#ex-easter island head

[seanmorroww]

Ex-Easter Island Head - "Norther"

Norther [Rocket, 2024]

[slackwire]

Song of the Week 07/05/2024

Ex-Easter Island Head - Norther

Slinky, hypnotic rhythms made by hammering guitar strings with drumsticks and mallets

[senorboombastic]

Live Review: Ex-Easter Island Head at Hallé at St Michael's in Manchester 24 May 2024

Words: Ben Forrester Fresh from releasing their incredible new record ‘Norther’ (reviewed here), I was very much up for checking out Liverpool outfit Ex-Easter Island Head play Manchester in its support. Having spent a few minutes wondering around the trendy confines of Ancoates, we stumbled upon the very unassuming venue for tonight, the beautiful St Michael’s Church. A simplistic and modern…

[morningwalksposts]

14.05.2024

tuessday ~ 14.05.2024

japan - ghosts

ex-easter island heads - norther

jan jelinek - social engineering 1 (the narrative of the heritage)

henry kaieser - the lost chord

ex-easter island heads - magnetic language

[incorrectbatfam]

Batfam as the bomb they drop on people during normal conversation.

Dick: "I remember one time on patrol—I think it was before I got shot in the head—I followed this funky pigeon to where the entire flock was living inside some old lady's house"

Jason: "I found this jacket after coming back from the dead and added an extra pocket that doubles as a portable charger."

Tim: "My name's Tim, I lost my spleen to assassins, and I'll be your new boss. Welcome to Wayne Enterprises"

Damian: "I remember the faces of all two hundred men I killed. And also the Easter eggs in the Cheese Viking bonus level."

Duke: "You know how Nth metal lets me see into other dimensions? Well get this: I found a bridge that looks exactly like the one I jumped off to get away from the cops only it's on Krypton"

Cullen: "We all have our cringe exes. One of mine was part of a B-list playing card-themed crime family"

Stephanie: "Yeah I slapped Bruce when he came back. He deserved it though"

Cassandra: "Remember when I beat up that guy in the time it took for a grenade to fall on him?"

Barbara: "Throwback to when I led a rebellion against an evil Superman? Wait never mind, that was another universe"

Harper: "My dad didn't fix crap so I had to do it myself. Says a lot about him 'cause this stuff is easy"

Carrie: "I still think the Robin costume is kind of tacky, and not just the Party City one I bought with my lunch money to patrol Gotham"

Kate: "You guys weren't there. That was when I washed up on an island and accidentally caused a civil conflict."

Alfred: "In a different life, I killed the Penguin. Anywho, what would you like for dinner?"

Selina: "I'm not like the other-dimension me. For starters, I don't run a crime ring and I like what I have here a lot better."

Bruce: "Why do I have a Batman budget? Because I'm Batman, next question."

[portaltothevoid]

you're losing me part iv -- copia x reader, ex!terzo x reader

Summary: Your cheating ex is the leader of the Satanic church and you caused a scene in front of the whole congregation. You've been summoned to meet with him, alone, to be served your punishment. Turns out, you're destined for more than you could ever imagine...

A/N: buckle up buttercups, you're in for a doozy. please read the warnings. also this is my first time writing real smut please be nice to me. this little idea i had has grown into something i never thought it would and it is my overflowing cup of reason to live juice. and yes i switched gifs around because i'm new here and found the perfect one for part iii soooo did a little switcheroo. ps there’s a lot of lyrical easter eggs for my fellow swifties

songs: coney island by tswizzle, tempt me by stone nobles (please check out this band, i beg of you. trust me.)

word count: 8.4k (😬😬😬)

warnings: (this chapter deals with some dark stuff) dubcon, manipulation, talk of self-sabotage, flashbacks, oral (f!receving), fingering, p in v, rough sex, choking, fingers in mouth, allusion to panty-sniffing kink (kinda), horror elements, allusion to degradation (the bad kind), female reader, terzo heavy, google translate latin, some google translate italian (i took it in high school but that was forever ago, so i tried?)

“A summons?” you gasped jumping up from the couch. “A summons?! Oh, great. Perfect. Wait, what exactly is a summons?” 

“It’s a meeting with Papa… alone…” Copia said, his voice balancing on the edge of feigned calmness and panic.

“Why the fuck does he need to see me alone? He can’t excommunicate me without witnesses, right? …Right?!” Your voice was rising in pitch as you started to pace around the living room. 

“I-I don’t know, tesoro. No matter what happens, eh, I don’t think he’ll let you go that… easily.”

“Okay, okay, we just have to remain calm and- and think about this rationally. I-it could just be the slap on the wrist for the outburst, right?”

“Maybe…”

“Then again, if I’m alone in his office it’ll probably be a slap across my ass,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. Copia couldn’t even respond, he just made a growling sound from deep inside his chest. You held your hands up defensively. “I’m just saying.”

“If so much as lays one finger on you–”

“He won’t,” you interrupted. “What happened after I left mass?”

“I got up to run after you and the fucker, very condescendingly, reminded me…” he trailed off as a realization smacked him across the face. “He reminded me I was to lead the closing prayer, which he assigned to me at the last minute. Cazzo! Quel figlio di puttana (Fuck! That son of a bitch…) planned this. He knows what he’s fucking doing,” he fumed.  “That’s why he couldn’t wipe that fucking smirk off his face.”

“Oh fucking hell, we are so fucked,” you groaned, sitting back down on the couch with your head in your hands.

“Eh, maybe not if we’re already figuring out his plan?”

“True... Okay, so… we just have to think like Terzo.” A repulsed shiver went down your spine at that thought alone. “His comment to me was planned. He wanted to get under my skin. Point for him. I spat wine in his face and told him to fuck off in front of literally everyone. Point for me. But he was testing me to see my reaction or maybe it was just to test your reaction, or both? Either way, it didn’t matter because he made it so your duties came first no matter what I did… Point for him. He’s in the lead and now I’m gonna have to be in his office tomorrow. Great. Just fucking great.”

“So he’s going after me now too…” Copia sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“N-no. Not just you.” Your voice faltered as you felt your insides do a somersault. A realization of your own drained every emotion from your face. “He’s going after us. He’s going– He’s gonna try and break us apart.” Copia looked up at you, dumbfounded. Of course. Of course that’s exactly what Terzo was doing. 

“If he can’t have you, no one can…”

“Do you remember what a big fucking deal it was to get me on the books for living with him?” Copia nodded, not liking where this was going. “I… I never officially moved out… I just… came here. He’s… he’s going to reassign my living quarters tomorrow. That's what this has to be about.”

“Oh Satana mio…(Oh my Satan)”

“Call Sister Imperator. Right now. She can rush the paperwork, can't she?”

“Amore, even if we could, he’d still have to sign off on it in the morning,” he sighed.

“I can’t just sit here and wait for morning. Even if that’s not what the summons is going to be about, at least let’s cover our asses. Now… Call. Her.”

He ignored the warmth that traveled up his body from you being stern and demanding with him and started the call to their superior. She answered right away and you were sitting on the edge of the couch. “H-hi, uh, hello, Seestor. I’m sorry it’s so la– Sì. She received the summons… Eh, sì, that’s why I’m calling you… No… Okie dokie, Seestor.” He hung up the phone after that.

“Did you really just ‘okie dokie’ Sister Imperator?”

Copia just shrugged. “She’s expecting us in her office.”

“Hmph!” you hummed triumphantly as you got up. “Told ya we needed to call her.”

He rolled his eyes at your gloating. “Andiamo, anidamo (let’s go, let’s go),” he said as he placed a hand on the small of your back, letting you lead the way out of the apartment.  

Copia knocked swiftly on Imperator’s door. Seconds later it was opened. “Come in. Quickly!” she hissed. The Sister took her seat at her desk, while you and Copia sat in the chairs in front of her. She stared at you, her lips pursed. “That was some stunt you pulled at mass today, Sister.” 

“I-I… he… I’m–” you stuttered and then abruptly shut up when she held her hand up.

“I knew of the nature of your relationship with Papa and I know that it is no longer. I know of the infidelity… on both your parts. Save the apologies. I heard what he said to you. When I was your age… I would have acted similarly… I did not bring you both here because of that incident. Clearly Papa Emeritus III is out of control and it’s only going to get worse.” She spoke matter-of-factly. There was no animosity in her voice towards you, this was strictly business.

“I think he’s going to try to separate Copia and I,” you blurted out quickly. You winced at the frantic tone of your voice.

“Yes I know. I have your room transfer papers ready. Luckily, it’s before midnight, so tomorrow he won’t have a say in where you end up since this is already being put in motion. Sign here and here,” she pointed with her pen as she spoke and handed a clipboard over to Copia who then passed it to you.

“Do you… do you know what else is going to happen tomorrow? At the summoning?” you questioned timidly.

“No. I only caught wind about the transfer. But, Sister, you must be prepared. We are thwarting his plans. Whatever happens tomorrow, you cannot retaliate via a spectacle. I am fully on your side here, but we need to bide our time.”

“So… What? I’m just supposed to take the public humiliation and whatever else he’s gonna throw in my face?”

“I think what Seestor is trying to say, cara, is that behind closed doors you can say anything you want to him, but whatever you say to him, we don’t know if he will retaliate right then or wait to strike,” Copia said calmly.

Sister Imperator gave a short nod in agreement. “Your reactions have to be calculated. You cannot let your emotions get the best of you in the moment. You’ve done so well holding yourself together, I know you are capable of this.”

You felt the weight of everything come crashing down on you, overwhelming you. All you could do was chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I know you know this more than anyone, Sister,” Imperator continued, “Terzo is out of control and out of line. This is becoming nothing but a game to him. As Papa, he feels no one has the power to tell him no. At the rate he is going, he will only bring ruin to this Ministry. And I, for one, will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. I know Cardinal Copia feels the same.”

He nodded. “Sì, Seestor. I do.”

“I will do whatever it takes, Sister.”

“Do you know why your role is so vital to this?” Sister Imperator questioned. You shook your head. “You were the only one that could tame Terzo. For a while, I had thought we found our solution to our problems with him. But he is a wild animal. No amount of domestication will tame that beast. You also possess magical and ritual talents well beyond your years. You are a very valuable asset to the church as a whole. If all goes according to plan, your efforts will be regarded in the highest favor from the Dark Lord himself, I’m sure.”

You were too stunned by her praise to notice that Copia shifted uncomfortably. Sister Imperator shot a glare at him to stop before you looked up from your hands. “I– Um, thank you, Sister.”

