#gravestone tattoo

[laurencaldwelltattoo]

Died sassy from my flash on @mandee_baby 🤘🏻❤️ . (at The Inkuisition)

[kaputtkowski]

(via Gravesone 02 Classic T-Shirt von Kaputtkowski Art Shop)

[marlahey]

it's an aortic aneurism, isn't it? yes. and when it bursts... this is all over. i don't want to leave this world without knowing love fully. you are loved. fully. Thomas Brodie-Sangstar and Maia Mitchell The Artful Dodger (2023–) 1.08: "Untapped Potential"

[bizlybebo]

thinking about the bizly TJ maxx penit tweet again

[miraluking-respectfully]

i yearn to make the complete savtas tattoo reference but unfortunately such things require time & energy

[butchviking]

its just that cheerard changed me fundamentally as a person

[sassy-she-elf]

New ink

[thatsammgirl]

New tattoos 💞

[just-jordie-things]

y’all moved on i stayed here

i think about this gifset every day no lie

happy valentine's day ღ to my favourite yuta girlie @just-jordie-things

(insp.)

[wingedhallows]

fic recs; my absolute favorite works

hi there, i decided to put together a list of my absolute favorite fanfics, please check out the writers and their other works! & the list is in no order of liking

to the writers: thank you so much for writing these, i enjoyed each and every one of your fanfics, pls write more, love michelle <3

navigation

angelic by @xreaderbooks (pls, my heart <3)

everything black by @firsttimewriter92 (came back to this one at least twice, girl- so good!!)

i see you by @hermioneshandbag (girl, girl- this was so good)

teaching a moderately old dog new tricks by @spxllcxstxr (got me blushing <3)

cherry bomb by @evanpeterswhoresblog ( chefs kiss, love love loved it <3)

dream guy by @themissingweasley26 (cute, loved it <3)

marrón by @amortentiainmyfirewhiskey (got me feeling like the baddest bitch)

i am half-agony, half hope...i have loved none but you by @sunnami (GIRL girl girl- this- i swear to god, it has me in a chokehold. your brilliant mind <3)

poly!marauders x reader - drunk james & reader by @moonstruckme (there's no title but, this was so cute)

i'll love you 'til the grass around my gravestone is deceased by @mybutcheredtongue (so cute, i love post azkaban sirius, your brilliant mind, god i love this!)

identation in the shape of you by @whorediaries-09 (i love post azkaban sirius & this comforted me so so much, i loved it <3)

i can't lose when i'm with you by @neytirisheaven (so good, i came back several times for this, loved it sooo much <3)

coward by @luv4freddie (girl- so good, i love love loved it <3)

foreign fancy by @princessconsuela120 (got me kicking my feet and smiling, girl-<3)

the american by @justagirlwholikesadam (i love this different take, so good that i came back to it several times, i loooved it <3)

pretty boy by @cloudybarnes (harry fics have a special place in my heart & i looooved this one <3)

revenge is a dish best served cold by @wonderlandwalker (so good, had me on my toes, i looooved it <3)

forget me, not by @folklvrsworld (girl- if u want a good cryin' sesh, read it, it was soo gooood, girl-<3)

come back, be here by @ellecdc (girl, girl, stop what u're doin' & read this, i loved every single word <3)

i am yours by @annabelinlove (i love poly!marauders fics & this one is a pretty good one, read it. now! loved it <3)

sad beginnings by @finelinevogue (wolfstar fics got me feeling some type of way, this is sooo goood <3)

just ours by @0x81 (wolfstar, what else should i say, read it, like yesterday, got me blushing and shit-)

the stash by @thebestofoneshots (if someone knows how to write smut than it's this writer, like how do u write like this- i'm speechless, flabbergasted <3)

divorcing orion black by @kquil (i've never quite read something like this, it's so so so good. pls more<3)

azkaban prison by @justsomerandomfanfic (i'd die for sirius black & this one in particular, more more more pls <3)

