#hidesinhiswork

[whatsbehindthefacade]

@hidesinhiswork asked: “ how could you do this…? “ ( for roger ) (Send me   “ how could you do this…? “    for your muse to confront mine about a choice they’ve made.  )

Panicked eyes flicker between Mark and the little baggie now residing on the table. He could make a grab for it, but even in his half out of it state, he can recognise that Mark's closer, that it'll be off the table before he can get near it, and while he'd count himself as the stronger of the two of them, he knows Mark is a fast little fucker when he wants to be.

Mark doesn't understand. Doesn't know the way his fingers itch, the aches, the sweats, the desperation. He needs it, needs it badly. Sweaty palms rub against the jeans he's been wearing for...how many days now? He's not even sure what day it actually is. He feels like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, except something tells him this is a little more serious.

"I..." He's not even sure how to respond, how to make him understand, how to explain that it feels like the contents of that little baggie are one of the few things stopping him from following April. "I need..."

[fcllederage-moved]

@hidesinhiswork gets a starter 👀

It had all escalated from a simple discussion. Hyacinthe was going to get tested, as they often did, for their own safety as well as their partners', and had shared this piece of information with Mark. They were both laying in bed together. Hyacinthe had their head resting on his chest. It was a quiet morning. Until they opened their mouth. In fact, the worst part was not this. This was good, what was not, was Mark admitting he had never got tested.

"Mark, honestly, that's really not serious." The queen was trying their best to remain soft and calm. "Do you realize how dangerous this is? Like, even if you wear protection all the time, if there's a slight chance you could transmit it or get it, it's..." They sighed. "Come with me. I'm gonna go anyway, so you might as well."

[chancewon]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ @hidesinhiswork

❛ do you ever get used to the cameras ? ❜ KATNISS TOLD HIM TO MINGLE . these parties weren't peeta's favorite place , but they were a necessary evil . ❛ i feel like i'll never get used to the flashing lights . ❜

[herhorrors]

@hidesinhiswork smashed the heart :

creativity bursts from the young woman as brush strokes canvas , hand occupied by custom cocktail created firstly when she took the black pill with austin . as she sips from it , gaze drifts towards mark across the room . " ... it's not that bad , really . "

focus moves back to her painting , a halfway finished piece depicting a dark forest with mutilated , sickly deer . sure , the desire for blood might be pesky but it was a well worth sacrifice for success .

" i mean , you wanna finish that movie , don't you ? and it'll be so sweet . " small smile lifts corners of mouth , accentuates dimples . brush is set aside before tossing him a baggy with the obsidian capsules .

[courtesons]

for @hidesinhiswork​ who asked “ [ KNEES ] with ethan” from (nsfw prompts)

Ethan felt a deep, slow breath escaping his nose as his eyes tracked the movements of his favourite student Mark Cohen. There was always going to be some challenges teaching college students even just part time, but none of them held a handle to resisting the brilliant, beautiful young man who almost every day Ethan had to stop himself just...getting his hands on him. Yet all that resistance, all that brushing off his advances or longing stares at Ethan had finally reached their breaking point. All alone in his campus office, watching as Mark slowly slipped to his knees and looking up at him like that.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into” He said, voice quiet and lower as he just watched him. “Now is your last chance to get out of here...”

[butscrewmefirst]

❝ you plan on staying long term? ❞

@hidesinhiswork gets a starter!

[ripcrispyblonde]

@hidesinhiswork liked for a starter in the main verse

to say that she had had been struggling lately would be an understatement. taunts of the demon that had killed her plagued both her sleeping mind and her waking mind. to cope, she had been avoiding sleep and sketching tyson's face over and over in her free time. still having no leads on the monster of the week that's havoc had been caught on mark's camera wasn't helping either. so much so that she shoved the large book that had contained information of her most recent hunch angrily across the table a few minutes ago when it had also led to a dead end. she was angry enough to have the urge to throw it, but she wouldn't disrespect a book in such a manner... especially in a library. without a second of thought, her hands were on her sketchbook, tearing five of her most recent pages to shreds. unfortunately, she had severely overestimated the catharsis that the action would bring.

footsteps shouldn't have gone unnoticed in the empty library -- but the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of mark and her frustration was quickly replaced by embarrassment. ❝ how long have you been standing there? ❞ a second's pause. ❝ actually... don't answer that. can i see those pictures again? i'm back at square one. ❞

[cagesings]

 @hidesinhiswork  (  starter  call.  )

 she  does  not  like  hospitals.  or  emergency  rooms.  there  is  a  reason  she  clings  to  a  clinic  setting.  where  things  are  to  be  expected  and  not  as  unexpected  as  they  are  here.  yet,  johanna  finds  herself  sitting  on  the  edge  of  an  uncomfortable  plastic  chair  waiting  for  a  stranger  to  wake  up.  though  she  tells  herself  not  to  bring  everything  on  him  at  once,  she  finds  herself  doing  just  that  the  moment  his  eyelids  flicker.  