She gave you a stiff nod as she began to organize the papers on her desk. “Oh, and, Sister? Should anything happen to you, be it comments or gestures, report it to myself or Cardinal Copia. Immediately. If I am preoccupied, tell someone or myself that you have a very important document for me to review. Understood?”

“Yes, Sister,” you nodded.

“Very well then. I will have this processed and on Papa’s desk by sun rise.”

Copia got up and bowed to Sister Imperator. He held out his hand for you to take your leave. Just as you both were a step away from the door, you turned back to her desk. “Sister Imperator?” you asked innocently.

“Hmm?” she murmured without looking up at you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

She finally looked up at you, her eyes darting between you and Copia. An uncharacteristically warm smile spread across her face. “No need to thank me yet.” Her demeanor turned back to its usual stoicness. “Now go get some rest. The both of you. You’ll need it.”

~~~~~ 

Even though you somehow managed to fall asleep, you felt like as soon as you drifted off, you heard the incessant beeping of Copia’s alarm. You rolled to face the ceiling and groaned, but didn’t allow yourself any more time in bed. You wanted this over with. You had no idea what was about to happen. Delaying it wasn’t going to solve any problems. Reluctantly, you got up and showered quickly, putting on your makeup afterwards. While Copia got ready for the day, you searched your side of the closet, trying to decide the best approach for this summons.

Earlier last week, while Terzo was tied up in meetings, you and one of your favorite Ghouls went back to the place you once called home and packed up the rest of your things. When you brought in the last box, and the Ghoul was to return to his post, he gave you his signature straight-lined, toothy smile, something he rarely did around humans. He stood at your side and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, nuzzling his head into you. The affection was so endearing you didn’t mind his mask slightly clunking against your head.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Swiss,” you told him. He had caught you crying on more than one occasion, always wiping your tears away or badly misbehaving around Papa when he realized that’s who was the reason for your sadness. “Don’t forget about me, okay?” you laughed delicately. The Ghoul put both their hands over their heart and shook their head. How could they ever forget the one person who treated them like an equal and not as just a devout servant or like some kind of pet? 

His shoulders slumped when it was time for him to go. You put your hand on the side of his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and said, “Be on your worst behavior for Papa. Be the best little shit I know you can be for me, alright?” He perked up and nodded excitedly, happily accepting this task from you. “There we go, that’s my favorite Ghoul,” you smiled warmly and scratched under his chin as his tail swished. He flashed you one more of his signature smiles before turning heel and heading back.

You sighed. “I miss the Ghouls,” you grumbled as you continued to flip through all the clothes you had hanging. You could wear something plain, albeit respectful, just what all the Sisters wore day-to-day. Maybe something more formal… But then you found it. It was a dress you saved for special occasions and events and luckily for you, you had yet to wear this one. A devilish smile went across your face. 

Looking in the mirror, smoothing out any stray wrinkles, you nodded to yourself. You looked hotter than hell. You had your wimple on, but pulled some hair out to have it frame your face. You fluffed your bangs, then applied your red lipstick. Yeah, this’ll do.

You walked out of your room, causing Copia to look up from his phone. He almost choked on his coffee at the sight of you.

The dress was a black satin that hugged your body. Leaving very little to the imagination, it had a plunging neckline and an open back. Its asymmetrical hem fell just above your left ankle, while the right side hit the top of your thigh, showing off your whole leg when you walked. On that leg, you had a garter with a single Grucifix dangling from it, made of black diamonds. It had been a gift from Terzo, you only hoped it added insult to injury. For shoes you wore simple, black, strappy stilettos. 

“Y-you’re wearing that for h-him?” he stuttered in shock.

You grinned a Cheshire cat smile as you walked over to him. Tilting his head to the side you were on, you leaned down and kissed him. Your hand trailing down his chest, a finger dragging across where his pants started under his cassock. “Oh, caro, this dress isn’t for him. I’m dressing for revenge.” You dragged the hand holding his head across his jawline as you pulled away. “You got a little…” you said quietly as you used your thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth. He could only stare at you as you walked towards the door. His eyes wide and filled with lust. “Meet me back here for lunch,” you said, your tone commanding. You looked over your shoulder with a delightfully sinful grin to see Copia nodding fervently. 

Just before you stepped out to leave, he called out, “Be careful, amore. Per favore.”

“Always am,” you responded as you shut the door. Taking one long, deep breath, you began your trek to the summons.

Dark Lord, give me the strength to mask my emotions, to not let them overpower my actions. Please, give me your strength and guidance to get through this. Nema, you thought to yourself, eyes closed and focused as you stood outside his office and set your intention. You elegantly knocked on the door.

“Entra.”

Let the battle begin. 

He sat with his elbows on his desk, chin perched in his folded hands. You felt him eyeing you as you walked over to the chair across from him, sizing you up. His face dropped slightly, taken aback by your appearance. His lust for you consuming him.

“You did this all for me, sorella? Or would you still prefer I call you tesoro mio?” His voice was sultry, dripping with sweet honey. It made you sick.

“Sorella is fine, Papa. You summoned me, I only thought it best to wear something more formal,” you smiled politely. 

“I always did like the way you think…” he mused under his breath, but still loud enough for you to hear. You ignored the comment. “Do you know why I summoned you, tesorino?” 

Your expression held firm as you kept your air of professionalism intact. “I can only assume it has to do with the incident from mass.”

“Actually, I wanted to discuss your living arrangements. But you see, a very curious thing happened. There were already papers on my desk dealing with just that. Isn't it funny how quickly things can get done when you know the right people, hmm?”

“I see it as a blessing. The Dark Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“That He does, that He does…” his smile showed he was impressed by your response and ability to dodge the question, but his tone suggested he knew the move was calculated. “Well, with that out of the way now, I suppose we have time to talk.” He looked at you through his lashes. He softened, his voice quieter. Was this his way of waving the white flag? You weren’t talking to Papa now, you had Terzo in front of you. The real Terzo. However, you weren’t about to drop your guard so easily.

“What is there to talk about, Papa?”

He shook his head, his expression forlorn. “This isn’t business anymore.” When he looked up at you, he dropped any and every mask he was wearing. Even behind his papal paints, you could see how broken and defeated he actually was. “You left… and then I returned home one day and… every trace of you was gone. Poof. As if you were never there. As if we never happened…” he took a deep breath, it was unsteady. He bit his lip in an effort to control his emotions. You stared numbly at him. “Do you remember the first night I stayed with you? When you were sick?” he whispered.

Of course you remembered. How could you forget? You had a nasty cold. You texted him early that day, telling him you were sick and you’d have to reschedule dinner. He told you to rest and get better and that he would see you soon. You didn’t think ‘soon’ meant him showing up at your door later that evening with two quart containers of minestrone soup (that he made himself from his nonna’s recipe (and with Primo’s guidance)) and a bouquet of flowers.  

“What are we watching, tesoro?” he asked as he settled in behind you, holding you, arm wrapped around your waist. You felt guilty having him there. 

“You really don’t have to stay. I mean I don't want to get you sick and… Really, I’m fine on my own, especially now that I have soup!” 

“Amore. Just because you do well on your own doesn’t mean you have to be on your own, hm? I'm here because I want to be, because la mia ragazza preferita (my favorite girl) is sick. If we fall asleep watching tv, then we sleep! There’s no use arguing with me, you know,” he said as he pulled you closer to him and pressed gentle kisses on your neck. “I'm staying– right– here.” His voice was muffled from barely taking his mouth away from your neck as he punctuated each word with a kiss. The affection made you bubble with laughter.

“I'm glad you’re here,” you said shyly. It was at that moment you knew you had a difficult conversation ahead of you. One that could make or break your relationship with Terzo, but you were falling for him. Hard. Nothing could stop your momentum. He had a reputation and if he loved you like he said he did, he’d commit to you. Wouldn’t he?

He let out a content sigh that pulled you out of your thoughts. He nuzzled into your shoulder. “Sono tua. Tutta tua.” He paused before adding, “Solo tua.” You froze. Did he read your mind? Did he feel the same as you? (I am yours. All yours. Only yours.)

“Solo mia? Davvero?” (Only mine? Really?)

“Sì. Sì,” he murmured affectionately as he placed a kiss on your temple. “There's no one else I want to share my time with. You’re all I think about, all I dream about, amore. You ground me. Make me feel like… I'm not… I’m not as— You make me feel like I'm worth loving. I want… us… I want to be esclusivi with you.” A sudden bashfulness came over him that you had never seen before. He was also so cool and collected, but you could tell just from the sound of his voice and the way he was fidgeting, tapping his fingers on your arm as he spoke that he was nervous.

You rolled over and cupped his face, searching his eyes with nothing but adoration. “Promise me then. Promise me, I’ll be the only one. Promise me, I’ll be your only one.”

“Te lo prometto. I promise you. You have my word, amata.”  

 “If you get sick this is on you. It’s so not my fault,” you jested as you poked his chest. 

His eyes lit up. “Will you take care of me if I do?” 

You swept his bangs away from his eyes. “Certo, amore.” His eyes scanned your face like he was trying to remember every single detail of it. “Okay, then I have no regrets about doing this and accept the consequences,” you added as you grabbed his face and kissed him. He deepened the kiss, turning and pulling you on top of him. You couldn’t help but giggle. This was it. You both were in it for the long haul. There was no going back now. 

You pursed your lips and rolled them together as you tore yourself away from the now painful memory. You couldn’t help but wonder, if that was the long haul then how’d you end up here so soon? 

“I do… but forgive me, what does that have to do with anything?”

He was focused on his hands in front of him as he anxiously tapped his fingers together. “Could you ever look at me again the way you did that night? Could you ever love me again?”

“Do you know how many nights I spent wondering where that Terzo had gone?” you snapped as you countered his amative question with one of your own that had been frozen in ice.

“I have always been here, tesoro,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes again.

“Do you remember what you said to me that night? What you promised me? How you were all mine? Only mine?”

“Sì, ricordo (I remember)…” he muttered. The quietness of the room made your ears ring. With so many conflicting emotions running through your veins, the strongest made your blood begin to simmer.