heroes in tattoos by @kquil (i'd die to read this for the first time again, like-I'm coming back to this whenever i have a rough day and i love it still, so goood <3)

new romantics by @pretty-little-mind33 (i love me a good james potter fic & this one has my feet kickin' & smilin' like an idiot <3)

injured (hip) by @hollowdeath (i love enimies to lovers & harry so- pls read it, it's great <3)

the one with the blouse by @super-clearlysaltybouquet (oh, how i love angst. i love love love angsty shit & this one was pure gold <3)

love potion and unspoken desires by @cyripticchronicler (amortentia stories are one of my favorites, this was absolutely great, read. it. now!)

[papafuckingemeritus]

NOT MINE, but and absolute incredible theory on Ghost in the Trees found on Ghostbc subreddit that is too good not to share. Credit to VisAeternitatus on Reddit.

“Buckle up. You'll either find this interesting, or tell me I'm insane.

“The "Ghost in the Trees" VHS tape sitting atop the stack of other videos in the movie caught my attention because it simply doesn't fit and doesn't have anything to do with anything that we know of. Kinda like the cardinal sitting on top of the gravestone in the Square Hammer video. At the time, so random- yet it was a hint. We see this VHS tape twice during the movie, and it's sitting on top of an Infestissumam era tour video ‘Haze over North America Tour 2013’

“I googled "Ghost in the Trees" and came across this psychedelic garage art-rock album by a band called Thee Oh Sees. There's a song of the same name on their album, "The Masters Bedroom is Worth Spending a Night In". Other than carnal delights, why might one spend a night in the Master's bedroom? Usually something to do with conceiving the antichrist, right?

“The album cover and subject matter seemed Ghost-related enough for me to continue going down the rabbit hole, so I listened to the entire album. I have no doubt in my mind that TF is familiar with and has listened to this, I get a lot of raw vibes from it that one might perceive in all three Nihil-era songs.

“So why is this here, and what does it have to do with anything? Good question, and I honestly don't know but I just thought I'd throw out some possible breadcrumb trails. This is all some pretty loosely related stuff, but when considered all together who knows?

“1. I immediately noticed a similarity that the devil on Thee Oh Sees album has to the devil in the center panel of the red tour backdrop that started going up during Square Hammer (third photo).

“2. Proximity to the Infest era tour video along with some Papa II-related stuff in the movie also had me thinking "antichrist stuff". No, not that Copia is the antichrist. Rather, that his twin might be.

“Why? Well, during sister's life flashback scene, right before the twin birth is shown, there are a series of hidden images. We see an eclipse, a still shot from the Year Zero video of a hand reaching up towards a church window, a b&w still from the Dance Macabre video where the devil arrives, and two separate shots of Infest era ghouls. (These images go by so fast that they are practically subliminal!)

“So why are we seeing clips from a Papa II era song, and shots of his ghouls? Why do we see a cut to his face on the stained glass stage backdrop during the movie when Imperator is talking about how everything is "cyclical"? We even see Infestissumam in the background of the VEEPS bonus video.

“So I've seen different theories. Papa II is returning! Copia is the antichrist! Etc, etc.

“I think showing all the Papa II stuff could have something to do with the antichrist, not that Papa II is coming back. Infestissumam was about the antichrist's time on earth. Not to mention that some religious people believe that an eclipse supposedly occurs at the birth of the antichrist (and we are shown an eclipse right at the birth scene!)

“Also, we've seen a lot of antichrist type of imagery related to Copia, he's got the 666 tattoo, etc. If he's a copy (Copia), then his twin could be the antichrist.

“3. Back to the red devil background that appears during Square Hammer. There's a winged pope figure shown above the devil. I thought it was Copia, to be honest. But he's wearing a beehive shaped mitre, and the same shaped mitre appears above him, larger and wrapped in flames. This is actually a Papal Tiara, not a regular mitre. It used to be worn when a new Pope was "crowned". Why would a demon winged Copia be wearing this on a backdrop at the end of the tour? He was already "crowned" in Mexico City. And who appears at the Ministry doors at the very end?! Someone who is about to become the next Papa?

