#anthrax fanfic

[feverinfeveroutfic]

kinktober all year, 2024

i’m so sorry, but-

it had to be done.

after the fiasco of kinktober 2023, and i had to regroup with blood and wine, i am continuing to lick my wounds from the humiliation. i mean, a genuinely kinky person was all around ignored during a kink-fest, like nothing about that makes any sense whatsoever. worse, i don’t even know why i was ignored; i mean, i have my theories but they’re all hard to confirm. i really don't understand why i was given such a cold shoulder this year when i dropped the first one shot.

it’s supposed to be a community and yet, i saw right away that it isn’t. “don’t ‘yuck’ someone’s ‘yum’” feels like a naïve joke at this point because all i could think leading up to the 18th when i pulled the plug was “gee, sorry i’m not good and sexy enough for you guys. i’m terribly sorry that this is torturous for you, there's literally nothing i can do about it so i'll see myself out before this is done so you don't have to be exposed to my bullshit for a while.”

god, my sexuality is just… it’s too much. it’s way too much and i feel trapped inside of it. i'm helpless to rid of it even as i genuinely hate it so much. i genuinely wish i didn't have a sexuality because it's useless. no one likes it or wants to know about it. i’m way too much. i'm too kinky and yet i'm not sexual enough. all dressed up with nowhere to go.

and yet, i can’t let them win. these totally unsexy, borderline gross, borderline sexist, pregnancy-loving scoundrels who inexplicably dominated this year couldn’t write a compelling story if it saved the world; they cannot continue to act like they're the only ones who can do it. there has to be a place for me; there just has to be. i may hate my sexuality more than anything and find it ugly and disgusting and i'm pretty sure it's the last thing you'll ever see before you die, but it’s like the inevitability of death: you can’t escape it. plus, after the last couple of months, i don’t really need some hundreds of people to kiss my ass to feel like the queen of kinktober: i don’t need fandom, and i don’t think i ever have needed it, either.

so, i give you kinktober all year.

now, just to make it easier on myself—mainly because i honestly have no clue how 2024 will play out (it could be the worst year of my life for all i know, especially if this year was anything to go by), but also because i have wips to write—these will be sent out on a weekly basis starting new year's day, giving us a grand total of 52 one shots. aside from the first one, i’ll keep the prompts a surprise just to keep my very personal preferences to myself, but i will give away titles, though. i'll also keep the participants under wraps until i post them for the same reason (you know alex will be in like... one or two, though).

yes, this is going on ao3 because i’ve been getting really, really tired of tumblr and really all social media lately. no, i don’t care if you join me or not because it’s a holistic thing that’s really just meant for myself; you can if you want, though. “i’m not like them, but i can pretend.”

“the wandering jew” (this one, i've already shared; it's my water kink)

“django tango”

“heroin”

“five minutes”

“corduroy”

“poison ivy”

“chillblains”

“he’s gotta have it”

“bats in the attic”

“midnight rambler”

“pebble beach”

“chiaroscuro”

“this kiss”

“disco volante”

“seashells”

“deer in the headlights”

“scarlet”

“walk with me”

“have a cigar”

“poison whiskey”

“i think i lost my headache”

“touch too much”

“pearly dew drops”

“still crazy after all these years”

“enjoy every sandwich”

“let’s talk about cars”

“twin flames”

“as serious as a heart attack”

“trial by fire”

“he didn’t”

“flannel”

“side street”

“be with me”

“heart and lungs”

“dodge the bambula”/“jackin’ it in san diego"

“the razor’s edge”

“she likes surprises”

“black coral”

“black nightshade”

“seduce and destroy”

“pick a number”

“all that glitters”

“…like clockwork”

“sabra cadabra”

“world of brass”

“every night i burn”

“one of these nights”

“aquamarine”

“the beast”

“dream with me”

“dionysus”

“time has come today”