“Then why? Why wasn’t I ever enough for you?” The questions flew out of your mouth before you could even debate betraying your strictly-business-like demeanor. Your voice tinged with desperation, devastation, and nostalgic longing. You wanted to hate Terzo. You wanted to. Most of the time now you did, but here he was in front of you. You sacrificed so much for him, for your relationship, you set all politics aside. Right now, you merely wanted answers to the thoughts that had kept you lying awake countless nights.  

His breath got caught in his throat. It was as if he physically reacted to your words piercing through his heart. He stared at you, mouth slightly hung open in shock at both your question and the revelation of the consequence of his actions that it brought. Suddenly, he was on his feet, gliding over to you. Your chair had been far enough away from the desk that he was able to kneel in front of you. He placed his gloved hands on your knees. 

Your jaw clenched. You saw right through what he was trying to do. Act as if it was the first time you confronted him. The first time you caught him. 

The memory flooded your senses making you relive the moment when you returned to your apartment and sat at the table, waiting for the door to open. You didn’t even bother to turn on a light. Copia had walked you back after he literally ran into you as you tried to flee from one of your worst nightmares. It had taken you an hour or so to even begin to calm down. The clock neared eleven and he still wasn’t home. 

He expected to find you already asleep, but he saw you waiting for him, still dressed, makeup ruined. The rage and hurt that radiated off you hit him like a brick wall as soon as he walked in and turned on the light. “Amore, what are you–”

“How was your day?” you asked plainly, staring at your hands folded in front of you.

“Lots of meetings,” he let out a tired sigh. 

“Your last one ran really late. Is everything okay?” 

He froze for a split second as he started to take off his gloves. He cleared his throat. “Yes, you know, just lots of red tape to sort through while the Ghost tour is being planned.” His voice became just unsteady enough to let you know he feared this was becoming an interrogation.

You nodded. “Hm, I thought that meeting was scheduled for next week.” For the first time since he returned, you looked over at him. You shrugged nonchalantly, turning away from him to look at your hands again. 

“I-it got moved up suddenly. Mi dispiace, I thought someone had told you…” he muttered, making his way to the bedroom.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure Sister Thérèse just got tied up with someone… I mean something else. I haven’t seen much of her lately, or at all really, though I’m sure you have.” You turned to see him come to a complete standstill the moment your tone darkened. Slowly, he turned to you. He opened his mouth to stutter out something, but your voice was sharp as a sword. “Don’t.”

“I can explain–”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. There just has to be a reasonable explanation as to why you were balls deep inside her in a random office. And I’m sure there’s another for why the door was left ajar. Usually I would have just kept walking, but there was this very distinctive, very familiar voice. ‘È tutto. Ragazza bene. Sì, sei la mia ragazza preferita. È tutto (That’s it. Good girl. Yes, you’re my favorite girl. That’s it),’” you did your best mocking-impression of him you could muster. “I thought ‘Hmm, I’ve heard that somewhere before. There’s no way it could be..’ Well, sure enough, peaking through that crack in the door, there you were! And now… here we are.”  You were so beyond furious that you appeared calm.

He stood there, still frozen, locked in place. You could see the fear in his eyes. If it weren’t the papal paints on his face you could have seen his color fade. When he finally was able to speak, his voice wavered, sounding close to a whimper. “Are… are you going to leave me?”

Your fists clenched and you let out a huff of air. “I’ve thought about it, but given the nature of everything, I just can’t up and leave you.” A silence hung in the air. “How the fuck did it get to this point?” Your voice cracked as you repressed the tears that started to rise to the surface.

He jolted forward, rushing to you, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Please, please, amore. I’d– I’ll do anything for you. Amata mia. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace.” Sobs rippled through him as he cried at your feet. All you wanted to do was pull him up by his hair and slap him so hard across the face, it would have woken the whole floor up, then scream at him to stop crying. You knew you couldn’t do that. That wasn’t you. So you sat there, silent and stoic, your whole body tense.

After he calmed himself down slightly, his watery eyes gazed up to your towering form. “You promised me,” you breathed through your teeth out of fear that any extra movement would cause you to break down just as he had. You refused to give him the satisfaction. 

“I know. I know I did. I… I ruined everything.”

“Why, Terzo? Why did you do it?”

“I… Non lo so.” His lips barely moved as he breathed out words you didn’t care to hear.

You slammed your fist on the table, abruptly pushing yourself out of your chair, needing to get away from his touch. “When are you gonna fucking let me in, Terzo? Huh? This whole ‘us’ thing really won’t work if you don’t ever tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“I-I-I don’t know! She was just there! And– and I knew how wrong it was. I know… but I couldn’t stop. I… I was bored and–”

“You… you were… You– You were bored,” you scoffed. “So I bore you enough to go fuck a  wanna be Prime Mover whore?”

His head dropped in his hands. He moved them up through his hair which he gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant,” he groaned.

“Ooh, do enlighten me then!”

“I can’t tell you why I did it, because I don’t know. Veramente (Truly), I don’t know. It’s just– Everything was going so well. Perfect almost. You were taking everything being thrown at you in stride. Your ideas for Ghost, the way you keep me on track, the way you… You were just you. Always there. Always by my side.”

“So you just had to go and fuck it up.”

His shoulders slumped, his jaw clenched. “I don’t deserve you, tesoro. I never did…”

There it was. There was the answer to the multi-million dollar question. You felt your heart shatter as he sat there in his hurt. You scurried over to him, dropping to your knees, holding his face between your hands. With a shake, you forced his dichromatic eyes to find yours. “But you do, Terzo. You do. Satan, I give you everything I have, every day, to show you that.” He turned his head away from you. Your words only made him feel like you were proving his point. “Look at me,” you commanded with another shake. “Before I came here, I didn’t have anything or anyone. I had nothing. When I found you… when you took an interest in me, the kind of person who never had the guts to stand out or be noticed, who didn’t even think they were special enough to catch anyone’s attention, never mind yours… It’s because of you I can even see myself in a different light. Don’t you think someone capable of that deserves someone just as special?”

The kindest words that were ever said to him, the most genuine words, always came from you. He loved you more than anything he could possibly imagine. He knew lately he’d done a piss poor job of proving that to you. He could see the cuts he was inflicting on you. He hated himself for it. He needed you by his side for so many reasons. He needed you to keep him in line. If you ever stopped… If he ever let himself completely lose control… If you ever left him… He couldn’t even imagine the monster he would become.

You didn’t know the depths of the internal battle he was waging on himself, you saw enough of it on his face to know his struggle was heart-wrenching. You loved him. Yes, he royally fucked up, but you still loved him. “We can work through this,” you whispered, moving yourself to intercept his blank stare.

“Will you ever trust me again?”

You winced at the memory. Everytime he came close to regaining your trust, he would do something to break it. Over and over again. 

“It was never you who wasn’t good enough, amata mia. You know that,” he purred as his satin covered hands slid up your thighs, taking your dress with them slowly. He paused as his fingers brushed your garter. He toyed with the Grucifix that dangled from it. That he had given you. He smiled affectionately at it, before his devil may care smirk returned. You wearing that wasn’t an insult to him. It was a sign of subconscious devotion. 

This was the real Terzo. You chastised yourself for falling for it, yet again. Always a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a lesson you just couldn’t seem to learn. “I am the one who was never worthy of you.” His eyes were locked onto your core. He then stood up, parting your legs by wedging himself between them. As he did so, he dragged his dual-toned irises up your body until they locked with yours. His pupils fully blown out, his breathing became heavier. His lust could only be described as animalistic.

Your words formed a lump in your throat, unable to escape.

He towered over you. His hands grazed along the sides of your entire body. He ripped off your wimple. Your face scrunched at his roughness. One hand, then, settled around your neck, squeezing it, as he put his mouth by your ear. “There is so much for you to learn. So much I have to teach you, demonino mio.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, roaring thunderously in your ears. You felt your blood go from a simmer to boiling. “I’m not your little demon,” you growled as you spat in his face. The hand on your throat swiftly moved to your chin, his grip painful enough to fear it might bruise. He forced you to look at him, to look at his knowing smirk. He knew something you were clueless about. 

“Mmm, C’è la mia ragazza (there’s my girl),” he cooed. He kept your face locked in place as he licked your spit off his face, making you watch. Your eyes burned with a ferocity you’ve never felt before. “Satanas, I’ve missed you,” he sighed.

He breathed out a laugh as he unexpectedly dropped to his knees again. Your dress had already moved up so much, nothing was hidden. He pushed your legs open wider as he dove between them, running his nose along your core, inhaling deeply.

“Terzo, stop,” you demanded, trying to squirm your way out of his hold.

“You know you don’t want me to.” He moved up slightly, so his throat was flush against you. When he spoke, it sent undeniably pleasurable shockwaves through you. 

“No. Fucking stop! No!” You tried to leap up and push him away from you, but he was stronger and faster. Easily he took your arms and pinned you to the chair, of which you were barely sitting on the edge of in your struggle. 

His eyes darkened, his head swayed back and forth as he tutted at you. “Sei stata una ragazza molto cattiva (you have been a very bad girl).” Your arms would surely bruise as he put even more of his weight onto them, further constricting his vice grip he had on you. Relentlessly you still tried to wriggle your way out of his grasp. 

Stop fighting, my child… A calming, almost sultry voice, yet somehow also one of safety, rang through your mind.

Terzo pushed his face into the crook of your neck, biting down where it met your shoulder. You cried out as you continued your attempts to writhe away from the monster in front of you. He licked the mark and dragged his tongue all the way up your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot behind your ear. The line between pain and pleasure was beginning to blur. “If you keep trying to fight me, la mia stellina oscura (my little dark star), or you so much as breathe one word of this to a certain Caridnale, he will find himself back in Italia for a very, very long time…” Your body ceased movement. His stronghold on you loosened as he descended once again. “Ora, dimmi, amore, that you don’t want this (Now, tell me, love).”

Give into temptation, my child. The voice rang out again, echoing throughout your mind like a spell to sedate your frayed nerves. You hadn’t the faintest idea why, but this time, you trusted the ethereal voice. You stopped fighting. 