“4. I also wonder, who raised Copia's twin? And how could Copia's twin be the antichrist? Do they have two different Fathers, or was it during some ritual?! Does it have something to do with Papa II? Maybe the twin grew up influenced by him in some way?

“5. I also wonder if "Ghost in the Trees" is a musical stylistic hint of sorts, in relation to the Papa II era. This album is psychedelic post punk garage rock. It's an interesting listen and is all over the place stylistically. "Psychedelic" is frequently used to describe aspects of Infestissumam, too, as is garage rock and surf rock, even.

“I recall an interview where TF said that Phantomime was where he was leaning to take the sound for the future album. Well, there's two specific covers on Phantomime that have similar flavor to Thee Oh Sees- "See No Evil" by Television (often described as post punk/art rock/garage rock) and "Hanging Around" by the Stranglers- which has VERY psychedelic/garage rock vibes.

“So do what you will with that, but I'm wondering if the next album is going to have that element (not in the way the Nihil-era songs do, though!).

“Thank you for reading this mess and if you have any better ideas, please do share. I just wanted to get this off my chest.”

Tobias never ceases to amaze me, and I have no doubt there is something to “Ghost In The Trees.”

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER ELEVEN (see full series list here)

1993

You find yourself sitting in the Tower again. You dangle a string of wool in front of Dubh and she joyfully bats at it with her front paws. You smile lovingly at her, chuckling when she misses the wool and lands on your knee instead. The sky above you has darkened, and you look out over the grounds.

It's the best view in the castle, of course. You get to see the near-entirety of the grounds in all its glory. The Black Lake is still and calm; the tree' leaves are swaying lazily in the light evening breeze; the dark, scruffy dog is pattering across the grass...

You blink, and the dog is gone. You sigh, falling back to the floor and lying down, staring up at the sky above you.

Twinkling lights dot the sky above you, winking at you. Part of you likes to think that those stars have souls. That they can see you right now, and are wondering why you're admiring them so much. To them, they're just balls of gas. To you, they're the most beautiful thing in the world.

You think on the day, remembering your visit to Hagrid early this morning. The poor man was in bits, all torn up over Buckbeak. Hagrid doesn't deserve such stress and worry, and neither does Buckbeak.

A few clouds are scattered around, passing over the bright, full moon. Your mind turns to Remus: he is no doubt sitting in his office right now, all wolfish, probably having a hankering for red meat. You offered to stay with him on full moons, but he refused. Despite the Wolfsbane potion allowing him to keep his mind during the transformation, rendering him harmless, he stipulated that he wanted to be alone, just in case something went wrong.

You don't want him to be alone, but you respect his wishes anyway.

You've known Remus is a werewolf for a very long time. You weren't even meant to find out about Remus' lycanthropy, but you used to get so worried about him at school. He was always exhausted, always disappearing on full moons, not eating well...it had gotten to the point where you cornered him in the library and expressed your concerns for him. You asked him to tell you what was wrong because you couldn't watch any longer, worried that something bad was keeping him up at night.

And, well, you weren't wrong. But he confided in you, just like he had his other friends, and from then on you did everything you could to help him. While the boys spent full moons with him, you ensured he got enough rest during the remainder of the month, made him his favourite teas, helped with keeping his secret secure...he became like a brother to you.

Your school days are something you treasure immensely. Everything was just so right. When you and Sirius starting dating Christmas of your sixth year, everything clicked into place. It felt like you had another family at Hogwarts.

You and Sirius whispered to each other during late nights in the common room, and you would trace the outlines of his tattoos as you listened to him talk.

You, Lily, and Alice shared things together that you never could share with anyone else.

You and Remus played chess with each other and always forgot about using strategy, instead choosing to just try and annihilate as many of the other's pieces as possible.

You and James played Exploding Snap, which always ended with the ends of his hair singed and him sulking when he lost.

