#i really want to know the anatomy of these tape recorders

[iris-of-the-eye]

End of TMagP 21 be like

[carolmunson]

video killed the radio star (rockstar!eddie)

rockstar!eddie and you, his wife that he literally is so horny for all the time are caught up in a sex tape scandal. this is so stupid and dumb and lame and silly but i had a lot of fun writing it. i love how in love he is with his lil’ wife, it makes me wanna DIE.  inspired by this anon: rockstar!eddie and actress!readers sex tape being leaked and the whole thing is just eddie being a simp for her and giving her praise after praise plus most of the movie is just him eating her out and doing the helicopter with his dick

warnings: 18+, female anatomy mention, oral (f receiving), mention of oral (m receiving), drug use, drinking, consensual filming of sex acts, consensual drunk/high sex between a married couple, mild daddy kink if you squint, mentions of restraints, etc. 

CORRODED COFFIN GUITAR LEGEND EDDIE MUNSON AND LEAD INGENUE ACTRESS OF OUR TIME CAUGHT IN SEX TAPE SCANDAL! 

For you, it had been a mortifying ordeal. For Eddie, damage control was his middle name. Both of your PR teams begging him to come up with something slick and charming on a press circuit to help lessen the blow. They didn’t want you talking about it, too clean of a record to even be asked about it. The most dangerous thing about you was that you married a metal guitar legend with a bad reputation. His good little angel compared to his bad boy persona.  It was the Leno interview that softened the blow.  “So Ed, we gotta talk about it.”

“Talk about what, Jay? What ever do you mean?” The audience laughs, his charming and knowing smile flashes to the crowd.

“The tape, c’mon, Ed! I haven’t seen it, but I can bet there are people at home that have seen it. And you know something, I hear the ladies are going wild over it!”  “And shouldn’t that tell you something Jay? All these ladies in a tizzy cause their man can’t satisfy them. Guys talking about what a pussy I am for telling my girl how much I love her. Can’t a man love his wife?” he turns his attention to the audience, “Can’t a man love his wife?”  The audience cheers.  “You know, I could be embarrassed, and my baby? She’s mortified. But she’s got nothin’ to be embarrassed about. She doesn’t even do anything! She’s innocent!”  “And how’re you feeling about it?”  “I think, it was a private moment, and someone took advantage of that. But on the bright side, it ends before any of these horny assholes can see what my wife can do in bed. No one’s thinking about how they can handle her but me. I’m sleeping like a baby.”  You both sat on the couch in your living room at the Malibu house the next week. You both knew what was on the tape, but you hadn’t watched it – deciding that now that things had died down in the press a little bit, it would sting less. The tape warped to start, fading in from static snow, to lines running across the screen – pulling the picture left and right with each glide down the picture. Another fade to static, then – 

“Okay, okay, it’s recording,” you heard, and just the image of Eddie’s collar bone and his chain dangling in front of him filled the screen. You watched him as he stepped back until his full body was in frame, he gave the lens a thumbs up. You could see yourself, sitting back on your heels on the mattress – completely naked. At first, you’re mortified – so many people in America are seeing this, have seen it, still might see it. The legal battle of getting the tapes destroyed has been raging for weeks. Deep down, you know it’s never really going to be gone, but at least –  “Baby, it’s not that bad, I think this is the only time we see you like this,” Eddie mumbles, kissing the bare skin of your shoulder, “Let’s just keep watching.” 

“Of course you wanna keep watching,” you said, rolling your eyes, “We were there, honey, why do we need to watch it?”  The Eddie on screen started talking, “Hey -hic!- future Eddie, here with our smokin’ hot wife on our honeymoon. Consider this a gift or something, I don’t fuckin’ know, we’re so fucked up right now.” 

“That’s why,” your real Eddie said, pointing at himself on the screen, “We were a little loose that day, baby, c’mon.” 

“I hate this,” you pouted, pausing the video with the remote. The VCR whirred and the edges of the screen pulled. You admired him in the frame, his skin covered in tattoos, his hair messy over his shoulders, his body defined but still somehow soft in his posture.  “We can stop,” he said, putting his hand over yours on the remote.  You sighed, considering it, “No, no, it’s like ripping the band aid off, let’s just…I don’t know, let’s just get it over with.”  Eddie grinned, taking the remote out of your hand and clicking play. You watched the image spring to life again while video Eddie grabbed a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s off the side table and took a swig.  “And for the lady,” he said, reaching for a bottle of Dom Pérignon off screen and shaking it up to open at the end of the bed. 

“Baby, don’t waste it! That was a gift,” you laughed while the champagne sprayed over you, still so careful in your tipsy haze. He passed the bottle to you, kneeling on the bed. He let his tongue slide from the side of your breast to your neck, collecting drips of champagne off your skin.  “We can always get more,” he mumbled into your neck, “Lemme clean up my mess first.”  You saw yourself take gulps from the bottle, leaning over to place it next to his bottle of Jack. You both fumbled around each other a little awkwardly until he had his hands on your waist. You watch him run his mouth from your belly button up between your breasts in fat stripes with his tongue, you mewling at every nip he gave at the end.  “Fuck baby, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, “Let daddy tie you up so he can worship you.”  “Oh,” you pouted, “You want me to keep my hands to myself?” 

“Jesus fuck,” he slurred, “No, don’t keep your hands to yourself. Wanna feel you all over me.” You pulled him into a kiss, tangling your hands in his hair while he eased you down on the mattress. Just the side of your body visible, angled away from the camera enough that your arm obscured your breasts.  Eddie got up and walked out of frame, coming back while slapping a little baggie onto his palm, pouring it out on a neat line down your sternum to the top of your belly button. He snorted from the top down, gliding his tongue back up to swipe up whatever coke he left behind, letting his tongue flick at a nipple before reaching back to your mouth. You squealed into his kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist, his nylon black boxer briefs grinding mercilessly against you.  “God, you’re so hot…” Eddie whispered under his breath next to you on the couch.   “Are you like – are you getting off to this?” you asked, a scoff escaping you.  “I’m sorry? Am I getting off to this? I’m watching a home video of me fucking my hot wife. Do you think I’m not rock fucking hard right now?” he asked, gesturing at the television while the film him left a trail of kisses down your body, “This is like…this is PEAK porn, babe. This is my ideal porn.” 

“I don’t even go down on you in it,” you said, adjusting on the couch so your head was on his lap. You could feel his erection in his jeans.  “I don’t need a video of you sucking my cock, sweet thing,” he said with a smirk, “I got that tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.” His eyes were still glued to the screen while one of his hands smoothed over your hair. ‘Oh, baby, yes, oooh! Unh! That feels so good,’ your voice leaked out of the TV speakers. 

Eddie eyes rolled into the back of his head and he bit his fist at the sound, “That is what makes it ideal. Those little sounds you make? Ugh, fuck. Now that’s music.”  You blushed and turned your head back to the screen, Ed’s bitten fist now splayed over your thigh.  On the screen, Eddie had your legs apart, bent at the knees, his mouth lingering over your puffy lips while looking up at you.  “Please more,” you whined at him, putting your hand on the top of his head, “I need it."

“You’ve been so patient all day for it, haven’t you, baby?” he asked, grazing his fingertips up and down your inner thigh.  “Yes, so patient,” you whined, grinding your hips into the mattress in slow circles.  “You’re so perfect,” he said, kissing where his fingers traced, “My pretty girl.” 

He traveled down, painstakingly slow while your fingers gripped his hair, “Gonna worship this pussy the way you deserve.”  He made slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue, lapping up salty sweetness while he kept your lips open with his fingers. His nose brushing your clit while he kept full attention to your other aching spots between your legs. He liked to get deep into it, practically swimming in your slickness before he made any moves that would send you over the edge.  Hearing the squelches and sounds through the TV made you involuntarily clench, your thighs squeezing together. You remembered how good he made you feel that night through your drunken haze. He always made you feel good, but the high of the wedding, the romance of the honeymoon – it was all that and more.   “Oooh, yes, Eddie right there!” you moaned out, leaning up on your elbows and forearms on the mattress in your honeymoon suite. Eddie was latched onto your clit, sucking diligently while his fingertips teased your entrance.  “Love when you say my name, princess,” he said gruffly against your thigh, taking a breath before diving back in.  “Eddie, Ed–oh! Oh god, yes, yes,” your voice was choking out of you while two fingers slid into you with ease, his tongue still lapping and fluttering at your clit while you clenched around him.  “So wet for me, such a pretty fucking pussy,” he muttered, reaching his other hand up to graze one of his thumbs over your nipples, pinching after every few strokes. While it wasn’t always your first source of stimulation, he always knew you liked it right before you were about to finish.  “You’re doing so good, sweet thing,” he cooed while his fingers picked up the pace, your head lolling back trying to get a handle on your moans so anyone else on the floor wouldn’t hear.  “That feels so good, huh?” he mocked while you whimpered at his fingers curling upwards into you. Your hips jolted at the feeling, bucking and writhing while he kept hitting the same spot over and over.  “So good, baby,” you huffed, your eyes brimming with tears while ecstasy rose in your chest.   “You ready for me?” he asked. You nodded feverishly at him while he slipped his fingers out of you. He sat up and put his wet fingers to your mouth where you sucked your slickness off obediently, a moment to bring you back down with him to prepare for the next round.  “You’re so pretty like that,” he said, taking his fingers out and kissing you wetly on the mouth, “My beautiful baby, you’re so pretty.”  You blushed at the praise, in the video, and on the couch with your real life husband. 

“Lemme get a condom hold on,” he said, a little laugh coming out of his mouth from his chest. You laid down with your back to the camera while Eddie hopped out of frame, you could hear bottles clinking and plastic being shuffled in the background. 

“That fat fuckin’ ass…” Eddie mumbled to himself on the couch, “Fuck.”  On the screen, only half of Eddie appears in the background – his dick now on full display.  “Babe, babe look,” his laugh infectious. He shook his hips until his erection swung in a full circle around itself. He laughed again, your back shook in the frame, your little giggles echoing through the speakers in your living room.  “Look how fast I can make it go,” his voice was love drunk. He sped up the pace of his hips as his cock whirled around, balls slapping against his thighs as he did it.  “You’re so stupid,” you laughed from the bed. He bent down into the frame, a hand softly caressing your shoulder, leaning in to kiss you.  “You make me so stupid. I love you so much,” he smiled. He got back up, walking closer to the camera, Trojan in hand, and tripped. The image on the screen whirled, showing the ceiling and the back of the room before the camera fell with a hard ‘CLUNK!’ on the ground.  A quiet, ‘Oh shit!’ was heard, before the static snow flashed and fluttered to a steady stream on the screen.  “See, I told you baby, not so bad,” Eddie said on the couch, his palm sliding up and down your thigh. “Just me telling you what a pretty girl you are.”  You didn’t respond for a second.  “You okay?” he asked, his brow gently furrowing in concern, “We’ll get it sorted out, sweet thing, I promise.” 

“I’m okay, I just–” your legs parted slightly, your face reddened, “I kind of wanted to see what happened next.” 

Eddie grinned, getting up from the couch. He hoisted you up over his shoulder, bending you at the hips, smacking your ass hard over your tennis skirt to hear you yelp. He started walking you up the stairs to your bedroom, a dirty little look on his face while you kicked your legs.  “Can we film this, too?” Eddie asked, “It could be fun. Like an anniversary present.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

[bruce-wayne-simp]

Like Minds

Hey hi hello im about to watch Like Minds (aka Murderous Intent) and apparently the only way i can watch movies now is by liveblogging them so 🤷‍♀️

(Maybe expect the LotR trilogy next idk)

Like with Remainder i have a vague idea what this movie is about. Well, maybe a bit more of an idea what this is about. All i know is there are 2 teenage murderers and a TON of homoeroticism (not canon i think but youre crazy if you dont see it)

Also this liveblog/my watching of Like Minds was heavily sped up by @catlovingwitch who sent me a lovely ask which fuckign FUELED me to do this so thank you v v much ❤️❤️❤️

Once again, i am a T Sturridge stan so this will probably be very heavy on him. Unless over the course of this i become an Eddie Redmayne stan

Spoilers be ahead

Idk why im like. Anxious? Whatever.

Its starting aaaaaa

Eddie R screaming on a train (hes thrilled)

Ooh theyre stealing stuff?? T Sturridge isnt here yet

(The way its set up is Alex (Eddie) is captured by the police and is basically giving them The Backstory™️ which is where Nigel (Tom) comes in)

Oh shit he killed Nigel

Ok so psychiatry lady is here and her name is Sally

God Alex looks so young

Ooh this is interesting and actually really good

Flashback starting

THERES NIGEL god hes pretty

Lmaooo Nigel is the new kid and hes Alex's roommate and Alex is kinda pissed lol

Thats what you get when you snoop. Alex was looking in Nigels trunk and found a taxidermied cat(??)

Lmao Nigels in the doorway like 'Do you mind?'

Oh hes so concerned about his taxidermy

'Hes weird' they say as they explode a cockroach for fun

Lmao Nigel reads books about anatomy/autopsies?? yikes

Oof Alex is pulling the misogyny card. Hes telling the psychiatrist lady shes running out of time to have kids 💀 sir youre not helping your case

"Nigel got what he wanted." "And what was that?" "Eternity."

Sally is Over It. She doesnt think Alex is guilty

Shes listening to the tape she recorded from her talk with Alex and is like 'hmmmm'

Back to flashbackss

Oh god Nigels dissecting a bird IN THE DORM ROOM

Lmaooooo i love Nigel

Alex is PISSED and is like 'the least you can do is show me some common courtesy' and Nigels like '??? K.'

Well that interview just went to shit

So Alex was kinda taunting Sally but mostly the detective dude. So detective guy comes in and is like 'Gunshot residue says you were holding the gun when it went off'

Alex asks to see his father, the detectuve is like 'he cant help you', Alex panics a little, grabs Sallys wrist snd is like 'Nigel was holding the gun when it went off, i didnt do this' and the detective dude loses it and punches him and Alex is dragged off to lockup kicking and screaming

Apparently Nigel ALSO had GSR on his hands so anybody couldve pulled the trigger

Yall need to watch this fucking movie

Ok so basically a guard runs back in and is like 'He wants to talk'. Well actually hes holding 2 guards hostage w a police baton and is pleading to be let out of the cell. He fights the guards, loses and Sally shows up as hes on the ground being cuffed again. They sit him on the bed, Alex insists he didnt kill Nigel and then starts talking about someone being 'here' and 'listening' and Sallys like '???'

Ooh ok so Alex thinks someone is talking to him im his head?? Does he think Nigel is?? We are at a flashback btw

Wait did they already steal stuff off the train??

Alex youre a bit of a brat lmao

Wait was he stealing stuff for his dad????

Ok Alex and his friends are kind of dicks

Ooh Alex is challenging the pastor dude who is teaching religious history i assume

Nigel is looking at him like hes kinda in love

HOOOO CHECK AND MATE. GET REKT PASTOR DUDE

Lmaooo Nigel keeps dead things in jars. He has a big thing of formaldehyde hanging up lmaoooo

You know what i actually kind of agree with Alex. I mean thats p reasonable

(The Headmaster (who seems to be fond of Alex) sees Nigels collection of dead animals and is trying to justify why Nigel is there and allowed to stay. Alex is the first quote)

"He's a part of your club and nobody else wanted him so youre doing the 'brotherly' thing. Yeah well does my future depend on that?"

"Thats enough-"

"No, you dont give a fuck about me or this guy the only thing that you care about-"

"Thats enough!"

"-is the amount of kudos his father's-

"I said enough!"

"No, which is fine, but just dont give me the 'brotherhood' bullshit."

Then the headmaster slaps him and is like 'This boy will be made welcome' and walks out lol

Oooh theres Nigel

Lmao he walks in, slides in behind Alex, grabs his notebook off the desk and walks out, visibly amused.