Terzo returned to his spot between your legs, humming appreciatively. “Oh, guarda. I can see how much you already want this. Sporco bugiardo (You dirty liar),” he taunted as he ran his finger along the wet patch that had started to pool in your underwear, your body betraying you. While his thumb ran circles around your clit, your breath hitched involuntarily. Your eyes shut, your head turning away in shame. You couldn’t bear to actually watch this.

He teased you, dragging his finger up and down your lace-covered slit, before covering you with the palm of his hand. Now he moved his whole hand in slow, circular motion. He was satisfied when your wetness had completely soaked through your underwear. Next thing you knew, he tore them off you, tossing them over his shoulder onto the desk behind him. 

His arm wrapped around your thigh, securing it in place. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you felt his tongue circle your clit. His brows furrowed and he let out a sharp huff when he noticed you weren’t watching him work. With his free hand, he grabbed your chin brutishly again, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. You hated the force he was using. You hated seeing the insatiable hunger in his lustful eyes. You hated him. But that all paled in comparison to how much you hated the part of your desire that got caught in the wildfire of your rage.

Once he felt you understood his wordless message, he let go of your chin. Stubborn as ever, and with admirable restraint, you refused to let out the mewls and moans that perilously needed to, biting your cheek until a metallic taste tickled your tongue. The little control you had snapped like an old rubber band when he inserted the first finger inside you. Your hips bucked, craving more friction. The smoothness of his satin glove drove you as mad as it had countless times before. Your breaths became shallow and rapid as he pushed another finger inside you. Pawing at your sweet spot he knew as well as the back of his own hand, you now writhed from the remorseful pleasure. You didn’t even have time to register the smirk he made just before he snuck in a third finger. 

“Satanas!” you tried to hiss, but it dissolved on your tongue into a moan. Your eyes slammed shut as your head fell back. Then all movement stopped. You dragged your head up to resume the eye contact he demanded. He stayed frozen, the only movement he made was the one eyebrow he raised, his look expectant of you. You scowled, but in a moment of forgotten animosity, you reached to brush away the hair that had sloppily fallen in his face. “P-please, don’t stop. Please. I need–” that was enough for him to resume with furious intensity. 

You found purchase by running your hand through his hair, gripping it so tightly your knuckles went white. As you pushed his head into you, needing even more friction, more pressure, you could feel his fleeting smile before he resumed concentration. “Fuck! T-terz-zo, fuck!” you mewled, the pressure unbearable. You were about to unravel in his hands. “I’m go–” you started to say, but the words died in your mouth just as quickly as he stopped. 

He leered over you. He pulled you up by your wrist and grabbed you by your waist. He held you there for a moment, your body flush against his. “You are mine,” he commanded, his voice gravelly. Suddenly he turned you around, pushing you down, bending you over his desk. Your arms caught you as you fell forward. You could hear him undoing his pants and then felt his hand wipe some of your slick off to rub on his dick. A faint, breathy moan escaped his lips as he lined himself up with you. “You will always– be– mine,” he growled as he thrusted into you, punctuating each word with another hard thrust. You cried out in delirious pleasure that overrode the pain of him emphatically bottoming out inside you each time. “È tutto. Ragazza bene. Sì, sei la mia ragazza preferita. È tutto,” he moaned in your ear, repeating what you had overheard him say the first time you found him with another in this very same position.

You reached for the edge of the desk to try and brace yourself, but he pushed his fingers into your mouth, hooking into your cheek. You could taste yourself on his soaked gloves. His pace faltered just slightly as he reached for your wrist and pulled you against him. You moaned around his hand, eyes rolling back, at the slight change in position. 

Tears leaked from your eyes due to the overstimulation. You were so close, so, so close. You could feel your pending orgasm building, about ready to explode like a dying star. It had never been like this with him before. Not with Terzo, not with anyone. 

Sure, you liked it rough from time to time, but this… this was awakening something else inside you. And it was solely from the sex, it was everything surmounting together: the infidelity, the degradation both public and private, the manipulation… It felt like a caged animal, a beast, which deep down you knew had always lurked inside you just waiting to be set free, waiting for the right time to emerge from your darkest shadows. There was still guilt bubbling up inside you that longed for this to be over, but… you couldn’t deny it, and you would never admit it. This excited you; it terrified you. 

His gruff whisper pulled you back to reality, “Voglio che tu venga per me, amore mio… il mio unico vero amore. Vieni. (I want you to come for me, my love… my only true love. Come.)” 

You felt yourself erupt, crying out with the force of a hundred hell hounds as your walls pulsated around him, as the most sinful pleasure rippled through your entire body. He kept going with his relentless, starved pace. Only when he spilled himself inside you, did he let up and remove his hand from your mouth. Your cheek, sore, as you tried to adjust your jaw back to normal, tonguing where you still felt the impressions of his fingers. 

You stayed there, bent over, laying on the desk. Your bones felt as if they had been liquified. He hummed behind you, pleased with his work. Using the back of his hands, he brushed them up the inside of your legs before wiping both hands along your cunt, gathering whatever excess of fluids his gloves would lap up in one swipe. He removed his gloves, tossing them on the desk beside you. You could hear the soft splat sound they made when they landed near your discarded underwear. His bare hand slapped your ass and you jumped as the sting radiated through you. 

Tucking his dick back in his pants and buttoning them up, you could feel him looming over you. You only dragged yourself up to stand when his statue-like presence caused your skin to crawl. Your eyes turned to slits as you turned to face him.

Hooking his finger under your chin, his thumb cleaned up the corners of your mouth. His other hand wiped away the tears that stained your flushed cheeks. “I think your incident at mass can be overlooked now, sì?” he snickered. 

The attrition from what had just transpired came crashing down on you like a tsunami causing ripple effects of shame and guilt to wash over you. Suddenly, your breathing became heavy. There was a fire inside your chest that blazed hot enough to burn this entire Abbey to the ground in minutes.  

Through temptation has your wrath been spurred. For your sacrifice… you will be… rewarded, that mysterious voice whispered to you again as your body started to shake from the electricity of your fury.

“Ask me again how I could ever love you,” you snarled as you stood up to adjust your dress in a feeble attempt to cover yourself.

“Oh, dolcezza,” his honeyed croon made you want to grab him by the hair and smash his face into the desk behind you. You never knew where these violent thoughts came from, so out of pocket for you. It was gasoline being added to the flames of your wrath. Your hand twitched, almost as if you were about to do it… You were pulled out of your thoughts by his sickly sweet voice. “You have no idea of the power that you possess.” He gently caressed your face, his eyes searching you as if he could see the power he spoke of, as if he was trying to find it. When his knowing smirk shrouded his face again, you had had enough of his bullshit.

You forcefully slapped his hand away from you. You could hear the sting, “Rot in hell, figlio di puttana,” you sneered as you turned to make your exit.

“Only if you’re beside me, amata mia,” he chuckled, rubbing his hand where you hit him, getting too much enjoyment and satisfaction from your reaction. You accepted that you had no idea who the man standing in front of you was or if you ever did and that thought alone only infuriated you even more. He shut up completely when you turned around and glared at him. He could see darkness starting to cloud your eyes. He shook it off, opening his mouth when you only had one more step before you were out of this office. “Oh, amore,” he started, his tone went from casual to sinister, causing you to freeze where you stood. “I mean it, you know, you utter a single syllable of this to Copia, and he’s gone. Sei mio (you are mine).” 

Your boiling blood instantly turned to ice. You turned around painstakingly slow. Your rigid body and movements were enough to send shivers down Terzo’s spine. You couldn’t feel it. You had no idea it was happening. The fury of hell shone through your eyes as Terzo watched them fill with black smoke until your eyes turned to dark voids before him. “And I’ll make you wish that I never was.”

You watched as Terzo went slack jawed and his eyes turned into saucers from shock. The anger you felt, the wrath coursed through you like an electric current, was the only thing you cared about. Although you did revel in the fact that he looked terrified enough to cry, you were too wrapped up in your emotions to care.

“I-is that a th-threat, amore?” he stuttered, failing to keep his composure.

“It’s a fucking promise,” you growled, your voice dropping several octaves, sounding borderline inhuman. Terzo stumbled backwards, his hands reaching out behind him to clutch his desk. All you could see was red. 

You almost ripped the door off its hinges as you stormed out, leaving it open. You were barely aware of where you were storming off to or that there were two Ghouls making their way towards Terzo’s office. In the haze of your rage, you almost missed how they stopped in their tracks and kneeled the second they saw you. When “Your Eminence,” sounded in your mind from two different and distinct voices as you were a few paces in front of them, your gait slowed. Still bending at the knee, they nodded to you as you passed by. Looking down at them, your brow furrowed for a moment, never having seen this kind of behavior from any Ghoul before. You returned their gesture with a curt, singular nod. They got up to resume going to wherever they were headed and you continued on your war path. Behind you, still watching from his office doorway at the end of the hall, Terzo’s jaw was just about on the floor. He scrambled to get to his phone.

Two Sisters of Sin saw you barreling towards them. Quickly, they moved to the side, but when they saw you up close, they both let out a gasp. You shot them a look only causing them to cower. Once you passed them, they ran down the hall as if they were running for their lives. Your brow furrowed again. “What the fuck…?” you muttered to yourself.  

You didn’t have time for this. Terzo said you couldn’t tell Copia about what happened. He never said anything about Sister Imperator. When you reached her office you didn’t even bother to knock, scaring the daylights of her from the sudden burst of noise and movements. Then the color drained from her at the sight of you.

This time, you slammed the door behind you. Sister Imperator backed herself up until she hit the wall. You stood in there for a moment, your breaths coming out in short huffs, almost like pants. Your eyes looked crazed as you widened them. It was like two black holes were staring at Sister Imperator, threatening to destroy anything that got in their way. Chills ran up and down her spine. “Sister, y-your ey– uh…” she sputtered, her breathing becoming shallow. She tried to ignore the tightening feeling in her chest. She swallowed, even though her throat had gone dry. “Sister, w-what happened?”