[josiebelladonna]

paraselenae | repoussoir

pairing: alex skolnick x chuck billy/alex skolnick x joey belladonna/chuck billy x joey belladonna (like blood from a stone)

genre: royalty au/modern royalty

fandoms: testament and anthrax

*18+ only; minors dni*

Warnings: phone sex

*Please note that you are responsible for your own media consumption. I came here to write and relax, not police you.*

Summary: just a regular little ol' phone conversation between three boyos. nothing to see here~ 😉

Word Count: 3347

It wasn’t often that I had a whole day to myself there at the house, and more so when Joey was in there with me, and yet the very few times in which we were alone together, I relished every moment of it. Those afternoons remained few and far between where it was merely me and him in that house, and yet every single time, whenever I found the opportunity to have an actual moment with him, something came up and it would steal away our time together. 

On this particular day, the phone rang, and Joey himself was down in the basement with all the leftover clothes that Chuck wanted to sell off to Goodwill at some point that following week. I had just climbed out of the shower, and thus, I still my towel wrapped around my hips and my hair dangled over my shoulder, and all the while, it dripped down my chest and my back. At least it wasn’t cold in the house, but I still felt a chill in my back, however. A chill in my back and a pain in my head, as if I couldn’t exactly find the thing that I needed to scratch. 

The phone rang, and I hurried to the phone port itself, right on the nightstand next to Chuck’s side of the bed, and picked up the receiver. 

“Hello?” 

“There’s my prince,” he greeted me in that low voice. 

“Oh, hi. Where’d you go?” 

“Oh, I just went into town and I wanted to call you from the car and ask if we need anything from the grocery store—you know, anything specific.” 

“Uh, nothing I can think of off-hand,” I confessed as I rested my hand on my bare chest. 

“You sure?” 

“Positive.” 

I could hear him smack his lips on the other end, a sign that he wanted something from me, be it a nice thing or something that he so desperately could not live without at that very moment. The butterflies danced about my stomach at the sound, and more so when he cleared his throat as if he was about to say something else right then. 

It was right at that moment I caught a click on the other end. 

“Hang on, hang on, hang on, there’s someone on the other line,” I told him, and I pressed the button on the phone. “Hello?” 

“Alex?” That upstate accent caught my ear. 

“Joey?” 

“What’re you doing?” he asked me. 

“I’m on the phone with Chuck, and—” I stopped right in my tracks. “Wait a minute, where’d you find another phone?” 

“Down in the basement,” he flatly replied, to which I raised an eyebrow. 

“Where’d you find another phone down in the basement?” I asked him, slightly puzzled. 

“It’s right by the furnace,” he continued, still in a flat tone of voice. 

“What is it doing by the furnace?” I had to stifle a chuckle at that. 

“I dunno. What am I doing by the furnace? Why am I not as hot as you on a summer day?” 

“Get off the phone, I'm talking to Chuck,” I scoffed. 

“Ooh! Can I talk to him?” 

“No.” 

I pressed the button again for Chuck’s line. 

“Hey, you still there?” I asked him. 

“You know I can hear you on the other line,” he told me. 

“Are you serious?” I raised my eyebrows at that. 

“Dead serious.” 

“Okay, hang on, let me see if I can get Joey again—” I pressed the button again. 

“Joey?” 

“I’m here.” 

“Hang on, let me see if I can get Chuck again,” I told him, and I pressed the button. 

“Hang on, let me see if I can get Chuck again,” Chuck himself reiterated. 

“So, you heard him say where he found the phone?” I asked him. 

“Yeah, I thought you knew we still had it,” he told me point-blank. 

“No! I didn’t see anything down there the last time I went down there.” 

“You sure?” 

“Positive!” 

“Alex?” 

“Yes?” 

“You are hotter than the furnace on a summer day, Alex,” Chuck told me in a low voice. 

“Is that—what you wanted to tell me?” I asked him with a clearing of my throat. 

“Yes!” he declared. “Now, do we need anything from the market?” 

