#absolute poppycock

[mocha-tapioca]

can’t wait for those 8 days where i get to tell you minors dni /lh

i spent a good five minutes trying to figure out what u meant by this and then i remembered that ur NOT actually younger than me and i started passing away /lh

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 21

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 20 🟣 Part 22

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: 18+, not technically smut but there's a BDSM training session involved, D/s dynamic, and a whole lot of feelings.

Word count: 3k

Bingo: Vulnerability (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: ALRIGHT. I owe one of you a 'congratulations' because you were right! I sincerely hope no one is disappointed (I, for one, love what happens in this chapter — or perhaps rather... what doesn't... Either way, this is how it's gonna be.) This is also my second @henrycavillbingo entry; Vulnerability!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

You carefully snuck into the bathroom when you heard the water turn on. It was pointless, of course, because he’d already heard you, but still.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted you as soon as you set foot in the room, and you muttered some form of a hello back.

“I, eh…” You what? Were you going to come up with some lame excuse? Was that necessary? He’d just shower with vampire-speed if you told him you wanted to take a shower, too… Fuck it. “Can I join you?”

Sherlock looked at you and nodded. “Of course.”

Immediately, you stripped and stepped into the shower, where he pulled you into his arms. With your head on his shoulder and his strong arms around you, everything felt so incredibly alright that you almost forgot why you were there. And that was because despite the fact you were in the shower with him, naked as can be, and despite the passionate kiss he gave you, his hands remained on your waist, or your back, or you hip, but never somewhere else…

“Sherlock, why haven’t we had sex?” you blurted out before you could convince yourself that you didn’t need to have this conversation.

“Because I have no desire to have sex with you,” he replied plainly. His answer made your jaw drop. What did he mean, ‘he didn’t want to’?

“I knew it…” Insecurities took root in your brain — or rather, dug their roots deeper into the fibers of your existence. “You’re not attracted to me.”

“Oh dear,” Sherlock said, shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh, “if ever there was a time to dust off the word ‘balderdash’, now would be it.”

“And that means…” Not everyone was well-versed in nonsensical British expressions��� You rolled your eyes.

“Hogwash, poppycock, complete and utter bollocks — pardon my French.” Sherlock smiled at your increasingly confused expression. “Nonsense,” he finally clarified, stroking a bit of your hair off your cheek. “I am romantically attracted to you,” he continued, “and I find you very beautiful. I crave physical intimacy with you… I’ll even admit your body is absolutely gorgeous and I completely understand why anyone would find themselves quite distracted by it.”

“But none of that makes you want to screw me?” you said sarcastically.

“Darling, it’s not just you,” he sighed apologetically. “I am not sexually attracted to anyone.”

Oh. Wait… “So, what? You’re ace?” you asked without giving it much thought.

Sherlock shrugged. “I suppose that might be an applicable term, yes,” he said plainly. “We could, though. You know… If you really wanted to.”

“But you prefer not to?”

“I’m afraid I’m horribly indifferent,” he admitted, a slight hint of embarrassment to his voice.

“Then it’s not happening, Sherlock,” you said, taking his face in your hands and lifting it so you could meet his gaze. A sudden realization struck you. “Are you comfortable with this?” You clarified the comment with a quick gesture at your naked bodies.

“Oh, absolutely, darling,” he chuckled. “I quite enjoy how soft you are.” His hands trailed lightly over your sides, and you sighed as you leaned into him.

“Can we continue this conversation in bed?” you asked, your heart bursting with joy when he agreed.

“You do enjoy kissing me, don’t you?” you asked a while later. “Because if you don’t…”

“Darling, I’m nine centuries old. Do you really think you could make me do something I didn’t want to do?” That made sense…

“I just hate to think I ever made you feel uncomfortable,” you whispered.

“Not in the slightest, my love,” he reassured you. “I’m sorry I made you wait for something that wasn’t going to happen. The others told me repeatedly to talk to you, but I… I was scared.”

You didn’t have to ask what he was scared of; the pain in his eyes said it all.

“Nine centuries of abuse, I’m guessing?”

He let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Especially from Charles,” he sneered. “The Duke of Suffolk really couldn’t keep his hands off women. Not his own and not others’. He’s learned some manners now, but he was horrible about it. I doubt he understands, even now, but he accepts me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, morphing his expression into a painful question. “Do you?”

“I, Sherlock,” you said slowly while snuggling closer to his chest, “love you. Dearly. With all my heart, and soul, and I’d say my body, too, but as we’ve established, that won’t be necessary.”

He laughed — this time, it was a genuine laugh — and pulled you close, dragging your leg over his hips.

“Don’t we need to worry about fluids accidentally getting places?” you asked carefully. There was a reason you were strictly opposed to this position with the others while naked.

“I have no desire to sire offspring,” Sherlock chuckled. “I have been sterile since the early 1940’s.”

“Wha— if you never… then why?”

“Just because I prefer not to, doesn’t mean I have never. And the thought of getting someone pregnant — even, or rather, especially accidentally — makes me break out in hives, darling,” he laughed. That made an awful lot of sense, actually. “Now that we’re on the subject; I couldn’t help but overhear August mention to Walter that you were considering…”

Was he talking birth control with you? He was talking birth control with you! It only took you a moment to decide whether or not you were comfortable with that; you were. You very much were.

“Are you okay with having this conversation with me? I can understand if you’d rather speak to your doctor,” he noted. It wasn’t an accusation, just a professional observation. As professional as ‘naked cuddling’ would allow for, anyway.