You charged forward, slamming your hands on her desk, rattling everything on it. She winced and brought her hands up to her chest, clutching her Grucifix rosary beads that hung around her neck. A malevolent sneer etched onto your face. “Terzo happened,” you growled, although this time, it actually sounded like your own voice. 

You pushed off her desk and began pacing, slowly, deliberating, as if you were trying to both calm down and calculate something. When you gathered your thoughts and paused, turning to directly face the panicked clergy member, your words sounded nothing less than a warning. 

“Imperator, I don’t know what game you and Copia and Lucifer knows who else are playing with Terzo… and I don’t exactly know my role in it,” you clenched your jaw, speaking through your teeth, “since no one cares to divulge that information.” You took a deep breath and regained composure as you feigned innocence. “I only care about how it ends. Do you know how it will end, Sister?” Her mouth hung agape. Any sound that tried to escape was nowhere to be found. She could only shake her head in response. You leaned forward onto the desk again, you slowly pulled your chin in, but you kept your gaze locked on hers, your eyes now almost looking up at her. A smile wider than a cheshire cat’s grew on your face. If Sister Imperator didn’t believe in evil, she certainly did now. “It’s going to end with his head on my altar.”

taglist: @da-rulah @fishwithtitz @ivycasket @water-ghoulette (drop a comment if you'd like to be added!)

part iii | part v

[icanbeyourjedi-writes]

Love, Wings and Football

Wing Bro/Mr. Ben x F!Reader

Summary: It's Super Bowl Sunday, a recent breakup and the lack of football knowledge leads to unexpected romance Words: 2356 A/N: Just a quick little one shot involving our beloved teacher Mr. Ben...you can't tell me that Wing Bro and Mr Ben aren't the same person. Anyways, there isn't a lot of football talk in this. If you didn't watch the game, that's ok you can still follow the story and have fun with it. There is also a little Easter Egg for those people who know some of Kenan Thompson's old work.... Thanks to @theewokingdead for the beta and texting with me during the game last night.

**Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. **

Two months, it had been two months since he had told me he loved me, to get me into bed, then break my heart. Telling me I wasn’t good enough, I was weak and worthless. I know I shouldn’t believe him. I had buried myself with work, putting in 50+ hour weeks. Anything to stay busy and not be reminded of his words. It was Sunday, laying on the Lazy-Boy in the most comfortable sweats and hoodie I had for as long as I can remember. Curling in to watch the latest horror movie with a bowl of popcorn. 

“Get up loser, we’re going to a party” Julie your best friend and roommate grabs your bowl of popcorn 

“Heeeeey, I don’t even like football. Let me just sit here and enjoy my movie. I’m gonna be so outta place” you reach for your bowl of popcorn 

“Mmmm but there’s wings…and you do love wings” she retorts putting the bowl of popcorn in the kitchen island 

“This is true, I do love wings” you nod your head and put your feet on the ground

It was Super Bowl Sunday and everyone you knew was having some kind of party. I’m really not that big of a football fan. I’d pretend to be interested, making Luke my dick of an ex happy by watching a game with him. I had no idea what two teams made it, and to be honest I didn’t really care. I thought the season ended weeks ago. My head hasn't been in the right place, and I stopped listening about the ‘home’ team when the only reason I cared wasn’t around. 

“There’s something on your bed, throw in on and we’re going to Russ’. It’s a small get together” she says as you walk by 

There’s a long sleeve yellow shirt, with a red jersey and the number 15 on the front and Mahomes on the back. She also left a red and yellow beanie next to it. It was 50° there was no need for the sleeves and beanie. I leave the yellow shirt and throw the red jersey over my head. A pair of black leggings and cute ankle boots. Grabbing the beanie I walk back towards the kitchen. 

“Do I really have to wear this?” I pull on the jersey. It’s uncomfortable and I am already regretting the decision 

“I know nothing about this team, or Mahomes. What if someone tries to talk to me?” I sigh watching Julieh put two bags of chips into a bag 

“That’s the best part of a Super Bowl party, no one talks. You talk about the game you get hushed because the game is on. You can’t talk during commercials because it’s Super Bowl commercials…and then half time it’s reload on food and watch the music act” she turns me handing me two large bowls of guac “you’ll be fine. And maybe there’s a cute guy there to help break your funk” 

“Thought you said there was no talking” you raise an eyebrow 

“Shut up…let’s roll” she moves towards the door grabbing her car keys wearing a white version of the jersey I’m wearing. Taking a deep breath and praying this works I follow her to the car. 

******* 

She comes to a stop on the small porch before knocking on the door. She turns around to face me. My eyes looking down at the bowls to make sure I didn’t spill anything. She slides the bag she was carrying over her shoulder. Adjusting my hair, and sliding the beanie on top of my head, “stop…what are you doing?” I ask her annoyed 

“Smile,” she says and I give her the best fake smile I’ve grown accustomed to being a server “a real one…and try to have some fun ok?” I nod as she turns to the door 

A guy comes to the door, opening it excitedly yelling “the wings are….” Before stopping when he sees that it’s not the wings “Nevermind it’s just the girls” he sighs 

“Just the girls? Really Russ you know I can turn around and take this guac you specifically asked for and go back home” she shoves him 

“THE GIRLS ARE HERE…” he shouts with a bit more enthusiasm “thanks Cat Lady. You’re the best” he smiles giving her a hug 

Russ and Julie have known eachother since they were kids. They played hockey together in Minnesota and stuck by one another to high school and college. Inside there were a dozen or so people, everyone in a football jersey. I walked towards the kitchen to set down the bowls Julie had given me when you heard a laugh coming from the other room. It’s a deep contagious laugh that makes me smile and want to know what he’s laughing about. I turn the corner towards the sound of the laughing and find what could only be described as the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I smile and watch him as he talks to some blonde women in a green jersey and another man in a white jersey. He catches me smiling at him, and grins. I look away quickly at being caught turning and running right into Russ and his large frame. 

“Shit…sorry” I say regaining my balance with the help of Russ 

“The TV and party are that way” he turns my body around and gently pushes me towards the handsome man who just caught me staring at him 

He looks up and takes a swig of his beer as I walk behind him to what conveniently was the only spot that was left open. “Shit” I say under my breath. Julie brings in two bags of chips and the guac she had made, setting them on the coffee table in front of all of us. He’s even more handsome this close. The angles of his jaw, his strong nose and golden skin have him looking like a Greek God. The worst part, the sound of his voice, it’s the kind that he could read the phone book and it would be interesting. 

Leaning forward and reaching for the bag of chips, his hand reaching for the same bag. Our hands brush, and I pull back quickly “sorry,” I say quietly 

“Oh no…no ladies first” he smiles, and holy shit that smile…

Reaching my hand into the bag and pulling out a few chips I turn the bag back towards him, “thank you”.  The conversation picking up about how long everyone thinks the National Anthem would take “well on average a country singer sings it about a minute and 40 seconds” I chime in and suddenly all eyes are on me “what?” 

“Wanna put money on it?” Russ smiles 

“Yeaaaaaaaah no. I’m good” 

“I’ll take that bet, under two minutes…what’d ya say Russ $50 bucks?” the handsome stranger reaches into his back pocket pulling out his wallet and throwing some money on the table 

“You sure you wanna do that Big Boy?” Russ chuckles, throwing some money on the table “First word to last word…” 

It was the last commercial break before the game was set to begin. I wandered to the kitchen trying to find something other than beer to drink. Finally, I found a bottle of water in the back of the fridge and the doorbell rang. Big Boy as Russ called him ran to the door just as I was rounding a corner running directly into him with a loud oof. His arms wrapped around me holding me up so I didn’t fall over. I look up into a beautiful pair of brown eyes shining down at me “whoa there…” he chuckles 

“Sorry…sorry” I duck my head down. Thanking him I walk quickly back to the living room trying to hide my rosy cheeks from him. Julie quickly sending me a text as I sat down

Jules: He’s cute…and single. Stop being weird. Talk to him 

I read, shaking my head. Smiling to myself with my response you said no talking. You could see her eye roll at your text. 

“The wings are here!” You hear from the front door, and he walks back in with three large buckets of wings 

Setting the buckets down in the middle of the table and settling back on the couch just as the singer was to begin the National Anthem. He pulls out his phone and opens up a stopwatch, clicking the start button as soon as he belts out the first notes. 

“Ha two minutes on the dot” he holds up his phone “I’ll be taking this…thank you very much” 

He winks at me and I swear my heart stopped for a moment. Sliding the money into his wallet and grabbing a plate. Piling a few of each sun flavor onto his plate. I grab a few of the wings closer to me, a Caribbean Jerk flavor. As the game begins the conversations begin to die down. A few “oooooh” and “what a pass” the first possession of the game resulting in a touchdown for Russ’ team. 

The trash talking was short lived by Russ and the game is quickly tied. The few people in red shirts giving Russ a hard time for getting excited so early in the game. I tried to focus on the game as much as I could, but my eyes kept drifting towards the man sitting near me. Him moving closer and closer to the edge of the seat. The wings all but devoured by the second quarter, beer bottles scattered among the table. 

I was more than excited when half time had started, the game tied. The group of older men talking through some of the plays while the stage got set up, I stood up and ran to the bathroom. I didn’t want to miss a moment of the real reason I was actually there.  After washing my hands I stood in front of the mirror, trying to give myself a pep talk to actually say something to the handsome guy.  “Ok, you can do this.  He’s just a guy, you can totally say hi…stop being weird” I sigh to myself. 

Looking down at my phone while I walk back to the group, googling some kind of information about the team and the game so I can sound smart, I can hear; “anyone else want anything?” right before I get hit against the wall.  A pair of large warm hands grabbing my waist, looking up I see him again

“You know, if we are gonna keep running into each other like this, I should at least know your name.” He chuckles, but still holding on to my waist “I’m Ben”

“Hi Ben,” and I told him my name.  This close, I swear I know him from somewhere. Russ yelling from down the hall that its starting and telling Ben to hurry up with the beers. I smile at him, and watch as he runs to the fridge grabbing a handful of beers and making his way back to the group.

Singing and dancing in your chair to every hit song, the performance was over all too quickly and talk of the game started again. Russ’ team, dominating most of the quarter, Ben leaning back in his chair with the look of defeat much like the other fans in red. Russ looking gleeful and looking at Ben, “50 bucks, Eagles win the whole thing…Ben wanna take that bet?”