Jfc Nigel is making psychological notes on Alex and his friends

"This little shit needs to be taught a lesson"

Alex's friend, Josh, is a pos. He just made a literal Nazi joke. To Alex's credit he tells him to knock it off

At least one of his friends has 2 braincells.

Are they straight up chloroforming Nigel??? Wtf

They dragged him onto the train unconscious

Oh shit Alex is like holding him outside of the door while the steel beams to the side are rushing past them. Nigel seems out of it tbh cause hes not freaking out

Josh is lighting firecrackers and tossing them out of the train and he dropped one and freaked so Alex and Nigel got back in. Nigel went to walk away and Alex pushed him up against the wall like 'Where do you think youre going??'. Nigel just spit in Alex's face and Alex punched Nigel

Oooooohhhh shit Alex leaned Nigel out of the door again and Josh started freaking out and told him to let Nigel go and the handle Josh was holding onto the train with BROKE

Oh shit Nigel just let him fall

Like he straight up waved his hand over Josh's hand to taunt him i guess and he got sucked out of the train wtf

I feel like the thing to keep in mind here is all of this is being told by Alex and hes Not a reliable narrator

WAIT THE HEADMASTER IS ALEX'S FATHER???

Oh yeah Alex is an unreliable narrator for SURE. Besides some fondness there was 0 mention of him being Alex's father. Or maybe im just dumb which is entirely possible. Likely, in fact.

Lmao Nigel staring at Alex like a freak at Josh's funeral until his dad nudges him like 'Knock it off'

Alex's dad eyeing Nigel as he walks away

Alex and Nigel arent roommates anymore

Nigel reading basically smut in front of class (in front of Alex 😏😏) classy smut im sure but still

Alex is watching rehearsals of the play and Nigel comes up super close like 'sorry about ur friend' and is kinda. Creepy and morbid about it. Which tracks

I think its interesting that TS's facial expressions and delivery here is SO reminiscent of his role as Dream. Ive seen him make these EXACT expressions in The Sandman while talking. Its odd seeing them on a younger face tho (not in a bad way)

Oh my god Alex just got a human hand in a package. 3 guesses as to who its from? (I assume. I dont actually know. Im not gonna do my boy Nigel dirty like that)

Alex vomited and hes telling Sally that when he got back it was gone

Nigel comes into Alex's room, gives him some papers to help with his essay while Alex is yellimg at him to get out and leaves lmaoooo

My boy Nigel doesnt deserve the slander 😤😤

"How did he know i was struggling with my essay?" Youre a dumbass and hes smart

"How did he know my topic?" Idk maybe if you made an effort to know him youd find out. Im sure Nigel can be charming when he wants to be but hes not gonna be on guard 24/7 so you got to see the spooky shit hes into when you were roommates

"I mean he had answers to questions i hadnt even thought of yet." Omg could Nigel be... Smart?? Impossible. Only idiots study anatomy and dissect things. 🙄 CMON ALEX

Jfc Alex you are dramatic as hell. Hes comparing using Nigels notes to 'selling his soul'. Just get the easy A my guy

Me every time Nigel comes on screen: 🥰🥰🥰

Nigel and the dog im DECEASED

The dog doesn't like ALEX oooooo

Dogs know who you really are 🧐🧐🧐

"I've never brought anybody here before. You're the first. Okay? First."

Nigel just wants to be friends 😭😭 he brought Alex to his hideout and the first thing he asks is 'Do you like it?' 😭😭😭😭😭

Oh jfc Nigel is as crazy as Alex

God that LOOK he gives when Alex is flipping through the book. You cannot convince me Nigel isn't in love with Alex

"An implement for killing. That's what I am." N I G E L

Jesus. Alex thinks Nigel is in his head.

Alex just asked a girl (Susan) out on a date and Nigel came up afterward all friendly and tried to give him a book and Alex completely cut him off

Poor Nigel :(

Ok also poor Alex but i don't feel as bad for him cos hes an ass

Holy shit did Nigel kill someone?? Alex woke up and someone threw a knife on his desk stuck to a Jack playing card with blood

Oh my god its Susan (that girl Alex was gonna go on that date with)

Nigel this doesnt look good for you buddy

Nobody's accusing him but she was kinda.... dissected. Its pretty graphic if you watch this movie just be aware

Oh shit she was in the school greenhouse

I think Alex did it. Hear me out. Hes the one telling this story. If he did it, hes gonna tell the story in a way that makes Nigel look bad. Nigel, conveniently enough, cannot say anything otherwise. Cause he's dead. I think at the very least he did kill Nigel but telling the story this way makes him the hero for killing the big bad serial killer.

Ok back to the movie the knife and the card are gone from his desk and Alex is looking for Nigel.

Now the detective is getting statements from all the students who saw Susan before she was killed

Oooooh Alex got caught in a lie

'Ooh I sense some hostility' just kiss him already JESUS

OH SHIT. Nigel is remorseful about what happened and Alex was like 'You did it. Didn't you?' And Nigel says 'No, Jack. You did.'

(Jack is a nickname. It's explained in the movie i just don't feel like rehashing it sorry)

Alex punched him

"Well im sorry Jack but you were the one who got inside my head." OHHHHH FOLIE A DEUX

Nigel: You can fix him? I can make him worse <3

And we love him for it

Something something criticism of upper class structures (see: quote above about 'brotherhood'), parents being not involved in their kids lives and not seeing obvious signs of mental illness due to that (Nigel's... everything and Alex's authority issues, sense of grandeur and family issues)

This scene is where Alex's dad tries to get the detective to drop the charges and tries to use his connections to the detectives father to do so but he refuses to drop it.

Oh shit apparently theres no evidence Nigel did anything to Susan

Also apparently the detectives cant find Nigels parents so 🤨

Hmmm

Sally is gonna look at Nigels hideout

Damn Nigel had a TON of notebooks

Oh SHIT Nigel had photos of a sleeping girl

Nigel its really hard to defend this i hope you know that

Oh fuck theres a dead body under Nigels house

Apparently 2??

ALEX DID IT. FINAL ANSWER.

Nigel showed Alex the hideout!! Alex was the FIRST and ONLY person (besides Nigel) who knew about it!!! The bodies were fresh!!!! Alex did it. Nigel my babe ill defend you to the death Alex is a psycho

Its ride or die for Nigel Colbie in this house

Aww Nigel introduced Alex to his parents

"Helen and John, this is my best friend Alex. Hes working on the play." Oh yah rich ppl are fucked up. Imagine introducing your parents to your friend by their FIRST NAMES 🤮

Ooh he just read Nigels bible

Nigel thinks hes directly descended from the Knights Templar

See, Alex seems to be reading this like it's his first time seeing all of it. But HE BROUGHT IT UP FIRST. In that class with the pastor earlier. Nigel was watching him. This was right before Nigel started pursuing him (and i don't think this was how it happened. Hold on i'll talk about it later. I think Alex went after Nigel. And I've seen other people think this as well)

Alex's mother died while giving birth to him and he told his father that her death was his fault since he got her pregnant 😬

Oh god

Ok so

Sally found a card that said 'My beloved Maraclea' and Alex is telling her who Maraclea is

Maraclea was the lover of a knights templar in the 13th century who died and the knights templar. Uh. Had sex with her dead body. And basically 9 months later he goes back and her skull is moved from her shoulders to on top of her thigh bones which are crossed. He has to protect the skull bcs itll give them grest fortune or whatever

While hes telling her this theres a flashback to Nigel and Alex meeting up at night and uh. Theyre in a morgue.

I dont like where this is going 😣

Oh fuck its Susan

Is. Is Alex gonna necrophile Susans body

Did he do it???

Hes saying Nigel took him there to basically recreate the whole Maraclea thing but its ambiguous as to if he actually did it

Holy shit thats fucked up

So Alex is watching through the window

Nigels father found those photos that Sally found and. Um. I think those are of Nigels mother actually.

Implied incest/CSA warning (im gonna italicize it. Skip the italicized part. Nothing graphic and not even really explicitly abuse but theres an accusation being made basically. CSA bcs Nigel is 17)

Nigel is in his bed and so is his mother. Shes in a slip and hes in pajamas and his father is holding a gun and yelling and basically accusing them of sleeping together (tho Nigel is 17 and also thats his mother so uh. Yeah.)

Tbf it only incidentally looks like that and she claims they were just talking. But also i have no reason to trust her so uh. Yeah.

Oh my god

Nigels father just shot his mother right next to him.

Holy fuck.

Alex came in and grabbed the gun and asked Nigel what hes done and Nigel said she was 'chosen'

Alex points the gun at Nigel and Nigels dad gets in between them and is shot by Alex

Oh my god wtf

'Ill have my Maraclea' What. In the actual. Fuck.

And he just. Casually dumps his fathers organs into the fire.

"Dont you think they're gonna be missed?"

"Well as long as they dont find her nine months it doesnt really matter, does it?"

🤮🤮🤮🤮

Nigel i cant defend this.

Oh god Alex did it too with Susan

Tom Sturridge angry with a shotgun is something i didnt know i needed but im glad i have it

Oh shit they both did it

Nigel used Alex to kill himself

Holy shit

Alex had the shotgun pointed at Nigel and Nigel is very obviously upset and doesnt understand why Alex thinks hes the crazy one.

He told Alex to pray for him, reached up and pulled the trigger while Alex was holding the gun

ALEX WALKED????

HOLY SHIT ALEX IS MAKING HIS OWN BIBLE

HE LEFT AN ENVELOPE ON SALLYS CAR AND IN IT THERES A JACK CARD THAT SAYS 'MY BELOVED SUSAN'

Holy fuck he broke into Susans tomb and took her skull

Holy shit hes doing the same thing Nigel did to him to someone else

Roll credits

Ok ok ok wow so um.

I dont think Nigel did it

Well ok. I think the truth is somwhere in the middle. Alex is putting a lot of blame on Nigel for someone who may or may not have killed 2 people to Nigel's 1

God its so hard to collect my thoughts about this film. Also its like 2 am so uh. That doesnt help.

I think Alex had a more dominant role than he let on. Also considering how quick he was to pick up the mantle, idk. I just know while watching this i was surprised by how much Alex killed even as Nigel called himself an instrument for killing. All Nigel did that we know for certain was let a kid fall out of a train. Alex straight up shot Nigels father.

Nigel is more quiet and reclusive and morbid and Alex is more intelligent and outgoing.

Of course Alex makes a point to emphasize how morbid Nigel is and ive already pointed out how i think Alex is an unreliable narrator. Alex is smart. He knew how he needed to tell the story and he succeeded. He got off scot free.

Unfortunately i dont think Nigel would have been able to do that. Nigel was smart but not as smart as Alex. He would have slipped up

So what happened to Susan? I keep going back and forth on this. I think it could go either way. But i hate to say it. I think Nigel did it. This whole thing kinda goes back to the Maraclea thing and Nigel knew about it already. So he kills Susan and guts her so Alex has his Maraclea and he goads his father into killing his mother so he 🤮 has... his...

Basically i think Nigel is more evil but Alex had a bigger part than he lets on

Its v v complicated. Or its just 2 am idk. (respectfully) Leave your thoughts if you feel so inclined

Oh my god he said Alex killed her because in Nigels mind he chose Susan as his Maraclea oh good lord

(But Nigel is pretty and fictional so we'll give him a pass)

Im definitely rewatching this at some point. Its actually really good

Ok thats all lol bye im gonna go see if theres Like Minds fanfic

[tmisaccidentreportbook]

MAG034, Anatomy Class

Case #161207, Dr. Lionel Elliot Release date: September 1st, 2016 First listen: 6th November, walk home. Definitely remember crossing over the canal bridge.

The Anatomy Students… I love them… I think in the late 20s early 30s episodes, this podcast went from, ‘oh this is interesting, I’m enjoying this’ to ‘… oh this is really good… oh no… this may be a problem…’ And I was right! The Anatomy Class episode was one of those moments that really stands out in my memory.

- Off the bat, we’ve got a live recording, so that helps us with the time frame a bit more. Recording taken on the 12th July, and looking back MAG022 was recorded 12th March… Martin’s been living in the institute for 4 MONTHS?!? The worms have been happening for 4 months!??! How many stomach ulcers are in the making right now? Good grief, no wonder everyone is exhausted, they’re all stressed out of their minds. Wonder how many times Jon has glimpsed Martin in his pants?

- While it’s refreshing to not have someone instantly condemn the tape recorder, and as someone who still uses a filofax I appreciate it, I don’t much care for his tone when talking about the advancements being made in medicine with the use of robotics. It’s well above my understanding but I always enjoy listening to my sister and her fiancee talking about new methods and techniques. These fields are all about saving lives and while this doctor may want to ‘feel that pancreas’, his patient will most definitely want to be alive to use that pancreas, and the body may not survive a full ‘popping of the bonnet’ shall we say. I’m just getting a bit of ‘OK boomer’. ‘Meh, devices, mehmeh.’

- I know there’s a bit of a stereotype with surgeons of jumping immediately to the slicing and dicing… but I don’t think it is unwarranted.

- It’s getting to the stage where the worms are being noticed by visitors, yikes. Also, ‘Bitten? They’re worms.’  Mate, when was the last time you handled an infectious diseases or parasitology case, huh?

- ‘Where, where do you want me to start? The bones? The blood? The… uh… the fruit?’ … Well, that smacks of both divinity and butchery…

- ‘Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology… At King’s College, London.’ So I looked up the module course online and it does exist. It may have been different in 2016, when this was releases and presumably written, but this happened to Dr Elliott ‘in early 2016’. The website sates that this module is taught in the autumn semester.

- Now, I’m looking at this 8 year, Christ 8 years?!, in the future and we are in a post-lockdown/continual-Covid world, so teaching methods have changed, but I’m looking at the module summary and I don’t know how Dr Elliot would take it:

‘The use of computer-assisted learning (Anatomy & Physiology Online, Primal Pictures) during tutorial sessions will enable the students to learn using virtual 3D representations taken from the Visible Human data set … There will be 2 lab sessions that will be assessed from the experimental write-ups. Also there will be 2 sessions in the dissection room to facilitate learning about the skeleton and the cardiovascular system.’

Think it’s a little more remote learning then he’d be comfortable with… comfortable with any other year than 2016 that is.

- ‘I get tired of… squeamish students’… These kids want to learn, are putting themselves in financial straits to do so and I will hear no judgement against them. You build a resilience to this sort of thing, heavens knows I did, and it takes time and exposure. Don’t be rude.

- ‘Spillover class’. points at the academic schedule not making sense and then back at this paragraph Ooooh, cool, it’s covered in universe. ‘… the system had accepted more students for the course than there were places’, sooo this kinda happened to me, but with accommodation rather than tuition. So I spent first year in international, post grad halls… That sucked…

- ‘I have a lot of research due shortly and, well, you know academia – never enough hours in the day.’ I can only imagine, what sort of haggard wreck Jon is starting to look like at this stage in the series. He’s not got the iconic scars yet, but I bet he’s not been looking after himself. He possibly felt a little bit of camaraderie with Dr Elliott, clinging to veil of academia the way he does, but knowing how prickly Jon can be, he could just as easily take affront at the over familiarity.

- ‘I wasn’t responsible for any of the lectures…’ I wonder if those lectures were attended, or if they were ever even scheduled…

- ‘… but I don’t remember what they look like.’ mii theme song playing in the background Blank slates all of them.

- ‘…maybe because they were such an international group.’ I. LOVE. THEIR. NAMES. Fucking love this Jonny, you clever sod. - Erika Mustermann – German - Jan Novak – Czech - Piotr and Pavel Petrov – Russian - John Doe – English - Fulan al-Fulani – Arabic - Juan Pérez – Latin American Spanish All place holder names in different cultures, you clever, clever bastard.

- The fact that he says ‘14 eyes’ instead of ‘7 pairs of eyes’ is weird.

- ‘I got the oddest feeling they were judging my walk.’ Must learn from teacher. Observe, learn, imitate.

