finds himself grappling with a swirl of emotions as he watches his high school sweetheart walk down the aisle to marry his own brother.

WC. 1.3K

A/N. was listening to the new album and made a lil drabble

Masterlink - Songs Unwritten

𝓣he church radiated an aura of enchantment, adorned with blossoming flowers and the soft glow of candlelight. Atsumu stood at the back, a knot of conflicting emotions tightening in his chest. His gaze fixed upon the woman he had once called his own, as she prepared to be wed to his brother, Osamu. Dressed in his finest suit, he felt a mix of nostalgia and heartache, as memories of their shared past flooded his mind.

As the organ's melody echoed through the sacred space, Atsumu's thoughts traveled back to a time when he and Y/N were inseparable. They had been high school sweethearts, their love flourishing in the innocence of youth.

Their connection had been undeniable, their dreams woven together with the promise of forever. But life had taken them on different paths, leading Y/N into the arms of his brother.

High school had been a time of innocent dreams and boundless possibilities for Atsumu and Y/N. They were sitting together on a warm summer day, nestled beneath the shade of a towering oak tree, their fingers intertwined. The world around them seemed to fade away as they discussed their aspirations, their laughter filling the air.

Y/N gazed at Atsumu, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. "Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us, Atsumu?"

He smiled, his heart dancing to the rhythm of her voice. "All the time, Y/N. I can't help but imagine a future where we're together, where we conquer the world side by side."

She laughed as she looked at his puppy dog eyes leaning in closer, her voice a whisper carried by the breeze. "Tell me, Atsumu, what does our future look like in your wildest dreams?"

He took a moment to think, his mind spinning with images of a life they had yet to experience. "In my wildest dreams, we're chasing our passions fearlessly. You're a renowned artist, painting masterpieces that capture the essence of life itself. And me? I'm a successful volleyball player, I'd be so good that it would touch the hearts of millions."

Her laughter rang out, a sound that painted his world with joy. "Oh, and where do we live in this dream of yours?"

Atsumu's eyes sparkled with excitement. "A big fancy house on the hill where we could see the sea."

Y/N's fingers traced patterns on his palm, her touch leaving a trail of electric warmth. "That sounds perfect, Atsumu. I can't wait for our future together, whatever it may hold."

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/N, you're my greatest inspiration. With you by my side, I know we can achieve anything we set our minds to."

They sat in comfortable silence, their hearts entwined in a tapestry of shared dreams and unspoken promises. The future beckoned, and they were ready to embark on the journey together, hand in hand, their love illuminating the path ahead.

As they sat beneath that oak tree, life would take them on unexpected twists and turns, leading them to separate destinies. But the memory of that conversation, the dreams they had shared, would forever remain etched in their souls, a reminder of the love they had once held and the possibilities that had sparked in their youthful hearts.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Atsumu had been haunted by memories of their stolen kisses, secret rendezvous, and whispered promises. The tender moments they shared had become fragments of a past that lingered within his heart, refusing to fade away. He had watched their love blossom, only to wither away when Y/N's gaze shifted towards his brother.

As the ceremony began, Atsumu's eyes remained fixated on Y/N, his mind retracing the steps that had led them to this moment. He saw her standing beside Osamu, her smile radiant, her eyes gleaming with a love that once belonged to him. The vows they exchanged were a poignant reminder of the love they had shared, now destined to be a distant memory.

Silently, Atsumu replayed the intimate conversations, the stolen glances, and the shared dreams that had once defined their relationship. He wondered what had gone wrong, what had pulled them apart and guided Y/N into Osamu's arms. Had he missed an opportunity to fight for their love, to claim the happiness he had once believed was his?

As Y/N spoke her vows, her voice filled with devotion, Atsumu's heartache intensified. He caught glimpses of the woman he had fallen for, the essence of their connection still visible in her eyes. It was a cruel twist of fate, witnessing her pledge her love to his brother while his heart silently shattered in the background.

