#artist: Tatty

[animepopheart]

★ 【Tatty】 「 宵宮生誕祭2024 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me! insta • x • bsky

[blakelysco-pilot]

A big huge thank you to @kylaym for this wonderful haul! Everything is so lovely, and you are so kind! The Book Club Girls thank you!💗

[maylorscardigan]

Those headphones he’s been wearing. Do you think it’s possible that his ADHD is part of the reason why he wears them? I’ve been trying to learn more about him (I am a new the 1975 fan) and I am a neurodivergent fan. I have ASD and ADHD. Some of the way he talks and the nervous energy and stimming… I know all of these are common in adhd but he seems to be a little extra with it. (I do not mean that rudely). Do you think it’s possible he is on the ASD spectrum or has sensory processing disorder?

*DISCLAIMER*

Only so I don’t get attacked by mobs of people for “diagnosing” Matty… that’s not it at all, so please don’t attack me for it. This is very different then the video going around of Taylor “stimming” and that being used as an assumption. This is 100% opinion based formulated by my experiences as someone with AuDHD as well as a mother of son who has the same.

———

A fellow AuDHD! (Is that right? God, I hope so)

I understand not meaning it in a rude way. No worries there. Honestly….

Yes. I think it’s definitely a possibility. I see it more in interviews then anything else or in the videos we see that they’ve posted or as part of the series. This is also why I believe he created Truman Black.

Masking is any neurodivergents secret weapon. I have my own version of a mask that I use in certain situations.

For those who don’t know -

It’s very very common with those who have adhd or on the autistic spectrum. I believe Matty 100% had a mask with TB. Yet when he’s in interviews, the stimming is more apparent and when he’s with his band mates in a more private setting - he’s very much not masking.

There’s obvious similarities and differences in ADHD / ASD as seen above.

The first time I really considered he may be on the ASD spectrum was this interview… took me a bit to hunt it down…

Why? It’s like watching my son. Which sort of amazed me. I can also be like that.

The blinking, looking up a lot and the struggle to process his thoughts. These are both things you can find in ADHD / ASD. The sleeves over the hands. Constantly touching his hair. The awkwardness.

He’s also had times when he’s expressed not liking to be touched and struggle with social situations / fame. The video above… the famous suitcase one… he says he hates being touched then spends a while in it. My son… master at this. Even at 13 he still likes to see what spaces he can fit himself into. He LOVES fitting into tight spaces as it’s a comfort thing and he’s one of the only people I know who could tolerate anything like that for extended periods of time.

He struggles with social ques and even practices it. This I found really cute. Like a Sim character lol. I’ve done this so many times it’s scary.

The sorry? I don’t know about other AuDHD individuals but apologies can be so scary and awkward for me. I hate them. I freak out. I generally end up writing a letter or text saying sorry instead. His last verbal apology he tried to give also was used against him and I believe that this was his way of saying sorry for everything without making it worse on himself because that’s connection between the mind and mouth gets messed up. Look at the apology he made that one time about the Taylor thing back in 2014 or 2015…? It was written and it was received well for the most part. But it’s easier to gather thoughts when writing.

He also has this relationship with his band mates that had an edge of - they’re his life line. Which is part of why I think he left the stage yesterday when his ear piece messed up. There was a time last year that George made him mess up during a song because he moaned into the mic that carry’s communication and made Matty laugh and forced him to make the audience sing lol.

That’s a few things. I could probably write a few hours about this but I got a list of things I’m procrastinating on haha. If you guys are curious for more let me know.

[mooshii-designs]

*Tatty Teddy is sharing their sandwich with you* 🥪

[bunnyjesters]

guess ive gotta kin zooble now 😔

Yeas, we know Gangle likes anime, Ragatha likes horses, Jax hates Corn, Pomni is bad at cooking yeah. Now, any fun facts about Zoob? Their hobbies or something that really cheers them up?

(Plz, I'm a Zooble simp starving for content)

Zooble was a tattoo artist at one point.

[bloodxbat]

Newest stabbing, walked in to the studio today and my co worker said I’m gonna tattoo you today, so I said alright lmaoo

Absolutley love it

[hellcheermatchingtattoos]

I fucking. Found them. Sweet ol tatties!!!!

[daydreams-after-dark]

can we talk about a sub police officer han >.> like with a criminal reader because i know we all saw how he held that toy gun in skz code 😭

I read this ask before I watched skz code… then I saw it and I knew what you meant. He’s such a darling boy. I love him. I want him to do bad things to me. Even if he does it awkwardly, he gets the job done.

🥰🥰🥰 I’m so excited actually, because I have quite a few #policeofficerskz asks and the concepts are so scrumptious. I can barely contain myself.

Anyways… here is what came to mind for your ask. I love you and hope you enjoy 😘🥰

CW: coercion, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie, sex in a semi public place, nudity.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

Since your arrest earlier that day you have been scoping out the police officers at the station. Watching through the bars of the cell, narrowing down which one would be your ticket to freedom.

Really, you shouldn’t have even been arrested. You were set up. Okay, fine. You’re a con artist. But you wouldn’t have been arrested if you hadn’t been snitched on by some undercover officer. Thanks Officer Kim.

As you analyse each of the police officers in the station, the one who seems to catch your eye the most is Officer Han. He appears gentle, quiet, easily persuaded, kind of awkward. You can work with that. Plus, he is kind of cute. Bonus.

And what do you know, Officer Han is on night duty at the station tonight. Alone. You watch him through the bars as he drinks instant coffee and works at his computer.

The lights are low in the station. It’s quiet too, apart from the clacking of his keyboard.

He yawns and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes for a long moment. Poor baby’s tired. When he opens them his eyes land on yours.

He swallows nervously. You know he’s feeling vulnerable having you watch him. This is perfect.

You tilt your head and part your lips seductively, and his eyes blink rapidly before returning his attention to his computer screen.

“Officer?” you say coyly.

His eyes snap up to meet yours again.

"I need your help. You see I'm innocent. This was all a set up. Your officer Kim is corrupt. He stitched me up." Your bottom lip wobbles.