- I find the whole ‘building the interior as they learn about it’, just, so cool and clever concept. They can observe a person and get the build and the movement but learning how the components fit together and interact and everything? Excellent, brilliant, ugh I love it.

- ‘…their breathing deliberate and almost pointed.’  ‘Look. We have learned. Are we doing it right?’

- ‘How sharp are the knees meant to be?’  They’re babies. Teach and guide these abomination babies.

- ‘I just did my best to stop caring.’ How many statements are going to carry this sentiment? That at some point or another, the subject is just going to ‘nope’ right out and make it through? I’m going to have to start a tally.

- ‘Their faces, normally so neutral, were alive with… what was it I saw? Excitement? Curiosity? Hunger?’ THEY’RE BABIES!

- They are effectively playing ‘dress up’… with skeletal remains… I love them.

- They are such diligent students. There ever tutorial, ready to learn, even if the lecturer isn’t there.

- Hearts… Ooof… let the ‘sinister nonsense’ begin.

- ‘Maybe I thought they’d descend into some sort of feeding frenzy, but they didn’t.’ Well, that is both rude and hurtful. Actually, to be fair, I did once ask about taking pheasants we’d been dissecting in lab home for cooking… There were about 4 of us who were watching about 20 odd bird carcasses just getting discarded going ‘umm… I could curry that… sure I can’t take it? Oh, ok…’  

- ‘… that if I couldn’t see or hear it, I didn’t care.’ Very ‘child hiding behind a curtain, if I can’t see them they can’t see me’ mentality.

- Again, I ask, ‘Where does the blood COME FROM?!’

- I think the whole situation can be described succinctly as ‘horrible miracle’, I think Dr Elliott was right on the money there.

- ‘I asked Elena and, irregular as it was, she gave me the address.’ Well, THAT feels like a safe guarding violation…

- Kingsland Road in Newham. I thought for a moment maybe the Anatomy Students and Sarah Baldwin and the others taken by The Anglerfish all lived together, but Melanie picked Sarah up from Sydenham in MAG028, which is the other side of the river by quite a distance. ‘…and the details have disappeared from the college systems.’ Clean up.

- ‘I was about to reply when a muffled scream of pain came from somewhere deep inside the house.’ Oh God… I’d completely forgotten they’d gone in search of, umm, ‘additional educatioal material’. Oh dear… Bad babies…

- ‘And the apple, did you… eat it? / Do I look like an idiot? Of course not! I cut it in half, first, to check if it was… off.’ I can only hope you are speaking euphemistically and it was your morbid curiosity that prompted you to cut the apple open and that you had exactly zero intentions of actually eating it because GOOD GRIEF MAN!

- And again, human teeth where there ought not to be human teeth. To be fair to Jonny, teeth are fucking weird.

- ‘The first thing about this statement that makes me dubious is that it comes from a fellow academic.’ HA! Oh Jonathan, my sweet, self aware boy… Oh… Oh, I thought this may be a commentary on the ‘ivory tower of academia’ concept, but actually it’s because they’re so used to getting bullied by other nerds…

- ‘It seems strange to me that Dr. Elliott would fail to take note of this.’ And indeed this could be a point in the ‘the other nerds are being mean to us’ column, but I think it also may be down to how focused and, sometimes insular circles of academia can be, the fact that this was missed by Dr Elliott.

- ‘… but Tim seems to believe her.’ And we believe Tim. Tim is the best.

- ‘… they all seemed like healthy adult teeth, and most of them appeared to come from different people.’ Are they… umm… are they samples taken from the ‘samples’ that the anatomy students were sourcing?

- ‘… early last year, Dr. Rashid Sadana took his own life. There’s no direct connection, except that he taught the Anatomy, Physiology and Pathology for Complementary Therapies course at St. Mary’s University…’ Well, they’re doing their studies, they went and got their pre-requisites…

[v-writes-2202]

I have a strong preference for long sleeves and long pants. For hooded sweatshirts and only going swimming alone. I assume it is a preference for privacy, when it comes to my skin. It is the body’s largest organ, yet it is constantly exposed to the entirety of the world. It is visible from the outside, an essential part of a person’s anatomy, subject to the scrutiny and assaults from all directions. 

My arms, shoulder to wrist, my left hand. My legs, calves and thighs. My stomach, my chest. The top half of my back. My face. Really just the one, on my face. Scars. People stare, people ask questions. People pretend they don’t see, looking out of the corner of their eyes, trying to figure out how the scars got there. A diagram, a map. A record. Painted in purple, pink, white. Angry red. Raised up, like you could read my skin like braille. Indented, like you could see where rivers of blood made canyons and valleys. Observers do not know how they came to be, but might guess it. Might theorize. 

The truth? Some of the scars are casualties of a war I did not sign up for, but was drafted into. Some were sculpted by my own hands, late at night, clutching a razor or a lighter like a rosary, while I prayed no one would hear the blood drip onto the floor, smell my flesh burning. Some the result of another, the sentiment the same. The hope that this will solve the “something” tearing apart their heart, the hope that they would not be caught, that their sins and indulgences would go unpunished. 

There is an urge to hide them, the scars. A display of vulnerability I would prefer to remain invisible, questions I would prefer to leave unanswered. A nakedness I would only entrust to the eyes of a lover, a best friend, a sister. A story I would only want those trusted few to read. Rolling up my sleeves, wearing shorts, going without a hood to cast the one one my face in shadow… It all feels like an admission of some kind. A surrender. An acceptance of my own weakness, a promise to answer the questions, the stares. An invitation. One that I don’t want to be handing out.

There is also a pride I carry with me. It lives in my shoulders, my hands, wrists, my calves and my thighs. A strength deep into my bones I carry in the bumps on my back, a fire in my chest that glows purple and pink. A steady solid something in my gut, beneath all the misguided collagen.

It is true that sometimes the evidence of survival carries the pain of what threatened it, still I would not trade it for unblemished skin. The scars are a reminder. A physical proof of what I have been able to live through. Proof that my body is capable of life despite. Proof of the lengths I am willing and able to go through, to make it out of whatever hell I’m in, to arrive at a what’s next again, and again, and again. They are proof that there is an after, that there is a time when wounds will only hurt as an echo, if they hurt at all. 

They are proof that I am capable of building armor, of fixing a sinking ship with duct tape and a prayer, that something that used to be agonizing will stop being agonizing in a matter of time. Proof of the possibility of stitching yourself back together regardless of how much blood you have lost in the process. Proof that things can stay with you forever, unless you choose to remove and excise them.  My body tells a story that I am proud to tell. At least to the mirror, when I am alone, or to someone who is worthy of hearing the tale. Despite this pride, I would like to be able to choose the audience. And so I cover up. Not out of shame, because I am not ashamed, but out of respect to the protagonist. Knowing a person is an intimate, private thing. It is a privilege. I have enough self respect to reserve this for those who have earned it.

[imnotwolverine]

Wolfie’s Fic Recs | The Grand Library of Kink 1/2

THE GRAND LIBRARY OF KINK - Allow me to give you a list of treats to quench the unbearable thirst between your thighs. 

>> Looking for part 2 of this list? <<

🖐WARNING: NSFW - SMUT below the cut 🖐

Author’s note: Let’s be honest. You probably are prowling the Tumblr grounds for the same reasons I am: there’s some darn good porn fics out here. And in the year I’ve been in the Cavillry, I’ve gathered a most wondrous collection of soft to extremely kinky fics. Time..to make a more comprehensible list of my favourites thusfar! (💦It’s long, so you better have some fresh panties at the ready💦)

In this library you’ll find:

Part 1:

Self-help 101  

Cherry Popping Goodness 

Vanilla With A Sprinkling Of Sex Toys 

Vanilla - Toybox Special 

Henry’s Hands Special

The Hook-up

Part 2:

Sensory Delights

The Triple Threat  

Fuck - The Geralt Special

Take It Like A Pussy - The Napoleon Special 

Hammer-time - The Walker Special 

Cpt. Cunnilingus - The Syverson Special

Thighs And Canes - The Sherlock Special 

Fem!DOM 

--

Self-help 101

[This one’s all about the act of self love - solo masturbation]

Toys are for boys. Unless it’s in the bedroom..right? Almost The Same by @lunedelorient  [Henry x Reader]

Mike can’t help himself as his gaze falls upon your lipstick stains on a beer bottle. Where else would he like those stains to be? Lipstick by @emyearns [Mike / reader]

A toy arrives to sweeten the lonely nights when Henry is away. There’s only one minor detail as the package is being unwrapped; she isn’t alone yet. Flying Solo by me [OFC x Henry Cavill]

I love fics written in Henry’s point of view. In this one Henry can’t take it no more. He simply needs to let off some steam; I Need A Woman by @chamomilebottom [Henry Cavill x reader]

This man gets caught..a lot, doesn’t he? You give Henry a helping hand as you catch him in the shower in Welcome Home by @rosethornsanddaisies [Henry Cavill x reader]

I wasn’t sure whether I should put this in the self-help section. So consider yourself warned: watch out..you’re in for a solo-lovin’ surprise in On Display by @ladyreapermc [August Walker x Reader]

--

Cherry Popping Goodness

[There’s a first time for each flower to bloom - loss of vaginal/anal virginity]

The bookstore meet-cute, the skipping heartbeats, and the fluster of cheeks as she just read a steamy passage of her book aloud. It’s the perfect recipe for romance...though there is one tiny, tiny... Her Minor Thing by @ladyreapermc [Henry Cavill x erotica novelist!OFC]

For one night only, gigolo August Walker will make all your fantasies come true. His specialty? Sweet, innocent little flowers. Velvet Chains by @littlefreya [August Walker x reader]

The morning after the cherry popping, a bud starts to bloom. White Honey by @littlefreya [Henry Cavill x reader]

This fic! This. Fic. I hadn’t seen I Capture The Castle when I read this fic, but it made me fall for Stephen so freakin’ hard that I kind of watched the movie straight after. It’s sweet, blushing-cheeks worthy and utterly cinematic. Bluebells by @yespolkadotkitty [Stephen x reader]

August Walker, a virgin? Well..there’s a First Time For Everything by @hope-to-hell [August Walker x reader]

Theseus didn’t mean it to go this way. But he was so thirsty - and now for more then just a drink of water. To Die of Thirst by @hope-to-hell. [Theseus x reader]

It’s Geralt’s first time and isn’t a Witcher body just a fascinating thing..hmm... Anatomy Lessons by @princess-of-riviaa [Geralt x experienced!reader] 

I didn’t know bullet point lists could be this sensual and H.O.T. - First Time w/ Henry by @henchry [Henry Cavill x reader]

GOODNESS ME. Can first times be like this for everyone, please and thank you?! My Flower gives you squirt-inducing, sweet talkin’ Henry making the most out of this special little moment. By @viking-raider [Henry Cavill x reader]

Wait till marriage with August? Highly unlikely....right? Uncharted Territory by @chamomilebottom [August Walker x reader]

Now onto some other sanctuaries to plunder. (Anal that is) Poker Night @foodieforthoughts [Syverson x OFC]

Lets @littlefreya’s words entice you into a new world as you and Henry finally pick the Forbidden Fruit (yep, anal again) [Henry Cavill x OFC]

And now we’re on the anal train, I do notice that men barely ever get any backdoor lovin’ from their partners. And I know, I know: most men are really apprehensive about it. But goodness can it be good! Sy has learned of it’s sweetness and reminisces that first time in Sy And The Sex Tape by @hope-to-hell [Syverson x reader]

--

Vanilla With A Sprinkling Of Sex Toys

[Couple’s sex with just a touch of kink] 

Let’s start with a game. Written in the language of love (French that is), this enticing bit of foreplay gets the blood streaming alright. Invisible Touch by @emelinelovesjc [Henry Cavill x reader]

Is it time for my favourite poetic foreplay fic?! YES it IS! Ode by @wolvesandhoundshowltogether just does something for me and I can simply not explain - just go ahead and read it and see for yourself! [Henry Cavill x reader] 

The key to good sex, is foreplay. And teasing during an event? You bet your  sweet ass you can get Henry riled up. Tease by @captainbigdy [Henry Cavill x reader]

Ready for some myrrh mountain-esque, super indulgent eroticism? Read Confessions by @captainbigdy [Henry Cavill x reader]

Birthday sex

What do you give a man who has it all, for his birthday? A little boudoir, a little make-out on the couch and...Happy Birthday by @rosethornsanddaisies [Henry Cavill x reader]

Apparently boudoir pictures for Henry’s birthday is on y’alls mind! A Picture’s Worth by @sunflowersstan gives you a belated birthday present - but that definitely should not spoil the fun. [Henry Cavill x reader]

Home (coming)

For once, Henry is forgiven for his ungodly early alarm clock: it’s beach time! And Kal will be there too. Home by @chamomilebottom [Henry Cavill x reader]

Henry, unfortunately, isn’t always home. In fact, he’s away quite a lot. Meaning it’s all the important to make up for lost time: Welcome Home by @geralt-of-baevia [Henry Cavill x reader]

And what’d you do if he finally comes home, but an impromptu surprise party is organised by his friends? Better Keep Quiet, baby. By @toomanystoriessolittletime [Henry Cavill x reader]

Does that come with side effects? When a 200 pound beast tackles you after coming home, you just might feel it in the next few days. Lust Worthy by @viking-raider [Henry Cavill x reader]

Home is also domestic goodness ( “Can I, baby?” He whispers against your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it, his eyes searching to meet yours. >> I mean..YES YOU CAN!! DO WHATEVER YOU MUST YOU HUNK OF A BEAR 😩) in this sweet ficseries chap by @lovelycavills: The Night [Henry Cavill x reader]

Tropes to lovers 

Friends to lovers trope, anyone? Of Fck It by @tillthelandslide gives you beers on the couch, friendly banter and then WOOPSIEDOODLIEDOO. [Henry Cavill x reader]

More friends to lovers with one accidental wet dream while lounging on the couch with Henry. Dreaming by @yoursecretsmutblog [Henry Cavill x reader]

Or perhaps PA/boss to lovers? Thunder by @toomanystoriessolittletime gives you Henry in full Geralt gear and rain..lots and lots of rain - meaning it’s time for a ..😏break. [Henry Cavill x OFC]

One more PA story to get the storm in your pussy settled. Years after working for Henry, you send a drunk text and he Answers. In the flesh. By @toomanystoriessolittletime [Henry Cavill x reader]

Audio porn

Another thing I got quite attached to while I learned all about my kinks here on Tumblr, is audio porn. And what better than to have Henry do some audio recording for us thirsty women? Erotic Audios Present... By @thetaoofzoe [Henry Cavill x OFC]

More audioporn!Henry? @toomanystoriessolittletime has got you covered with Talk Dirty To Me, starring photographer Henry who has had.. a bit of a past - and doesn’t his voice sound terribly familiar? 🧐[au!Henry Cavill x reader]

Communication

Smutty fics practically always skip the “So what do you actually like”-part. Well. This fic covers it - and then some. The Interview by @peachyvulpixie. [Henry Cavill x OFC]

And communication is very - very important. Especially when moving stuff around, right Henry? A Little Bit To The Left by @lunedelorient [Henry Cavill x OFC] 

Communication is also key when you want to decide on sub/dom dynamics. Switch has daddy vibes, but in a domestic, confidential, well-established relationship. By @viking-raider [Henry Cavill x reader] 

Or, you may just want to tell sweet Henry that it’s definitely okay to get a little louder between the sheets. Express Yourself by @viking-raider [Henry Cavill x reader]

A thrilling ride

Want to “chose your own adventure” in smutty style? @sciapod’s got just the thing you’re looking for with BD Morning Energy  [Henry Cavill x reader]

Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sweet, but ever and ever; it’s truly Henry. Read about various types of horny Henry in Shapeshifter by @wanderinglunarnights [Henry Cavill x reader]

Body/orgasm insecurity

This was a very personal piece to write. I have difficulty reaching orgasms, especially with a partner, so for all fellow ladies with the same little problem: Henry is here to give you some Riding Lessons between the sheets. [Henry Cavill x OFC]

And I’m so, so glad that there’s at least a few of you here on Tumblr who can also get a little worried and even impatient between the sheets. Thankfully Henry is the posterboy of Patience, ready to unravel you piece...by.. delicious..piece. By @captainbigdy [Henry Cavill x OFC] 

Nipple love

Female nips get all the lovin’. But male nipples? Not often. Tease by @the-soot-sprite will make sure that is taken well taken care off. [Henry Cavill x reader]

Alright, and now for a little female nip-nip action, let’s dive right into the action. Rough lovin’, shovin’ Cavill is showing you how terribly fucked out he can get you in In My Thoughts by @jolly-polly [Henry Cavill x reader]

Horizontal vs. vertical sex 

Shower sex is such a delectable topic to read about (even though in real life it’s usually awkward and impractical). Let your dreams bring you..after workout Showers with Henry by @darklydeliciousdesires [Henry Cavill x reader]

Or perhaps honeymoon shower sessions? Mirror by @tillthelandslide [Henry Cavill x OFC]

Did someone say honeymoon? Marshall remembers having to climb through that darn window the night before he married you and it makes for a super sweet, domestic fluffy smutty sex scene. And did I mention there was family right at the other side of the door? 👀 Locked by @fourmarkdove [Marshall x reader]

After all that working out it’s time for some food. But what would Henry prefer: ragu or you? What’s Cooking by @writingforhenry [Henry Cavill x reader]

Netflix and Chill

Netflix and chill, anyone? This Movie Night becomes a little steamy 💦 by @writingforhenry [Henry Cavill x reader]

It’s really difficult to watch tv with Henry around, and Freya gets a little frustrated with his incessant teasing; can a woman not just watch some Mindhunter in peace, damnit?! The Refund by @wolvesandhoundshowltogether [Henry Cavill x OFC]

Play-time! 