With each passing moment, Atsumu's longing grew, entwined with an overwhelming acceptance of his reality. He had lost her, not only to his brother but to the circumstances that life had thrust upon them. His love for Y/N had become a bittersweet reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of family bonds.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Atsumu fought back tears, a torrent of emotions surging through his veins. He managed a fragile smile, masking the ache within, as he wished his brother and Y/N a lifetime of happiness. His unrequited love would forever remain a buried treasure, a secret locked away in the depths of his heart.

Atsumu sought solace in the shadows, observing the festivities from a distance. He watched as Osamu and Y/N danced, their movements graceful and their joy palpable. A mix of pride, melancholy, and resignation washed over him, as he realized that his place in their story had forever changed.

After the ceremony, Atsumu sought a moment alone with Y/N. He approached her softly, his voice tinged with a mix of pain and resignation. "Y/N, may I steal a few moments of your time?"

Y/N turned, surprise and uncertainty evident in her eyes. "Atsumu, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be celebrating with everyone else?"

He offered a gentle smile, masking the tumultuous emotions beneath. "I needed to see you, Y/N. We need to talk."

Her brows furrowed, a mixture of worry and curiosity flickering across her face. "Atsumu, we can't... not today. It's Osamu's day, and it wouldn't be right."

He nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, Y/N. I just... I wanted to say that I hope you find true happiness. You deserve it, even if it's not with me."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached out to touch his arm. "Atsumu, you have no idea how much you mean to me. But things changed, and we can't change them back. I've made my choice, and it's tearing me apart to see you like this."

A tremor ran through his body as he fought to hold back his tears. "I understand, Y/N. I truly do. It's just... seeing you marry him, knowing what we once had... it's a pain I'll carry with me."

She leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. "Atsumu, please try to find happiness too. You deserve it, more than you'll ever know."

As they stood in the shadow of their unspoken desires, their hands brushed for a brief moment, a fleeting connection that carried a universe of unspoken words.

With a heavy heart, Atsumu took a step back, his eyes locked with Y/N's for a lingering moment. "I'll always cherish what we had, Atsumu. Even if it's as a whisper in the wind."

As they parted ways, each carrying the weight of unfulfilled love, their souls found solace in the knowledge that their paths had diverged, and life would carry them forward, separate but forever linked by a bond that time could never erase.

His voice quivered with emotion as he whispered to himself, "And I'll always treasure the love we shared, Atsumu. You'll forever be a part of me."

©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.

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thedemonofcat · 4 months

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Song Anyalze: The Amazing Devil, King

I've embarked on a journey to immerse myself in the melodic tapestry woven by The Amazing Devil, delving into each song to unravel its emotional intricacies and themes. Through this exploration, I aim to offer my interpretation and analysis, fully aware that different perspectives may yield diverse insights.

My inaugural focus is on "King," the poignant second track from their debut album. Within this musical narrative, we encounter a trio of characters: a woman portrayed by the haunting vocals of Madeleine Hyland, a man embodied by the stirring voice of Joey Batey, and an enigmatic King who remains veiled and distant throughout.

The song opens with a cryptic line, "I'll keep the king When you are gone away," suggesting a complex dynamic where the man and the woman share a connection through the unseen presence of the King yet find themselves estranged. This separation is underscored by the lyrical imagery evoking a sense of longing and certainty as the waves of their bodies and the scent of their shared experiences etch themselves into the essence of their being.

As the narrative unfolds, we discern hints of mortality intertwined with the themes of love and sacrifice. The man's absence is attributed to death, symbolizing the omnipresent spectre that governs their fate. Lines such as "And the waves made of fingers and the madness that lingers Rips into the bark of our bones" vividly depict the visceral impact of loss and the relentless passage of time.