You helped Peter prepare himself for his first date, making sure he was mentally ready and feeling confident.

Life was much simpler.

The clouds part and the moon reveals itself, casting a glow around it. In the distance, you hear a wolf howling, and for a moment you think it's Remus, before you shake your head. He's in his office, probably sleeping it off right now.

Speaking of sleep, you feel extremely comfortable where you are right now. You let your eyelids drift shut and fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You wake some time later, the cold air nipping at your arms. You sit up groggily, yawning. You nudge Dubh and she wakes, getting up to follow you out of the Tower. As you're opening the door to your room, you realise you left your wand up there and quickly run back up the stairs to grab it.

You locate the item on your desk, stuffing it into your pocket, momentarily getting distracted by a scuff mark on the desk, wondering how that got there.

There's a heavy thud from the other side of the room.

You look up.

Your heart stops.

There, at the railing, is Buckbeak, Hagrid's giant Hippogriff. And on his back is Harry, Hermione, and...Sirius. He hops down, facing you.

You lock eyes and your name rolls off his tongue softly, and never has it sounded so perfect.

He's wearing shabby Azkaban clothes, which are ripped and tattered everywhere. His skin is dirty and his face is sunken with dark bags under his eyes. He's grown a beard and his hair has gotten even longer, but has become matted.

"Sirius?" you choke, frozen in place. "Are you really there?"

He nods, a small smile on his face. "Yes, my love. I'm here."

You take a tentative step forward, unsure really whether you are dreaming or not. The rational part of your brain is telling you to stop, to run in the other direction — this is a convict in front of you, after all!

But your heart makes all the decisions for you. It reaches out, desperately trying to get to its other half because truly, you were half a heart without him.

Your steps are slow and it feels like hours have passed before you finally stop in front of him. You hesitantly reach out, placing your hand against his chest.

"Please, tell me I'm not dreaming," you whisper shakily.

Sirius brings his hand up to cover yours, moving it to press over where his heart is, where you can feel his racing heart beat. You can see a scar on his pinky finger, one he told you he got during a game of 'Pin the Tail on Kreacher' with Regulus when he was eight.

You feel tears prick your eyes, looking back into the face of the man you love more than anything in the world. You bring shaky hands up to his face, holding it delicately, like you're afraid he's going to break.

"I missed you," you say softly. "I missed you so much, Sirius."

"I missed you too," he replies. He gazes at you like he can't believe you're really in front of him, like you're some sort of a mirage. "How...how is it that you look just as beautiful today as you looked on our wedding day?"

You give a watery chuckle, sniffling. "Sirius Black, forever the flirt."

You lean forward and press your lips against his. This, this feeling. The overwhelming sense of feeling right where you belong, in the arms of the man you love. His lips are chapped but you don't care. His skin is rough but you don't care. His beard scratches against you but you don't care. You don't care about anything other than the fact that he's here with you. He's finally here.

"Please, darling..." he starts, taking a deep breath and gazing at you. "It wasn't me. I promise you with everything I have to give that I didn't kill those people, I was never a Death Eater — "

"I know."

" — I would never do that to James and Lily — "

"I know."

He pauses, looking at you in surprise. "You know?"

"I know, Sirius," you say gently. "I believe you, I trust you. I know you. I've spent the last twelve years of my life believing you're innocent. I know you would never do that."

He opens his mouth to say something but can't seem to find the words. "You — you smart girl. My smart girl. My perfect, smart, beautiful girl..."

His eyes are brimming with tears as he keeps them fixed on you, before he pulls you into his chest and holds you tightly, burying his face in your hair.

"I love you. I love you. I love you so much," he says, kissing your cheek. "Going so long without you has been torture."

"It's been torture for me too," you reply. "I love you. I love you more than anything, Sirius." You smile at him before adding, "And you have seriously got to take a shower. Why don't you come down to my room and get all cleaned up?"

Sirius pulls away, giving you an uncertain look and you sigh. He glances back at Harry and Hermione, who you've pretty much forgotten are even there.