“Oh, no. It’s fine, really!” You had just never been in a relationship before where talking so openly about these topics was an option… “I just want something I don’t have to think about once it’s in, but… I was just scared of the pain. Mike suggested that August could come with me…”

“I suggested they… we… split the costs.”

Oh. Wow. You were on the verge of saying it wouldn’t be necessary, but the reality of it was that it would be a big help. Besides; they were getting the benefits of it as well. Why shouldn’t they chip in?

“That would be wonderful,” you said after taking a few deep breaths.

“Did she just agree to that? Just… like that?” August appeared in the room, and you pulled the covers up a little higher — fully expecting a remark on how you weren’t hiding anything he hadn’t seen before. It didn’t come.

“I told you she would likely take it better coming from me,” Sherlock said with a grin on his face. Oh, so they’d been scheming behind your back? That didn’t bother you nearly as much as you knew it should, and about 90% of the reason for that was… well, they were looking at you right now, with their gorgeous blue eyes.

August cleared his throat after staring at you for what should have been an uncomfortably long time; “So, you two finally talked it over, huh? Good. Dinner is ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Why did none of you just tell me?” you yelled at Mike, Walter and August after finding out they all knew about Sherlock’s asexuality.

“Not our story to tell, princess.” August shrugged.

“Besides, wouldn’t you have at least been a little mad that he hadn’t talked to you himself?” Mike added before shoveling way too much rice into his mouth.

“We would have forced the two of you to talk eventually,” Marshall continued, not bothering to remember what he’d no doubt once been taught about speaking with a full mouth. “And sooner rather than later, too. It got really annoying after a while.”

“I’m glad that wasn’t necessary,” Sherlock chuckled. “Subtlety is not a widely available resource in this household.”

“I got into the shower with you and ambushed you with ‘hey, why aren’t you boning me?’” What point you were trying to make, you weren’t entirely sure, either, but at least you made Mike laugh so hard he spit his water across the table.

“I never said you are any better,” Sherlock reminded you. “But I’d still rather avoid the three of them plotting a sensitive conversation.”

“It was quite a nice conversation,” you said with a gentle smile.

“I take it she’s staying with you tonight?” August asked kindly, nodding understandingly when Sherlock confirmed that he would very much appreciate that. “I would very much like to borrow her after dinner, in that case.” August had a habit of talking to you like you weren’t there, and for the strangest reason, that didn’t bother you at all — not even when Sherlock nodded in response.

“As long as I get her back in one piece and… at least relatively clean, please?” Two showers a day wasn’t always an excessive luxury when you regularly got dicked down by three different men.

“There’s a surprise on my bed for you, princess,” August muttered in your ear after dinner was done and he was standing at the sink, scraping food scraps into the garbage disposal. “I’ll join you when I finish up with the dishes. Go.” A gentle pat on your ass sent you on your way.

“He’s got good taste. I took a peek,” Walter broke in when you sifted through the contents of the first of several bags, scanning the French labels and gently letting your fingers trail the delicate fabrics — most of it was lace, and all of it was see-through.

“I don’t give a fuck about good taste,” you grumbled — as far as was possible in your thoughts, “this must have cost a fortune! I can’t accept this!”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Oh, fuck him and his logic! “Do you think he’d bankrupt himself to make you look pretty?”

“That’s not the point! I—”

“Marshall, that’s enough.” August. Right behind you. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d sunk to your knees in front of the bed, and now August was standing right behind you.

He kneeled behind you and pulled you back against his chest. “Why is my pretty princess feeling so… uncomfortable and insecure?”

“This is too much, August, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered, raising a hand to your mouth to keep you from talking. “I could gag you. And I will, if necessary.” Curse him and the fact that there was no need for him to ask if you would be okay with that, because he could feel the exact way the suggestion turned your insides to mush and made your head spin.

“I decide when and how I spoil you, princess,” he said as he pulled you backwards into his lap, “not you.”

He kissed your neck just below your ear in such a way that it drew a long moan from you.

“Now, you’re going to try these on — I know they’ll fit, so I took off the tags. There’s no returning any of them, so just accept the gift already,” he said before trailing his tongue down your neck. You writhed in his lap, barely able to suppress a chuckle when you felt his erection beneath your ass.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing I get hard for you?” He rolled his hips against your backside for a moment, before disappearing from underneath you and appearing again on the edge of his bed, leaving you kneeling before him.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said with an impossible smirk that made you want to claw it off his face.

He made you show him every set he’d bought you, each one more beautiful than the last, and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself — and indirectly to him, and Marshall and Mikey — that you’d missed this.

Mike wanted titties, and therefore eliminated everything that stood between him and his goal at his earliest convenience, and it was nice to have a man lust after you in something pretty for a change. Even if that ‘something pretty’ was a few scraps of needlessly expensive lace and some underwire. Something told you Marshall would be more appreciative of these as well. He’d already let you know he thought August had good taste… that meant he’d also like these, right?

“Last one,” August said with a dirty grin when he handed you a tiny black lace contraption that took you some time to even figure out before you could begin to put it on.

“You can’t be serious,” you muttered under your breath as you wrangled straps and cups and other elements into position. And after all that effort, you were still very decidedly mostly fucking naked.

“You don’t like it?” August pouted as he got up from his bed and walked over to where you were standing, staring at yourself in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and rubbed his very obvious bulge against your ass. “It’s my personal favorite.”

“Putting this on is a nightmare, taking it off… you’ll just rip it.” It was a weak protest — you knew it, he knew it. Marshall knew it, even though maybe he wasn’t strictly supposed to. And August was about to point it out, too.