Han sighs loudly, like he wishes you would just stay quiet so he doesn't have to do anything. Maybe he'll just ignore you.

Or maybe not.

Officer Han stands and with his head down, he quietly walks towards the cell. He stops once he's in front of you, but doesn't look up.

"Look, it's not up to me...I'm just babysitting the station. I wasn't the arresting officer. There's nothing I can do." he says and makes to walk away.

Your hand reaches through the bars and grasps his arm. He stills, looking down at where your hand is wrapped around his forearm, and swallows hard.

"Please. Can you at least keep me company. I'm scared. I'm cold." You say in a small voice.

He looks up at you, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Please?" You let your eyes well up as you give him your best "pleading" eyes.

He shakes his head regretfully. "I-I shouldn't. It's against protocol." he whispers. You squeeze his arm a little harder and he whimpers. You've almost got him.

He lets out a shaky breath. "J-just wait here. I'll get you a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket." he concedes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Officer." You purr and release his arm.

You watch him through the bars as he fumbles about making a hot drink and finding another blanket, before returning to the cell and producing a key.

You smirk and go sit on the roll out mat in the far corner of the cell. You must look non-threatening for your plan to work. He enters the cell cautiously and stands in the middle of the area like he doesn't know what to do.

"Come sit." You pat the mat next you. He looks back awkwardly to where his desk is. "I won't bite." you raise and eyebrow.

"O-okay. O-only for a second... " he stutters.

Only for a second? You know how that always ends.

"Here's a blanket, he hands you the tatty fabric. "and your hot chocolate." he gives you the paper cup and sits down next to you and looks at his feet.

"Officer Han. That is your name isn't it?" you place the cup down in the corner, and turn to him. He is very attractive close up.

He nods. "Yes."

"And how long have you been a police officer?" you reach out and draw a circle on his knee with your index finger.

"Um... six months." he says shakily as he watches your finger work its way up his thigh.

"Hmm. Just a baby, huh?" you lick you lips as you watch him tremble.

"M'not a baby." he narrows his eyebrows and glares at you, but quickly looks away.

"No. I was only joking." You bring your hand up to stroke his cheek. "I bet you're very good at doing grown up things."

Officer Han gulps. "I am." he chokes.

"Wanna show me?" You grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. "I need you to show me what grown up things you can do. Can you? Can you do that for me?"

"I-I'm not sure what you mean, Miss?" he says innocently.

"Sure you do. I'm cold." You press yourself up against his side. "I'm thirsty." You ghost your lips over his cheek. "I'm starving." You whisper against his ear. "Need you to warm me up." You nibble his ear lobe. "Need you to fill me up."

"Fuck." he whimpers.

"That's exactly what I need you to show me."

“Huh?” He looks at you wide eyed. His eyes dart around the cell.

You slowly straddle his lap and begin to grind down on him. He's hard in his trousers, and from what you can tell, he's going to fill you just right.

“Miss. We can’t.” He protests in a small voice.

“Don’t you want to touch me, Officer?” You unbutton your blouse, revealing the swell of your breasts and your push up bra. “Go on. Touch them.” You say sternly.

Cautiously, he brings his shaking hands up and rests them on the bulge of your breasts. His mouth hangs open as he squeezes them slightly.

“Mmm, you like them don’t you, Officer?”

He nods.

“Yeah? I bet Officer Han would like to know what my pussy feels like too? Wouldn’t he?” You purr and take him in a ravenous kiss.

He squeaks in response and you smile against his mouth. “I need to you take your clothes off, Officer. I don’t want any part of you hiding from me. I need to see all of you.” You lean in close your his ear “I promise I’ll take all mine off too. You wanna see me naked don’t you?”

Again, Han nods frantically, and undresses so quickly you're not sure if it's pathetic or endearing. Either way, your cunt pulses when you see his bare form. Strong. Toned. Mouthwatering cock.

“I’m naked. Now what? What do you need me to do?” He says desperately, taking in your naked body too.

“Well.” You say laying down on the blanket. “You can start by warming me up.” You part your legs, presenting your pussy to the police officer. "With your mouth."

He’s between your legs, pushing them wide, slurping at your pussy like he hasn’t had a drink in ten hours.

“Oh fuck yes! Officer. Fuck, you do know how to do grown up things!” You cry as he suckles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fingers! Fingers!” You demand, your breath heavy. He pushes two fingers into your cunt while he continues to give your clit attention.

“Yes! Harder!” You thread your fingers through his hair and pull him against your core while you grind your hips against his face.

You’re going to come at any second, but you know that you want to come on his cock.

“Lie on your back, Officer. You deserve to relax after such a hard days work.” You wriggle out from his grasp. The obedient officer does exactly what you ask and he’s on his back, cock heavy and leaking again his stomach. “Time for me to show you what a good girl I am.” You say as you straddle him.

You take your time. Teasing him by sliding along the length of his cock. Getting it soaking wet.

“Please.” He whispers.

“What is it Officer? What do you need?” you coo.

“Don’t tease me.” He sobs.

You lift off of him to line his cock up with your entrance and slowly lower yourself over his length. “Am I being a good girl?” You bite your lip as you encompass him completely.

You continue to ride him slow. He feels so hard inside you and you think if you went any faster he’d blow almost immediately. You want to exhaust the boy.

You build him up, pushing him to the edge, only to ease off. Several times you repeat the process. Officer Han is a wreck underneath you. Sobbing for you to let him come.

“Shh. It’s okay, Officer.” You reassure him as you reach down and play with your clit. You close your eyes and allow an orgasm to wash over you, clenching your walls around his cock.

“Fuck!!!” He cries and you rock your hips to take him over the edge. He comes so hard, and so deep, inside you.

Officer Han pants and trembles underneath you. But you’re not finished with him.

No.

You climb off him and immediately take his cock in your mouth. He protests. He’s so sensitive. Your mouth is too much. But you don’t care. His little cries and pretty moans make you just want to overstimulate even more.

You suck him until he’s hard, then milk him dry. Four more times. All the while he begs you to both “stop, too much”, and “fuck please, let me come!” You ride him two more times too, because he feels too good in your tight little cunt.