“Um... eggs? Eggs.” 

“Okay.” 

“And... cake?” 

“Cake? What kind of cake?” 

“Carrot?” 

“Carrot cake?” He sounded genuinely taken aback by that. 

“Yes. I'm really hankering for it right now.” 

“Mmm-kay. What about for breakfast tomorrow?” 

“Chocolate muffins?” 

“Sounds good by me.” He puckered his lips on the other end, and then, when he hung up the phone, I pressed the button again for Joey, but he had gone at that point. I sighed through my nose as I hung up the receiver. I was about to stand up and hang up the towels when I caught the sound of Joey laughing downstairs. I held still as I tried to hang onto every single word, and yet, it was beyond me. 

I lingered over by the door panel, and I opened the door ever so slightly; he was talking to someone downstairs. But then again, I only heard his voice down there. 

I ran a hand down my bare chest, onto my bare belly, and nothing could deny the nervous fluttery feeling within me. Careful not to make the floor underneath me creak under my weight, I crept back to the phone receiver and picked it up, and I held it close to my ear. 

“We all should wave our dicks around willy-nilly,” Joey suggested. 

“Why would we wave our dicks around?” Chuck asked, and I gaped at that. It was strange given I never heard the phone ring once I had hung up, but then again, Chuck did mention that he could hear me on the other line. To me, it sounded like I could get away with it complete without it even so much as indicating someone else was on the other line. I held my lips open a bit as I listened in on the two of them. 

“’Cause it’s fun,” Joey was saying. “We’ll be out in the open with our pants down and our cocks out in the open air, and we could spin ‘em around like windmills.” 

I clasped a hand to my mouth to keep myself from laughing my ass off at that. 

“Well, what about Alex, though?” Chuck asked him in a low, whispery voice. 

“What about Alex? He could join in if he wants. You know how he is, Chuck.” 

“I do know how he is. He's a nasty, dirty boy even though he’ll never admit it.” 

I squinted my eyes at that. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Joey began again. 

“Go right ahead. I won’t tell Alex, and I sure as shit won’t tell Cliff, either.” 

“Cliff?” I mouthed. 

“I’m feeling a little bit attracted to Alex,” Joey confessed. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I dunno, I can’t explain it. He's so—hypnotic and sensual—and he seems to let it all out so effortlessly, like remember the other day, he was wearing that white silk shirt with the collar undone?” 

“Oh, yeah, and it showed off his chest? I picked that out for him.” 

“Oh my god,” Joey breathed into the phone. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Chuck—I love his chest hair.” 

“I do, too,” Chuck quipped; it was right then I looked down at my chest and the little sprigs of dark hair all in between my nipples. Not a lot of chest hair but my guess was that Joey had seen me at the absolute right light, because I had worn that shirt in question and when I stood in shadow, it looked as though I had a lot more there. I ran my tongue along my bottom lip as I listened on. 

“You should feel it, too, Joey,” Chuck continued. “It’s soft and plush, almost downy. The first night we lay down together, I reached out and touched him there, and I thought I was going to cum for him right then and there.” The mere sound of his voice made me want to sit down on the carpet with my back to the edge of the bed and my shoulder up against the leg of the nightstand. 

“How easy do you cum, by the way?” 

“Pretty easily. Like, the first time I jerked off, I was surprised how quickly it came out.” He fell silent for a moment. “Why? You wanna dance around with my cum?” 

“Nah. Now the question is—do you wanna dance around with me and make me cum?” 

“I could dance around and slap you in the ass,” Chuck joked, and I pursed my lips at that. 

“If you slap me in the ass, could I kiss Alex?” Joey offered. 

“I slap you in the ass, we both kiss Alex, and you both get to tag team over me,” he concluded. 

“Deal. And then the three of us run away together?” 

“If you want,” Chuck said. “I gotta go—the line at the bakery’s starting to thin up. Alex and his muffins, I swear.” 