From game play to girlfriend play during an extremely boring day in lockdown. Confined by @darklydeliciousdesires [Henry Cavill x reader]

More game chair smuttiness? It’s Game on! Mic on! - And ..Eh.. wait..what?! By @thecavillchronicles [Henry Cavill x reader]

Is tickle-play a thing? After a long day where everything seems to have gone wrong, you just need a good shag and Mike will make sure you can Sleep soundly tonight. @emyearns [Mikey x reader]

Alright, it’s a thing. Here’s some more tickle play with Marshall. Laughing During Sex by @promptandpros [Marshall x reader]

Hereby I declare that hairplay is also a thing. And with curls like Henry’s..I mean..come on. Love So Soft gives you dry-humping like horny teenagers after a bad day - and yes..hairplay. By @princess-of-riviaa [Henry Cavill x reader]

Needy Henry

Sad sky eyes are in dire need of some medicine, but Rose doesn’t realise until she’s getting some action for herself that the best medicine for Henry’s malady, is probably not watery soup. In Morbus Et Salus by @fanficsrusz [Henry Cavill x OFC]

Drunk Henry is in need of a midnight snack. And it’s a good thing there just happens to be one in his bed. Drunk In Love by @angrythingstarlight [Henry Cavill x reader]

And the next morning he might just be a really, really needy bear. (My boyfriend, for one, is always EXTRA horny when he is hungover 😂) Five More Minutes by @angrythingstarlight [Henry Cavill x reader]

A few more

And five minutes is probably all you get when you have kids. But it just makes these little mommy and daddy moments all the more sacred. Close To You by @the-soot-sprite [Henry Cavill x reader]

There’s also not a lot of time when you’re in a limo, trying to get your groove on. 🎶Driver roll up the Partition pleaseee 🎶by @fanficsrusz [Henry Cavill x reader]

Now to finish off this vanilla segment: vanilla kisses! Lick Me Till Icecream by @the-soot-sprite [Henry Cavill x reader]

--

Vanilla - Toybox Special 

[A special toy segment for you vanilla(ish) lovers] 

When it’s play time - long work day or no - Henry better be prepared for some frisky business. On Purpose by @wanna-do-bad-things (also hell yes for including some toys!) [Henry Cavill x one very frustrated OFC]

More toys? MORE TOYS! Command And Obey brings you dom!Henry being a terrible teasing ass, but alas..it still gets you all kinds of wet *shrugs* By @wanna-do-bad-things [Henry Cavill x reader]

Perhaps need some dom!Clark instead? With toys? We’ve got you covered. By @poledancingdinos [Clark x OFC]

Now, let’s not forget about Henry’s favourite toy of them all. His bike. In Good Vibrations by @deathonyourtongue [Henry Cavill x reader]

You find Henry pleasing himself with something you didn’t even know he owned; a fleshlight. Henry’s Toy by @viking-raider [Henry Cavill x reader]

--

Henry’s Hands Special 

[I can’t be the only one who has the hots for hands]

Having a bad day? Talented fingers belonging to one caring man of a Henry are here to let off your steam. Burn The Couch by @meowpurrbooks [Henry Cavill x reader]

I’m glad I’m not the only one who has a complete and utter obsession with male hands. This fic is amazing in every way. It’s got suspense, hands AND Henry; Idle Hands by @thelastsock [Henry Cavill x Reader]

More handsy stuff is offered in this private drawing session. Draw Me With Your Fingers by @emelinelovesjc [Henry Cavill x OFC!author]

This fic? ..it’s hands-on work. I must give a disclaimer: I’m hard to please when it comes to daddy!fics, but this one I truly enjoyed. It perfectly rides (hehe) the fine balance between rough throat fucking, choking and usage of the endearing nickname ‘little fawn’. Hands by @twhstuckylover [Henry Cavill x reader]

Henry’s hands are here to warm you up on a cold day in Finger Work by @yoursecretsmutblog [Henry Cavill x reader]

--

The Hook-up

[A little less established, a little more messy. But definitely h-o-t-h-o-t-h-o-t]

Changing rooms may just hide a Dirty Secret (and crotchless pantyhoses) by @foodieforthoughts [Henry Cavill x OFC]

Being toyed around, Henry can’t stand it any longer - and goodness where did he leave that darn bowtie?! Caught In The Storm by @thelastsock [Henry Cavill x Reader]

Syverson is also not one who likes to be toyed around with, especially when you’re in the same bar wearing that deliciously short dress and his favourite high heels. Mine by @yoursecretsmutblog [Syverson x reader]

Dancefloor delights and popping buttons (is this a good time to admit I have ripped some shirts like that? *woops* 😅) - this quite exhibitionistic fic is an utter delight and I’m Glad You Came  by @foodieforthoughts [Henry Cavill x reader]

Since this is steady-hook-up I wasn’t sure whether to post it in this segment or the Vanilla segment, but ..yea..it definitely deserves a read! Rules Of Engagement has Em and Henry coming to the realisation that a friendly hook-up isn’t all that easy. Especially not when one foul IUD throws baby dust in their busy lives. By @ladyreapermc​ [Henry Cavill x OFC] 

Marshall specials 

An old friend/lover shows up just when you find yourself with the predicament of a broken down car. Before you know it you’re having car sex with one curly haired police officer in..yea..a police car. A Perfect Shitty Day by @toomanystoriessolittletime [Marshall x reader]

OOPH you girls are in it for the Walter hook-ups. Forget That Asshole follows up after you had one particularly disappointing blind date. And thankfully a blue eyed sweater-bear-man is there to provide you some much needed consolation.  By @penwieldingdreamer [Marshall x reader]

Sex on set

On set things might just get a little steamy, so might as well take ..*clip scene* ACTION! Touch Me Tease Me by @deathonyourtongue [Henry Cavill x OFC]  

More on-set delights? Perhaps with a touch of embarrassing nerves? Directed By La Petite Mort by @wolvesandhoundshowltogether [Henry Cavill x reader]

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>> Looking for part 2 of this list? <<

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Artworks/edits are mine ❤️And as always: if you have more fic recs to add, share them in your reblogs/comments! 

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[dathen]

Does Jon deny all the statements/the Supernatural ROUND SEVEN:  TMA 31-35

Oops I fell behind because I was most excited about doing Sasha’s episode.  But we got another milestone development in this batch! 

- TMA 31 - First Hunt:  Neither confirmed nor denied.  Jon admits he’s not going to investigate this one, bookending the commentary with how scared he is with Prentiss looming.  Conclusion:  None

- TMA 32 - Hive:   “We still don’t have any evidence that Prentiss is actually paranormal. It could just be an unknown, aggressive parasite. There are weird things out there that are perfectly natural. It’s not, though. I know it’s not natural. Somehow I… I feel it. I’m sorry, my academic detachment seems to have fled me.”  I CANNOT OVERSTATE HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS.  Here Jon is skipping over doing his job of weighing the evidence vs. other possible explanations, recording his gut feeling that he knows Prentiss is supernatural.  That’s not how investigations are supposed to work!  And he immediately admits this, that he’s supposed to have ~academic detachment~ and not just conclude off his feelings, but he can’t help it.  Also important: Martin must have not listened to this tape before Prentiss’s attack; he could have easily pulled out “I heard you admit that you know Prentiss is supernatural” in his argument, but instead went with “why do you not believe ANYTHING.”  Conclusion:  Believed.

- TMA 33 - Boatswain’s Call:  Part of Jon’s job is to narrow down what specific element of a statement is potentially supernatural to compare it to the evidence, and in this case says there wasn’t any precise moment--BUT he still ends up talking to Elias about it, on an off-limits topic, because of all the circumstantial weirdness he found.  He also gets so very pissy at how “Elias gets very twitchy when we look into anything that might conceivably have funding repercussions”; he WANTS to dig deeper, and chafes at the limitations Elias’s donor-seeking puts on him.  Quite opposite of the “this is all bullshit and a waste of my time” characterization.  Conclusion:  Possibly supernatural, brought up with Elias.

- TMA 34 - Anatomy Class:  Jon lines up the factors against this statement being real vs. what they could verify.  Each time he states one of his (fabricated) doubts, he states a reason against it:  “the admin contact could have been in on it, but Tim believes her” “it’s possible the teeth were planted in the apple, but it’s a long way to go for a joke” (side note: there are many real cases of people planting objects in food as hoaxes, so “the teeth may have been planted as a joke” has real-life basis).  In the end, Jon doesn’t come to a solid conclusion.  Conclusion:  Suspicious but nothing confirmed.

- TMA 35 - Old Passages:  “From an evidence standpoint, this case is a complete bust.  However, too many of the names and features match with other statements for me to dismiss it.”  Jon had a flat-out cover-up on his hands, where the only evidence he could find from his digging was lies, but there’s Gerry!  There’s Leitner!  Jon knows his stuff and is making connections!  Conclusion:  Not dismissed.

This is the segment where Jon’s fear is making his own coping mechanism against the fear crack, but also where his natural curiosity is showing through.  “I’ll just feign disbelief” Jon says, but is still burning to know what’s really behind the statements he by now knows are true, and we all know how bad a liar Jon is.  Up to this point, it’s been really interesting to see how much Jon relies on his tone to convey disbelief and skepticism, while the actual words almost always leave the possibility open: it’s very much a performance.  And here he doesn’t even properly perform; he’s tangibly afraid of a threat he admits is supernatural at this point, even bringing it up in recordings that have nothing to do with the case.

[public-trans-it-deactivated20240]

TMA Season 1

Just wrapped up Season 1 and HOLY FUCK THIS SHOW IS INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD. HOLY FUCK.

Obviously, major spoilers ahead.

So, Jane Prentis is dead. The Hive probably is not. The Spiders are connected to the hive but I dont think are part of it? I think they are an enemy of the hive. They feed on the worms, and one of them alerted Jon to presence of the hive by forcing him to kill it (?) and breaking the wall. That doesn’t sound like something the hive would want. So probably two different entities there.

Sasha is DEAD QUESTION MARK? Maybe? One of the shapeshifters who was studying anatomy has taken her place, and that is MAYBE what Michael was.

List of recurring entities we know of so far:

The Hive (Infested Jane Prentis who is now dead. The Hive itself might not be)

Spiders (May be part of the hive, or may be the natural enemy of the hive)-

Spooky Tree Demon (The demon/ghost/whatever that was in the spooky tree outside that one construction site, that possessed that priest)

Vampires (Assuming the family that was weird about corpses was also vampires, maybe?)

Meat

That one Ghost Hunter sound chick who was abducted by the Anglerfish maybe???

Book Dude (Litner I think?)

Some kind of fire entity related to eyes

Another entity related to CLOSED eyes. Has only shown up once but MAY be the same as the one above? Different facets of the same thing?

Shapeshifter People which are MAYBE related to the hypnotic table with the square hole in it?

Yeah I wouldn’t have remembered that last part but when the series draws attention to “HEY THIS WAS A THING THAT CAME UP BEFORE YOU SHOULD TAKE AN OPPORTUNITY TO RELISTEN TO THE SERIES DURING THE BREAK UNTIL THE NEXT EPISODE COMES OUT.” I just check the wiki. Avoiding spoilers as much as possible, but if its actively calling attention to it I’m gonna double check the summaries of past episodes.

My biggest complaint about the series was that the whole reason this is done on tape recorder is because all attempts to digitize these statements have failed. And yet the main character was a fucking skeptic? What?

Like, I liked it at first. The dry professionalism was a nice touch, and it made a great contrast to when he just goes “OH ITS THIS SHIT AGAIN” with absolutely zero doubt in the story. But it got old super quickly. I actually physically rolled my eyes when he was like “Yeah its probably perfectly natural that this guy who said he was being stalked by spiders died a couple weeks later wrapped entirely in spider webs. Getting wrapped in spider webs is just what happens to dead bodies.”

So the ACTUAL FUCKING REVEAL THAT HE HAS BEEN FAKING HIS SKEPTICISM THE WHOLE TIME SHOULD HAVE BEEN A LOT MORE OBVIOUS, HOLY FUCK. I HAD TO PAUSE THE EPISODE AND PACE AROUND MY ROOM FOR A BIT TO PROCESS THIS. GOD ITS SO FUCKING OBVIOUS WHY DIDN’T I SEE THAT COMING? ITS SO FUCKING GOOD.

Having him immediately putting stuff together because he has been keeping notes on everything in his head cause he is convinced it is all real and tied together but doesn’t want to admit it out loud was BEAUTIFUL writing. Holy fuck.

Also Jon questioning if Martin was really a ghost that was haunting the Archives for a moment was great and got a really good laugh out of me.

[mia-ugly]

Breakable Things

Martin is big.

Not in a strapping film-star kind of way. Not tall or broad-shouldered, not a ‘mountain of a man’ or a ‘tall drink of water’ or anything like that.

Just big (a dumb, blunt, smack of a word.)

He was big as a lad, he’s bigger now. He always had the kind of body that inspired too many teachers to push him toward wrestling, football, rugby even (apparently his dad had been involved with the clubs. Apparently he’d been a fair tighthead back in the day, before he left Martin’s mum, and left Martin to gather up the pieces, cutting his fingertips on every one.)

It didn’t take Martin’s teachers or schoolmates long to realize that Martin’s size did not equate to any sort of athletic skill. And once the - inevitable rumours started circulating around Year Seven, well. Any motivation he might have had to be ‘part of a team’ was drained out of him like a tire going flat (that metaphor needs work. Doesn’t really convey the violence, try again.)  His motivation left him like the air being knocked from his lungs, shove after hard shove against the lockers.

Martin is strong.

Physically. He doesn’t know why - got it from his father, didn’t he - his wide back, his thick fingers, his solid legs. He took a cricket bat to the face once - ought to have broken his nose, blackened his eyes, but it didn’t. Got in a car accident when he was seventeen, didn’t even crack a rib. Flipped the whole thing into the ditch, and his mum screamed herself hoarse when she found out, but Martin walked away from it. Physically. He walked away.