"We...don't have a lot of time left," Hermione says apologetically.

"I'm sorry, my love," Sirius says, pressing his forehead against yours. "I have to go."

You clutch onto his arms desperately, shaking your head. "No, no. You — you can't go. You can't leave me again, Sirius. No, please. Please. Please don't do this to me again. Why leave when I've just found you again?"

Tears stream down your face and Sirius reaches out to brush them away with his thumb. "I have to, darling. The Ministry'll be here any moment now, looking for me. I can't put you in danger like that."

"I'll come with you!" You try. "Please, we can go away together — we'll figure something out, just please, don't leave me again. I've been without you for too long, please — "

"I can't do that to you," he says weakly. "You have to stay."

"Sirius, please — "

"Stay," he says, kissing your forehead. "I'll find you again. I will always find my way back to you, no matter how far."

You let out a quiet sob and kiss him again, desperate for even the slightest bit of contact with him to remind you that you actually have him here with you.

"Please, darling. Stay here," he tells you firmly. "You'll be okay."

"I just — I've been waiting for this for too long," you say weakly. "I hoped I'd have you for longer."

He brings you hand to his lips, kissing your fingers lovingly. "I know, I know. We'll meet again and then — it'll be like I never left."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He lets go of you, and it takes all of your willpower not to grab ahold of him again and never let go. Harry and Hermione jump off of Buckbeak, looking at each other awkwardly.

Sirius pulls Harry in for a hug, smiling proudly at him. "You are — truly your father's son, Harry."

Hermione looks at her watch nervously. "Quick, quick, you don't have time!"

Sirius takes one last glance back at you as he climbs up onto Buckbeak's back. He sends a wink your way and you shake your head amusedly, sighing.

He squeezes Buckbeak's sides with his heels. The enormous wings of the Hippogriff rise and you step back slightly, watching as it takes off into the air. Sirius and Buckbeak steadily become smaller and smaller until a cloud drifts past and...they're gone.

You swallow hard, sniffling as you brush tears off your cheeks. Before they can leave, you grab Harry and Hermione and pull them both in for a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you both so much," you say. "You — you are the most wonderful children I have ever met — you brought him back to me, how did you ever do it? How can I ever thank you?"

"It's nothing, really — " Harry says sheepishly.

"Nothing? You have both just given me the best gift in the world," you say with a smile. Hermione is looking at her watch again and you let go. "Go, go on. You look like you have somewhere to be."

Hermione nods, grabbing Harry's arm and they turn to run down the stairs.

"Oh, and Harry!" You call after him. He stops for a second and you give him a smile. "Come find me when you have some free time. I'm sure you have a few questions to ask."

He nods affirmatively and they run off again.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"YOU!" Snape bursts into the Astronomy Tower, looking outraged. "You — what did you do?!"

You look up innocently from your desk, watching as Snape climbs to the top of the stairs, red-faced and angry. He's out of breath — you don't know if it's because he's angry or because walking up those stairs is about the most exercise he's gotten in a decade.

Behind him, comes Fudge and Dumbledore. Fudge is huffing and puffing, and when he reaches the top he lays a hand against the wall as he breathes in and out.

"You — you did something!" Snape snaps. "How else could he have escaped?"

"How else could who have escaped?"

"BLACK!"

"Well, I'd have a hard time getting him out of Azkaban, wouldn't I?"

Snape looks like he's about to burst. A vein is popping out in his neck and his eyes are bulging.

"HE — WAS — CAUGHT — AND — NOW — HE'S — GONE — "

"Wait, he was caught?" You ask, feigning oblivion.

Fudge nods. "Yes, we had caught him perfectly well...the Dementors were going to perform the Kiss — "

You slam your book down on the table, standing up from your chair, staring Fudge down. "Do you mean to say that the Dementors' Kiss was going to performed on my husband without my knowledge?"

Fudge visibly swallows, glancing at Dumbledore helplessly, who chooses to become fixated on one of the constellations on the wall.