“I don’t have to take it off, princess.” No. He didn’t. The quarter cups left your nipples exposed — maybe even Mike would enjoy this particular number — and the damn thing was ehm… ouvert. Which was — as everyone knew — French for ‘oh, hello, my pussy is on full display in this thing’.

“Now,” he said in a tone that immediately turned your knees to jelly, “Mike told me that you don’t shy away from a good spanking, and I’m in no mood for an attitude — I rarely am, admittedly — so it’s your choice; mouth off tonight, or sit comfortably tomorrow.”

“Hm, I’ll need a moment to consider th—ow!” One sharp, stinging smack against your exposed behind down, undoubtedly countless more to go. Unless you…

“It truly looks very beautiful on you, princess.” And somehow, with those words, he shattered your defenses, your attitude, your will to oppose. “Now, be a good girl and put your arms behind your head for me, and spread your legs a bit.”

He gently guided you into the position he was talking about, then took a step back to look at you. No… admire you. Before correcting around seven things about your posture, of course.

“And drop your shoulders,” he instructed before he finally seemed happy with your stance. “Good girl.”

He circled you, slowly, and you responded by dropping your chin to your chest and staring at the floor while heat crept up your neck in a staggering tempo, paying for your mistake with a swift and hard smack on your ass — and then a second one to the other cheek.

“Head up, princess,” he snapped, appearing in front of you and standing so close he could rest his forehead against yours. “You stay in this position until I tell you otherwise, do you understand? Don’t nod, speak up.”

“Yes, sir.” It slipped out, promise! Nothing about you had had any kind of intention to call him that, you…

“It’s okay, princess. I like it. Are you comfortable with it?” His eyes were kind, his lips curved up slightly in a polite yet loving smile.

“Yes,” you muttered.

“Not a hard requirement, but I do like to hear you say it,” he added, softly stroking your cheek. “You can lower your arms, princess.”

You did as he told you, keeping your legs a little further than shoulder width apart.

“Why the, eh… position?” you asked carefully, afraid of what the answer could be.

“I enjoy looking at you,” he replied. “Consider it an inspection, of sorts, although I promise you I have no intent to degrade you — much.” A smile rugged at the corners of his mouth.

“What?” Your voice was little more than a whisper.

“Don’t try to tell me you’re not dying for someone to actually call you their… hm… what did I overhear back then?” Oh no… what had he overheard? “Perfect little cockslut?” Oh. Oh. August let out a harsh chuckle.

“I…” Yeah, you what? He was right, for fuck’s sake! “I suppose as long as you make it sound like a compliment, I’ll take it as one.”

He laughed, and gently pulled you into his side. “There’s one more thing I want to show you tonight, is that okay?”

You nodded and quietly followed along when he guided you towards the wall, which he had you face.

“Now, princess,” he said softly. “I want you to bend over. Hands or forearms on the wall, please. Feet a little further apart… good girl.”

The praise sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned eagerly into August’s touch as he ran a hand down your behind.

“This is the position that will be used for punishment,” he said with a hint of a smile to his voice. “Which is why I’m showing it to you now. I have a feeling we’ll need it quite a lot.”

“You’re really all chains and whips and safewords, aren’t you?” The question was out before you even realized you’d opened your mouth.

“We all have our own ways of dealing with centuries of sexual repression,” he answered. He was only half-joking.

“August…”

“It’s alright, princess,” he chuckled. “I simply enjoy inflicting pleasure. Come here…” He let himself fall on his bed, and you left your position by the wall to gladly snuggle into his side.

“August,” you whispered, this time so softly you hoped it wouldn’t leave this room. If there was anyone in the house with the knowledge and expertise…

“Yes, princess? It’s alright, at this volume he won’t hear you.”

“Is there any way to tie a vampire up without breaking furniture or…” You couldn’t look him in the eye while you said it, and you agitatedly shushed August’s uncontrolled laughter that followed your question.

“Is Mike in trouble?” he asked quietly. You noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eyes when you finally met his gaze.

“Is Mike ever not in trouble?”

[the-morningstar-family]

Alastor, psst, pssssssst!!! Luci had a nightmare please intervene, it was really bad

(-🦉-Anon)

Alastor, groggy: “Lucifer?”

The king wipes tears away from his eyes, waving him off.

Lucifer, fake smiling: “Just a weird dream”

Alastor: “Mhm. Must've been very weird to drive you to tears”

Alastor reaches out to wipe a tear away. He keeps his hand to cup his cheek, Lucifer gently holds his hand in place, taking the comfort.

Alastor: “What troubles you?”

Lucifer sighs at the demon's gentle tone. He has absolutely no ability to say ‘no’ to certain people. Unfortunately, his partner is one of them.

Lucifer: “Just thinking, getting in my head… heh.”

Alastor: “Ah. Care to let me in as well?”

He pokes Lucifer's forehead softly. The king chuckles.

Lucifer: “Yeah- well, you know - it uhhh”

Alastor, teasing: “Eloquent as always”

Lucifer, sticking out his tongue: “Shut up”

He takes a deep breath, both growing more somber.

Lucifer: “I just… I worry about all of you here. And I keep thinking if I had come a little later back from heaven… If I had never left-”

There's some tears in his eyes again, he tries to blink them away.

Lucifer: “Maybe this could've been avoided.”

Alastor: “Poppycock”

He says resolut. Dismissing the possibility.

Alastor: “You had a duty to attend to, and you did. You couldn't have possibly known.”