Eventually he is so exhausted that he passes out. Mouth agape with a little bit of drool on his chin. Or maybe that was your wetness?

It's almost a shame that you're never going to see him again. He'd probably make a great boyfriend.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

“Officer Han! What happened?”

“Oh dear. This isn’t good.”

“Someone had a rough night?”

“Someone’s going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

Voices wake Officer Han from his sleep. He blinks his eyes open to find its morning. Where the fuck is he? He sits up panicking.

Oh fuck!

He looks around the empty cell, then down at his naked body. Where the fuck are his clothes!? He scrambles around, trying to locate his uniform. But they’re gone.

The other officers laugh and taunt him as he resorts to wrapping the blanket around his waist and tugging at the cell door.

Locked.

“Officer Han.” A stern voice cuts through the jaunts and laughter, and a short, blond man pushes through the throng of officers that have gathered in front of the cell.

Han gulps. “Chief! I can explain.”

Read unrelated fic ot8 frees use jail cell

Read unrelated fic good cop /bad cop Han / Lee know

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

[da-rulah]

hi💆

I fucking love your content and I have a little request...

Here me out, Sexting with Mary Goore🏋‍♀️

Aww thank you so much, lovely!! I love that I'm getting Mary requests now, ever since writing my first Mary fic (which I just updated today, by the way 👀)

You want sexting with Mary Goore? Well, this is how I think that would go... fair warning, it's filthy. just as you'd expect with Mary.

GN!Reader, NSFW MDNI 18+

TW/ Fingering, masturbation, nude taking, filming self

(ps. if any artists see this and fancy recreating some of Mary's pics...... y'know, i wouldn't mind that... 👀)

You'd wanted a reaction, but this? This was beyond even what you could have thought.

14 text messages, 6 missed calls, and 2 failed video calls.

All Mary.

It was just a harmless little booty pic, something to tide him over until the next time you got to see your boyfriend. but to Mary it had been the final straw, the last of the sticks to be pulled from his game of kerplunk... And his marbles had been teetering all day, thinking about you, missing you...

The last text really caught your attention, after purposefully ignoring him just to wind him up.

If i wasn't on the road right now ur front door woulda lost its hinges. answer ur fuckin phone.

It sounded vaguely threatening; you liked that.

Sorry, my neighbour's cat needed a bath. A stupid lie to piss him off further. What's up?

What's up? u rlly gonna ask me that? You laughed at your phone, taking a seat on your couch as you waited for the three dots that were ominously typing still. My dick, that's what's up.

Sounds like a you problem. There was a brief pause, and you liked to imagine Mary was staring at his phone with an eye twitching in annoyance.

gonna make it ur fuckin problem, u started this.

A few moments later, you received a picture message; a close up of Mary's hand, donning his signature signet and skull rings, boney and veiny and large, gripping his bulge in his tatty jeans just below his leather belt. Immediately, your stomach flipped at the picture. He knew exactly what he was doing. Game on.

You alone?

Very.

Good.

With confirmation of his situation, you decided to turn up the heat. Resting your phone against a pile of books on your coffee table, you sat on the edge of your couch and removed your shirt. You set the self-timer to 10 seconds, and got into position.

Spreading your legs, you placed both hands between them to 'hide' your core. To show off the curve of your waist and hips, you leaned your shoulders forward, the figure he adored and desperately wanted to touch protruding and accentuated in the position you sat. The mix of skin, but not too much, and suggestion would drive him insane.

Satisfied after a couple of takes, you sent the best one and waited.

On his end, Mary stared at his phone with a twisted smirk, palming the bulge in his jeans. He fucking loved your nudes, always way more tasteful, artistic than previously less imaginative partners. They were always so much sexier than a standard dick pic or titty pic, of which he'd received many of the years.

u look gd enough to eat. u know what ur doing to me?

You giggled at your phone screen, typing out your reply.

no... will you show me?

Oh, he'd love to.

Mary set up his phone similarly to yours, resting it against a pile of laundry at the end of the motel bed he was lounging on. He removed his own shirt, undid his belt and pulled his erection from his confines, allowing himself a few quick tugs to keep the desperation at bay.

Then he set the self timer and leaned back, one hand behind his head and the other holding his erection in plain sight.

When he sent you his picture, all you could think of was crawling up between those skinny legs of his and riding him into the early hours. You fucking missed him. You ached for him.

u see, baby? all u.

This smug bastard knew the effect he'd have on you. He was smirking in the fucking picture. Time to one-up him...

You stripped from your clothes completely, once again setting your phone up on your coffee table. This time, you knelt on the couch with your knees apart, your ass to the camera, and leaned over the back of it, arching your back to show off the roundness of your ass for him.

When you sent it, Mary audibly cursed to himself. God, you looked delectable... he could clearly see your sex between your legs, so clearly aroused and presented to him. If only he were there...

aw baby, u wanna b fucked from behind? u know i'd take you in a heartbeat...

His text had you squirming where you sat, biting your lip as your hand travelled between your legs. With one hand, you typed back a reply.

Love when you fuck me like that... you get so deep, miss that

Mary groaned as he fucked into his fist, uncontrollably at the visions of previous exploits where he'd done exactly as you'd described. This was torture, his hand would never compared to being wrapped up and squeezed by your tightness.

just u wait til i come home...

can't wait... my fingers don't do the job anywhere near as well. you teased, slowly stretching out your hole as you leaned back into your couch, whining at the feeling.

ur touching urself now?

You smiled, picturing Mary's reaction. You could be so cruel, just reply with a yes and leave it to his imagination. But you were feeling particularly spicy today after too long without him.

So instead, you set up your phone again and took up the same position as your last picture, this time hitting the record button. To the camera, you coated your fingers in your spit, sucking them into your mouth before using them to push two inside you, teasing as your digits disappeared.

You whined his name wantonly, your intention to sound like the whore Mary turned you into. He always loved the noises you'd make for him.

The video lasted less than a minute when you cut it off with a giggle, ending on a close up of your smirking face as you'd turned the video off.

Does that answer your question?

Mary lost his mind. How dare you stop the recording. How dare you moan his name like that.