 ❝  i  hope  you  don't  mind  me  bringing  you  here,  ❞  she  begins,  dragging  the  chair  behind  her  so  that  she's  closer.  ❝  um,  i'm  johanna?  you  passed  out  on  the  street?  i  didn't  know  if  you  hit  your  head  so  i  thought  it  would  be  better  to  be  safe  rather  than  sorry  --  oh!  and  if  you're  worried  about  your  bill,  don't  worry  i'll  take  care  of  it.  i  just  .  .  .  couldn't  leave  you  to  fend  for  yourself.  ❞  she  can't  become  like  her  former  guardian.  couldn't  become  her  biological  father.  

[muzelor]

INTRUDERS   seemed   to   have   infiltrated   his   once   called   home   ,   using   the   blood   stained   history   of   the   house   to   make   headlines   —   humanity   truly   is   on   the   brink   of   despair   ,   hanging   on   to   every   thread   possible   to   thrive   .   it’s   a   shame   soon   it   will   all   come   to   an   end   ,   once   the   apocalypse   comes   true   .   miriam   must’ve   sent   him   back   there   for   a   reason   ,   a   reason   only   forged   by   satan   himself   .   he   cannot   fail   either   of   them   ,   that   wasn’t   a   choice   .   michael   watches   the   shadows   passing   past   a   window   ,   curiosity   growing   within   ;   whatever   may   happen   with   them   ,   he   shall   see   .   three   knocks   on   the   door   to   make   his   presence   known   ,   before   he   opens   the   door   himself   ,   not   knowing   if   it   was   even   locked   ,   but   using   his   devil   –   given   powers   either   way   .   he   marches   in   ,   head   peeking   from   behind   a   wall   to   where   @hidesinhiswork   was   standing   ,      ❝   coming   at   a   bad   time   ?   ❞      he   asked   ,   brow   arching   .   michael   approaches   him   ,   despite   his   lack   of   knowledge   of   what   the   outcome   might   be   .   a   mission   is   a   mission   and   he   must   not   fail   .   a   grin   slowly   creeping   unto   his   features   as   he   took   a   seat   across   the   man   ,   gaze   locked   upon   him   ,   not   wanting   to   miss   any   detail   .   he’s   going   to   make   his   father   proud   .      ❝   this   place   brings   me   so   many   memories   …   ❞      which   he   would’ve   forget   in   an   instant   ,   had   he   have   that   chance   .   he   looks   around   and   realizes   time   stopped   in   his   previous   home   ,   everything   remained   the   same   .   the   more   he   looks   at   those   walls   ,   at   those   ornaments   that   adorn   the   house   ,   he   goes   back   in   time   when   everything   was   simple   ,   with   constance   by   his   side   .   fortunately   ,   he   found   another   woman   to   depend   on   ,   someone   who   looks   after   him   and   wishes   him   the   best   .   someone   who   doesn’t   stand   against   his   true   father   .      ❝   …   i   used   to   live   here   .   and   you   know   i   had   to   come   when   i   heard   you   were   immortalizing   what   i   used   to   call   home   .   ❞

[whatsbehindthefacade]

@hidesinhiswork asked: ❝  i’m here,  i’m queer,  i wanna leave.  ❞

He'd had a thing for parties once. But ever since getting sober (not to mention a year of self-imposed isolation), Roger's lost that fondness to an extent. He can tolerate them of course, but unless it's solely close friends there's something mildly uncomfortable about being around that many people, not to mention having to stick to whatever sort of social etiquette the world demands. He's never been good at social etiquette.

But this is for Mark's film, so he'd tidied himself up and joined his boyfriend for moral support, except it seems that now they're both thinking along the same wavelengths, with said wavelength running along the line of getting the hell out of here and going home. Or for food. Or for anything that involves not being here.

"I'm just saying, I am not above feigning illness or injury if it means we can have an excuse to go home," The musician suggests, keeping his voice low.

[fcllederage-moved]

@hidesinhiswork liked this post for a starter

Along with some of her sisters, Hyacinthe stepped out from the back door of the cabaret, to take a smoke break in the middle of the show. She was not expecting anything. Or anyone. All of them were laughing loudly, already a little tipsy. Neither of them saw the man standing there, staring at the exit, almost expectantly. But Hyacinthe had always been particularly sensitive and, after a few seconds, felt her neck burning to the point she had to turn around. Immediately when she saw the person she thought was a simple stranger, her face broke into a broad smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked, walking towards Mark while some of her sisters gave them a quick glance. "You never come here. What are you doing?"