The uncertainty remains in Lucifer's face

Alastor: “You kept piece with heaven by leaving. Such are the duties as a King. And I would be a fool to hold that against you”

Lucifer, smiling: "I love you, you know that?"

Alastor: "Mh. I do. But it's nice to be reminded"

[thebigsartorialist]

POV: walking around exclaiming posh British words to confuse people: Poppycock! Chuffed! Jolly Good! Cheerio! Absolutely Spiffing!

_

Suit: Martin Greenfield

Tie: London York

Hats: Bates

Socks: Falke

Shoes: Allen Edmonds

_

[kandisheek]

*bats eyelashes* Stony drunken Tower shenanigans? Your choice if it's pre or post getting together. 😊

Drunk shenanigans, ey? With pleasure 😁

---

Tony heard rambunctious laughter as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, his lips twitching up in a smile. He’d had the kind of shitty day that deserved to be drowned in alcohol, so a pick-me-up was much appreciated.

Tony rounded the corner, a hand raised in greeting. “Hey, gu-” He stopped dead as a glass hit the door frame in front of him, shattering on impact. Tony cautiously leaned forward, poking his head into the kitchen.

“Another!” Thor yelled, leaned so far back in his seat that it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen off yet. Tony’s eyes automatically swerved to Steve who seemed to be laughing too hard to do anything else, slumped over on the table with tears of mirth streaming down his face. Clint was balancing a bottle on his nose, and Natasha was stacking more and more bottle caps on top. Apparently the team had started without him.

Tony knocked on the door frame. “Did someone order a genius?”

“Tony!” Steve shouted happily, throwing his arms out wide. Tony had about two seconds to be surprised before he got dragged right into Steve’s lap, manhandled like a ragdoll. Tony stiffened, trying to act natural even as his mind chased itself in panicked circles. Oh god, Steve was piss drunk, wasn’t he? He’d never be okay with any kind of PDA otherwise.

The rest of the team didn’t even know they were together yet.

“Heeey,” Steve said, stretching the one word to at least four syllables. “You smell good. I missed you.”

“Hey, Cap,” Tony said, his high-pitched voice drawing the attention of Natasha whose eyes instantly narrowed.

“What are you doing?”

“He’s so soft,” Steve sighed, squeezing Tony’s middle as he nuzzled his neck, which - okay, rude - but Tony was focused on fending Natasha off when she got out of her seat, wobbling a little. Christ, were all of them hammered?

“No! It’s okay, stand down!”

“He’s groping you,” she growled, and - dear god, was that a knife?!

“It’s fine! I promise it’s fine, please sit down.”

She stopped, her steely glare wandering from Steve to Tony. “Are you taking advantage of him?”

Oh shit. “No! No, he’s - I mean, we’re -”

“Oh.” Steve tensed at his back before he turned his chair, making Tony flail as he was tugged along for the ride until Steve had positioned himself between Tony and Natasha, glaring daggers at her. “You can’t have him. He’s mine.”

“What’s happening?” Clint slurred as he finally put down the bottle, a look of unholy glee crossing his face when he saw the knife in Natasha’s hand. “Are we sparring?”

“No! Absolutely not! No weapons!” Tony rushed out, surging to his feet. Steve sat with his arms still outstretched, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Why?” he asked miserably. “Don’t you want me?”

Great. Natasha was looking between them like she didn’t know who to threaten anymore, and Tony sighed, wiping his face with both hands.

“All of you, knock it off. Steve, we’re leaving.”

“Poppycock!” Thor yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. Tony winced at the spidering cracks that appeared in the wood. He’d just bought that table. “Drink with us, friend Tony! Partake in the revels!”

“I wasn’t aware we had revels,” Tony said, grabbing one of Steve’s hands to try and tug him off his chair, to no avail. “Fucking Christ, would you - where’s Bruce?”

Clint blinked. “Where is Bruce?”

“Lab,” Natasha said, and Clint made an ah sound so long it was practically an acceptance speech.

“J, tell Bruce to come up here? We need to wrangle these idiots into bed,” Tony said, and Steve’s eyes lit up as he jumped to his feet, almost knocking Tony off balance with the sudden motion.

“Bed?”

“To sleep,” Tony said firmly, and Steve pouted. Literally stuck out his lip, the fucking - okay, yes, it was adorable, Tony couldn’t lie. “You’re drunk, Steve.”

“You’re drunk,” Steve said mulishly, and Tony sighed.

“I wish I was.” Tony patted his arm before he turned to Clint, offering him both hands. “Okay. Up and at ‘em, Merida, we’ll -”

Tony blinked when he was suddenly in the air, lifted by a firm grip around his waist. “What the -”

“He’s not coming to bed,” Steve said firmly, glaring at Clint as he carried Tony over to the door. At least he still seemed coordinated enough not to run them into a wall. Small mercies. “Just us.”

“Steve - come on, we need to - Bruce!” Tony called out when the man himself stepped out of the elevator, giving them a bewildered look. “Tell Steve we need to put the others to bed!”

“What?” Bruce asked, and Steve gripped Tony tighter, practically growling under his breath.

“You’re not coming either. Tony’s mine.”

Bruce’s eyebrows rose to his hairline as he looked at where Steve was holding on to Tony. “Uh. Is this a kidnapping, or -”

“Totally consensual, I promise,” Tony said, and Bruce nodded slowly.

“Right. Okay.” He gave Tony an amused smile. “I’m happy for you? I think?”

“I’m happier,” Steve said petulantly, now cuddling Tony like an oversized teddy bear, both arms wrapped around him. “Happiest.”