"Well, er...we reviewed our options and seen that — um — we didn't have the time to inform you — "

"Bullshit," you spit. "You could have easily told me, you just weren't bothered, were you? Some Minister you are."

Fudge splutters, face going red.

Snape is still shaking with fury beside him. He jabs his finger in your direction. "YOU DID IT, I KNOW YOU DID — "

"That is enough, Severus. Why, the portrait of Eloria Floria in the corridor told us that she had not left the Tower since she first entered it three hours ago," Dumbledore says calmly.

Fudge glances at his watch. "Well, I suppose there is nothing more to it than that. I'd better go and notify the Ministry of this..."

Snape is seething. Absolutely seething. He gives one fuming look in your direction, before storming down the stairs once more. It's nearly comical because it's purely silent in the Tower but for the clunking of Snape's footfalls against the stairs, his anger evident in his heavy stomps.

It reminds you of a young child throwing a tantrum.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twelve here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

sorry for the shortish chapter but I just really wanted to get this one out. They've finally reunited!!!

+ a big thank you to my taglist loves for all their support and kindness:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @carpe000diem @hyperspeedo

[citrinae]

avoid the crowds.

law x reader

summary; you're an aspiring biologist, hard-working on your phd. when you're coupled with your colleague law to enrich your research, you're mortified to discover that other's personal projects may be a little more ambitious than you’d anticipate. 

contents; gravedigging, only a pinch of gore, explicit at times, toxic attachments, love/hate, smoking, references to mary shelley because i’m a nerd & law is pathetic, college/academia!AU, gn!reader, wc: 2k. this is actually my very first time writing for this freak, intensely praying that i did him justice. check here for more spooktober shenanigans.

masterlist

Dirt on your shoes, on your jeans, under your nails. Pushing a lit cigarette between your lips, you realise your hands are slightly trembling. It’s slowly that you take the smoke in, a burning sensation into your lungs making you forget about the cold creeping up your cheeks, your ankles and into your bones, and you keep it there for a moment. Your eyes wander to the number of gravestones carrying the memory of someone’s friend, partner, or sibling, all cared for and regretfully gone. There’s a rustle coming from your right, boot sliding on the ground before his knee bumps into yours. With his hat he brushes the dirt off his lap. 

“This shit is bad for your health,” Law says, with a hint of superiority that has you pursing your lips around the cigarette. 

“These guys haven’t seen a pub in decades,” you manage to keep your cool. “Thought they wouldn’t mind if I brought them a piece of memory.”

He doesn’t play along. “They are dead. I doubt they care about much of anything.”

“How do you expect your students to like you if you can’t even take a joke?” you say through an exhale. 

“Honestly?” Law props his weight on the shovel he’s dug into the ground, legs spread. “The very few students I’ve had so far were actually funny.”

“Fuck you,” you huff. “Honestly.”

“Kindly reminding you that we’re in a cemetery,” he drones. “I'd restrain my libido for when we get back.”

You give him a look, still not believing he said that. His fingers—long, nimble, tattooed at the knuckles—rest atop his knees as he absently watches ahead. He’s slack in track pants and sweater, not that tonight makes him any different from the way you’ve always known him—cold, laid back. The sky is dark, only a few hours away from dawn. At your feet lingers a plastic bag he’s filled with everything needed for his fun little science project. 

Or rather, your fun little science project, now that you found out about it and agreed to let him do his magic before your eyes. The only condition was that you do it quietly—so far, you’re being terrible at it, and still he keeps you by like some sort of low-cost apprentice. Looking at the spots where dirt has been immaculately removed and battered back into place, your stomach threatens to turn. 

How have you ended up like this?

(There was someone in your research group; a guy called Trafalgar D. Water Law. A brilliant fellow, a committed academic. A little bit of an asshole, if you were to be completely honest. Law rarely ever spoke to the rest of you, let alone spend time with the group. Frequented the lab when you were about to call it a day and left early in the morning, just before you'd put on your whitecoats, fluorescent light droning overhead and steam hovering from coffee mugs. The nights were when he liked to work the most, doing whatever the fuck he was up to. Your PhD coordinator said something about reinventing surgery; but not even they were able to run into further detail. You were all too buried in your own projects to pry.