I was a betting person, but I also was doing some research while in the bathroom…odds making. So when Ben agreed with a ’double or nothing Taylor’ I felt the need to chime in and let Ben know exactly what he was getting into.  “The team leading into the third quarter have a 77.3% chance of winning the whole thing” 

“So you’re saying there's a chance” Ben looks at you

“A small chance, but yes mathematically speaking. There is a chance” 

The fourth started, with a touch down from Ben’s team to tie the game.  Everyone cheers, and Ben looks at me giving me a high five. His hand lingers for a brief moment and I swear there was a spark between us.  He pulls his hand back, watching as the kicker scored an extra point.giving the team the lead for the first time. 

Russ’ team didn’t score this time when they had the ball and had to give it back, giving Ben’s team another chance to score, and they did, giving them the lead once again. Ben gives you a huge smile, with just minutes left in the game Russ’ boys tie it up once again. Everyone stands and Russ is covering his face with his hands, you are standing shoulder to shoulder next to Ben and you feel his nervous excitement.  A penalty review pauses the game, causing an argument to start on rather or the call should stand or not. When the ref makes his final call of holding Russ disagrees with disgust while Ben does a little fist bump knowing that this could be the play that gives him the win and the money. 

With just seconds left in the game, the team kicks a field goal giving them a three point lead. Ben draps his arm over myshoulder when Russ' team gets the ball and throws a Hail Mary down the field when the clock hits zero. The ball hits the ground and Ben wraps his arms around me, giving me a hug and spinning me around with excitement. His hands linger, his eyes locking with mine. For a moment I think he is going to lean down and kiss me and someone claps him on the shoulder and his attention drifts towards them high-fiving them and grabbing the money from the table. “Thanks for the money Russ” he grins before looking back at me

He nods his head towards the kitchen, a hint for me to follow. I do “so, uhm…I think I owe someone a dinner. After all you did help with this” he smiles fanning the money “would you, like to go on a date with me?” 

@littlemisspascal

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~2200

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Masterlist            Read on AO3

Eva watched Horacio key into the apartment with her mouth pulled down into a frown. This trip felt far longer than the last, even though it was half the distance. At every turn, they were met with delays. A layover that almost caused them to miss their connecting flight, a run-in with customs, and a terribly irate taxi driver who took the turns too fast. It was as if the very universe wanted to keep them out of Mexico.

The hit of the air conditioning across her face was very, very welcome. Eva sighed as she followed Horacio inside and set her bags down next to the door. Her shoulders dropped from where they felt perpetually shrugged up near her ears. The sweat on her brow evaporated, taking all the discomfort with it.

She toed off her shoes and closed the door. Then, she took a look around.

It was...nice.

She guessed.

The walls were freshly painted and the furniture was new. Some artwork dotted the area, like the kind she might find in a hotel. The décor was all clean lines and sharp, shining metal. As if the room was trying to project an air of sophistication that it definitely did not have.

Horacio opened the fridge, “We have groceries.”

“Do we have alcohol?” Eva replied in a wry tone.

He leaned down and plucked a bottle from the shelf, “We do.”

“Thank God,” she sighed, “I have needed a drink for at least four hours.”

“Only four?” Horacio asked as he popped the top off two bottles.

“I was being generous.”

“Oh? I couldn’t tell.”

She rolled her eyes and took the bottle from him, drinking deep, “Do you think that driver actually had a license? Because I have doubts.”

One side of his mouth lifted, “Should I call the union?”

“You think they have a union?”

A shrug, “Its possible.”

“We’ll call them in the morning,” Eva drawled as she dropped onto the couch, “I’m too tired to deal with customer service.”

Horacio sat down next to her, “You didn’t have to come with me. You know that, right?”

Eva cut him a look, “Yes, I did.” A pause and a sigh, “I’m not having this argument again.”

He leaned his head back against the couch. Eva felt his had reach for hers and looked down to see their fingers threaded together.

“Its only for a few weeks,” Horacio muttered, sounding tired.

“I know.”

He looked at her, “I mean it.”

“I know.”

Horacio pushed from the couch with a soft grunt and pointed at her beer, “Finish that, and we’ll see if the bed is any good.”

Three hours and one desperately needed nap later, Horacio was warming tortillas in a pan while Eva plated the rice and vegetables at the island behind him. The bed was...fine. Serviceable. But, she missed their bed at home. Missed that it smelled like them. Missed the warmth of the comforters and the low drone of the fan Horacio insisted had to run at full speed throughout the night.

A knock stopped her hands from throwing the serving spoon back into the pot. As far as she knew, they weren’t expecting visitors. Horacio flicked off the stove top and went to answer it. Eva watched him the whole way, fingers squeezing the handle.

Javier’s face was not exactly smiling when Horacio opened the door, but it didn’t have the usual glare. He greeted Horacio with a firm hug and a pat on the back. To Eva, he sent a nod and something that was very nearly a smile. She returned it and went to get another plate.

There was no dining room in the apartment. The three of them ended out hunched over the coffee table so they could eat. Between bites, the conversation went through the motions of catching up on each other’s lives.

Javier listened to Horacio talk about buying the house, about his promotion, about the bullshit levels of paperwork that came with that new position. He asked how Eva was adapting and seemed genuinely concerned when she talked about how hard it was for her to get a job.

“Why isn’t she working for you?” he jerked his chin at Horacio.

He shrugged, “She could, if she wanted.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “No, thanks. I’ve had enough police work to last a lifetime.”

“The woman has a point,” Javier asserted with a careless toss of his head.

“Thank you,” she replied, primly. The conversation paused for a moment, and Eva decided that they had delayed long enough, “So, what’s the plan?”

Both men looked at her with narrowed eyes, as if she’d broken some kind secret agreement to dance around the topic for a while longer. Eva lifted her brows at them and waited.

Javier dropped his napkin onto the table and took a long swig of his beer, “I’ve got a man on the inside who is willing to let us do transport. I told him we’d need to be conspicuous, but that we would protect the product.”

Eva cast her mind back to their first few meetings. She set aside the razor sharp nerves and the desperate fear that she would be found out so that she could think about what Josh might be thinking. Planning. Scheming.

“That’s good,” she said, eventually. “Josh already thought you were in the business of getting drugs across the border.”

A nod, “Exactly. We’ll do a few laps around town, draw his attention, and then let him come to us.”

Eva could only imagine what that might entail. She kind of looked forward to observing it all from a distance.

Horacio leaned his arms on his knees, “Its not a very complicated plan, but I think it will work.”

“What if,” she began, with hesitation, “he doesn’t come for you, himself? What if he sends someone else?”

Josh wasn’t in the habit of putting himself in the line of fire, so to speak. That was Alexei’s job. And, with the Russian dead, Eva thought he might be even more careful.

“He’s been looking for Diego a long time,” Javier said, “I think its a pretty good bet that he would want to confront him, man to man.”

Eva laughed, “You don’t know m—.” She cut herself off, having almost referred to Josh as her husband. He wasn’t. Not anymore. “You don’t know him. He won’t want to get his hands dirty.”

“Rage can make a man do things he wouldn’t, normally.”

“Are you sure he is enraged?”

“His whole life got blown up,” Javier said, “We took everything from him.”

She fixed him with an even look, “Yeah, but he got it back.”

“What?”

“He got it back,” she repeated, “The house, the money, the schmoozing with bureaucrats? That was just a hobby. What Josh loved was the work. The chemistry. He’s already doing that, now. Or, so I’ve heard.”

Javier was silent for a few seconds, mouth pursed into an ‘o’. Then, “What do you think we should do?”

The tone of his voice was soft, but he clearly wanted an answer. Eva sat back a little and thought about it. There were a lot of options, most of them so complicated that it would definitely extend the timeline Horacio promised her. She wanted to get back to Colombia as soon as possible. If they took the next plane out of the country, it wouldn’t be soon enough. But, how? How, how, how?

“You need to dangle something he thinks he owns in front of him. Something he will want to get back.” Here she paused and added, with emphasis, “personally.”

Javier drew back, “The fuck does that mean?”

Eva picked up her beer, “You said you took everything from him. He got the thing he cares most about back. The only thing he would even want is…”

It was a foolish thought.

A stupid, foolish thought.

Horacio leaned towards her, “Is?”

Eva looked at him, took in the warm brown of his eyes and that way he hadn’t yet tamed the curls that fell over his brow. He looked a bit like he did when they woke up in the morning. Sweet. Adorable.

“Me.”

All the warmth faded from Horacio’s eyes, “You?”

It was a question, but felt like an accusation.

She felt a small stab of insecurity about what she was about to say, but pushed on, anyway. “Yes. Me.” A breath, “I was property to him. A tool he used to do business. I can tell you that getting his operation off the ground here in Mexico was a hell of a lot harder without me to figure out the logistics and manage the money.” Eva looked at them both, in turn, “He’s going to want his tool back.”

Eva did not say the other half of her explanation. There wasn’t a need to remind him that there was something else Eva represented for Josh. That he had plans for her. It would have only pissed Horacio off, and she needed him to agree with her.

“No.”

Eva cut Horacio a glance, “No?”

“That’s right. No.”

Javier reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “She could be right.”

Horacio’s lip curled, “I didn’t spend almost a year getting you away from him to let you put yourself back in his hands.”

“Let me?”

Hearing the venom in her tone, Javier stood and gestured towards the door, saying that he was going out for a smoke. Eva rose and began gathering the plates in an effort to stem off some the energy that came with her anger.

Horacio, to his credit, realized his mistake almost immediately, “You said you weren’t going to get involved.”

She had said that. At the table over dinner. On the plane. In the cab. She’d said it over and over, knowing that it was a lie. Deep down, Eva’s motivations were more complicated than simply wanting to be by Horacio’s side while he tried to take down Josh for the second time.

“And,” she replied, “You said that this would only take a few weeks.”

He followed her into the kitchen, “It will only take a few weeks.”

Eva scraped the plates clean and set them next to the sink, “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Horacio turned on the water and plugged the sink. While he squirted soap into the basin, he said, “I didn’t know you were an expert in covert operations.”

He didn’t often speak to her with that kind of sarcasm and it made Eva bristle. Nearly seven years of marriage was enough to give her an advantage over just about anyone in the world. When it came to Joshua Moore, she was content expert, and she didn’t appreciate the dismissal in his tone.

“Really?” she sneered, “Because I seem to remember that it took you months to even get Josh’s attention last time.”