He doesn’t bruise easily. If he cuts his hand chopping vegetables, it heals quickly. He doesn’t have any scars (he has stretch marks though, all over his stomach and thighs, and for all that he is strong, he’s soft. He’s soft and he knows it, all pudding and poetry and fear, oh, fear most of all. It's pathetic how easy he is, how quickly he caves, rolls over and does whatever's asked of him.

In most situations, anyway. With most people.)

“Why don’t you want me coming with you?”

Jon is in his office, seated in front of that bloody tape recorder as always. The sight of him there is so familiar, like the negatives from a film camera. Like even if Jon wasn’t there, the imprint of him would still linger, white as a ghost against the darkness.

He doesn’t seem surprised to hear Martin’s voice. Neither does he glance up from the desk where he’s shuffling papers, gathering up books. His hands move constantly, restless and bird-boned and Martin is always looking at them, even when he tries not to.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Jon’s voice is low, rough with exhaustion, and it makes Martin wince. Makes him want to fuss (when is the last time the man got a decent night's sleep? Someone should bring him a cup of tea, someone should rub his shoulders, someone should do something -

He knows he has a caretaking thing. He knows it’s not - good. And the sharp ones get to him like anything, he wants to win them over in a pathetic, salivating way. It’s a sickness, but - 

- but there was a point when it suddenly stopped being about Martin’s Whole Thing, and just started being about Jon.

He’ll talk to someone about it, swear. A professional, even. If the world doesn’t end.)

“It’s fine if you get hurt, though, is it?”

Jon does look up now, and Martin forces himself not to take a step back under the dark-lashed scrutiny. The heavy eyebrows, the shimmer of scars.  Sometimes Jon’s skin reminds Martin of the surface of a planet, a rough and distant moon. He wonders how it is that Jon can be so narrow, so small, and still take up so much room in the Archives, and in the world, and in Martin’s big (and soft and so so stupid ) heart.

“It is my job.”

“No. This - this is not your job.” Martin struggles to put the words together in the face of this vast, ridiculous injustice. “Going off to - what? Do battle with some sort of evil, circussy death-cult, that’s not your job . You don’t get paid for that.”

Jon snorts, derisive, and Martin wishes he could be angry. It’d be easier if he was angry with Jon.

But he isn’t.

“Melanie needs you here. And I can’t be - there, thinking about -“ Jon stops. He swallows and looks back down at the scattered papers on his desk. A snowfall of horror stories, laid out neatly on Hammermill Bright White. “Worrying about you.”

(“Leave it, Martin, I’m fine just - leave me alone -” Mum smacks him away with a vein-bruised hand.)

“Because I’ll make a mess of things - is that what you think? I can help you, I want to help you-”

“I will feel better knowing you’re here.”

“And how do you think I’ll feel? Knowing you -  you and, um Tim and Daisy - are out risking your lives while I’m sat on my hands, drinking tea, being useless -”

“You aren’t.” Jon’s voice is suddenly loud, as if he’s in pain. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I don’t - I can’t - you’ll be helpful here. The Institute needs you, and Melanie needs you, and I -”

-don’t, Martin hears.

Though Jon doesn’t say it, Martin hears it.

“Right,” he manages. “All right.”

He should go. He’s going to go. But he lingers for a moment more, committing as much of Jonathan Sims to memory as he can. The angles of him, compact and rigid with anxiety. The fall of hair across his forehead, ink black shot through with grey. Thin pink lines that a blade left below his jaw, a ripple of lacy scar tissue on his hand (and Martin mostly, mostly doesn’t wonder what those scars would feel like against his own skin. On his shoulder or - or sliding down the length of his throat. At the back of his neck, tugging him into a kiss.)

Come back, come back, come fucking back. Martin isn’t religious, never one for church, but it’s as much of a prayer as he’s ever said.

“Is there something else you want?” Jon asks, terse and tired and - for one thoughtless moment he is the Archivist and only the Archivist, and Martin can’t help but gasp out a shocked, “yes.”

Jon knocks a book off the desk. It slams to the floor loud as a gunshot, and Martin flinches.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, I -”

“No, I’m - I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“It’s fine - I know you didn’t -”

“I would never -”

“But you can.”

There’s a horrible silence, like the moment after the tape recorder shuts off, statement ends. Martin feels sick to his stomach and Jon looks like - like -

He doesn’t know what Jon looks like. Maybe that’s why he keeps talking.

“You can ask me. What I - what I want.” Heat is rushing to his face, a blush that feels like thorns. Jon just stares at him, and this was a bad, bad idea. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Jon doesn’t even need to ask the question, probably knows the whole awful story just by looking at him. “If you wanted.”

When Jon says nothing, just keeps staring, Martin tries desperately to double back.

“Never mind, that was -” He flaps his hands a bit, moving towards the door. His shoulders hunch, an old defense mechanism, useless body trying to make itself look as harmless as possible. Trying to make itself so small it’s beyond notice (it never works.) “I shouldn’t have. I can’t believe I -  just - be safe. All right? That’s all I -”

“Martin -”

“That was - stupid, such a - I’m sorry, I only -”

“-what do you want?”

The words are spoken quietly. Barely above a whisper. But Martin doesn’t need to hear them - his whole body hears them, and suddenly every syllable feels golden in his mouth. Saying it out loud isn’t frightening or humiliating, it’s easy. Answering the Archivist is like falling asleep in a patch of sun-warmed grass, or gasping for air after holding your breath underwater.

“I want you to come back.” It’s honey dripping off his tongue. “I want you to come back for me. And I want the world not to end, and I want to know what your hair feels like, whether it’s soft or coarse and whether I can tell the difference between the black parts and the silvery parts just by touching them.”

Jon is absolutely frozen behind his desk. He might not even be breathing, but that’s okay; Martin can’t remember why anyone needs to breathe.

“And I want to help you. And the others. I want to matter. And I want Sasha to be okay, and I want Tim to be okay, and I want Elias to finally face some fucking consequences for once. I want to take you on holiday and - and watch you while you sleep so you know you don’t have to be afraid. I want to wake you up if you have nightmares and make you tea in the morning and bake things for you, and - and I want to kiss you, even if it’s just once. Only once, just so I know, and only if you want me to. That’s what I want.”

The sweetness ends the moment the last word leaves his mouth. Suddenly the honey is cloying and acrid, suddenly his heart is unsteady with embarrassment, skipping beats like he’s just had a shot of adrenaline. Martin chokes on a breath and slams his eyes shut against the spinning room.

“Fuck.” His voice cracks on the word, insult to injury, and he claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh God - I’m - oh God. That was -” He barely remembers what he said, which is the only thing keeping him upright at the moment. He just knows it was soft, pathetically soft. Even his fantasies are as weak as his jawline. “I’m going to - go, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have -”

“W-wait.”

Martin doesn’t want to open his eyes. But he does. Just in time to see Jonathan Sims stand up. Start to walk around the desk.

And Jon is not big. Or strong, physically. Martin knows a bit about anatomy, took a couple art classes, was always fascinated by the bones of things. As Jon steps closer, Martin can only see the breakable things about him. Collarbones, fingers, bridge of his nose. What’s that bone in the arm that everyone’s always breaking?

Humerus.

Ulna.

Jon is not strong, and he is scarred, and he is small and fragile and God he is the bravest person Martin’s ever met.

“Martin, you -” Jon stops in front of him and Martin looks down, gaze almost level with the top of Jon’s head. “You can ask me. What - what I want.”

He’s shaking, Martin can see it - and it makes him realize that he’s shaking too. He barely manages the “What -” before he forgets how to say the rest, forgets how words work (but Jon, Jon is brave.)

“I think - I would like -” Jon reaches for Martin’s hand, and lifts it to his mouth. Presses a dry kiss right in the centre of Martin’s palm.

It’s a ruining sort of softness, and Martin’s big (physically) and strong (physically) but somehow Jon knows where his weaknesses are - the loose dragonscale, the slipped disc.

(And of course, after this the world will almost end (but not quite.)  After this, there will be Elias and Martin’s humiliating tears over a statement he knew damn well, a beholding that came as no surprise to anyone.

After this Jon will die.

Almost. Not quite.)

But now: Jon is murmuring, “I think -” as he leans up to kiss Martin (and his warm mouth is shocking and brief, a knife sliding home.)

But now: Jon is still shaking when their lips part, and Martin’s hands are on either side of his face, tips of his fingers settled lightly in Jon's hair (it’s softer than anything, as it turns out, and the silvery parts are softest of all.)

Their foreheads press together, both of them breathing harder than one kiss should warrant. And Martin doesn’t say any of those other things he wants, any of the white-hot words he’s scratched down on paper or typed into the notes app. He doesn’t say anything about the shape of Jon’s shoulder-blades through that thin grey t-shirt he wears, doesn’t bring up any metaphors about fading light or seaglass or breakable things that are also strangely beautiful.

Because what good is poetry at the end of the world?

“Be careful,” Martin says instead (and Jon won’t be.)

“Come back,” he says (and Jon isn’t going to. Not for a long, long time).

And hours later, standing in that empty office, Martin will see the lighter that Jon left on his desk. He will notice the black handful of ashes in the rubbish bin, and wonder what Jon was burning.

And Martin is soft. People-pleasing and pathetic and terribly, terribly in love.

But Jonathan Sims kissed him once (once) and for a moment, in that office, with a small blue flame leaping in his hand -

Martin is not afraid.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

Can you post your favorite quotes of Bruce? xoxo

YES, I LOVE THIS ASK! THANK YOU! okay, i don't know if this is the type of answer you had in mind, but here's what i have for you. i apologize for my grammar, any misspellings, misheard words, misREMEMBERED words or small sections missing from the original quotes. these are in the random order that my brain thought of them in. i'll put a 'keep reading' thing here because it's a long post. (i still have no idea if that works for mobile tumblr but it's probably fine)

okay i'll start with this one

-

bruce(about his very good choices in pants): "there were certain...items of my anatomy which gave the game away, really."

interviewer: "have your children said anything about this?"

bruce: "well no, the reason i have children is because of the items of my anatomy that people could see through the spandex."

-

just this whole thing: Bruce Dickinson yells at bottler(link)

-

bruce(after coming back to the band): "that's actually what the world needs now, is an iron maiden record."

-

bruce: "we're deeply fond of each other."

dave: "yes, we are."

-

bruce: "i have never been able to bite my toenails."

-

bruce: "they(the fans) expect to be entertained and they expect us to give them our attention because they, after all, did pay to come and see the show. they didn't pay to see us get off on ourselves. i mean, i think a lot of artists go around as if they've got a huge mirror taped this far away from their faces and that's all they notice throughout the whole show."

-

bruce: "it's more important to us to sell one record to a person who appreciates the band, cares about the band, knows the music and likes to get involved with what the band's about, than it is to sell three records to people who heard it on the radio and think 'wow there's two really nice tunes on there. i'm gonna take it back home, get wasted, sit and play it to death and then get sick of it and throw it in the dust bin.'"

-

interviewer: "so where does the thrill lie then, is it having ten thousand people in front of you or having ten thousand people buying your record?"

bruce: "it's having ten thousand people WITH you that's the thrill. knowing that, not that you CONTROL ten thousand people, but that ten thousand people support you in what you're doing. that's a very nice feeling."

-

janick: "there's bits dropping off him(eddie), a bit like us, really."

bruce: "you speak for yourself, there's no bits dropping off me. not yet. later, maybe. "

-

janick: "you know, we've got a lot of older people that have been there from the beginning. they move to the back of the hall, probably."

bruce: "or DIE. or they just DIE. they just DIE. some of them DIE."

janick: "some of them get their hair cut and move to the back of the halls."

bruce: "and the other ones, they breed. the iron maiden fans. they breed. they procreate. and that's where the new ones come out. so what you're seeing is like the endless cycle of nature repeating itself in life."

janick: "i think eddie's been busy as well, helping out."

bruce: "yeah, the old fans eat the new ones and the new fans eat the old fans and they, you know."

-

bruce: "i don't wear jeans, i wear pajamas."

-

bruce: "it's that english thing of, you know, if there's a murder going on next door to you, they go 'do you mind killing him a little more quietly?'"

janick: "wait a minute, i live over the road from you , i would save you. i would come over and save you."

bruce: "yeah, but that's probably because you're from the north, you see. we're both from the north, so we're different to londoners."

-

bruce: "steve, are you warm enough? i can put some heat on if you want."

-

bruce(to the people seeing their show for the first time): "all i can say is we're a friendly bunch, really. most of the time. and we don't exclude anybody. brothers, sisters, welcome to the maiden family."

-

bruce: "because the one thing that all of us stand for, you know, this is family. it's not one nation, this is not one race, this is not one religion. this is all religions, every race, every person, every gender. there used to be two, now there's a few more. we are all family in this together, everybody is welcome. and the answer to the bullshit going on out there is not to be full of hatred, it's to be full of love and light and music and a lot of beer."

-

bruce: "i was so nervous tonight before we came on, i very nearly shit myself"

-

bruce: "i've never understood all these bands that say "yeah man i got into a band cause i wanted to take lots of drugs and i wanted to do this". if you want to do that, just, you know, go and do it somewhere else, but don't mess up my world because what we do here, to us, is really important and it's really important to loads and loads of kids that come and see us."

-

bruce(about when he first joined the band): "i started off, i sort of went "look! for a start, don't expect me to get dressed up in all that black leather gear and all that and cut all my hair off because i'm not the same as the previous singer. i've got my own ideas about what should happen and if you don't like it, (folds arms) stuff it!""

-

interviewer: "so adrian, how important is that respect to you?"

janick: (starts to answer nicely despite being called by the wrong name)

bruce: (interrupts) "it's REALLY important that you know that this is not adrian. you know, cause you're supposed to be the journalist and you obviously don't know your ass from your elbow. his name is janick."

-

bruce(drunk): "STAR TREK! IT'S CAPTAIN FUCKING KIRK! MY LAST WORDS, BEAM ME UP SCOTTY!"

-

bruce(i am providing no context for this one): would it confuse you if anything happens out of sequence? like you wipe your bum with your razor or something like that?

and that's all for now. there are so many of these, i could stretch this answer out for a whole week but i'll make myself stop. (i would be thrilled if anybody added more to this list though. or if anybody corrected me if i got anything wrong)

[rataltouille]

BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY

so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!

NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!

1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]

I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?

Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.

The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.

Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.

2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]

Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.

3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]

We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.

We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.

4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]

I remember my life before I moved to London,

Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,

Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.

They keep better company than humans.

Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,

Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,

[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].

I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;

I’m rich enough to pull it off.

5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]

You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.

Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.

When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.

6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]

If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,

Rogue your way down a blood red river,

[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]

And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,

You’ll find a bone.

Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.

[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]

So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.

You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,

Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.

Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.

It’s watching you right now.

So what do you do now?

Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.

Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!

1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]

There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.

2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]

The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.

The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.

Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.

3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]

Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.

Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings​ @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis​ @sophiewritingstuff​ @howdy-writes​ @occiidens​ @nsanelyawkward​ @viawrites-andacts​

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

Charcoal Dust

Female reader x Brian May

Word Count ~6,100. 

I had this fic sitting in my documents since August and re-reading it, I didn’t hate it. So I guess I’m posting it. A bit of a warning I suppose...it goes get slightly suggestive but not 18+..If you’re sensative to that sort of thing, maybe skip this one my dudes.

With the last flick of your eyeliner, you deem yourself ready to head out to the bar. Freddie wanted to let off some steam with finals and you couldn't help but to join in. The apartment you two share have been littered with projects and materials and he almost strangled you for not cleaning up your charcoal dust. With that being the straw which broke the camel's back, tonight is to just get shit faced and to have fun. At least Fred settled one a bar that isn't too much of a walk so you don't have to worry about driving. Grabbing your coat, you leave the complex and into the cold december night.

***

"Y/N, dearie, you're here! Finally the night can commence!"

Freddie runs to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

"The boys are here as well. Can't tell you how much work it took to get John out."