Despite the sad undercurrent of mortality, there is a subtle acceptance and even defiance in the face of fate. Though resigned to their eventual demise, the protagonists find solace in the prospect of reunion beyond the veil of mortality. This sentiment is encapsulated in lines like "I'll smile as I climb the stairs (to the light) To the light that you keep burning there (all hell)," where the ascent towards enlightenment is juxtaposed with the fiery embrace of damnation.

Throughout the song, recurring motifs such as sea birds and the solitary house atop the rocks add symbolism, hinting at a cyclical narrative of rebirth and transcendence. Once shackled by the constraints of mortality, the protagonists find liberation in the boundless expanse of the afterlife.

In their defiance of the King and refusal to be relegated to the role of the Unwanted Daughter, the protagonists reclaim agency over their fate. Their voices, resonating defiantly against the backdrop of eternity, serve as a testament to the enduring power of love and the indomitable spirit of the human soul.

In essence, "King" transcends mere musical expression, evolving into a poignant meditation on mortality, love, and the relentless pursuit of liberation from the shackles of fate.

#the amazing devil #song analysis #King #joey batey #madeleine hyland

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taylor-swift-bracket · 2 months

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🎇Please reblog!🎇

Comment your favorite bridges!

Notable Bridges

(Under the cut)

evermore

champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's f*cked in the head," they said

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

ivy

So yeah, it's a fire

It's a violent blaze in the dark

And you started it

You started it

So yeah, it's a war

It's the fiercest fight of my life

And you started it

You started it

tolerate it

While you were out buildin' other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm beggin' for footnotes in the story of your life

Drawin' hearts in the byline

Always takin' up too much space or time

You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I

marjorie

The autumn chill that wakes me up

You loved the amber skies so much

Long limbs and frozen swims

You'd always go past where our feet could touch

And I complained the whole way there

The car ride back and up the stairs

I should've asked you questions

I should've asked you how to be

Asked you to write it down for me

Should've kept every grocery store receipt

'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie

All your closets of backlogged dreams

And how you left them all to me

right where you left me

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Breakups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy

And you're sitting in front of me

Midnights

Hits Different

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat

Cursed the space that I needed

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense

Why the wound is still bleedin'

You were the one that I loved

Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough

A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes

This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy

Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief

In the good in the world, you once believed in me

And I felt you and I held you for a while

Bet I could still melt your world

Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

God rest my soul

I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close

Stained glass windows in my mind

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go

I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close

I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time

You’re Losing Me

How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)

"To believe, unless you're choosin' me"

You’re On Your Own Kid

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

Anti-Hero

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from Hell"

youtube

#taylor swift #taylor swift poll #poll #my polls #swifties #midnights #evermore #Youtube

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sleepanonymous · 8 months

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(Only after I transcribed the entire thing did I find an online source here 🤦‍♀️)

ALL GOOD IN THE HOOD…

Mysterious masked entity Sleep Token allow a peek into their dark world on debut album…

With the hidden identities behind bands like Poland’s Slavonic metallers Batushka and Sweden’s Ghost being unveiled to a curious public in recent times, it means that the similarly secretive Sleep Token might just be the most compelling group with their masks still in place. And, as they’ve already proven, the band are more than capable of playing up to this role of intrigue. When the anonymous collective emerged just over two years ago, dressed in Death eater-style robes and looking ready to sacrifice your pet goat, their leader, known only as Vessel, told of an age-old deity called ‘Sleep’— a name chosen as no proper translation exists in any modern tongue. They also came bearing allusions to ancient civilisations, with early songs named Calcutta, Nazareth, and Jericho.

This weaving of the occult into the band’s tapestry has grown smarter as they’ve journeyed towards this, their debut full-length. With the album named after the syndrome associated with dementia, where patients can become further confused and agitated as dusk sett;es in, its first single The Night Does Not Belong to God was unveiled upon summer solstice in June. Subsequent tracks have been ritualistically released every two weeks since, always at the time of sundown according to Greenwich Mean Time (perhaps a clue towards the group’s Earthly origins).