She set the dishes in the sink and stepped aside so that he could grab the sponge. Horacio squeezed more soap onto it and picked up the first dish to scrub away the remnants of dinner. “That was planned,” he asserted. “We didn’t want to scare him.”

“Sure.”

He cast her a glare, “He’ll take the bait faster, this time.”

Eva took the clean plate from him and grabbed a towel to dry it, “Or, he’ll send someone to take the bait for him and you’ll end out shot in the back on the street.”

Horacio scoffed, “He’s not that much of a coward.”

“Yes he is!”

He was quiet while he cleaned the next two plates, dutifully handing them to her. Then, he reached down and pulled the plug, “What if he shoots you in the back?”

Eva finished drying the last plate and sighed, “He won’t. If anything, he’ll want to flaunt that he has me back right in front of you before putting a bullet in you. Gloat. Just like you said.”

They stood in front of the sink while water slowly gurgled down the drain. Eva could admit that they were both right, in their own way. And, they were both just stubborn enough to reach an impasse in the argument.

The door opened and Javier peeked around it, “Uh, everything okay?”

Eva shot him a brittle smile, “Everything is fine.” Then, to Horacio, “When you go out parading around town, I’ll go with you. Let him think that you’re using me the same way he did. That will enrage him. That will get him to confront you, man to man.”

Later, while Horacio was asleep. Eva sat on the couch with a beer. In the darkness, she stared out the apartment window to the street. It was quiet, far more quiet than she expected in such a populated city.

Eva drained the bottle and went to throw it in the trash. Then, she padded through the apartment and into the en suite bathroom. With the door closed, Eva flicked on the lights and reached for her carry on bag.

She set it on the counter and pulled open the zipper. Hands spreading two sides apart, Eva stared down at the only thing that mattered inside. The metal gleamed in the light, drawing her gaze down the barrel. The magazine was mixed in with her perfumes and there were extra bullets in her suitcase.

It didn’t really matter to Eva what Horacio had planned for Josh, once they got him in custody.

There was only one way this was going to go for him.

[vmonteiro23a]

UNDER THE RADAR: Ex-Easter Island Head – 'Norther'

UNDER THE RADAR: Ex-Easter Island Head – ‘Norther’ “Those who’ve seen the esteemed experimentalists Ex-Easter Island Head at recent shows will know just how beautiful the Liverpool band’s new material is. The title track from their first LP in eight years is simply transcendent.” Patrick Clarke – Quietus

[crushingdeath]

EX-EASTER ISLAND HEAD + STUART BOWDITCH

Sat 8th Jun @ Storey's Field Centre Doors 7:30pm, tickets £18 adv from here

EX-EASTER ISLAND HEAD

In meteorology, the word Norther refers to a cold wind that blows down from the North. For Ex-Easter Island Head, it’s also an apt title for the strange and multi-faceted sound of their new album, their first since 2016, which drifts from billowing clouds of melancholy to propulsive hypnotic headwinds.

Years in the making and crafted in their home studio housed within the former Brazilian consulate in Liverpool, the music is an ever shifting thrum of sounds, both acoustic and electronic, which appears to teem and squirm, yet which moves as part of one mighty breeze.

Building on over a decade of activity, Ex-Easter Island Head have long been a cherished part of the UK underground. Functioning variously as a kind of deconstructed rock band, ambient chamber ensemble and minimalist compositional workshop, on 'Norther' we find the group combining their wide musical experience into something singular and coherent with a deeply emotional core.

Largely orbiting around their extended use of the electric guitar, their approach might at times recall the experiments of Rhys Chatham and Glenn Branca, but across the album we see a band whose musical vision extends well beyond the iconoclasm of 80's New York. Drawing on hypnotic musics from across the spectrum, they bring a compositional approach to sounds often associated with freeform sprawl or more academic settings, never letting pathos be lost to process. Equally reminiscent of the gentle rolling momentum of The Necks as they are the coiled precision of an act on Kompakt; this is a music which ebbs and flows, lives and breathes.

https://exeasterislandhead.bandcamp.com/

STUART BOWDITCH

Essex-based sound collector Stuart Bowditch works with recordings of noises hidden in plain sight (hearing?) to create unexpected compositions that both reflect and respond to particular people and places. Sometimes pushing the possibilities of a single sound source and even theoretical silence, Bowditch's work have been found everywhere from phone apps and radio broadcasts to dance performances and eulogies. https://www.stuartbowditch.co.uk/

[30032]

2024

Rainy Miller, Space Afrika - A Grisaille Wedding (2023) Loukeman - Sd-2 James Ferraro - Genware I: DIHCRO James Ferraro - Genware II: Eigen Embryo Flaer - Preludes Fabiano do Nascimento, Sam Gendel - The Room Astrid Sonne - Great Doubt Shuttle358 - Understanding Wildlife (2014) James Ferraro - Genware III: Neuralpaint Irena and Vojtech Havlovi - Like a Butterfly On Your Palm Felix Rosch - Fragmente Kali Malone - All Life Long Maxime Denuc - Nachthorn Ariana Grande - eternal sunshine Nene H - ISSA SCAM Moor Mother - The Great Bailout Sleep inc. - (ambient) Biosphere - Patashnik (Decrypted by Sketch) Beyoncé - COWBOY CARTER Kelly Moran - Moves in the Field Clarissa Connelly - Work of Work Sibylle Baier - Colour Green (2006) Ulla, Ultrafog - It Means a Lot Sam Gendel, Sam Wilkes - The Doober Jessica Pratt - Here in the Pitch slowerpace 音楽 - Barbershop Simulator (2023) Iglooghost - Tidal Memory Exo slowerpace 音楽 - SPACE COWBOYS Marina Satti - P.O.P. Charli XCX - Brat Clara La Sana - Made Mistakes Alter Boy - 808 Dogma Richie Culver - Hostile Environments British Murder Boys - Active Agents and House Boys Tove Lo, SG Lewis - HEAT EP Pontiac Streator - Sone Glo (2022) Lanark Artefax - Metallur Ex-Easter Island Head - Norther Ex-Easter Island Head - Twenty Two Strings (2016) COBRAH - SUCCUBUS (2023) Terry Riley - Descending Moonshine Dervishes (1982) Tama Gucci - Notes to Self Mietze Conte - Mietzee Mietze Conte - dreaming of your latte art (2023) Loidis - One Day Etelin - Patio User Manual Toxe - Toxe2 Lia Kohl - Normal Sounds Doon Kanda - Lili Devin Maxwell - Timebending Ferrara - Wuthering Heights 1tbspn - megacity1000 Laurie Anderson - Amelia Paddy McAloon (Prefab Sprout) - I Trawl the Megahertz (2003) Sarah Davachi - The Head As Form'd in the Crier's Choir Lustmord - Much Unseen Is Also Here Damian Dalla Torre - I Can Feel My Dreams

[ithisatanytime]

Lazy Town en Español | Veinte Veces Video Musical

 i have been watching bobby lee compilations just to leer at his ex girlfriend, she looks like a damn sexy easter island head, shes fascinating to me

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Nick Jonah Davis

Photo Credit: Andy Joskowski

Nick Jonah Davis lives in Derbyshire, England, which is a place where evidence of older editions of England is always easy to find. Successive eras likewise coincide in his music. Davis plays acoustic and electric guitars, drawing on both American and English folk and instrumental traditions. He has worked with like-minded folk, such as C. Joynes and Sharron Kraus, and is also an established guitar teacher and provider of therapeutic musical interventions. He’s been recording the occasional solo record since 2009, and in 2016, Dusted’s Bill Meyer had this to say about House of Dragons: “the Nottingham-based guitarist isn’t living in bifurcations of the past, and he isn’t asking us to either. Rather, he invites the listener into a world bounded by the resonance of his tunings and the vividness of his evolving melodies.” Thread Recordings is about to release a swell new LP, When the Sun Came, and Davis has compiled a list of sounds made by some of his favorite associates.

Even for solo guitarists, music is a collaborative, social thing. For this list I’ve picked some music by artists that I’ve collaborated, recorded or gigged with over the last decade or so. Members of the NJD home team.

Kogumaza — “Ursids”

WAAT048 Split 7" w/Hookworms by Kogumaza

When I lived in Nottingham, Kogumaza were my favorite band in town. They play deep, droning riff-based cosmic guitar music which draws on their backgrounds playing with local heroes like Lords, Rattle and Bob Tilton. They’ve also done their homework, having sat in with heavy hitters like Glenn Branca, Damo Suzuki and Boredoms. This tune was recorded in Nottingham, with Nathan Bell of Lungfish sitting in on bass. I was the assistant engineer on this session, and remember getting a pleasing headful of Katy Brown’s kick drum as we set up the mics. Mind-manifesting stuff.

Ex-Easter Island Head — “Large Electric Ensemble Third Movement”

Large Electric Ensemble by Ex-Easter Island Head

Liverpool’s Ex-Easter Island Head are a revelation. They repurpose electric guitars through a variety of extended techniques, with unprecedented, nourishing results. I was lucky enough to play a couple of shows as a member of their Large Electric Ensemble, a 12-guitar band powered by 1 drummer and multiple Arts Council pizzas. I learned a lot from them in terms of playing guitar with craftily-deployed allen keys and bolts. Living proof that people can and do make genuinely beautiful, ground-breaking music without being all precious and up themselves about it. Good lads.

C Joynes and the Furlong Bray — “Sang Kancil”

The Borametz Tree by C Joynes & The Furlong Bray

Joynes and I have been fellow travelers in the solo guitar realm for many years now. We’ve probably seen more of each other’s gigs than anyone else alive. I was really pleased to be invited into the making of the Borametz Tree album. Not exactly sure how you’d describe my role on that project, but it involved some bass playing, some refereeing and, in the case of this piece, heading into my cellar with Nathan Mann to process some sounds through my echo units. I really love this bizarre, swirling piece of music. It defies description and I really can’t see how it could have happened under any circumstances. Power to the Furlong Bray.

Jim Ghedi — “Bramley Moor”

A Hymn For Ancient Land by Jim Ghedi

Jim popped up a few years ago, around the same time as Toby Hay, and has been a sure source of decent sounds ever since. Jim’s initial, masterful solo guitar work has bloomed out into an exploration of both traditional folk and his own songwriting. Having sat right next to him when we played together in my village a couple of years ago, I can confirm that he has a huge, resonant chest voice. Luckily, he always commits to his guitar just as fully, as you can hear on this jaunty instrumental on which I played some weissenborn. Nathan Mann pops up again playing percussion on this one, small world…

Cath and Phil Tyler — “King Henry”

The Ox and the Ax by Cath and Phil Tyler

I first met Cath and Phil at the legendary Sin Eater festival, a 3-day weekend of fine underground music and excellent ale at an isolated pub in Shropshire. Almost everyone on this list played there actually. This is folk music as it should be played, plain and flinty with a complete focus on the song. Understatement goes a long way in this music and, I suspect because of this, Phil is one of the most criminally under-rated guitarists around. There’s a little part of me that lives for Cath’s jaw harp break at the end of this one.

Toby Hay — “Now in a Minute”

New Music For The 12 String Guitar by Toby Hay

Toby has a special place in my heart for lining me up an annual show in a cafe at the wonderful Green Man festival for the past several years, meaning my family could go for free. Here’s a near-perfect example of a miniature acoustic study from his album New Music for the 12 String Guitar. The guitar in question was custom-built for Toby by Roger Bucknall of Fylde guitars. Fylde put out the word that a label was looking for a young guitarist to make a record on a custom-built Fylde that they would commission, and I immediately suggested Toby. He rose to the occasion. Reckon he owes me a handmade guitar though; I’ll give him a nudge one of these days.