“It’s not a competition, big guy,” Tony said, barely holding in a hysterical laugh as he stroked Steve’s forearms. To Bruce he said, “The others are just as fucked up. Give me a second, I’ll -”

“No, it’s okay, I got it.” Bruce’s eyes twinkled with mirth as he turned away. “You’re occupied. Have fun.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Tony shouted as Steve carried him into the elevator where he buried his face in Tony’s hair, grumbling under his breath. Tony chuckled. “You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re drunk.”

“You’re cute,” Steve mumbled, and Tony laughed, patting Steve’s hands before he pressed a kiss to them.

“Sure am, Cap. I sure am.”

--

You can also find an extended version of this fic on AO3, right here :)

[greeneyedsigma]

Grinch, laying in bed: Get out of my room.

Frost, standing just outside of the door frame: I’m not in your room.

**

Gaz, bursting into the room: You two are having sex!

Ghost, not looking up from his book: Really? Soap, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.

**

Ghost, making a cup of tea: Yeah, get into that leaf juice, you sexy, sexy bee sauce.

Soap: Hey, do you take constructive criticism?

Ghost: I absolutely fucking do not.

**

Gaz & Soap: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*

Gaz: We need an adult!

Soap: Gaz, you are an adult!

Gaz: We need an adultier adult! Get Price!

**

Soap: I’m sorry for being annoying.

Soap: It will happen again.

**

Frost: ARE YOU-

Ghost: Fucking.

Frost: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Ghost: Fucking.

Frost: IDIOT!

Gaz: …What was that?

Ghost: Sandman banned Frost from swearing, so I’m helping her out.

**

Soap: But we’re friends! I was building up to calling you a nickname soon!

Ghost: That’ll never happen! In fact, you just lost “Ghost” privileges. From now on, you can call me ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘Hey, you’.

Soap: Come on, Ghost.

Ghost: *glares*

Soap: Come on, Hey you.

**

Frost: I like wearing oversized sweaters. Not just because they're extremely comfy and cuddly, but because whenever the sleeves are really big, I get to flop them around and smack people.

Sandman: ...is that my hoodie?

Frost:

Frost: ...No.

**

Price: The clock is ticking! We don't have time for this asinine tomfoolery!

Sandman: This unmitigated poppycock?

Frost: Extravagant hogwash!

Price: Okay, stop.

**

Frost: You disgust me.

Sandman: *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

[moonflowerxox]

what do you mean I can't crawl through the screen and tell my favorite characters how much they are deserving of love and good things?! preposterous, absolute poppycock!

[slow-writer]

TMAGP (and TMA, indirectly) Spoilers and Thoughts...

You have been warned...

I wasn't part of the original TMA crowd back when it was first airing. I'd heard mutterings of it, but never really thought much about it. To be honest, I probably wasn't mentally ready for it back then. Instead, my younger sister started listening to it last year and then kept talking about it until something she said made me go, "Y'know what? Okay. I'm in."

I ended up bingeing through it during work this past October, and holy sh*t. I fell down the rabbit hole hard. (Maybe, in this case, it would be more akin to running face first down those coffin stairs? I digress.) Being so new to it when everyone else had already been swallowed up by the sky, it was cool to dig into the Wikis that had already been made, to see the links and foreshadowing.

But now, it's the beginning of TMAGP, and I actually get to listen the day they release, to jump on here, or reddit, or tiktok, or wherever to be a part of the theorizing AS IT HAPPENS. And boy oh boy, I'm happier than Simon Fairchild in the stratosphere.

Do I have a notebook to jot down my thoughts as I listen? Of course, I do. Do I have multiple tabs open, some with ARG info, some with TMA info, and yet more with references to alchemical symbols and practices? Duh. Have I started my own spreadsheet for it all? Well, if you knew about my Lego Dimensions spreadsheet.... nevermind. Yes, I have.

But nothing beats being able to talk (or type) about it with other fans, like my sister, or those faceless avatars (lol) of the interwebs. And man, has my brain been CHURNING.

First, let me get out of the way that I wasn't able to take part in the ARG as it was happening, and my goodness! I'm so happy there are other people out there like me who were able to sum up and load it up for the rest of us to learn about. No idea how much of it will be *necessary* to unlock all the secrets, but I'm the kind who loves to know trivia just cos. And the details I am learning definitely pull me deeper.

Second, I feel like in the beginning of TMA, there was barely anything for the listeners to dig through. One guy working on behalf of an organization, trying to dig through seemingly implausible and overly spooktastic first-hand statements dating back centuries that are in crazy disarray from the previous archivist, and he's laying on a hefty helping of "this is utter balderdash, complete poppycock, and absolute piffle" opinion. It was a slow burn, something that (as an American, and being exposed to so much more instant gratification in storytelling than necessary) UK storytellers seem to be experts in, and was even more expertly done in this case, since so many little things had to eventually build up without listeners automatically assuming what would happen next, without them getting bored.

But TMAGP is already so full of so much extra stuff, so many little things (even before it was released) that we may all get BURIED in the sheer amount of data we think is vital. We're not listening to tapes this time, we're definitely listening via internet-connected devices, like computers, mobile phones, and security cameras. So, while TMA had old tape recorders magically appearing (or were they being dragged by hordes of spiders?) and switching themselves on so they could hear all the random happenings within the archive, TMAGP is no longer reliant on such hand-wavery. Whatever/whoever is listening can do so from anywhere to anyone they want. That makes the world of TMAGP

SO MUCH BIGGER.