He'd had enough, the teasing too much for him to handle.

Instead of texting back, he instead his the little video camera icon by your contact name, the line ringing a few times as he was met with his own face putting the camera back at his feet, pants now completely discarded in favour of total nudity much like you.

You let it ring a few times, setting it back down against the books and hitting the answer button as you sat back into the couch, legs crossed and hiding yourself from him.

"You get back in that fucking position right now," he told you, voice gravelly and dark.

"Aw, you not gonna say please?"

"No. Get back up on your knees and show yourself to me. Let me see the mess you're making."

You bit your lip and did as he asked, spinning and kneeling back on the couch.

"You know what to do, baby..." he told you, the slick sounds from his end of the call sending shivers down your back as he stroked himself.

You did as you were told, re-enacting the short video you sent him as he watched. Mary guided you through it, telling you what to do, how to fuck yourself for him to his exact specifications. He edged you for almost an hour, and himself along with you.

It always blew your mind how Mary was able to give you the most mind-shattering orgasms, even from hundreds of miles away...

[animepopheart]

★ 【Tatty】 「 紫煙 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter

[godesssiri]

Champaign Tastes on a Bottled Water Budget (because let’s face it, even beer isn’t cheap anymore) Thrift Tips

People are over living in white boxes. We now want richness and texture and colors and interest. Traditional design styles with lots of molding and detail and antiques are very in. People are making a living selling antiques online. Décor bloggers aspire to being able to bring back a container from European flea markets. People want to make their homes look like you have generational wealth.  But how do you have a home full of beautiful old things when you’ve got no money? Thrifting.

1. Always always check the art. Remember if you love the art but hate the frame you can always put it in a new frame, or makeover the current one. And vice versa, if you love the frame but hate what’s in it then it’s the simplest thing in the world to swap it out for something else, another piece of thrifted art, a print from Etsy or one of the many other places artists sell digital copies of their work, a color photocopy from a library book. And frames are very easy to make over, sometimes just changing the matting or painting a frame a different color or adding a little rub n buff makes a world of difference.

2. Rub n Buff or similar waxes are your friend for getting a gorgeous, antiqued look. The thrift stores are full of pieces that have great shape but they’re too modern looking for what you’re trying to achieve. But rub gold on the high points or a dark wax into the crevasses and suddenly they look completely different. I’ve got a ceramic parrot that looked very 80s when I got my hands on it but when I covered it with gold (leaving the original dark colors in the crevasses) he immediately looked like an antique. Just spray-painting something gold doesn’t have the same effect, using a wax creates depth.

3. Darken it up. Most old things are darker than new things. Darker furniture, fabrics, accessories, add depth and richness. If something is already dark, then when you thrift it then great. If it’s not then that’s what dye, paint, and stain are for.

4. Old souvenir pieces. I’ve got a load of old pieces that people have bought back from Greece and Rome, from Egypt, from China. They make my home look like it belongs to someone who has been on a Grand Tour. A lot of them are copies of ancient pieces which means they look timeless. They’re cheap tchotchkes that people have bought at gift shops but mix them in with old books and candle holders and natural pieces like chunks or crystal or large seashells, and they look classy and interesting.

5. Old books. Do you have any idea how many old books get thrown out by thrift stores? Like genuine antiques that get sent to landfill? Most thrift stores don’t want to deal with old books because they smell and harbor dust mites and are out of date and often look tatty. You may even be able to get a bunch for free if you sweet talk the volunteers. If you’re worried about dust mites, then pop them in the freezer for a few days. I know there are those who look down on people who use books just as décor, but if you using it as décor saves it from a landfill or a junk journaler and preserves it for a future generation then isn’t that a good thing?

6. Glass display items. Putting things behind glass makes them look lux and precious even if it’s some cheap trinket or even a bunch of dried leaves or other completely free natural items. Look for domes, plain clear vases you can turn upside down and glue a knob on top, display boxes holding ugly stuff that you can rip the ugly stuff out and re-purpose.

7. Antique reproductions. There’s been many points in history since humans started to mass manufacture stuff, that we have looked to the past a re-created what our forbears made by hand. There’s so much that ends up in thrift stores that looks old even if it’s no more than a few decades old. Cleverly mixing this stuff in to your décor can help you achieve the look of a home furnished with antiques at a fraction of the price.

8. Search ‘Old’ ‘Antique’ and ‘Vintage’ on FB Marketplace. Don’t get more specific than that, just literally type those terms into the search bar, set a distance you’re willing to travel, and scroll. People are always selling stuff that they don’t quite know what the heck it is, but they know it’s old. Yeah you’re gonna see a lot of trash but it’s worth it to find the treasures.

9. Candle holders and candles. I’m actually pretty meh about candles, I get why other people like them but scented candles mess with my allergies and I don’t get any joy out of candlelight – but if you feel the opposite to me, I do understand and encourage that. Candles are wonderful décor objects if you’re going to light them or not. Always check the section where your thrift store keeps candles, there’s often some really good ones. And candle holders come in so many different forms that you will always find beautiful and interesting ones. A figural brass candle holder will make my heart go pitty-pat. You don’t just have to use them for candles either, I have a gorgeously detailed pewter candle holder that I use as a display stand for a large mother-of-pearl shell, and my pair of huge Victorian cherubs currently have clear quartz crystals sticking out of them.

10. Actual antiques. I have hundreds of antiques big and small. I just tried to remember how many of them had been bought at actual antique stores and I think the total is 5. Real genuine antiques turn up in thrift stores All The Time. Sometimes the thrift store realizes what they’ve got and will price it up, more than you’d usually pay at the thrift but still way less than it’s really worth. Sometimes they don’t know/don’t care, they just want to turn over stock so they price it at whatever will get it out the door. You CAN furnish your home with antiques entirely from thrift stores. It just takes time and patience.