“I like muffins, too,” Joey scoffed. “Anyways, let’s talk more later?” 

“Yeah, absolutely! Barring Alex isn’t eavesdropping on us and everything.” He chuckled at that, and I shook my head with a little smirk on my face. 

“Talk to you later, big boy,” Joey chirped, and no sooner had Chuck hung up when Joey cleared his throat. 

“I know you’re there, Alex,” he said in a low tone of voice, almost to the tone of a growl. 

I swallowed and let out a low whistle. 

“How long have you been listening in?” he asked me. 

“About a couple of minutes, give or take,” I told him with a clearing of my throat. “I came in when you were talking about—your dicks out in the wind.” 

“I really, really, really want to kiss you,” Joey told me. 

“Why would you want to kiss me?” I asked him with a knitting of my eyebrows together. 

“Because your lips are so soft and so sexy,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. “You have the cutest little belly, too, how it’s got the slightest little round curve to it. It's like a puppy belly. I love your body.” 

“Well, Joey, if you must pry—I think you have a beautiful body,” I said with a clearing of my throat; I could feel the warmth blooming in my face. 

“You know what, just for that—I want you to do me a favor.” 

I swallowed again. I was dying of thirst right then and there. 

“Go ahead,” I encouraged him. 

“I want you—to get off for me.” 

“Why would I get off for you when you could do that for me?” 

“Because I asked you to,” he insisted, still with his voice down low. “But when you’re done, I'll do it for you, though, if you’d like.” 

“Sounds fair.” I opened up the towel around my waist and let the ends fall on either side of me. I sat there naked on the carpet between the bed and the nightstand. I looked down at my waist, and I did notice a little extra fullness there, especially around my belly button. 

“Okay. You got your dick ready?” He cleared his throat as well. 

“Of course.” My fingers caressed down to the soft skin there: I swore that I had silk there, especially between my genitals and my belly button. “The question is... do you have your dick ready?” 

“My dick was born ready,” he quipped, and I tried not to laugh at that. 

“Okay, I want you to... stick your finger into the hole, and run it around in the rim.” I brought my knees up and reached into the head of my dick: my pinky finger right into the hole, which in turn sent a chill up my spine. “Let me ask you, Alex, does it tickle?” 

“Does it tickle?” I asked him. “Does it ever!” 

“Ooh, yeah. Now, I want you to get down to the floor—just lay down on the floor—flat on your back—and I want you to spread your legs and hold onto the head of your dick. This is what I did with a guy named Peter once: we took a ribbed metal brace which had these rings all along the spine, and we put it on his dick—he had a gigantic dick, too, like really big, you should’ve seen this thing, Alex.” 

“Was it a huge schlong?” I looked down at my own dick of normal, narrow size. Not that big but not very small, though, and yet, the thought of a guy having a huge one, and the guy before Joey no less, made me grimace at the size of it. 

“It was bigger than a schlong. It was like a schlad schmagoogal!” I burst out laughing at that, and then he cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I put this thing on him and whenever it looked like he was about to cum for me, I snapped one ring on.” 

“Good god, that sounds painful.” 

“Well, it was a bondage thing.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

“I want you to look around the room for something, Alex.” 

“Something? Like what?” 

“Something hard and metallic to rub up against your dick and the head—unless you have a better idea.” 

I craned my neck to the nightstand and, right next to the base of the phone, was a little silver pen with a black clicking lid. 

“I found a little metal pen here. This is a nice pen; I don’t remember Chuck bringing this home.” 

“Shove it up the hole,” Joey commanded without a moment’s hesitation. 

“What!” I snapped. 

“Just run it around the rim of the hole and then shove it up there.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously. I want you to pleasure yourself with something more than your fingers, Alex.” 

I gazed on at the pen. The silvery metal tip shared my own reflection, albeit in small, warped form, and I pursed my lips at the sight of myself staring back at myself. If nothing else, I could at the very least work myself to that point. 