Third, I know not everyone who listens to these things is like me (or, let's face it: us--there are so many fans doing regular deep dives on here, we should have our own categorization on the wiki). There are bound to be listeners who just leave everything at face value and wait for the story to unfold itself organically, and when it's done, it's done. But even as an adolescent, when I got into something, I did my best to listen to, watch, or read everything I could find on that very niche thing. At least for a while. (Hello, undiagnosed ADHD!)

So, I watched/listened to a couple interviews and Q&As regarding the new show prior to release. And while both Alex and Jonny have been clear saying you don't have to have listened to TMA to enjoy TMAGP, I kind of think just saying that is leading us TMA fans in a very specific direction. And I think it's very intentional, and that a lot of fans either haven't heard about it yet, or are choosing to ignore it.

They say that TMAGP is tangentially related to TMA in that there will be familiar themes, but

it's taking place in a completely different universe from TMA;

time in TMA worked differently (especially during the Entity Torturepalooza in S5) towards the end, so dates of events there may not line up with dates or events in this universe; and

the main or overarching theme is different.

In TMA, the story was "what makes a monster a monster?" As in, is there a line one crosses that they can't return from? Is it a physical manifestation, like it alters their appearance? Is it an action they have to take? And does that action have to be done willingly, or can it be coerced? Does becoming the monster to protect someone else, or to achieve a greater good... does any of that matter?

In TMAGP, they've already said that the story will be "what makes a person a person?"

The implications of that sentence are many and mind-boggling.

I first thought it had something to do with the idea of the humane (not human): kindness, empathy, compassion. The ties that bind us together as people (like being fans of a little horror podcast from across the pond) could be part of this.

But, now that we have 5 episodes out, and a metaphorical army of lore-deep-divers digging through every word and sound effect and episode title, I think we can truly start to figure out where we're heading.

Artificial Intelligence.

It struck me as I was re-listening to the first episode this morning. (I really am trying to fill out my spreadsheet in a semi-logical manner and with as many pertinent details as possible, really. That's the main reason I was doing that this morning. At least, that's what I tell myself.) We are hearing all these happenings over web-connected devices (don't think I don't see you, Alex and Jonny, and your oh-so-hilarious punning!), the OIAR employees are working on a modified business-forward version of Windows NT 4.0 that precedes Windows 95 that has a name that we interpret as 'Freddy' (or Freddie, depending on where you are in the transcripts), one of the documents from the ARG was a spreadsheet called 'Klaus' (which IS the name of the former IT guy Gwen's asking about because she heard/saw young Lena arguing with him), and we have at least 3 text-to-speech "voices" that Alice has given names (Chester, Norris, and Augustus).

All of that was running through my brain, and then I heard this passage within the first few minutes of the episode:

LENA - Nonsense. Sam is the only one who has had any cake so far. GWEN - And that was only because you practically forced it down his throat. SAM - No, no, it was… nice. LENA - People like chocolate cake.

People like chocolate cake? She didn't even ask her employees (all 5 of them at that time) what flavor they'd prefer, or if they'd want something else? No. She just knows a fact that "people" like chocolate cake, so of course, her employees--who are people--would like chocolate cake.

Almost like a computer following a logic-based workflow, perhaps?

Lots of people have been trying to figure out who in the office is the Big Bad, and many are saying Gwen just because of her ambition and her last name (Bouchard), but I think her name is a red herring. Others are saying Alice knows more than she lets on (and so many are hating on her, and I will NOT ABIDE THE ALICE DYER SHADE because I love her and I would very probably hide bodies for her) but I agree that certain things she's said are a little sus, though they really could just be her personality. I really have known some women like her, and they are some of my favorite people. (Plus, the fact that we now know that she's the most tenured employee at the OIAR--save possibly Lena--does make the brain churn some more.)

But with this line about chocolate cake, and how she was unable to join them at the pub, and how we haven't had a scene with her outside of the OIAR office, it makes me think that Lena might just be part code.

[Let me also add this really quick: I've seen A LOT of people trying to make the current episodes fit into Smirke's 14 +Dekker's 1, but I don't think the Entities as we codified them are what we're dealing with in this universe. I think trying to link everything back to that show will be a lot of wasted thought, because as they said, this isn't a direct sequel. (Do I think it's actually Jon, Martin, and Jonah--yes, Jonah, not Jurgen--trapped in the computer system? A bit, but it won't shatter my appreciation if the voices are something else entirely.)

Plus, I've seen others saying that the statements we've heard, while creepy, aren't all necessarily to do with fear. Most of them are about desires and obsessions.

The woman who wanted so desperately to see her dead husband again that she'd get scammed over and over to possibly resurrect him;

the person who wanted to spelunk an 'unsolved' site to the point of crime;

the woman who wanted to finally feel comfortable in her skin to the point of disfiguring herself;

the man who wanted so badly to climb out of his assigned station and achieve fame that he'd regularly 'feed' his violin blood from other people;

and the man who wanted to feel the same terror he felt when watching scary movies with his dad when he was a kid to the point of chasing down 'borderline illegal films' and ignoring LITERALLY ALL the red flags to the end.

I think that theory is the closest to what we may actually encounter.]

I've seen others on reddit saying they think that this series will be about the race to create the philosopher's stone--the stone that creates the elixir of life and, essentially, immortality. I think it's a valid idea. But, what if it went further than that?

Because with all the alchemical hints dropping in the show's logo, the ARG, and the 3-category system to the statements (yes, I'm keeping track) that could make one think of the spirit, the mind, and the body in alchemy....

What if they're trying to create life from software?