Your eyes settle on Deaky, already a bit drunk and waving at you with a grin. "Evenin' Y/N! How's it going?"

"Not as good as you from the looks of it. But I bet a couple drinks could fix that."

You turn to the bar and order your usual mix drink along with a round of shots for everyone. 

"Here's to having a good night amongst friends!"

"Cheers!"

Everyone downs their shot and you finally sit down, taking the empty spot next to Deaky. Roger and Brian seem to be in their own little world talking about something so you don't bother with that can of worms yet.

"Y/N, did you find a new model for your drawing yet?"

"Nope. That fucking Steven kid answered my ad, took my payment then just vanished. Won't answer the phone, haven't seen him around campus..I'm out like 80 quid and nothing to draw for my final."

"Ouch. What does it entail exactly?"

"I need to do a live nude model study."

Roger's ears seem to perk up with the mention of 'nude'.

"I can help you out with that, love."

Brian rolls his eyes and Freddie chuckles. 

"So, me buying you a shot doesn't get your attention but mentioning I need to draw a naked person does?"

"Well, yeah. You should know this by now."

"I thought alcohol and nudity were on the same tier of importance to you, Taylor."

"Close..but not quite."

You nod at him with a fake academic-like expression as you rub your chin.

"Right, so if anyone knows someone who would be down to model for me let me know."

"I just said I was!"

"Anyone but Roger."

"Oh! What about Brian, dear? He'd be a great model."

The man in question glares.

"Uh..Fred, I don't think so."

"Why ever the fuck not? I've seen you naked before, May. You'd be fantastic. Plus Y/N gets to see your cute little bottom and huge cock!"

His cheeks turn bright red.

"Absolutely not, Fred."

Freddie looks over to your face, laughing despite blushing profusely. He knows of your small crush on the guitarist and loves to relish in opportunities making you and Brian uncomfortable in hopes you two would actually do something. Much to his, and your disappointment, nothing ever happens.

"Well I would do it but I don't have the time in my schedule considering I'm going to be stuck in the art building working on my own shit. Now come on, don't subject her to Roger."

Brian looks over to you, finding you playing with a hem on your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the awkward conversation.

"Well we both know Bri's not going to do it, so when can I come over, love?"

With a slump of your shoulders, you face the blonde.

"It's not a sexual thing where I draw everything, you know. You're going to be in a pose you can hold for a long period of time while I focus on drawing mainly your prominent body landmarks like ribs, pelvis, and muscles along with bones."

"See, Bri? It's not a personal experience, she's just studying your anatomy. With how lanky you are, it'd be easy to see everything."

"I'll also pay you for your time. Might be a bit before I can get the money but you will be compensated. Also if it's too much for you, you can wear your underwear for most of it until I need to get a certain part."

He looks between you and Freddie, a sigh escapes his lips.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Freddie smirks at you and gives a wink before coming into to whisper in your ear.

"Just a heads up, I've seen him naked and you may have to draw three legs."

You turn bright red but can't help but to cackle at his comment. Brian rolls his eyes and says 'fucker' under his breath. 

*** A couple drinks turn to quite a few and talking with Brian ended up with the date, time and place for your drawing session. Now that three days have passed, the time arrives along with four knocks on the door. 

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Bri, thank you so much again for doing this for me."

He looks around the living room and sees you've set up your workspace: an easel, one of the living room chairs and one of the end tables with your box of drawing utensils. He also looks at how it's pointed towards the sofa with a sheet draped on it. 

"How would you like me?"

"Comfortable. You'd probably be stuck in that spot for a while. I have pillows if you want 'em."

He nods and sits down on the sofa while you go towards the record player and pop on one of your favorite records.

"I like to work to music so hope you're okay listening to the Beatles for a few hours."

"Why would I complain about good music?"

You chuckle as you sit down in your spot, making any last minute adjustments to the easel's height. Turning your head to the sofa, you see him unbuckling his belt before slipping his shirt off. Back towards you. 

Freddie was right, he has a good figure to make this assignment easy for you. Despite trying to stay professional, it's hard to not check out your crush as he strips. When the pants start slipping off, you turn away, too shy to look anymore. 

He is your friend, Y/N...he is your friend who is helping you with a project. Don't make this weird..

But then you remember your roll of tape for the sheet so when it's break time, you won't lose the pose. 

Shit...

"Hey Bri, once you settle on a pose, would it be okay if I put some tape around you so we don't lose the pose after we take a break?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I also might take you up on that pillow offer."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back."

You smile as you get up and leave for your bedroom to grab him a couple pillows off your bed. When you walk back into the living room, you swear the air has shifted once you see him laying in his underwear on the couch, watching the record spin on the turn table. A knot forms in your stomach..

You're working on your final, you're working on your final, you're working on your final.....

You walk up towards him and hands him the pillows. He promptly adjusts them to fit his pose.

"This alright for your composition, Y/N?"

"Let me check."

You sit down back in your chair and look at what you can see. You can see many of the body's landmarks..ribs, collar bones, muscles, parts of the pelvis...but not the strongest for a good composition.

"The pose is fine but I'm going to move over a bit to get a more interesting angle of ya."

You scoot your set up closer towards the turntable, giving a more dynamic angle of your model.

"Alright, we're looking good. Just need to tape where you're at and we can get started."

Hands slightly shaking on the masking tape roll, you rip pieces off and place them where Brian's posed. It's easy to tell he's tense.

"Bri, you're welcome to chat during this if you want. And whenever you want to take a break to stretch out, do not hesitate to ask."

"Sounds good, love. I guess I'm ready when you are."

He's called you love before but now it seems a bit different...

HE IS JUST HELPING YOU ON YOUR FINAL PROJECT, STOP IT

You rub over your paper pad, sighing and grab your hard charcoal to get the initial lines and shapes in. You can see him closing his eyes once more marks land on your paper. His shoulders also slowly begin to become less tense. 

*** Two full albums later, Brian calls break time. You clean your hands off on your pants and set your charcoal back in its box next to you. Having the main structures done and angles correct, you feel good about the progress. 

"How's it coming along, love?"

"I think maybe another hour or so and we'll be good."

"Can I sneak a look or is it confidential?"

You nod your head for him to take a look, his presence now behind your back as he analyzes your work. Nerves become more apparent the longer he's silent. You're about to look over your shoulder until you hear him say

"I'm really liking it so far, Y/N. Fred's told us about your work and it's incredibly articulate. However it is odd knowing that's me on your paper."

You blush profusely at his compliment, even more so now that you realize he's extremely close to your body wearing just underwear. 

"Well how about I grab you a robe and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Sounds lovely to me, especially since seeing how you're fully clothed, I'm a bit vulnerable."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable! Let's get that robe."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just a bit cold maybe."

Leaving for your room once again, you grab your robe. It might be a bit too short for the gentle giant in your living room but it's better than nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't give me Fred's."

"You don't want it, trust me."

He laughs, tying the belt around his middle and follows you into the small kitchen to grab his favorite mug whenever he visits. The silence grows more comfortable as you hear the coffee drip into the small pot and another cabinet opens to grab the sugar. You open the fridge to grab the milk. Your pour the hot liquid as he adds the sugar to the two mugs, followed by the splash of milk you like in yours. Smiles meet each other and you two sit back in the living room, a new record begging to be played. 

"Want more Beatles or how about just some John? I have Plastic Ono Band and Imagine."

"Oh god, that's a decision isn't it?"

"It really is. I'm half tempted to just put Hard Day's Night on."

"Did you see that in theaters? The girls went absolutely mad."

"With that scene with John in the bath? I'm sure I still have hearing issues from that. It got even worse seeing Help."

"George bit?"

"George bit."

Laughs echoed amongst the walls, sharing knowing glances at how loud the shrieking was. 

"Have to love sort of shared traumatic experiences. But I'm intrigued, who is your favorite of the four?"

"The Beatles or Queen?"

A slight smirk dances across his lips.

"Beatles? When I was younger, Paul. In more recent years, has to be John. I really respect his political work and his solo albums are so personal and raw."

He nods at your answer, agreeing.

"But with you lot? No one. Don't tell Freddie that, he'll plant something in my bed."

He answers in a hearty laugh.

'It's not like I can say you before we get back to working on a naked drawing of you...'

*** With Lennon playing on the speakers and more charcoal on paper, you're back at it again. Brian somehow managed to get himself back into the same pose with one or two directions from you. Things are now going easier considering the drawing is now just filling in the blanks until you couldn't get one detail right due to it being covered by his underwear. The more you try to remember how the muscles and bone look, the more incorrect it looks to your eyes. The inevitable needs to happen.

"Hey Brian, I'm hating to ask this but uh...I can't get the lower abs to look right with the pelvis. Could you....takeyourunderwearoff."

The last part just rushed past your lips as fast as you could. Your cheeks are bright red, a tell tale sign being how hot your face just became. It's even worse when he arches his brow.

"What was that last part?"

You sigh deeply.

"Could you...take your underwear off so I can get your pelvis a bit better?"

"Oh...uh, yeah."

His cheeks probably match yours but you cover your eyes while he strips the last bit of cloth standing between him being completely exposed in front of you.  

"Alright Y/N, you can look now."

His nervous laughter is puntuated with your eyes opening again. While you have a clearer view of the muscles in question, you also have a clearer view of other things.

You now understand why it's called a happy trail. 

Correcting his angles once again, you start where you just left off. Only to have the record stop playing, meaning you had to stand up and change the music. Meaning probably a clear view of his, what Freddie called, 'his third leg'. Hands slightly shakey as they remove the vinyl and put it back in its respective sleeve. Fingers lead their way towards Revolver, your go-to homework album. Once the intro of Taxman plays, you make your way back to your seat. During which, your peripheral vision does you dirty. 

Fred wasn't entirely kidding. Dear god, Y/N, you're almost done just finish your damn project so Bri can go home and you can take a cold shower...

You sit back down and sigh, taking your charcoal and getting back to work, correcting any inaccuracies caused by his underwear being in the way and adding more to his figure. Side one is over far too soon, causing you to get up and be betrayed by your eyes once again.

At least now it's just adding a bit of definition to the head and small details. Taking the blunt end of your charcoal stick, you begin adding some hair to the drawing. The couple hairs on his chest, a gesture of pubic hair and some messy lines for the curls on top of his head. Staring at his face now, he peeks his eyes open and winks at you then smiles. 

"I thought you weren't going to draw my face?"

"Just a little something so it's not just a blank shape."

"Alright. Do you want my eyes open or closed?"

"Do what you want, Bri."

His eyes land on the legs of your easel, moving them around a bit to follow the smudges of paint and charcoal about. Your eyes trace along the angles of his face, adding them to the basic head shape you added during the beginning steps. Browbone, cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, and gesture of his slightly open mouth put down on paper as you mark it done. Looking at the lower right corner of your paper and taking your thin marker, you write your name, class session, semester, and model's first name. 

"Alright Bri, I think we're good to go. Want to come take a look?"

Standing up and putting your robe back on, he walks behind the chair. His eyes take in the final composition, from the pillows to his curls all the way down to how to managed to get the angle right on his feet. The sofa, while made of basic abstract shapes, make him look like he's properly weighed out on the cushions. 

"It's weird seeing me like that."

"I bet. Talking with some of the models outside of class, they tell me it takes some getting used to seeing shit like this."

"Seeing what others see in your naked body is very...daunting. I think you made me look too good to be honest."

"I just drew what I saw, May."

You look up behind you and catch him blushing, looking down at you while smiling.

"You are incredibly talented, Y/N. If you don't get an A, I'm taking personal offense with your instructor."

You blush hard at the compliment while laughing at his comment. 

"Honestly, I would too. You made a beautiful model, Bri. It was an honor to draw you."

Why did I just say that?..

He looks away, face looking shy. He takes compliments almost as bad as you. He sits down back on the sofa, looking at you.

"Now, you did say at the bar that I'd be compensated for my time."

"That I did."

You start to pack away your drawing supplies before digging a can of hairspray out of your backpack. Spraying a light coat over your drawing, you let it dry before packing it away for safe keeping.

 His eyes watch you dismantle your workspace, showing him something you've done nearly a hundred times over. Little did you know, seeing you in your element like this made his heart swell. Brian knew you were an art student but never saw you at work. Little did he know, yours did the same when you saw him at practice or on stage. After cleaning up and putting furniture back in their right spots, you sit down in the chair to only find Brian patting the cushion next to him. Giving him a fake glare, you sit next to him. 

"I've been thinking of payment and would it just be fine if we ordered some take away and hung out? I'd feel bad taking your money."

"You sure? I'd feel bad not compensating you for your time."

"Y/N, I laid on your couch, chatted with you and listened to my favorite music. Yeah it was a bit weird considering I take a girl out before she sees me naked but hey."

You laugh nervously at his joke, blushing for probably the 53rd time that night.

"I'll get dressed and we'll head out, that good for you?"

"Yeah. I need to change clothes anyway."

"Why? You look cute covered in charcoal."

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest like a looney toons character. You and the guys are used to calling eachother cute or handsome but something about him being just about naked underneath your robe after drawing him for nearly two hours makes your heart race at a dangerous pace. 

"Let's get ready, hmm?"

He stands up, clothes in tow as he walks to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing brings you back to the moment. Grabbing your pillows and sheet off the couch, you leave for your room. The slight smell of him lingering on the fabric fills your nostrils as you throw it towards your laundry basket. 

"Goddammit...don't get your hopes up. It's not like this is a date, Y/N..." You whisper under your breath. 

Grabbing the clothes you wore earlier today, you get dressed and apply a little extra deodarant and perfume. By the time you've put your shoes on and out of your room, he's slipping his shoes on. Even in mid-December, he's wearing his clogs. He hears your laughter from across the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Bri, it's Christmas in nearly two weeks and you're wearing clogs? If you slip on ice thanks to those things, I’m not helping you up."

"It hasn’t snowed yet, though! Have to wear them while there's still time. Besides, look who's bloody talking wearing canvas sneakers in the cold."

"At least my entire foot is in the shoe."

"That's it, I'm not letting you borrow my scarf if it's still windy. Not with that attitude."

You smack his arm and grab your purse off the coat rack. Locking the door behind you is the last thing before you two leave for any place that is still serving food at this hour. 

***

Only getting as far as a corner store, you two buy a couple drinks then enough snacks to constitute a meal. The walk back to the apartment was on the quiet side, Brian looking up to the sky every few blocks in a vain attempt to see any stars that would accompany the moon shining that night. Not much for viewing besides the waxing moon hanging above your heads, hundreds of thousands miles away. 

"Hey Bri?"

His features seem almost guilty, being caught in the act but he smiles at you.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me some things about what's up there? Fred's showed me some astrology stuff but it would be kinda cool seeing the constellations and what makes them, y'know?"

"I'd just talk your ear off."

"Can't be too bad, I deal with that already."

You wink as he rolls his eyes. 

"But I'm serious, I want to know a little bit about what you study in uni. Especially since we go to different schools, it'd be interesting seeing another side of academics that isn't just color theory or how to mathematically draw cylinders."

"How do you mathematically draw cylinders?"

"It's all about angles and where it sits in space, mostly. Getting that perspective correct. After enough practice I guess you can just sort of see it rather than drawing out all these different grids and lines."

"Does that tie in with drawing people?...That's probably a stupid question of course it does."

"It does but with that, you also need to keep in mind where things in the body are. In our class we also have to do these...sculpting lessons. We're given half a skeleton on a stand and we sculpt the muscles using clay."

He nods, listening to you talk about your coursework and your subject matters from basics to more focused studies. Once back to your apartment, you find Freddie has returned from the art building. The noises of you and Brian taking off shoes and coats made him pop his head around the wall.

"Y/N, lovie, how did your drawing session go?"

"Rather well! Want to see it?"

"Well of course, dear!"

You grab your and Brian's bags from the corner store and place it on the kitchen counter before heading over to your drawing pad, propped up against your chair. Nerves arise as you watch his eyes gaze over your work, the smell of the hairspray you used seal in the charcoal floating to your nostrils. 