Water gathered at the tip of your nose and dripped onto your shoe. Your clothes were soaked and plastered to your skin; you hadn’t expected to rain that night. 

“Jesus fuck,” you managed under your breath. There was a dense, awful smell lingering in the air, the door to the research room locked with no spare key to use. “Law, are you in there?” 

Movement on the other side, pretending you didn’t exist. Your hair curled at your nape, wet and cold, and a feverish sensation began to climb up your temples. 

You tried again. “I left my journal in here, and, uhm,” scratching your head, “see I really needed to look up some notes tonight. May I come in and fetch it so I can leave you be?”

Still no answer; you were starting to get angry. 

You also needed a towel. 

“Listen up you freak,” through gritted teeth. “I don’t give two shits about what you’re doing or how many dicks you had to suck to be allowed to act like you own this fucking place. My day was bad enough to only care about my stupid little notes I left in that stupid little room, so please, for the love of god, open the door or else I’ll break a window or something and tab the damage on your weird ass name.”

“Who’s breaking what?” It was coming from behind; you turned, and stopped. Wiping his hands with a white washcloth, there stood Law, hoodie sleeves rolled to elbows, dark hair dishevelled, bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

The sounds you were hearing from inside the workroom didn’t cease. You felt heavy with the onset of a headache. 

“But if you’re here,” you said, incredulous. “Then who’s—” a second of thought. “What’s—”

Folding his arms, fabric thrown over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

The words felt weird leaving you, “What do you keep in there?”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Law said, plainly. He seemed to know better than coming up with an excuse. There were steps that you heard, after all, nothing a branch against a window or a vending machine could replace. 

“You were saying you needed something?” he added, searching his pockets. “Let me get that for you, stay right there.”

But you didn’t stay put. You couldn’t. Shortly after watching him turn the key into the lock, careful not to reveal much of what awaited him inside, impulse had you setting your foot in the door. An elbow pressed on steel, a tattoo beat into floor tiles. And you could hardly hear the disturbed hiss leaving him now that you were facing a true miracle of modern medicine.)

They say the secrets of Heaven and Earth ought to stay in the palms of the one behind their making, for the man was made a crafty artist, but, alas, uncompleted. Understanding is a bottomless pit, only for the divine to fill and look after. But why are they to be frowned upon, half-made creatures, clinging to the knowledge that would make them whole?

(A strange friendship took shape that night. You agreed to keep the secret and Law allowed you to keep him company during the nights, borrowing notes, studying equipment. Little of this brought anything new to your own research, and yet, being in Law’s presence felt like a giant leap in your career. You wouldn’t be made to admit it, but you admired him, and at the same time he seemed almost content with the ease at which you were navigating the dense volume of research. As far as work was concerned, you were making a surprisingly good team—that you could both agree on despite your infuriating personalities. 

Some uneventful nights you would fiddle with his earrings as he measured the diameter of a human limb. Some other nights, his hand would flatten across your back as he showed you how man-made particles quivered and dispersed under the microscope. Your eyes ached from lack of sleep but your curiosity was a persistent fiend, always hungry for more, begging to be kept entertained. Slowly you found yourself disconnected from everything happening around you other than your undergraduate classes and lab work. Everything in your world revolved around science, and consequently, around Law. 

But spending so much time around each other would soon get the best—or worst—of you both, on a night just as rainy as the one you started working together. There was an hour left until the sky would start bleeding into a deep gradient of blues, two before the building would be animated with swarms of steps and voices. Tables had been diligently swept with no trace of your nightly work, equipment dismantled and notebooks locked away—just like Law instructed you to. Your steps echoed down the hallways of the facility, dark and empty, comfortable silence lingering between your forms as you were heading out. Exhaustion crept into your body to the point walking felt like floating. To your left, Law’s breathing seemed heavier than usual. You found yourself cagily tracing the contours of his hair, his ear, his neck and shoulder, stopping at his hand that he kept buried into a pocket. 