To my own point. 

I glanced down at my own dick, and I held the silvery part of the pen right next to the base of the shaft. It felt cold to the touch, and more so as I brought it along the edge of the shaft towards the head. It was right there when the cool sensation of the pen brought a chill to my spine. I held still there on the floor, and I tried my damnedest to keep my hips in place on the towel lest I buck around like a horse. 

I held the head of the pen right over the hole, and I knew there was no way that it would be able to fit. 

“Shove it in nice and easy,” Joey continued, complete with his voice down to a near whisper. “Nice and slow.” 

“I’m going as slow as I can,” I grunted out. It felt so weird and yet, I could feel my spine straighten out from the sensation. The cold metal rubbed up against my skin to the point that it tickled me like crazy: I parted my lips and breathed to better ease in the feeling on my skin. My skin was soft and sensitive to the touch, especially there: there was no way that I could handle this on my own. I needed someone else there with me. 

“Are you in yet?” he asked me. 

Breathing hard, I stuck the head of the pen into the hole all the way, and I closed my eyes and gasped from the feeling. I began to breathe harder as the cold metal made its way up inside there, and I could hardly stand to take the feeling itself. I could feel myself coming right away, and more so as I moved the pen around the heart of the hole like he had told me to do. 

“Alex?” Joey’s voice sliced through my sense of concentration, such that my eyes popped open and I could feel myself drooling on myself. 

“Alex? Are you in?” 

“Yes...” I groaned out from the feeling. 

“Okay. Now, I want you—with your free hand, if you can—to squeeze the shaft.” 

“Squeeze it?” I echoed him, and I could feel my voice wavering from the feeling. I couldn’t hardly breathe, I couldn’t hardly move: if I went in any further, I could cum without even trying, and I could do it without Joey even so much as looking at me. 

I held the phone between my ear and my shoulder, and with my free hand, I gave the shaft a gentle squeeze with my fingertips. Carefully, I followed up the gentle squeeze with a stroke of my fingers. The pen in one hand and my own pen in my other hand. 

“You got it?” Joey asked me. 

“I do, yes,” I squeaked out. 

“Okay. Now—what would you like me to do?” 

“The same thing,” was all I could think of. He laughed at that. 

“Gladly—” There was a brief pause on his end, and it was on the third stroke of my thumb when I couldn’t take it anymore, and I moved the pen out of the hole. A small clear pearl of precum trickled out of there, and I let out a low whistle. 

Before I could do anything else, Joey then let out a soft groan through the mouthpiece. 

“Whoa,” I blurted out. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Oh, yeah, I found a coupl’a rings and just put ‘em on my dick, and they fit like a glove. Now, I'm using my finger—right into my dickhole.” 

“Use both hands,” I told him in a low grunt of a voice. 

“Both hands?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Both hands on my dick—two pinky fingers deep into my hole—five rings on the dick—” He gasped, and then he let out another low groan. “Oh, god—” 

“Is there a sixth?” I asked him in a broken voice, and I could feel my dick hardening at the sound of his moans and groans. 

“There is!” 

“Put it on.” 

“Ah!” 

“Put it on!” 

I could hear him barring his teeth, and I nodded my head at that. 

“That’s it. That's it!” 

“Phew! Ha! Oh, shit!” 

“Both pinkies, Joey! Both pinkies!” 

“AH!” 

“Oh—!” 

I was glad that I took the pen out of the hole because the clear precum turned white and I jizzed out onto the towel. Nothing a quick wash wouldn’t fix. 

Meanwhile, Joey huffed and puffed, panted and let out soft moans. I could envision him down there in the basement, completely naked and drenched in sweat, complete with his long black curls matted at the sides of his neck as if he had just taken a dunk into cold water. 

“Oh, god—oh, god—phewww. Damn.” 

“You got a lot?” I teased him with another clearing of my throat. 

“You bastard. I'm still shooting it out.” 