[woednesdayaddams]

  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️【 ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️@hidesinhiswork 】

  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️capitalism   at   its   finest,   revealing   what   humanity   actually   stands   for.   exploit   a   house   of   countless   tragedies   to   gain   the   capital   —   it’s   all   they   ever   wanted   and   frankly,   wednesday   was   on   the   verge   of   giving   the   infamous   murder   house   an   even   greater   reputation.   perhaps,   that   would   be   the   clue   to   wake   up   before   they   disturb   not   only   the   living,   but   also   the   dead.   despite   never   being   allowed   on   set,   wednesday   barged   inside   the   house,   her   intentions   as   clear   as   a   dead   man’s   eye   hours   after   passing.      ❝   this   is   worse   than   i   imagined,   ❞      she   mumbled   underneath   her   breath,   her   gaze   flickering   from   the   filming   crew   to   the   ornaments   adorning   the   haunted   house.   though   she   wasn’t   exactly   a   medium,   it   didn’t   require   much   mental   capacity   to   acknowledge   the   living,   breathing,   walking   nightmares   weren’t   the   only   ones   lingering.   ❝   you’ll   come   to   regret   this.   ❞      a   warning   rolled   out   of   serpentine   tongue,   although   it   was   also   a   threat.   

  ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️️️while   capitalism   brought   individuals   to   exploit   about   anything   there   is,   the   addamses   values   dictated   that   one   should   honor   the   fortunate   death.   the   question   begs,   how   could   they   with   so   many   intruders   and   filming   devices   hidden   around   the   house?   and   for   what,   truly   [   …   ]   a   minimum   wage   salary?   chin   tilted   downward   to   her   chest,   onyxes   flickering   towards   one   of   the   many   individuals   working   on   this   sick   project,      ❝   don’t   say   i   didn’t   warn   you.   ❞      the   wisest   choice   was   to   leave   the   house,   however   something   else   was   drawing   wednesday   in.   something   behind   a   door,   most   likely   leading   towards   the   basement.   completely   disregarding   everyone   else’s   presence,   she   marches   towards   the   door,   intrigued   by   the   urge   that   took   over   her   body.   it’s   never   without   a   great,   most   dangerous   cause   behind   it   ;   she   didn’t   even   mind   the   consequences,   not   by   the   living,   but   those   caused   by   the   dead.   at   the   very   least,   those   imbeciles   will   get   what   they   want   and,   hopefully,   leave   the   place   at   once   for   the   spirits   to   rest.

[dreamtagain]

@hidesinhiswork / 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚎𝚗 ( sc. )

the ballerina can't help but notice the gentleman dropping some papers. and ever earnest, christine cannot let them be left behind. it takes her a moment to gather the papers from the sidewalk before she's walking briskly to catch up. "excuse me, sir, you dropped these!"

[courtesons]

There was a strange mixture of affection and possessiveness swirling inside of Ethan in this moment as he took care of his beautiful man, going from a whore he hired to the sweet boy he wanted to take care of no matter what. Mark. His Mark. Gentle kisses to his forehead, soft words of praise whispered in his ear - taking his time to ease Mark back to reality and truth be told it went beyond just aftercare. All he wanted was to make Mark feel so special, so wanted, so safe.

"Now why would I ever want to stop that Mark?" He murmured, brushing his thumb over his cheek and gently kissing his lips softly before pulling back with a smile. "I know you've got a lot of thoughts probably on all of this and what it means and we can figure that out later. But right now it's time for sleeping okay?" He murmured, pulling the man a little closer. "Just close your eyes Mark, I've got you and I'm not going anywhere. Rest."

Mark sighed contentedly as Ethan took care him, the fog slowly lifting from his mind and reality settling in. It was nice to be taken care of by someone else instead of Mark having to do it himself. His heart fluttered as the older man called him the prettiest boy. Further evidence that he really did belong to Ethan, he supposed. He enjoyed the attention that the older man lavished on him, smiling softly as he was doted on. Why had he resisted this for so long?

He nodded, his chin still in Ethan's hand. Mark was certain that he'll never get enough of hearing Ethan say his name. "Always," he repeated softly. His hand moved to rest on Ethan's wrist, his touch light. "I'm yours, sir. You have every part of me now. And please don't ever stop saying my name."

[whatsbehindthefacade]

@hidesinhiswork asked: 💋 (to roger) everyone sending ‘💋’ in my inbox gets a kiss from my muse.

"Yo, Mark! Heads up!"

That's about the only warning the filmmaker gets before the musician comes skidding across the floor on a wheelie chair, guitar balanced haphazardly in his lap and only just managing to stop in time without falling out of it completely. Looking rather proud of himself for that little feat, Roger grins and reaches up, tugging Mark down by the collar so he can press a somewhat sloppy kiss to his lips before leaning back in the chair with a satisfied expression.

"Love you."

[fcllederage-moved]

@hidesinhiswork said: 💋

Early morning light was peaking through the transluscent curtains of the couple's bedroom. They had been together for quite some time, by then, and Hyacinthe had stopped waking up, breaking in sweats, terrified to realize that Mark was not here anymore and that she was back in the streets. Every morning for the past couple of weeks, she was able to wake up peacefully, whether her boyfriend was still sleeping next to her or not.

This morning, he was there, sound asleep, looking as happy as ever. But Hyacinthe had other plans. She did not want to spend the morning alone and felt uncontrollably playful. So, ever so slowly, she leaned over to the man until their lips met. His were already parted as he slept and she took advantage of that to steal that kiss, her fingers tangled within the curls in his hair.