[smallpeniscollective]

In the Woods

(Eddie Munson x Reader) (18+)

Summary: this was supposed to be from a longer fic that’s been brewing in the pot for a long while, but I got that worm in my brain that doesn’t let me finish things, and I haven’t posted in forever so you guys can have the porn scenes. if I ever finish it u can have the full fic as a treat <3

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: swearing, sexual content, protected sex, p in v sex, outdoors sex, slight edging

A/N: (this takes place at skull rock, also there are some things that reference the plot of the fic or moments within the full fic, ignore those <3)

Minors DNI please !!!

*~*~*

“So, did you do anything with your art, back in the city?” he asked, pondering if she was planning to be some snooty big-shot in an art gallery, or if she was aiming to be the next Van Gogh or Monet. He couldn’t help but picture the scene of her, scantily clad in nothing but an oversized button-up shirt, paint all over her but so focused on her work that she didn’t even care, the sun beaming through her studio space. God, she was so hot.

“Yeah, actually, I was training as a tattoo apprentice after school back in the city before I needed my, uh... little break,” she answered, flipping open her sketchbook to the first empty page she could find. She grabbed one of her sharpened number two pencils and placed the tip of it to the paper, beginning a doodle unrelated to their plans of DnD-related art.

“A tattoo artist, huh? I’ve actually got some tatties of my own,” he said, hoping that she’d ask to see them.

She waited a moment, the silence stilling the air between them. After a pause so long that he feared he had dismantled their conversational flow, she finally looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, are you gonna show me them?”

“Oh, r-right,” he stammered, immediately pulling himself from his spot against the boulder and shedding his layers of his denim vest and leather jacket, revealing tatted forearms. He stepped away from the boulder, closer to her, and held his arms out for her to see his sweet ol’ tatties.

She took one of his forearms in her hands, one hand holding his wrist and one hand propping his arm underneath, and he hoped that she didn’t notice the immediate goosebumps that raised on his skin. She did notice, but chose to say nothing, basking in the idea that she could set off his nerves like that. She slowly rotated his arm, studying the bats decorating his pale skin. “That’s so sick,” she said, looking all the way up at him from the forest floor.

In this moment, he realized she was face-level to his crotch, and sitting in front of it too. He tried not to picture her with her mouth on him, so that he wouldn’t pop a boner right in front of her face. Flustered and breathless, he airily chuckled, stepping back and saying, “Y-yeah, I really like that one.”

She gave him a look that asked, You okay? before asking aloud, “You got any others that you’re hiding from me?”

Remembering the one on his chest, he pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a hint of the one that rested below the right side of his collarbone. “This one, too.”

“I can’t see it from over there, dummy,” she giggled, climbing to her feet with a small grunt.

She approached him, eyes fixated on the hint of a tattoo. Taking the reins, she pulled his collar down further, brushing her fingers against his. His breath hitched as he felt her fingers against his hot skin, feeling like his heart was audibly pounding out of his chest. She seemed so calm and collected, using her other finger to softly trace over the inked skin on his chest, the contact making him suck in a breath through his teeth.

The tension in the air was thick like a fog, and she felt like every cell in her body was being drawn to him in a magnetic pull. She felt her own breathing speed up in their proximity, and she looked away from his chest tattoo and into his eyes to find he had been staring hard at her with blown pupils and flushed cheeks. She released the collar of his shirt, not moving her hand from its spot on his chest, not saying a word or breaking eye contact. The air around them felt electric, like lightning was about to strike them both down right here, right now.

She parted her lips to say something, anything, but no words came to mind. All she could focus on was the buzzing in her core and the heat in her face. He glanced down at her parted lips, letting his imagination roam wildly with fantasies of those lips on his, those lips all over him, and his lips all over her. She noticed this, subtly gripping his shirt in her hand. Deciding that she couldn’t take any more of this tension that choked her like a warm hand wrapped around her throat, she yanked, aggressively pulling him into her and smashed her mouth against his.

His hands flew to her face instantly, cupping her cheeks strongly as she sucked on his bottom lip, running her tongue across it gently as an inquiry. He invited her in, and they did the dance of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. She reveled in his taste and smell, the cigarettes and the hint of weed from a while ago, and the sound of his labored breathing from his nose against her face. She even liked the way his large nose pushed into her cheek, and she let her arms wrap around his neck in a tight embrace.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb before dropping his hands to her waist, pushing softly and leading her backwards until she felt herself bump up against a large surface, making her gasp against his lips. She let him pin her to the boulder, pulling him in closer and pressing her chest into his. When his abdomen pressed into hers, she could feel him already hard, making her whimper softly into his mouth. He took it as an opportunity to go farther, nestling his thigh in between her legs and resting his knee against the boulder, feeling the absolute heat radiating from her.

Her fingers dug into his hair, accidentally scratching at his scalp and eliciting a groan from him, which ignited her core like a fire. Without realizing it, she had let herself drop onto his thigh, pressing the seam of her jeans up against her clothed heat and rubbing against her covered clit. He felt her slight grind against his leg, letting himself grind his own arousal against her. He lowered one of his hands from her waist to her inner thigh, stroking it with his thumb and eliciting a full-on moan out of her with how close he was to touching her where she needed him most.

Upon hearing herself moan like that, she pulled back, panting. “Wait,” she breathed out, “we’re just friends… we shouldn’t—”

“This is what friends do, right? They help each other out?” he asked lowly, dipping his head to skim his lips against her neck in a ghost of a kiss in an attempt to tease her into wanting more. And, boy, did it work. He could see the goosebumps appearing all over her body.

She shivered before she responded with a meek, “Y-yeah, friends can do this...” He noticed the way her thighs clenched together against his thigh, and stroked her thigh again, even closer to her core that was now damp and getting damper by the second, making her suck in a quick breath through her teeth.

“Just friends,” he agreed, finally placing his lips against her skin and nipping at her neck. She was like putty in his big, warm hands, leaning into his touch and digging her fingers further into his hair, which made him smile against her skin. She could feel the outline of his lips moving against the warmth of her neck as he murmured, “Ugh, I’ve been wanting to touch you like this so bad, ever since I fucking laid eyes on you in the school parking lot.”