What if these entities or desires or whatevers have been working through some ancient busted code, feeding off statements from "real" humans experiencing strong emotions, watching the employees that work with it every single night, so they can create something as close to a human as possible from just wires and 3 decades of unreadable code?

Oh lord... it just occurred to me that--due to this being a HORROR podcast--they might need to collect a skin suit for the Not Quite Human. Is that what happened to Klaus? Ick. And now I'm hoping I'm wrong.

[multifandomsoup]

Bestie youre so giberish!! Talking absolute poppycock!!! So much hodgepodge!!! Youre flummoxing us all!!! This is the most lackadaisical attempt at being wise that ive ever witnessed!!! If i were you, id shut this claptrap and skedaddle!!!!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Thom Hartmann at TNR:

Republicans don’t want women to vote. They now think they may have a strategy that could prevent them from doing so. House Speaker Mike Johnson and former President Donald Trump were pushing the Safeguard American Eligibility, or SAVE, Act, demanding it be part of must-pass legislation to fund the federal government for another year (the funding runs out at the end of this month, and then the shutdown begins).

It died in the House Wednesday night, but, like a bad penny, you can bet it’ll return.* Trump, on his failing social media site, ranted Tuesday that Republicans must get “every ounce” of the SAVE Act passed or shut down the government “in any way, shape, or form.” He said it was necessary because Democrats are “registering Illegal Voters by the TENS OF THOUSANDS, as we speak,” adding the vicious lie that “they will be voting in the 2024 Presidential Election.” Trump, Johnson, and J.D. Vance claim that the SAVE Act is necessary to prevent people who aren’t citizens from voting, but they are entirely unable to prove that any meaningful number of noncitizens have ever illegally voted in any American election. After all, it’s a felony for a noncitizen to vote, and few are stupid enough to take that sort of a chance. Republicans love to point out that occasionally noncitizens end up on the voting rolls of various states. Oregon, for example, just found that 306 noncitizens were on the voting rolls because they were incorrectly added when they renewed their drivers’ licenses; two had voted because they were mailed ballots and didn’t know better. The state has fixed this error.

But Republicans have absolutely no evidence of any election, anywhere in America, at any time in our history that was ever changed by noncitizens voting. Or of any conspiracy to encourage noncitizens to vote.

[...] So why is this the hill Republicans are willing to die on? Why would Johnson, Trump, and Vance (and so many other Republicans) put so much effort into a lie that will, if acted on, create chaos for American voters?

And why try so hard to force it into a must-pass bill when it has already passed the House of Representatives on a stand-alone vote? The question contains the seed of its own answer. The SAVE Act is a proposed federal law, so, first off, it would put a future president (say, Trump) in charge of enforcing it, taking that power away from the states. Millions of voter registrations in any states the president decides are problematic could be removed until those voters “cure” their registrations, and state authorities would have no say in it. And what will the law require citizens who want to vote do? Lacking a passport or other proof of citizenship with their married names, they must produce both a birth certificate (with the seal of the state where it was issued; no copies allowed) and a current form of identification—both with the exact same name on them. That could instantly disqualify about 90 percent of all married women without passports or other proof that matches their birth certificates or proof of a legal name change.

For women in that situation, they can still register to vote if they can prove that they went to court to change their name when they got married, but most women just start using their new married name without ever going through all those formalities (although a few states recognize marriage as a legal name change).

This New Republic article from Thom Hartmann is a masterclass.

The Republicans’ War On Women has expanded to voting rights, as most women who marry do change their name, and that more women vote Democratic.

The SAVE Act is full of poppycock and a waste of time bill that causes more problems than it solves with dealing the phantom “noncitizen” voter crisis.

[the-moth-wizard-of-mayhem]

Cool!! I've talked to some centipedes before! Nice folk!

*you hear something digging around outside your stump*

-@confused-sorcerer-2

*Lepi peaks outside nervously. Not saying anything in case it's dangerous

[darthpastry]

FNaF Incorrect Quotes

(But it’s one of my aus)

AU is Puppet Girl, in which Charlie is the one who gets scooped and lives in an apartment with Michael and Jeremy Fitzgerald, some extra info and link to fic below the cut

Charlie: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.

——

Charlie: The only straight I am is a straight-up badass.

——

Jeremy: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated! Michael: Killed without hesitation.

——

Jeremy: Okay, how do I look? Be honest. Michael: There’s no critic more honest than Charlie! Charlie: Bad.

——

Charlie: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset? Jeremy: No, I said "Charlie, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.

——

Michael: I'm naturally funny because my life is a joke.

——

Charlie: Hey, thanks for checking in, I’m ✨still a piece of garbage✨

——

Jeremy (to Michael): You made enough pasta that you could take it to lunch tomorrow. Put it in a container. Charlie: Shovel the pasta into your face. Do it. Put it in your face. The future is meaningless but the pasta is now.

——

Michael: We’re d-d-driving in a…

Charlie: CAR! Destination, drug dealers…

Michael: BAR!

In unison: Pass the mic right over to JEREMY!

Michael: We forgot Jeremy.

Charlie: But we turn go back cause we’ve gone too far-a-me!

Michael: We have to go back, w-we can’t leave him. I respect the rhyme though.

——

Charlie: So, Michael, do you have a crush on anyone? Michael: The only crush I have is this crushing anxiety.

——

Charlie: Slash gamemode creative. Jeremy: Dude, this isn't Min- Charlie: starts levitating

——

Charlie: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.

——

Jeremy: Coca Cola can remove rust from metal, imagine what it’s doing to your body.  Charlie: Pfff, getting rid of the rust, idiot.  Jeremy: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!  Michael: Hmm... I've been drinking soda and my body's rust free... not sure where you're getting your facts from...