“I had no idea you were filled with such—sexuality, Joey,” I confessed. 

“And I had no idea you were as well, Alex,” he quipped back to me. “You really are a dirty dog of a boy. I gotta clean up.” 

“Yeah, I do, too,” I told him, and he hung up before I could say anything else. 

“Alex,” Chuck began on the other end, much to my surprise. 

“Yes?” I cleared my throat again. 

“Who were you talking to?” 

“You, of course. Now, the question is—who were you talking to?” 

“You, of course,” he retorted back. “My crown prince and my husband, whom I haven’t seen in so long it feels like.” 

“You’re still in the car, aren’t you?” I asked him. 

“Of course,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation. 

But there was no way in hell on Earth I was going to tell him the truth about my overhearing him and Joey. No way. 

[eunorymos]

Headers do rock

headers 1200x350 – bandas de rock; 🎸☠️🔗

© sattan — credite se usar

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day twelve: monolith prompt: voyeurism (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: alex/krista (dead man walking) also on ao3 💋

It had been a whole week since Alex had showed up at the house in upstate New York in the time that followed Joey’s passing, and he still had to find his comfort there in the strange bed as well as the guest room. The time that surrounded the guest bedroom was limited as he knew that it would be converted into another bedroom, albeit one for Krista and Joey’s baby. But for as long as he could stay there at the house in order to better help Krista understand the situation that surrounded the house as well as grapple with the fact that Joey was gone.

He lay down on the bed with his legs outstretched before him and his hands tucked underneath his head. A long day of helping out Krista around the house, and all he wanted to do right then was take a little rest for the night before him. He sighed through his nose and gazed up at the ceiling overhead: he could feel the bottom hem of his shirt slightly over his belly button as if he was posing for Playgirl magazine. If he fanned his hair out from his head, and he cocked his hips to the side just enough, he could perhaps find his way to his own controversial photo shoot.

Joey’s spirit lingered through the rafters of the attic as well as the labyrinthine basement down below, and sometimes Alex wondered if he watched over him from the light on the ceiling, a veil of wisps with the knife in hand and the ace of spades in the other like in his dreams of the graveyard. If Joey watched over him to such great extent, he wondered how the man would react if he saw Alex with Krista. Though she vowed to fight for Joey and to always remain faithful to him, as far as Alex knew, he lingered against the ceiling with that knife ready for the back of his throat.

Indeed, the more that Alex thought about it, the more he wondered if Joey was watching him right then and there. He closed his eyes and he tried to not think about it, to think about Joey up there next to the outer casing of that light, with those long jet-black curls tousled over his shoulder and his collar bones, without a shirt about his slender sun-kissed body and with that knife still tucked inside of his right hand. He still thought about Joey, up there on the ceiling, tucked there like an effigy of himself and with those brown eyes fixated on him there on the guest bed. Much like in his dreams about the cemetery, Alex imagined Joey bowing his head closer to him, complete with those black curls spread behind his head as if he was underwater, and the knife blade pointed at the center of his throat. His dark lips curled up into a taut sneer and his dark eyes resembled to the bright fire of an opal.

He looked there as if ready to slit Alex’s throat once the job on the ace of spades had finished. A vow of revenge from beyond the veil for even daring to be in the same room as Krista, let alone be willing to help her as her body changed and the foundations of the house stood the test of time and the glare upon Mrs. Jones’ blackened lenses.

Alex swallowed and he resisted the urge to open his eyes, lest Joey’s apparition loom up there for real. He flexed his long, lanky fingers underneath the thickest part of his own curls, and he shifted his weight around his hips. He wondered as to what he could do for Joey to remove that stern, rather austere look on his face, as a sacrifice of sorts.

The obvious answer to this was to leave the house, but then again, he wondered if Joey would be so hostile to someone who was a mere guest in his home, and a guest who was more than willing to help his pregnant widow to boot. If the departed was Peter, then Alex wouldn’t hesitate to pick up and leave the house and call it a day there. But Joey had such a kind heart, a very sweet and humble gentleman from out in the sticks corner of New York State. He wouldn’t be so keen on ridding of Alex.