"Fucking hell, this is brilliant. If you get a bad mark I'm visiting your professor during office hours and giving them a piece of my mind."

He looks down Brian's legs on the paper, your careful contour lines elegantly outlining the muscles. 

"I think you forgot a leg, though."

Brian's rolls his eyes as Fred's cackle fills the room. You slap the sketchpad closed and return it to it's spot next to your school bag. A sympathetic look is aimed towards your model. 

"Come on you two, lighten up. How about a game of Scrabble, hmm?"

"It is getting a little late, Fred, and Brian has to get back to his place."

"He knows he's welcome to crash on the couch if he wants."

The man in question looks between you two, biting his lip in thought.

"I wouldn't mind crashing here tonight. I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind the flat to himself."

"Then it's settled. You old ladies get your food out of the kitchen and we start this game."

What wasn't expected was Brian winning with such a lead. You could've sworn you've seen Fred's eyes glow red as he told the curly haired man to get out of his home for disrepecting him that severely. He went to bed infuriated as he left you two out in the living room to watch TV. 

"You sure you want to spend the rest of your Friday night here?"

"It's technically Saturday morning now."

"Smart ass."

He smiles and slowly leans towards you on the sofa, his warmth sneaking up the arm closest to him. 

"Hey Bri?"

He hums in response, eyes not leaving the program painting the screen.

"I never really properly thanked you for helping me with my assignment. You honestly saved my grade modeling for me."

He turns his head to face you, eyes looking at yours illuminated by the screen's light.

"You're more than welcome, love. It was interesting watching you work. You have this little face you make when you're really concentrated."

"Where I don't blink and my mouth is partially open? That's my focusing amphibian look."

He chuckles.

"Roger does the same thing but that's his confused look."

"I thought his confused face was this.."

You imitate the face you've seen many times during your homework sessions with the boys. Also when he tries to understand what Fred wants to do add extra flair to shows or songs.

"No, you're right. That's the one." He laughs. 

Comfortable silence floats around the air as you two continue watching telly. Thirty meants turn into 90 as the episodes of various shows play before you. Slight comments here and there said but it wasn't until Brian laid his head on top of your head that something was really spoken. 

"I have a question."

"Care to share with the class, May?"

You can feel his cheeks stretch out with a slight smile.

"Would you think less of me if I put my studies on hold when, or even if the band gets bigger? I know we only have one album out at the minute but I've thought about it and..."

Patting his knee, you spoke.

"I could never think less of you for persuing something like that. You and the guys have worked your asses off and if, no, when your hardwork pays off, grab those opportunities. You earned any success that comes your way."

He moves his head to look directly into your eyes.

"Knowing you, you'll eventually get your PhD but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to just roll with what it gives you. If it's Queen, then see it through."

Surprise washes over you as he gives you a hug, enveloping you in his arms tightly as his face creates a home in the crook of your neck. This breath along your skin giving away to goosebumps. 

"I've been thinking about this for weeks and um...."

"Did you already drop out, Bri?"

"No, no..."

"Uh huh..." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Seriously, Y/N, I haven't dropped out of uni. I've been thinking about...."

You pull away and look at his eyes directly, cheeks flushed even in the low light of the living room. 

"What is it?"

He sighs, looking down at his lap.

"You."

Eyes going wide, you look at anything but him. The stray floaty in the air, the reflection of light as a car drives past your flat, the one stray strand of yarn or whatever it is sticking out of the rug on the floor. 

"I'm not saying this because you drew me naked and I'm feeling obligated to but tonight made me realize something."

Your eyes finally focusing on your hands, fingernails picking at cuticles. 

"If this does become something larger than life, I don't want to leave you behind. When Freddie introduced us to you last year, there was something about you I couldn't shake off. I wasn't sure what it was the chalk pastel dust you were covered in or something else."

You smile at his words but your heart doesn't lighten up the speed at the rate it's beating. When it comes loose, it's going to skyrocket across the English channel.

"But now actually getting to know you over time and tonight made me come to the conclusion that....I certainly have feelings for you and I don't know what you want to do with that information."

Your fingers stop picking at a loose bit of skin on the side of your nail and you swear your heart just stopped in your chest. Eyes wide, you stare at him. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say other than just "Bri..."

"I can see I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head ho-"

As he begins to stand up, you grab his wrist and pull him right back down towards your side. 

"Meeting you was one of the most profound days in my life, Bri. You...fuck,...I'm not a wordsmith and I'm nervous as all hell right now."

He smiles ever so slightly but his leg bounces with such vigor you wouldn't be surprised if your downstairs neighbor complained to the landlord tomorrow.

"And now hearing you may have feelings for me? Like...how do I even process this when it's something I've been wanting to hear for almost a year?"

It's now his turn for his eyes to buldge open in shock.

"When you first talked to me about astrophysics and I saw your entire demeanor light up with such passion, my heart damn near stopped. I couldn't focus on anything else but you. Even when you're just relaxed I feel like that. You're breathtaking and I'm pretty sure I went comotose and had a lucid dream seeing you perform with the boys for the first time."

He smiles, eyes looking directly into yours as your mouth just vomits out any word you promised to never let out.

"I've fallen for you so hard. I love your smile and laugh. I love the slope of your nose. I love that you've let your hair be curly because let's be real, you looked real questionable when you straightened it."

He laughs and you can tell his cheeks are heating up.

"I love that little noise you make when you find something interesting in your textbooks and your hums when you're thinking of a new song and your little eyerolls at the boys when they're being dumbasses and your sense of humor and just......fuck, look at you! You're so fucking handsome and that's even with the clogs!"

He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs against the knuckles. His smile shining so bright even with the low light from the television that's now taken a backside seat of your conversation. He looks down at your entertwined hands.

"Calling you a friend and wanting to see you has gotten me out of bed so many days Y/N, I've lost count. I can't even imagine if you'd be more than a friend to me but I guess we can find out."

Your smile has extended to lengths you didn't know possible. Letting go of his hands, you wrap your arms around him instead.

"I forgot to say this, but I also love your hugs."

A chuckle escapes his chest and he holds you tighter, a kiss lands on your cheek. Time goes by as shows flash before your eyes, eventually leading to you falling asleep in his arms with him not too far behind.

*** Hours pass before you awake, head laying on his lap and knees tucked in. Sitting up, you find him using the arm rest as his pillow, arms crossed underneath his face. He looks so peaceful and you don't want to take him up but you want to sleep in your bed. 

Dare you ask if he wants to join you?

It'll just be us sleeping together in the same bed and maybe cuddles...?

You brush his curls away from his face, tucking what you can behind his ear as you shake him gently. 

"Hey Brian..?"

He doesn't stir, contemplating on just his carrying his lanky ass to your room. 

"Bri.. wake up, hon. Come on."

You continue rubbing his upper arm until he stirs awake, opening his eyes and squinting at the screen's light.

"...What time is it?"

"Late. Would you want to sleep on the couch or my bed?"

"I'm fine out here, I don't want to take your bed from you."

You smile and chuckly slightly.

"I mean share the bed with me."

He smiles at the idea but eyes are shy.

"I'd like that."

You two stand up, him shutting up the TV and you leading the way to your room with his hand in yours. Navigating the small hallway at night lead to him bumping into you twice, and him saying apologies but you could not care less.

Once in your room and switching on the light, he's greeted to your own personal space. He can see canvases with studio projects painted on them under your bed, posters littering your walls. Some local band shows you've attended, a Queen one catching his interest. His eyes also catch your Beatles poster, the one from their White Album. He also sees the pillow he used earlier that day when he was modeling along with the robe tossed into the corner with the rest of your dirty laundry.

"I think I might have a pair of pants you could wear unless you're not a pants to bed kind of guy."

"No pants is what I normally go for but if you're uncomfortable with that I ca-"

"It's fine with me, just no funny business, May."

"Are cuddles out of the equation?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

He smiles and removes his necklaces, placing them next to your sketchbooks on top of the small desk next to the bed. You change into sleep shorts as he takes his trousers off. 

Never thought I'd see that twice today.

Shutting off the light and climbing into bed, he goes first, leaving you in your usual spot. Fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the blankets now done, He wraps you in his arms almost immediately, lips kissing your cheek gently.

"You have enough pillows, Bri?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"Want me to grab another blanket?"

He laughs gently, kissing your face one last time.

"I'm more than okay."

You turn around to face him head on, able to make out where his eyes are looking. Fingers playing with one curl, eventually leading to caressing the side of his face. Thumb tracing over one of his cheekbones.

"You're so handsome, Bri."

"Ever look at yourself?"

"Do you always kiss ass?"

"Not until the 3rd date."

You slap his arm, laughing.

"I guess with that comment I won't give you a kiss goodnight."

His face contorts in fake hurt. It's wiped off as soon as you bring your lips to his, fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kiss him. Almost as fast as it happened, it stopped. Smiles painting both your faces.

"Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Bri."

Turning back around, you scoot closer to him. Arms around your waist and face tucked near your shoulder, you two fall asleep. 

*** You wake up before him. His arms are still wrapped around your middle and your legs entangled with one anothers. Your bladder urging you out of the warm confines of your bed, you carefully move out of his grasp to not awake him. Mission was successful as you close the door behind you, hearing Freddie in the kitchen as you walk to the bathroom. After giving yourself a pep talk while washing you hands, you face your roommate, face giving you a smirk.

"Y/N....I saw his god awful shoes by the door but he wasn't on the couch. Please tell me the details, darling!"

"Nothing really happened, Fred! We ended up talking after you went to bed and he sort of told me he had feelings for me and we passed out on the couch."

"He finally told you? About fucking time! You have no idea how much Roger got on his case. Even Deaky was begging him to shut up and ask you out. 'Oh how is Y/N doing? Is she free sometime soon, Fred? What should I get her for Christmas? What does she like? Do you think she likes me?'....every practice Y/N..every practice."

"At least I finally got around to it, Freddie."

He wrapped his arms around you, voice heavy with sleep.

"Now I get to annoy you about her even more now that we're dating."

Brian kisses your neck as Freddie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't subject us to that. We've suffered enough, dear."

***

aaaay, it’s done! Tbh, I got the idea for this fic after looking through some of my life drawing sketches. Also, a tip with charcoal or chalk pastel drawings from an art student...use hair spray. It’s cheaper than fixitive spray, works just as well, doesn’t affect the colors in chalk pastels, and doesn’t harm your lungs with the fumes (not nearly as badly, anyway). Besides that, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc 💖💖

[theradioghost]

forgive me for what I have done

(to be sung, of course, to the tune of We Didn’t Start the Fire)

Jon Sims, Martin K, Tim Stoker, Sasha James, archiving, organizing, trying not to die Michael Shelley, Mike Crew, Simon says "enjoy sky blue," Magnus Institute, servants of the Eye

Basira and Daisy, YouTube memes of Melanie Anglerfish, shake with Jude, I Do Not Know You tape recorders, Do Not Open, Dekker's table trap is broken, running through the tunnels with the Not!Them right behind you

-

We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear

-

Breekon, Hope, Annabelle, Peter Lukas go to hell, pipe murder, skin book, What the Ghost? Admiral, Georgie, Gertrude, Gerry Kaey, Maxwell Rayner's People's Church of the Divine Host

Spiral, Desolation, Gerry goes on a vacation, Buried, End and Stranger, kidnapping's a danger evil clowns killed Danny Stoker, cursed Samoan antiques broker static hiss, Prentiss, melt your face off with a kiss

-

We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear

-

Vampires want blood, grandpa's knife can stop a flood Elias has an evil plot, Melanie got ghost-shot Really big evil pig, crazy foreshadow in "Dig" is the Extinction real or not, your boss can read your every thought

Hilltop Road, Binary, eldritch monstrosity, listening to Grifter's Bone, Naomi in the fog alone Schwartzwald, Lightless Flame, cheat Death at a card game Mr. Spider, corpse throne, Jared's gonna steal your bones

-

We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear

-

Leitner, Manuela, ringmaster Nikola, groan-worthy title puns, angry Hunters firing guns Milbank prison underneath, anatomy bone apple teeth screw physics, go to space and build an evil sun

Martin has no school diploma, Jon spent six months in a coma tell me what you see, sadness is a guarantee!

-

We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear

-

can't quit, you're stuck here now, take solace in a good cow Bouchard, Jon's scarred, apocalypse in the front yard Tim's kayaking, no question, post-season-four depression, Twitter has us all on guard, hiatuses are way too hard

Daisy has gone feral, Distortion Helen's AWOL closed door, no more, Eye ritual encore, looking up into the sky, it looks back cause it's an eye, Jonny haunts, Alex taunts, TELL US WHAT THE SPIDERS WANT

-

We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear

[goldemas1244]

Things I will do if I EVER get YT popular smh

A personal guide list you could ignore and just not read

I will not stream or interact with any questionable individuals or fandoms.

If a questionable individual or fandom gets pulled into the conversation, I will have to be forced to stop talking through chat spams (if streaming) or I will have to cut out footage no matter if it will result in harsher transitions or less lore (if any).

If anybody plays with me and records they may not edit their video until I have edited mine, and until I have edited all the questionable parts out of it, so that they too can block it out. If it is a stream they too should stop talking about said questionable individuals or fandoms.

During any stream or video I will remind the viewers to report any issues or questionable events to a private "Assistant" in the beginning, end, and every ten minutes of the video. Like, there's a timer and everything.

Speaking of which, I should get myself said assistant, which would be hard (maybe I should get married first), but not impossible. They will check through and filter out any social media issues with me (like Twitter's cancel culture). This will be resolved on my main account with like apologies and shit like that.

If my community members do anything relatively bad to the majority of the community I could just snap my fingers and send them to damnation.

I'll have to play things that are generally considered good in the public eye (like Skyrim or something I don't know what you bastards like). Games with questionable developers and fandoms will be avoided.

This does not involve FNaF games. I WILL play FNaF without remorse. Yes I know Scott is a questionable individual but SO IS THE INDIVIDUAL WHO LEAKED HIS BANKING INFORMATION which I'm sure is a crime. Like who'd do that? Leak someone's VERY PERSONAL info? A lot of people really.

No scary games because I swear a lot and I don't want to be cancelled.

No mention of Mandopony. After what he's done, his songs don't sound good anymore. Look I have to be specific to this bastard here because his songs were a childhood memory and now he's gone to pot and they've gone to pot and I get sad.

Anyone dares leak my personal info (like my sex tape or some shit) then I will report them to the appropriate authorities. If any. Also write a callout post because fuck those people. If anyone questions me why I'd do that personal thing let me remind them that it's PERSONAL and NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS and that I'M A HUMAN BEING who's NOT PERFECT and that THEY'RE FLAWED TOO and that if I expose them for their actions they too would be shunned by public eye.

I will be open on a good amount of topics.

I will actively be a furry (anthro mascots let's gooooooo) and a brony (I'm a female so this should be forgiven). I will be the good and wholesome part of them (with a dollop of annoyance).

Hypothetically let's say if I draw smut and I got found out, I'd say it'd be anatomy and perspective tests. Because I HAVE tried drawing smut before and ohoho trust me it's harder than drawing hands, anatomically and perspective-wise.

Yes my Wattpad and AO3 accounts will be made public. Help.

Beep

[headoverhiddles]

Go On, Smile - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: You and the band terrorize the local mall. AKA The totally fictional, fucked up origins of the samples from Cake and Sodomy. 

Notes: Portrait era! Warning for intentions of assault (not from Manson) and general immature debauchery. 

There's nothing left to do in this town.

You, your boyfriend, and a few members of his band that aren't still sleeping, are wandering around the small town they're set to perform tonight. The venue's gonna be tiny, just like the town, but at this point, any gig is a good gig. They're touring their asses off to promote their first studio album, an album nobody thought could possibly get produced. Lots of touring meant a few shitty stops (okay, a fair amount), and it meant days of either doing drugs in hotel rooms, pasting flyers around the city, or trying to do normal things.