“M-me too,” she stammered, pulling him impossibly closer to where he just had to nestle entirely between her thighs. His hands climbed further down, sweeping underneath the curve of her ass to lift her, and she willingly obliged, letting herself be lifted and pressed against the boulder with her legs wrapped around his waist tightly. “I even asked Dustin who the hottie in the jacket was,” she whispered in admittance, and he bit down hard on her neck, eliciting a shocked whimper out of her.

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” he groaned before deftly licking the purple skin where he had bit down on, making her release short, panting breaths and grip his hair harder. “And so fucking pretty.”

He pressed his hard, denim-clad crotch into her, the pressure against her driving her insane. He gently ground into her, one hand holding her up by the ass and the other hand dipping underneath her shirt to feel her hot skin. She mewled like a kitten, needing more friction, not even caring about the rough surface against her back. He broke from the kiss to look at her in her desperate state, seeing her pleading eyes and tousled hair. He smirked, leaning down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered, “You want it, baby?”

“Please,” she whimpered, and he chuckled darkly.

“Already begging for it? Aw, how could I deny such a pretty girl what she wants,” he teased, pulling back and letting her down. She wobbled on weak legs, and he softly pushed her back to lean against the boulder so that he could undo her pants, kneeling down to slip off her shoes and slide her pants off, revealing her legs to the chilly open air, already acquiring goosebumps. Her breath hitched at his own desperation, although a more dominant and demanding desperation.

He gazed down at her underwear with absolute adoration in his eyes. “Jesus, even your panties are so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispered to himself, still kneeling before her. She couldn’t deny the wetness that had pooled in her underwear, feeling her excited walls clench around nothing. This was really happening.

He placed his large, hot hands on her upper thighs, his cool rings contrasting the heat of his hands. He gently spread her thighs, sweeping a hand underneath one to lift it over his shoulder, his eyes locked on the sopping wet patch in the crotch of her panties.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” was all he could say, swiping over he drenched, clothed slit with his thumb to gently rub her sensitive nub over the fabric. Her breathing quickened, and she almost dropped her body weight on him, making him tense up his strong arms to stay put in their position. He looked up at her, her pupils blown and her face red, before asking quietly, “May I?”

“Y-yes,” she breathed out, and that was all it took for him to pull the crotch of her panties to the side and slide two thick fingers through her slick folds.

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he whispered, pulling his hand back to watch in awe as the slick covering his fingers stringed as he separated his fingers. She whined pitifully, hoping it would bring his touch back to her.

Instead, he stood up, leaving her legs trembling and her half-exposed heat dripping down her thigh. When she saw him begin to undo his own jeans, her eyes were glued to his bulge, the zipper coming down to reveal a large tent in his plaid boxers. Before she let herself get carried away, she pulled herself back to reality for long enough to ask, “You got a rubber?”

“Oh! Yes, I do,” he chirped, leaving his clothed erection hanging out of his black jeans while he reached in his back pocket to pull out his wallet, an old leathery thing, and pulled out a silver packet. “Bingo,” he said, holding it up.

“Did you plan this?” she asked, wondering why he had brought along a condom in the first place.

“Not this specifically,” he admitted with a smirk, “but I did put this in my wallet right after we met.”

“You cheeseball,” she teased, taking the condom wrapper out of his hands. “Can I put it on you?” she asked, gazing into his eyes to find a glimmer of adoration in his.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed, looking down and pulling himself out of his boxers.

She couldn’t help but ogle at it; it was long but also quite girthy. She would have called it impressive if she didn’t want to give him any more of an ego that he already had. She settled for mouthing the word, Wow.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, she ripped the edge of the wrapper off with her teeth, ignoring the smidge of package lubricant that touched her tongue. He stepped up close to her again, his length brushing against the belly of her shirt. Taking the rolled up rubber, she touched it to his tip, that already had a small bead of pre-cum leaking. He hissed at the contact as she rolled the condom down his length, gripping it and shimmying the latex down as far as it would go, her band brushing against the mound of dark brown hair at his base, which tickled her hand.

He watched her do this, his stare morphing from awestruck to almost predatory as he thought about all of the things he could do to her, anything to get her to make those beautiful noises for him again. As soon as the condom was on, he swooped her up once more, lifting her to pin her between the boulder and himself with the only barrier between them being the thin, soaked fabric of her underwear.

She wanted to kiss him again so bad, but she just couldn’t look away from his intense eye contact. She wrapped her arms lazily around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair strands at the nape of his neck. His eyes bored into her soul as he reached down in between them, pulling her underwear to the side, and sliding himself up and down her wet slit, gathering her slick and bumping the sensitive nub that made her gasp and wrap her legs around him tighter. She tried to look down in between them, so that she could watch him, but his other hand grabbed her jaw, holding her face so that she had no choice to but to hold his stare.

His member prodded her dripping hole, and he leaned in to finally kiss her again, pressing into her and pushing himself in at the same time. The sensation of him ever so slowly stretching her out made her moan into his mouth, and she pulled him harder into the kiss, her hands buried at their rightful place in his hair.

Once he was buried to the hilt, she adjusted to his size, feeling herself relax around his member, and she broke their kiss to bury her face in his neck, his hair sticking to her face. She felt her walls clench down on him from his lack of movement and her need for just that. He leaned his head against hers, nuzzling her for a moment before whispering in her ear, “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered out, feeling her own hips stutter against his body at the thought of him pounding into her.

“Yes, what, baby?” Chills ran down her spine. She never pictured herself enjoying being dominated, but with Eddie, she wanted nothing more for him to do whatever he wanted with her.

“Please!” she squeaked out, whimpering against his neck.

And that was all it took for him to give her exactly what she wanted, what she craved so desperately. He thrusted into her, against the huge rock, at a leisurely pace, and the drag of his thick length continuously stretching her from the inside had her already quaking. She was a mess, whimpering and whining into the crook of his neck, feeling the pleasurable burn of her tightness being filled out so completely. “Eddie, that feels so good,” she whined.

When he began to pound harder, he pulled her head away from his neck and cradled the back of her head to keep it from banging against the solid rock behind her. He wanted to watch the pleasure in her face. He listened to her whines turn into moans, he watched her jaw go lax and her brows knit together.

“Fuck, baby, you look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he groaned in between his own grunts, one hand behind her head and one digging into the side of her hip so hard that he was almost worried he’d leave a bruise.