——

Charlie: I keep cursing in ice cream flavors and Jeremy has told me to stop.  Michael: How do you curse in ice cream flavors?  Charlie: What the mint chocolate chip did you say to me, punk?  Charlie: I'll kick your rocky road then punch the ever loving strawberry cheesecake out of you.  Michael: Holy fudge.

——

Charlie and Michael:*Playing video games*  Jeremy: You guys woke up at 5:30 in the morning just to play games?  Charlie: * silence*  Michael: *silence*  Jeremy: ...You two never went to sleep, did you?  Charlie and Michael in shame: Yeah...

——

Michael: You’re my best friend, I would do anything for you.  Charlie: I want you to eat 3 meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.  Michael: Absolutely not. 

——

Michael: It's locked. You got a lock pick?  Jeremy: Yeah-  Charlie: *kicks in the door* 

——

Jeremy: Scary how fast someone can mean so much to you...  Michael: Scary how fast you can mean nothing to someone.  Charlie: Scary how fast I switched my car insurance to Geico!

——

Charlie: If I ever completely die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited.  Michael: "If"  Jeremy: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die properly.

——

Tracking Service, as helpfully as possible:Your order is out for delivery! It should arrive by 8 PM today!  Michael, sitting by the door at 8:12 AM:Pakige. Jeremy, opening the door anytime they hear anything outside despite it being 10 AM: Böx?  Charlie, peeking out the window every 5 minutes: Enveloop?

——

Michael: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight.  Charlie: But are you shuffling?  Michael: Everyday.  Jeremy: What language are you two speaking?? 

——

Jeremy: The clock is ticking! We don't have time for this asinine tomfoolery!  Michael: This unmitigated poppycock?  Charlie: Extravagant hogwash!  Jeremy: Okay, stop. 

——

Michael: Why don't we just call it, "M.C. Donald's?"  Jeremy: Because it just sounds like a stupid rapper's name.  Charlie: It'd just be like- "Eyo, it's ya boy, M.C. Donald!"

Eyyy self promotion time. Puppet Girl is an ongoing fic/AU of mine and is currently my longest fic despite not being finished! The plan is to have maybe 10 or so more chapters (there are currently 18) and then maybe some one-shots with side adventures, although that’s probably a while off.

Also some extra bits of info! Michael is transmasc in this one. He’s also aroace and Charlie’s a lesbian but neither of those are mentioned and who even knows if they know. Not entirely sure about Jeremy but it’s a genfic anyway.

But yeah, Charlie doesn’t die, Mangle’s teeth aren’t as sharp so Jeremy entirely recovers from the Bite of 87. Timeline is condensed with FNaF 6 taking place in the 90s and Michael is also alive (duh)

So anyway, if you want to, give it a read! Maybe leave a comment if you’re feeling generous because those are always cool. Let me know on here if you want to see more incorrect quotes from this AU, from a different one, or back to LoZ and FNaF crossover incorrect quotes

[askthechronoverse]

I'm thinking you were paid for this.

ARGH! THAT'D BE ABSOLUTE POPPYCOCK!

This is an accusation that will need to be investigated. For now, captain, I ask that you leave the courtroom. I will have someone fetch you if we need you again.

[ask-runaan-anything]

Have you ever gone foraging in the human lands and accidentally ate the wrong type of mushroom and felt funny for a while?

No, definitely not, not ever, who has spread this unjust rumor about me and an Effervestia Horn that I mistook for a Nosecap? Baldfaced lies, I assure you.

There is nothing whatsoever to the tales of a baked Moonshadow assassin dancing along the roofline of a mayor's house in the light of the full moon with his bowblade clutched lovingly in his arms as if it were his husband.

And he definitely didn't dip it and kiss it. Absolutely not. Pure poppycock and rubbish.

[spider-xan]

Thinking about Lanyon and Jekyll arguing over the latter's unscientific balderdash theories of splitting man's nature, and Jekyll slyly sneering, "I don't think the philosopher and metaphysician Abraham Van Helsing, M. D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc., etc., one of the most advanced scientists of his day, would be too pleased to hear you disagree with me, Lanyon! Do you mean to tell me you think you are better than the great Van Helsing?", and Lanyon turning purple and huffing, "Yes, Jekyll, I do! Haven't you ever heard the man go on about immortal parrots and Indian fakirs? What poppycock! 'Absolutely open mind' my arse, his fell right out of his absolutely open head."

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

https://www.eonline.com/news/1384329/suits-creator-reveals-irritating-feedback-royal-family-had-for-meghan-markles-character?fbclid=IwAR1ZOM8COk6UEBkNAViTOeZElUqfIRyDGzJATk4mHs-8Tcb4eBnbBxmosnQ_aem_AbKyiM-_m8F4NMa2dgMThu5Rwvpiy06FCOTRK4MWp3c59buQoMGXs-OThVmqOn9y7x4

1. “Wildly popular TV series.”

2. Man I hate it when my parents don’t let me use the word “c*ck.” So irritating.

I remember being absolutely certain that the palace was my involved in any of this bs, lol. But what they were and weren’t involved with still baffles me.

They were micromanaging her Suits dialogue, but they couldn’t be bothered to manage Tom? They could strike words from the script but they couldn’t keep NBC from using the royal relationship to promote the show? They thought “poppycock” would be harmful, but they were okay with the obnoxious Vanity Fair cover story? They couldn’t stop her from merching rings and boots?