"We could vandalize buses," Jeordie suggests. 

"There's only one bus that comes by here, once every hour at half past sharp," Pogo replies, staring at the palm of his hand. "I've been watching it."

"What about the mall?" you suggest.

"Does barbie want to go shopping?" Pogo mutters. You throw a crumpled up fast food bag from the ground at him.

Brian finally speaks up. "The mall's not a bad idea, actually. There might be makeup stores there, I can swipe some pancake shit for tonight's show."

Now that their fearless leader had spoken, everyone grunted their own form of agreement, getting up off the park bench.

Making it to the mall, Jeordie runs over to the directory. "I'm going to the candy store." Pogo seems to like that idea, and the two walk off. Brian calls after them.

"Assholes! Meet us back at the doors by six, we've got a show to get to!" He turns to you, taking your hand and rolling his eyes. "As if they don't get enough drugs. Now they need sugar highs too."

The two of you walk toward the drugstore to check out the makeup. Brian immediately heads over to the lip aisle, and starts pocketing some reds and plum colours.

"You know... I wouldn't mind a bit of candy," you tell him, swinging your hand with his, "A nice, big lollipop."

Brian licks his lips. "How would you lick it, baby? Swirl your tongue over the tip?"

"I'd get it all into my mouth, then when it hits the back of my throat, I'd swallow all that sweet sugar." Brian groans, starting to walk toward the candy store with you too, and you shrug. "But I'd settle for some sugar babies."

"You get the sugar babies," he smirks, "I'll get the sugar daddy."

"You are not a sugar daddy," you laugh. He scoffs.

"I could be!" He slides his hand down to feel up your ass. "I could be your daddy, babygirl."

"You're the same fucking age as me, and you've got no money."

He shakes his head. "Just give this record a little more time. Once Interscope pushes it and Portrait sells a billion copies, stadiums all over the world'll want Marilyn Manson to scare the crap out of their upstanding citizens. We'll be in demand! Then I can buy you all sorts of weird relics."

"Special," you smile, "Normal sugar daddies buy their babies diamonds. No, I get prosthetic hands and Eichmann's aluminum dentures."

"You love it." 

"I do," you giggle, and his eyes suddenly take on that mischievous glint.

"Photo booth."

"Bri, really?"

"We gotta go in, and do a porno shoot."

"What?!"

"There's nobody around but us. Come on baby, let's take really fucking dirty pictures."

"You know, they probably save these somewhere to print them, right?"

"Good, you can flash your tits, make the mall cop jack off. Here, we can record, and put it on the new single, Cake and Sodomy! It'll be perfect."

You blush, and he pulls you into the little tent in the middle of the pathetically empty strip mall. He sets up the camera, closes the curtain, and you keep giggling.

"You go here," he sets you up on mark like a master movie director, and you check the screen, making sure the star anatomy is properly centered. Then you reach down and pull your top over your head, unhooking your bra. Brian bites his bottom lip.

"Shit, you're gonna make me have to jack off." You knee him lightly in the crotch playfully.

"Focus on the shoot, Spielberg." He puts his hands over your breasts from behind, and you yelp.

"Jesus Christ, Brian!"

"What?!"

"At least warm your hands up a little. God, it's like being fondled by the Grim Reaper!”

“Geez--”

“Boobs are very delicate things, okay, they're not like dicks, you can't just whip them out and expect--"

"Okay, alright, there. There! All warmed up. You happy?" 

"Yes," you pout, and he kisses your cheek quickly, before darting forward to press capture and resuming his position. The first flash goes off, with Brian's hands grabbing your breasts. Second one begins to count down.

"What should we do, quick, what should we do?!" you squeal, laughing, and he looks around. He gets on his knees, bringing his face up, and sucks on your nipple for the third shot.

"Get your dick out," you urge, "Hurry, do it!"

He unzips his pants, and gets his dick as close as he can to the camera.

For the fifth shot, you get on your knees this time, holding Brian's dick and licking the tip as the last flash goes off. He presses play on his tape recorder, and you stand up, kissing him and making the sexiest noises you can.

"Alright.... mmm... mmmm!"

The two of you are laughing uncontrollably like children as you exit the booth with the printed strip. "Gorgeous," you nod, inspecting it.

"We're hot. I'd wanna fuck us," he says.

"God, same."

"We should use these as album art."

"Go for it," you shrug, "I'm sure it'd help sell all those billions of copies you promised." You bite your pinkie nail, looking back at the booth. "What if there were cameras that were watching inside, though? Like other cameras?" He massages your shoulders as you walk.

"I told you, there probably were. I already shoplifted, might as well be arrested for public indecency as well. It'll help my, uh... dangerous rock star image."

You groan, hiding your face in Brian's shoulder as you two keep walking.

You meet up with Jeordie and Pogo in front of the candy shop, Brian having shoved the strip down his back pocket. Jeordie has a bag full of sweets.

"What did you get?" you ask, burrowing inside it. He hands you some laffy taffy.

"I know you like this stuff."

"Jeord! I absolutely love you!"

"I know." He grins. "Hehe, Star Wars."

Just then, a big, hairy motherfucker of a security guard approaches you four quickly. He's an imposing figure, even on your 6'1 boyfriend.

"I promise I paid for all these gummy worms," Jeordie begins to tell him, but he looks at you and Brian.

"You the kids from the photo booth?"

You're too shocked to speak, so Brian, ever the antagonist, nods, sizing him up. "Yeah. Is there a problem?"

"You're going to have to come with me," the portly guard says sternly, and Brian shoves him off.

"Like hell, buddy." 

The guard starts to take something out of the back of his belt, so before either of you can find out what, you stop him.

"Wait! Wait, it's okay. We'll go." You lean in to Brian pleadingly. "The most he can do is give us a warning. Don't get your show banned here over some stupid, bloated mall guy with a bone to pick."

"Fine." You and Brian turn, noticing Jeordie and Pogo had fled the scene. "Great friends," Brian mutters, and the two of you start walking.

The guard leads you into a dark, grimy room down some steps under the mall's CVS, where you see a bunch of security camera feeds, and... your topless photos displayed on one of them. It smells strange down here, like spoiled chicken and vaseline. The guard sits down.

"So. You think creating pornography in public is funny, do you?"

Brian lets loose a stream of vitriol you knew had been simmering. "I do. In fact, I think it's the most goddamn hilarious thing I've ever done, you stuffy old dickhead!"

"Brian..."

"You wouldn't know much about that though, since you're probably so miserable working overtime for a mall who sees the local crackhead walk through maybe once every month or so and that's it--"

"Brian."

"--Getting paid to sit behind a desk in the dark, eat donuts and creep on people like a glorified cam-stalker--"

"Brian!"

"I bet you liked looking at my girlfriend's tits, huh? You like em, you fucking pervert? Why don't you--"

The guard finally has enough, and gets up out of his chair, walking behind Brian and tying a gag around his mouth. You go to stop him, but he grabs some duct tape, and sits you down, tying your wrists behind the chair. He does the same to Brian, restraining him. Shaking in fear, you sit still, paralyzed, as the guard sits back down in front of you two.

"You kids now and your alternative lifestyles. Think that acting outlandish and wearing black, Satanic clothing that never would've flown in my day is the way to give us civilized folk here in this good, god fearing little town the middle finger, huh?"

He sneers down at your leather miniskirt, and then to Brian's thick platform boots, looking him up and down. He's not really helping disprove the man's point about outlandish clothes, with his lipstick and shaved eyebrows. You think you see Brian fiddle with something in his back pocket, but your attention is directed back to the guard.

"Performing sexual acts in my mall. You won't get away with that."

"What are you gonna do?" you whimper.

"Put on a little show of my own," he starts to smile sadistically. You start to feel cold all over. He doesn't mean...

Brian's eyes close. Of course the two of you had found the Buffalo Bill of mall cops. Fucking lucky. Well. It'd be a story for the show.

The man sits back. "Smile."

Brian watches the guy closely. "You touch her..." your boyfriend warns. You struggle to pull your restraints free.

"Smile for me," the guard repeats, growing impatient.

You swallow. "Just let us go. We're really sorry about the photos!"

He finally stands up, cracking a fist. "Go on smile, you cunt!"

Brian jumps up, and though his wrists are still bound like yours, he turns around to grab you, pulling you both to the door. He spits the gag out. "Run."

The two of you dash out the side entrance to the mall, and keep running until you can't hear the guard yelling anymore.

Jeordie and Pogo come out of the woodwork, quickly gathering around you.

"Fuckin' redneck tyrant!" Brian shouts back, grabbing and tossing Jeordie's milkshake at the building. Jeordie stares in longing at the destroyed strawberry goop on the ground, debating if the 5 second rule worked for drinks too. Pogo takes a switchblade out to cut you two loose.

"I got the perfect sound bites on tape we can sample for Cake and Sodomy, of you moaning like a whore and that guy being a general asshole," Brian tells you, and you roll your eyes.

"After nearly being killed by a psychotic mall cop, that's all you have to say? Typical."

"What did you guys even do?!" Jeordie asks.

You dig out the photo strip from Brian's back pocket, and pass it to the other guys. Pogo nods, stroking his goatee like a critic.

"That's art."

[haberdashing]

A Secret Garden

TMA AU that’s just canon, but with Hanahaki Disease. (Specifically chronic Hanahaki, as inspired by this post, not the fatal version.)

on AO3

Shortly after Martin moved into the Archives, Jon noticed that Martin kept coughing up bluebell petals.

Unsurprisingly, the most apparent effect of this problem was making Martin’s already haphazard work even less likely to be actually helpful to the archival staff as a whole. He’d drop stacks of files whenever he began a coughing fit, ruin statement recordings by entering the office while hacking away, and the spit-covered flower petals left all over the floor of the Archives... well, Jon certainly didn’t envy the janitor’s job there.

Jon looked up the problem on his computer, once, because Martin didn’t seem all that concerned with it, so if anyone was going to prevent spittle and blue stains getting on important documents, apparently it was up to him. The results were clear enough: coughing up flower petals was a symptom solely associated with Hanahaki Disease, a chronic condition associated with unrequited love that flared up in the spring months and tapered off come autumn, but could be permanently cured only by a major invasive surgery on the respiratory system (that would remove both the flowers and the feelings behind them) or by getting the object of one’s affections to return them.

Well. That put some of the snippets Jon had overheard from the other archival assistants, bits of teasing Martin about something he hadn’t quite understood, into perspective. Martin was in love, a love strong enough to manifest physically, and whoever it was that had his eye apparently didn’t reciprocate it.

But it certainly wasn’t Jon’s job to... to meddle in Martin’s love life, of all things, really! And the surgical option seemed a little drastic, given the relatively mild symptoms currently being displayed, and a medical decision of that magnitude was clearly best left up to Martin and his doctor.

Jon supposed that, given the alternatives, he would just have to put up with Martin’s coughing and bluebell petals for a bit longer.

At least it would go away come autumn--or sooner, perhaps, if he was lucky...

.

When Jon returned to the Archives, after Elias confessing to the murders that he’d tried to pin on Jon and managed to get things more or less back to business as usual (whatever that even meant, these days), he returned to a workplace practically covered in bluebell petals.

Jon had forgotten about that when he was gone. Martin’s ailment had slipped his mind, as it had been absent since a month or two after Prentiss attacked the Institute, and the two of them hadn’t crossed paths since spring had sprung once more. But sure enough, Martin was coughing up flower petals again, if anything more so than he had the previous spring.

Jon found, though, to some surprise of his own, that it didn’t irritate him the same way it had a year ago. Sure, it was inconvenient, and messy, and generally unsanitary, but he couldn’t really blame Martin for being sick, could he? Even if was a rather... unusual kind of sickness; feelings were about as easy to control as one’s immune system, in Jon’s experience, which was to say not at all.

Still, it certainly wasn’t ideal, and after weighing his options over and over again in his mind, Jon decided to flat-out ask Martin what was going on.

Martin’s face had gone very, very red when he heard Jon’s question, and he stammered out a claim that it was nothing, and that Jon shouldn’t worry about it, really. It clearly wasn’t nothing, and even ignoring the value of communicating with his team (and Jon kept remembering how Georgie told him he needed people now more than ever) this sickness was negatively impacting Martin’s work, at a time when the very fate of the world depended on that same work, but-

Well. He couldn’t make Martin talk if he didn’t want to.

(Or- or he could make Martin talk if he didn’t want to, technically, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t betray Martin like that. He needed to be building trust among his team right now, not breaking it.)

Jon just hoped whoever it was Martin was mooning over would get the hint already, so Martin could stop suffering like this.

.

A couple weeks after waking up from his medically-impossible coma, after making a choice that saved his life but at a cost he still wasn’t sure was worth it, Jon had a coughing fit and found a single white flower petal on his desk at the end of it.

Part of him recoiled at the obvious conclusion to be drawn there. For one thing, he’d half-convinced himself that he was immune to Hanahaki Disease, that the kind of love he had to offer wasn’t enough to qualify for it, even before raising the question of how greatly his anatomy must be changed by... recent events. Jon even considered the possibility that this was connected to him being an avatar of the Eye somehow before admitting to himself that that didn’t really make sense, that flowers weren’t in any way connected to the power that had a stronger grip on him than ever.

Jon almost wished for the kind of gentle teasing over it that Martin had gotten from Tim and Sasha way back when--only two springs ago, now, but it felt like an eternity--but this wasn’t the same team from back then, and they certainly didn’t share the same easy camaraderie as the archives team had back then. Jon’s new condition got him a few raised eyebrows, a few awkward stares, and one accusation of this being proof that he wasn’t the real Jonathan Sims (thanks for that one, Melanie), but nobody asked the obvious, nobody pressed Jon on the details behind his sickness.

Even in the Buried, where there was barely enough room to breathe, Jon still found himself choking on flower petals--gardenia, his brain had supplied a few days beforehand, after he’d coughed several white petals onto his tape recorder--and Daisy never said so much as a word about it.

When he let himself think about it--which wasn’t often, given how much else was on his mind these days--Jon knew, deep down, what the gardenia petals meant, who they were meant for. That should have made things easier, but it didn’t, because Martin was off with Peter Lukas, and Jon had to trust that Martin knew that he was doing, that he had a plan and knew the risks of carrying it out...

...and since he’d woken up, Jon had yet to see a single bluebell petal on the floor of the Archives.

But that was fine. He’d be fine, really. Given everything else on his plate, every other terrible fate that might befall him if he let his guard down at the wrong time or made the wrong move, Jon was willing to accept a lifetime of coughing up gardenia petals, if that was what it took. It... it wouldn’t be ideal, but... what was, these days, really?

But then Martin--or possibly Lukas pretending to be Martin, or Annabelle Cane pretending to be either of the other two, it was impossible to say for sure--left a tape on Jon’s desk that had to be a thinly-veiled cry for help, and Jon followed Martin into the tunnels, followed him into the Lonely, without so much as a second thought.

And then Martin broke his heart.

I really loved you, you know?

Jon noticed the past tense, and it hurt, hurt more than anything. For a moment, Jon wondered if Lukas had made Martin have that surgery he’d read up about, the one that removed both flowers and feelings-

But no, that wasn’t right, because when Jon had ran into the tunnels, he’d been following a trail of bluebell petals all the way to the Panopticon. (Jon had coughed up a few petals of his own as he’d made his way over there, blue and white petals mingling atop the dark ground of the tunnels.)

He couldn’t even blame surgery, then. This was all natural, a deliberate decision on Martin’s part to repress his feelings in the name of the greater good, with the “help” of Peter Lukas’ guidance...

And then Jon heard Lukas’ story, and killed him without hesitation afterwards, and returned to Martin’s side, and...

I see you.

And Jon and Martin locked eyes in the middle of the Lonely, and a hope Jon had just about given up on was unexpectedly rekindled, and suddenly Jon was very sure that neither of them would have to cough up flower petals ever again.