He slid his hand down from her hip, down in between their bodies, down past her pretty panties, and landed on her sweet, throbbing cunt that was taking him in so well. She whined at the contact, thrusting her hips out for him, and he absolutely ate it up, using two fingers to rub soft, slow circles around her aching clit.

At this, her legs were tensing up, squeezing around his waist hard. To him, she sounded like an angel, moaning and whimpering so beautifully just for him. He let himself speed up his pace, slamming into her ferociously while keeping his fingers slow and steady.

Her whole body was shaking as she felt that string inside of her wind tightly, begging to snap, and Eddie knew. He could feel her tightening up around his cock, and he wanted to give her something she’d never forget.

He slowed down his thrusts into an agonizing pace, slowly sliding in and out with ease, his fingers taking their time on her overstimulated bundle of nerves, prolonging the build-up to her orgasm. She was downright trembling against him, and her eyes fluttered open to look at him, her eyes welling with hot tears of pleasure. She needed more, needed him faster and harder. All she could do was beg pitifully, whimpering strings of “please, please, please,” with her moans.

“Please?” he groaned, taking in the sight of her writhing before him. “Oh, baby… you don’t need to ask, you’re almost there,” he teased, adding his thumb to swipe up and down her drenched slit while he kept his fingers on her clit.

She let her hips chase the feeling, rutting up against him as the overstimulation from his the slow push and pull of his cock, the attention to her slit, and the touches around her clit gathered up inside of her, tightening up in her core until she felt like she was about to burst. She squeezed her eyes, her chin wobbling as she began to feel that white hot pleasure sear through her.

Just as she felt herself slowly begin to let go, he felt the first tight clench and smirked. He suddenly began pounding harder once more, feeling her walls flutter around him so tightly he thought it would project him out of her. Her moans were more like quick, high-pitched squeals as that string inside of her finally snapped and she came harder than she ever had in her life around Eddie’s cock.

He rode her through her orgasm, continuing her pleasure as he chased his own, listening to her incoherent babbling as she let her lips loose on his neck, mindlessly licking and sucking at it as she held him so tightly that her nails dug into the back of his neck. His grunts became his own soft moans as his hips stuttered into hers, and he came with a soft, “Oh, fuck, baby,” cooed in her ear, spilling himself into the condom but wishing he could just paint her insides with his seed. He dropped his head against hers and they stayed there like that for a good, long moment, basking in post-coital bliss.

Both panting and sweaty messes, he pulled back and she looked at him, a wide smile blossoming on her face. They both couldn’t help it, and they laughed hard at the irreversible choice they just made. She winced as he pulled out, and in consolation, he kissed her sweaty forehead.

He slid the condom off, tying the end of it into a knot like the world’s wimpiest water balloon, while she put her put her pants back on, swiping off the dirt it had gathered from sitting on the forest floor, and slipped her shoes back on.

She watched as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his jeans, filled condom still in hand. He took a second to look at it wonderingly, before suddenly turning to throw it as hard as he could up towards the huge boulder above them that was shaped like a skull. They both watched as it disappeared above the head of the boulder, not hearing it land on the other side, leaving them both to assume he had managed to throw it on top of the boulder, to sit there until somebody was bold enough to climb it and discover a nasty, used condom.

He released a content sigh, stretching his back backwards before joking, “So, ‘hottie with the jacket’, huh?”

“Shut up,” she retorted, slinking back down with shaky legs to sit on the ground. “So, you wanna talk art?”

[wellenklavier]

these r the artists photos lol (matthew hall) but look at my tatties

[aeris-flores]

😎 SUMMER BASH FRIDAY THE 13th FLASH SALE 😎

🌴 🌊 CRESCENT MOON TATTOO 🌊 🌴

Summer has come to an end, and it's the perfect time to get a sweet tatty! We all avoid the sun and ocean with fresh ink, but why not come get a Friday the 13th tattoo to close out the summer? Come down to Crescent Moon over the weekend - the sale is extended from Friday through to Sunday. Sunday is per artist availability.

SHOP WILL BE CLOSED MONDAY AND TUESDAY TO GIVE THE ARTISTS A WELL DESERVED BREAK.

☀️ Choose from the flash sheet that will be available ☀️ $23 total - $13 for the tattoo, $10 tip (required) ☀️ Walk ins only for Friday and Saturday - Sunday requires appointment ☀️ Cash or Venmo, no deposit needed ☀️ No customizations, but shading is available ☀️ First come first serve ☀️ Arms and legs only

PIERCINGS will be a BOGO ½ off special for service and jewelry, plus mandatory minimum 20% tip. Check with the piercer for cost as each piercing has its own price. We do ask that if you desire a piercing to be done in an intimate area that be it scheduled outside of this event as consultations are required for such work.

AVAILABLE TATTOO ARTISTS

( call for daily availability if you have a preferred artist )

AERIS FLORES - @aeris-flores

Instagram: @inked_af

JAY WINSTON - @jaywinstcn

Instagram: @jaywinstcn

WILLOW THOMAS - @willow-thomas

Instagram: @willow.thomas

PIERCER

NINA GRAY - @ninaxgray

- Instagram: @neensgray

Below are a few examples of the hundreds of flash designs. Please see each artist for their personal flash sheet.

@aurorabayaesthetic

disclaimer: I in no way claim the above artwork to be my own, and its use is for fictional purposes. They rightfully belong to the artists that have drawn them.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[justforbooks]

Roger Corman

American film director and producer who liked to describe himself as the ‘Orson Welles of the Z movie’

Although Roger Corman, who has died aged 98, directed more than 50 films, he will be remembered mainly as an influential producer and genial godfather to the New American Cinema of the 1970s. The list of his beneficiaries makes up a Who’s Who of contemporary American film. Martin Scorsese, Peter Bogdanovich, Francis Ford Coppola, Monte Hellman, and Jonathan Demme were all directing proteges of Corman.

“You can see right away that the guy’s a superior producer,” said Jack Nicholson, who appeared in five films directed by Corman. “He’s the best producer I’ve met in the business. The man carried me for seven years. I feel tremendously indebted to him.”