And yet for all this dark mystery and carefully constructed enigma, perhaps what surprises most about Sleep Token is the way they sound. Despite a supremely witchy aesthetic that hints at the gloomiest doom unearthed from some rotting catacomb, the main fabric of their debut is a mix of chilling electronics and otherworldly pop, with a sinister heaviness only intruding on the fringes. These are songs that share less with the metal of the similarly-robed Sunn O))), and more with, say, Deaf Havana’s slower, more pensive and thoughtful moments.

It begins with the aforementioned The Night Does Not Belong to God, a song that’s as strange and sparse as it is spellbinding. With little more than a ringing digital tone and a muscular, crooning voice, the band conjure a dense mood that hangs heavy with longing, before bantamweight drumming and Deftones-like guitars inject a jolt of power. The song’s lasting impression is one of immense feeling, and it’s this rich atmosphere that cloaks almost the entirety of Sundowning.

At times, it’s captivating. The Offering provides gasping melodrama, while Dark Signs projects EDM lightness onto evil chugs. The extremely minimal Drag Me Under, meanwhile, doesn’t even sound human. The band’s lyrics also go a long way in helping to construct this ethereal world, as they collide images of divinity with flashes of what seems to be their own lives. And while convention may have taught us that emotions mean more when pinned to a personality or some real-life flesh, the facelessness of these private sermons can make them feel shared and empathetic, or perhaps like being inside a confession booth.

Admittedly, save for Gods— the record’s only true out-and-out metalcore song— the continuous nature of this dark mood entwined with the group’s slow-burning, listless pace does begin to drag across Sundowner’s 50-minute runtime. But there are moments here to truly savour, and ideas and experiences that feel unique. The band have shown they can create vast episodes that exist primarily within their ancient universe, while also feeling very vulnerable and human at their core. That alone should be reason enough to hope that Sleep Token’s secretive allure stays intact for a long time to come. TOM SHEPHERD

Q&A: A SERVANT (MOUTHPIECE FOR THE VESSEL)

Sleep Token have become pretty big already, without any details of the members’ identities coming out. Why is there so much secrecy around the musicians in the band? “It matters not who they are. It matters not what they say.”

Where did the name Vessel for your singer come from? “ ‘Vessel’ is no name. It is merely a descriptive term, one that may indeed be applied to us all. He is no different in this regard.”

The album is very eclectic, drawing upon various different styles that are often not found in rock. Where do these influences come from? “Death. Power. Desire. Anguish.”

“OUR IDENTITY MATTERS NOT TO BELIEVERS…” A SERVANT

Are you pleased that nobody has figured out the identities of the people behind the music yet? “The entity is the music. There is nothing further to discover.”

Would you say that there’s an element of actual, occult magic to Sleep Token? Is that part of the reason why you’re so secretive, like Jimmy Page in the ‘70s? “Such boasts are not His to make. Should a wild animal be considered ‘secretive’ if it does not tell us its name?”

You’ve supported BABYMETAL at big shows, as well as your own headlining gigs, which have sold out almost immediately. Does appearing live in frog of people make it harder to stay anonymous? Or does it simply prove the strength of what you’re doing, in that the anonymity stands up to such things? “The gathering of Followers only further exemplifies the truth, that the identity of the creators matters not to those who believe.”

Is Sleep Token a band, or a larger entity, with no beginning or end? “Nothing lasts forever.”

Any final thoughts? “Worship.”

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #vessel #vessel interview #kerrang! magazine #since that new kerrang! article just came out #i figured we could throwback to the interview they did in 2019 for sudowning #the online source is missing the interview though #also for a minute i thought vessel was ragging on jimmy page #lmao but figured “his” should be capitalized #also the “death. power. desire. anguish.” quote is so edgelord /affectionate #i love vessel so much #as with the rest of the guys #forehead kisses and juice boxes for all of them

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