A beat later, too soon to tell how it happened, you were pressed against a wall, Law’s stare taking from confused to determined as he tried to keep up with his own actions. 

There was a pause. 

“You don’t have the guts,” you provoked, adrenaline pushing your mouth into a smirk. 

Law clicked his tongue. Then he kissed you, deeply, viciously, and you returned it without much thought. White hat collapsed on the floor as your fingers struggled to make their way through his hair, digging themselves into his scalp, touching and searing everything they found in their reach. Standing so close to him you were surprised to catch a faint trace of cologne lingering under all the metal and soap and formalin he worked with. Your head spun. His hand was cold as it touched you under your sweater; with his other he had to cover your mouth to keep a sound from coming out.

It didn’t stop you. He urged you somewhere more secluded.)

You flick the ashes off your cigarette. “Hey,” you say, trying to figure out the inscription chiselled on a gravestone. “Is it fair? To disturb these people’s peace like that?”

Law breathes out, heavily, a little shaken himself. He thinks about it for a moment. Then, massaging a temple, he says, “I think it’s a little too late to ask yourself this.” He’s right. 

“Maybe.” It’s faint, distracted. 

Some would say you’re giving them a second chance; you know that’s not the case here. None of you wants nothing out of this but the Promethean high of discovery. Performing miracles with a scalpel and needle, building an universe of your own. 

Wind blows in your direction, sharp like a slap in the face, and your body starts coiling within itself as it does. 

(Your research sessions carried on like this. Passing thread through layers of dead skin, sinking your teeth into Law’s skin moments later. Papers and pens and scissors scattered on the floor. Bodies feverish and drenched in sweat. Taking his chin between thumb and forefinger, you relished the faces he made after claiming that you inspire him. With his cock deep inside you, Law admitted he was glad to have found a use for that foul mouth of yours. When you use it to say his name, he added on, his voice grave and possessive, beard tickling your earshell, it makes him believe your voice was sewed for him.)

“Time to go,” Law says, already back on his feet.  

You insist that he carries the bag. And so he does, hoisting it around his shoulder without much care for its contents. You stub out your cigarette under your foot, and your eyes roll heavenwards when he demands that you pick the thing up. 

“I was meaning to,” you sneer, bending down. “Who do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Law hands you the shovel. 

“For the record,” dusting off your jeans, “When faculty reviews are up, I’m ruining your ass.”

Law’s smirk is offensive. “Double-check your spelling before sending anything in.”

No one says a word on the way back to the facility. With weight propped on your shoulders and stars hiding one by one behind the horizon, the moment feels almost serene, and you dismiss the impulse to close your eyes because you know you will be falling asleep as soon as you do. For now, you end up settling with this space between dream and reality, hoping that maybe, somewhere, awaits the truth you’ve been working so hard to earn. 

[joe-spookyy]

no line has ever made me insane in the same way as

ros (pathetic): i wanted to make you happy.

i want it tattooed on my inner eyelids i want it painted on my wall i want it in my wedding vows i want it put onto my gravestone when i die

[zooophagous]

I'm totally stealing floral motifs off of old gravestones to use in tattoo flash.

[genderkoolaid]

The mural, “Remembering Brandon Teena: Son, Brother, & Friend,” is one of 10 that stretch along buildings in East Lincoln. Advocates including Isabella Manhart of Omaha and Wes Staley, the artist, unveiled the mural Sept. 24. The titles in the mural — son, brother and friend — are the inverse of those on Teena’s gravestone. Staley, a nonbinary tattoo artist, described the mural as a product of 60 to 70 hours of drawing and painting that included blood, sweat, tears and sunburns. “And I’m still having a difficult time believing that this is something our community finally gets to call our own,” Staley wrote in an artist’s statement.