But to pre-70s cinemagoers, Corman was an auteur in his own right, describing himself as the “Orson Welles of the Z movie”. The schlocky titles of the majority of his films disguise the fact that Corman was an extremely cultured, elegant and well-spoken man, without the slightest hint about him of the rock’n’roll counterculture in which he played an important part. He also had cameo roles in about 30 films, including as an FBI director in Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs (1991), and a senator in Coppola’s The Godfather Part II (1974).

Corman’s filmography as a director can be roughly divided into three groups: the quickies (1955-60), the adaptations of the works of Edgar Allan Poe (1960-64), and the mainstream experiments (1966-70). In the first period, on a tiny budget and in rented studios, he produced and directed such Z movies as Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957), Teenage Caveman (1958) and She Gods of Shark Reef (1958). Science-fiction horror with tatty special effects, cut-price monsters and unknown casts, they were aimed at the drive-in movie youth market.

He would produce up to seven films a year, his fastest being The Little Shop of Horrors (1960), which was reputedly shot in two days and a night. It was filmed using the same sets as A Bucket of Blood (1959), a self-referential black comedy. Corman once joked he could make an epic about the fall of the Roman empire with two extras and a sagebrush.

In slight contrast was the Poe series, amusing shockers in widescreen and colour. These included House of Usher (1960), The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), The Raven (1963), The Terror (1963) and, perhaps the best, The Masque of the Red Death (1964).

Greater commercial success came with such films as The St Valentine’s Day Massacre (1967) and Bloody Mama (1970), but soon afterwards Corman retired as a director. His reasons were manifold: he had made around 26 films in 10 years and felt the need of a rest; he also complained that when he made cheap films nobody tinkered with them, but as a big-budget director everyone seemed to think they had the right to maul his work. “Specifically, a picture I made called Gas-s-s-s for AIP [American International Pictures], which was completely recut,” Corman said.

“It was a controversial kind of a comedy, and AIP cut all the funny stuff right out of the film, including the entire ending. The film was never shown anywhere as I shot it, and I felt, frankly, they emasculated the picture and destroyed any possibility of success.”

He was born in the city of Detroit, Michigan, to William Corman, an engineer, and Anne (nee High). His paternal grandparents were Russian-Jewish immigrants, and his mother was of German ancestry.

The family moved to California and Roger went to Beverly Hills high school before beginning an engineering degree at Stanford University. It was the middle of the second world war, and he spent two years as a navy cadet before finally graduating in 1947. He entered the movies at 20th Century-Fox as an errand boy, but then, under the GI Bill, took off to study English literature at Oxford University for six months, followed by six months in Paris.

In 1954, Corman sold a low-budget script to Allied Artists. It was released as Highway Dragnet, for which he insisted on an associate producer credit. But he was disappointed with the film and, believing that he could do a better job as a producer, scraped $12,000 together to make Monster from the Ocean Floor (1954), directed by Wyott Ordung.

After selling the film for a profit of $100,000, Corman scripted and produced The Fast and the Furious (1954). Shot in 10 days by the film’s star, John Ireland, it was distributed by a small new company, American Releasing Corporation, later renamed American International Pictures, with Corman as its house director.

In the early 60s, for AIP, he made his series of adaptations from Poe, a favourite writer of his since childhood. Using the team of the designer Daniel Haller, writer Richard Matheson and cameraman Floyd Crosby, he created garish, camp and amusing shockers, taking their tone from Vincent Price’s sibilant, ghoulish hamming.

They were sometimes referred to as “late wife” movies because, in most of them, Price had a deceased wife lying around a castle. Taking only 15 days to shoot, they contained scenes and sets interchangeable from one film to the next, but they were popular and gathered a cult following.

A departure from the horror genre of the period, and one of Corman’s favourites, was The Intruder (1961), a gritty social drama in which a rabble-rouser (William Shatner) arrives in a southern town to disrupt racial integration in the schools.

Corman’s taste for updated American Gothic was evident in the biker movie The Wild Angels (1966), which featured actual Hells Angels, and The Trip (1967), an indulgent plunge into psychedelia written by Nicholson. Both starred Peter Fonda, who went on to produce – and star in alongside Nicholson and Dennis Hopper – the Corman-influenced Easy Rider (1969).

Corman’s blood-splattered recreation of 1928 Chicago in The St Valentine’s Day Massacre was more tightly controlled and wordier than his usual product, with impeccable performances from Jason Robards as Al Capone and Ralph Meeker as Bugs Moran. In the cold-eyed and unromantic Bloody Mama, Shelley Winters let rip as Kate Barker, the murderous matriarch of a gang of outlaws, with an unknown Robert De Niro playing her son.

Corman followed up that success with a tale of another female gangster, Boxcar Bertha (1972), hiring a young Scorsese as director.

He gave up directing after The Red Baron (1971) nose-dived at the box office. Phony German accents were dubbed in against his wishes. However the dog fights, actually filmed in the air, gave the first world war flying sequences authenticity.

In 1970, he set up his own company, New World Pictures, and continued to produce formula films for the youth market, abiding by the profitable philosophy “make ’em quick, make ’em cheap and make ’em popular”. These included motorcycle movies (Angels Die Hard); sexploitation flicks (Night Call Nurses, Fly Me, Caged Heat!, the latter directed by Demme) and horror films (Night of the Cobra Woman), but the company also distributed films in the US at the opposite end of the creative scale, such as Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers (1972) and Federico Fellini’s Amarcord (1973).

In 1990, Corman sat down in his director’s chair once more and made Frankenstein Unbound, with John Hurt and Raul Julia, which proved he could still spin a gory tale, though, alas, without the success of earlier years.

However, the title of his 1998 autobiography, How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime, still rang true. He continued to produce and executive produce films into his 90s. In 2009, he received a lifetime achievement Academy Award.

He is survived by his wife, Julie Halloran, a film producer, whom he married in 1970, and their four children, Roger, Brian, Mary and Catherine.

🔔 Roger William Corman, film director, producer and actor, born 5 April 1926; died 9 May 2024

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