The Horse Loom — “Silver Ribbon”

The Horse Loom by The Horse Loom

Steve Malley played in post-punk bands back in the day, gigging alongside the likes of Fugazi. He later picked up a Fylde guitar and went down an acoustic rabbit hole where his love of British folk and flamenco come to the fore. The DIY-or-die roots of his playing flash an occasional fin. After we met I persuaded him to come down to Nottingham and let me record his first album in First Love studio. He did the whole thing in a day and it’s awesome. This is my favorite instrumental from that collection.

Sharron Kraus — “Sorrow’s Arrow”

Joy's Reflection is Sorrow by Sharron Kraus

I started playing shows with Sharron as we were both UK artists on the Tompkins Square label at the time, so it kind of made sense. She’s a bit of an institution in psych-folk circles and eventually I began playing on her records and at live shows, which has been a real joy. This tune features some heavy drones and an occasional splish of my lap steel. It’s classic Kraus — mournful, insightful, immersive. If you want to hear someone with a bigger brain than yours talking about the weirder side of life, check out her Preternatural Investigations podcast.

Haress — “Wind the Bobbin”

Haress by HARESS

Haress is centered around the twin electric guitar work of Liz Still and David Hand. Located in downright gorgeous rural Shropshire, they ran the Sin Eater Festival and still put out essential music on Lancashire and Somerset Records. I reckon they’ve helped me out more than anyone over the years, releasing House of Dragons on vinyl and always setting me up a show when I need one. This gorgeous piece features Nathan Bell again, this time on trumpet. Those Nathans do get around.

Burd Ellen — “Chi-Mi-Bhuam”

Chi Mi Bhuam by Burd Ellen

I first saw Debbie Armour singing with Alasdair Roberts, a good start. When I went up to play in Glasgow in 2018, I asked if she’d like to open up my show at the Glad Café, which she did, alone except for a borrowed harmonium. I was mesmerized, I think everyone was. Too good for a support slot. Here’s a Gaelic vocal piece which demonstrates exactly who we’re dealing with here, a profoundly talented and committed artist with a lifelong immersion in traditional music, using it as a springboard into something entirely her own.

[senorboombastic]

Release Rundown - Beth Gibbons, Ex-Easter Island Head, Lip Critic and The Lovely Eggs

Words: Ben Forrester (Photo credit: Netti Habel) Beth Gibbons – Lives Outgrown(Domino) One of the UK’s most treasured voices, Beth Gibbons finally gives us her debut solo album. Known best as one third of the incendiary Portishead, Gibbons has weaved in and out of the music world, her band climaxing in popularity in the late 90s, whilst a collaboration with Rustin Man got all the accolades in…

[tinyhrry]

HARRY STYLES MASTERLIST PT. 1

ANGST.

Bad Argument (@lollypopsx)

Birthday Dinner (@tobesolonely)

Leaving Flowers at their Grave (@finelinevogue)

Ex-Boyfriend Harry things (@lollypopsx)

Daffodils (@astranva)

Love me, Please? (@finelinevogue)

"Harry, you're no good alone" (@harrysgoldrush)

Falling (@harryxmac)

"I didn't mean to yell at you, baby" (@jarofstyles)

Matilda (@fictionalwh0ree)

Too Late? (@guccixstyless)

The one where He cheated part 2 (@harryssweatcreaturee)

The crumpled Range Rover (@oneshots4u)

One Sweet Day (@dilfhar0ldstyles)

Wilted (@dilfhar0ldstyles)

Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. (@peterfriggingpan)

Magic Touch (@gojosgigi)

So much. Too much (@stylesmygucci)

Always, my love. (@harrysmimi)

Terminally ill (@harrysddtittys)

Drivers license (@imaginesbymonika)

Tiny Steps (@shroombloomm)

Why did you leave me? (@knowiloveyoubabe)

Walk Away (@hotmessharry)

In Sickness and In Health (@theselittlethingsmatter)

Drivers License (@chericlo)

Bad mothers raise sad children part 2 (@meet-me-in-the-kitchen)



FLUFF.

"Wear something noticeable" part 2 (@unabashegirl)

Christmas (@muskaansehdev16)

"My Head is spinning over you" (@unabashegirl)

No Kisses? (@mouthfulloftoothpasterry)

Facial Hair (@stylesmessiah)

Vogue Secrets (@finerllines)

The Fish Song (@harryhoney-bee)

Girls Night (@hes-writer)

"My name is not Harry!" (@and-im-okay-with-it)

In Sickness and In Health (@lollypopsx)

No Way Home (@finelinevogue)

Boyfriend Tag (@tobesolonely)

Lights, camera, action! (@astranva)

73 Questions (@lovecanyon)

Beauty Secrets (@ceriseharry)

24 Hours with Harry Styles (@finelinevogue)

Easter Egg Hunt (@swiftmendeshoran)

Texting his daughter (@lollypopsx)

Taking care of a sick Y/N (@missluckycharms)

Frat Baby (@missluckycharms)

Look how far we've come (@marmixedwithabitofintellect)

Crushing (@watchmegetobsessed)

Not her first kiss (@satanhalsey)

Dada or Mama (@shroombloomm)

Loverboy (@missluckycharms)

SMUT.

Flustered (@shroombloomm)

Thigh Riding

Fuck Machine

Hump a pillow

Dry Humping

Caught by his Wife (@cruelsummerhrry)

SERIES.

My Shy Little Boy (@all-my-love-for-harry)

Since Forever (@satanhalsey)

Model!YN & CEO!Harry (@and-im-okay-with-it)

Backstage Girlfriend (@astranva)

Love Island (@finelinevogue)

[chronic-ghost]

WIP - Wow it’s actually Wedneday!

I was in the shower actually mentally making some changes to this fic and came out to find I was tagged by the lovely @sleepswithvillains! If y’all haven’t read her Midnight Mass stuff, y’all are missing out - but might be able to sleep at night without being haunted by her beautiful smut - so honestly it’s a lose-lose if you’re not reading her fics.

This WIP comes from my new John/reader that was actually inspired by some tags I read awhile back. This takes immediately after the end of the series -  the opening scene is the last shot of the island on fire. You are a reporter in the port city of Crockett and as Erin Greene was your beloved cousin, you are determined to find out what the hell happened on Easter Sunday. But from your emotionally-distant father who is chief of police, your monstrous ex-fiance who is determined to make your life unbearable, to the new mysterious drifter in town who suffers from terrible burn scars and whom you can’t seem to stay away from, solving Erin’s murder is shaping up to be a lot harder than you first suspected. 

And because Henry doesn’t have a kind bone in his body, it’s not. It’s not the end of your suffering, not by a long shot. 

The rumors start that you’ve been seeing another man and poor broken-hearted Henry knew about it but let it continue because it was your dying mother’s wish that she see you taken care of. But now with her gone, he simply couldn’t continue the charade and gently broke off the engagement. 

The rumors mutated, growing and morphing like great throbbing pustules. Now you slept with every man in town, twice on Sundays, and sent them nude photos at dinner. Now you liked being fucked upside down with cords around your tits and warm leather spanking your ass. Now you were pregnant with the mayor’s child or maybe the postman’s or maybe the local priest’s. Obviously that one fell by the wayside fairly quickly but still the women and men in town watched you like you had indeed fucked Father Malcolm and the devil before murdering babies in their sleep.

You walked around with words like, “slut” and “whore” hovering just a few steps behind you like angry hornets. 

Without hesitation, the town chose Henry and the rest of the Tylers in the break-up. And you could have withstood it all — the death of your mother, Henry’s utter betrayal, Johanna’s horrible mouth twisting when she said she never wanted to see you again after what you did to her brother — all of it, if your father hadn’t chosen to abandon you. 

He was already long gone from being emotionally supportive by the time you arrived back in Hubbard, but after the break up with Henry, he never once asked for your side of the story. He never once asked what it meant to you or how you managed to keep it all together. He took the lies and the poison and the hate Henry spat out and accepted it. He listened to what they called his baby girl around town and swallowed it down like rotten milk. 

And so this grief and this despair and anger that had been festering like an infected wound since you were sixteen finally settled and hardened over, a black chrysalis around your heart, around anything soft or nice or gentle. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t survive. You wouldn’t survive this town or its people. You could either kneel before its gnashing jaws, break beneath the weight of its teeth, or you could fight. You would be swallowed in the end — you all were — but at least you would make it choke.

*~*~*

Night has fallen on Crockett Island and on its sister city in the east, Hubbard Bay. The water laps against the beach south of Hubbard, near the woods and hidden from view by any late-night trespassers. Here the wildlife surges — flies buzz near dead things, and frogs bark in their holes. Owls dive and flutter from tree top to tree top, eternally curious. The mice on the ground of the forest scatter from the swooping shadows. A wolf lets out a howl to find its pack. 

A deer near the water lifts its head, the flight instinct waking its legs to run. The rest of its small herd freezes and listens for more howls, but one of the deer looks away. It smells something in the water and, intrigued, it approaches the black husk thrown onto the beach by the waves.

It smells like smoke and death and immediately the deer knows to run, to get away, because whatever this thing is, it’s dangerous.

But it’s too late. 

A burnt hand grabs the deer by the throat and drags it to the ground. It lets out a surprised yelp as it falls, the rest of its herd flying into the forest, knowing there is nothing to be done. 

Ash-covered teeth tear into the deer’s throat, the arm pinning it to the ground unnaturally strong. And then the figure drinks the flowing blood like it’s salvation. The deer struggles, its hooves stroking uselessly against the sand, but the creature attached to its throat is feeding far too fast, the body losing blood too quickly for it to fully comprehend what’s happening. 

Blood runs black in the shadow of the body of the deer, down the cool sand and into the lapping waves, staining the crests pink. The creature feeds and feeds and feeds, the deer going still beneath it. Beneath the white light of the moon, the black, burnt skin sloughs off like a snake shedding its skin. Inch by inch, white skin emerges beneath the layers of soot and dried veins, dried organs, dried fingernails. Hair sprouts up the back of the black skull as eyelashes spring out of dark sockets. What washed up onto the beach south of Hubbard Bay has become a man. Or at least something that mimics one. 

Gasping through a bloody mouth, the man sits back on his heels, panting into the moonlight. He stares, horror-struck at his hands, now caked in blood and viscera, at his thighs, his legs. The blood, only that of an animal, hasn’t performed a perfect miracle: the skin in some places is still gnarled, white, scars of sunlight still visible and painful in a dull sort of way. 

Half his face hurts. He reaches up and touches it and feels that warped skin beneath his fingertips. With a gasp, he yanks his hand back and the weight of what he has done collides with his every atom and he leans forward into a sob. 

No. No, no, no, no.

He cries for what he has lost. He cries for what he has become. He cries at the idea that he always might have been this horrible monster, one who feeds upon the living, and it was only in the past few months he finally became what he was always meant to be. Naked and covered in blood, at the feet of a corpse, this is who he really was.

The heat from the blood of the deer is fading and the man realizes just how cold he truly is. Sniffing and wiping his eyes, the man looks into the darkness of the forest, his eyes flashing a monstrous silver. In the distance, he sees a cabin with the lights off. His sense of smell tells him there are no humans around, so he struggles to his feet, arms wrapped around his chest to preserve some sense of warmth. The man takes off into the night, towards the cabin, towards Hubbard and into a dawning new world.

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