He finally opened his eyes and he stared up at the ceiling as if he was under the control of his own mind. Nothing there next to the light’s edge, and yet the image of Joey remained as clear as day on the side of his mind. He would haunt him for some time until he figured a way to please him from beyond the veil.

To pay his dues of some sort, all to the face of Joey’s epitaph, the urn in the next room.

He looked down at his little body, at his prominent thighs and hips against his slim, svelte waist. He was so thin and so delicate that it struck him as odd in the most inexplicable way.

He was cozy and comfortable there at the house, and it almost made sense that he could probably let go for a bit and relax all the way. But not with Joey’s presence still a full memory away from there.

Even as he reclined back on his elbows and he took a glimpse about the room before him, and he even took a little peek into the hallway right outside of his doorway. The rest of the house remained dark before him, except for the column of golden light from Krista’s bedroom down the hall. There had to be more to staying there in the house than merely laying on the bed at the day’s end.

He lifted himself up all the way and he ran his fingers through his black curls: long and lush, all the way down to the middle of his back. Whenever he thrashed about the stage with Testament, he would toss his head back and the curls would fly every which way like the snakes on Medusa. Those deep blue eyes of his only added to the nature of it all: he would keep his gaze locked in between the stage before him as well as his guitar before his body. Long, lush curls, and yet there were days in which they would remain without the loving caress of a hairbrush.

Alex sat up all the way and then he climbed up off of the edge of the bed, and he sauntered over to the dresser on the side of the room, nestled in the nook right behind the door. One of the first things that he did before he settled in all the way there in the house was unpack every single bit of clothing off of his person into those drawers: when Krista told him that he was always welcome there in the house, he knew that he would frequent there often, that is until he was able to find his way through the wilderness all on his own. He closed the door part of the way behind him: he had caught a glimpse of Krista in the bedroom down the hall there, but he had no idea as to what she was doing in there.

Alex picked up his hairbrush from the top drawer and he ran those fine bristles through his inky black hair. He closed his eyes and slightly grimaced as those fine bristles tugged at the little tangles on the side of his head, but he managed to brush them out with a few little swipes.

When he put his things into the drawers, he noticed that she had left a little handheld mirror in the very top there. Perhaps it would help him a bit.

He picked it up with his free hand and he gazed into his own deep blue eyes as well as his own prominent nose and full little lips.

He swept the brush over the crown of his head a couple of times when he saw something peculiar in the room down the hall. He froze right in his spot as he fixated the glass surface of the mirror on that bedroom, on Krista there in the doorway, right in his line of sight, bathed in golden light and with nothing more than her brassiere on her body.

“What the hell?”

He kept the mirror posed by his head so it remained behind the edge of the door, out of Krista’s sight but so he could see her in there. He watched her pose before her own mirror on the wall behind the door.

In nothing more than a white lace bra over her chest and her shoulders. He raised his eyebrows when he realized that she wasn’t wearing any panties and her crotch was completely bare shaven. Though she was only a few weeks along, her bump already began to take shape all along her waist.

Fewer things were as sensual and full of curves as the body of a woman, and Alex knew it. Perhaps he could get away with it should he gain a few pounds around his belly and his hips, but he still lacked that natural, full shape.

He nibbled on his bottom lip when he thought about Joey’s spirit in the room there. The man wouldn’t be so keen on ridding Alex from the house as Peter, but he wondered how Joey would react if he caught this young man peeping on his pregnant widow down the hall. He swallowed as she ran her hand down her waist down to her crotch, right to where that little hood and her clit resided.

He watched her and he couldn’t stop watching her, even as she doubled back to the bed for something: and all he could see was her ass poking out from behind the door frame. He parted his lips and let out a low whistle, and he returned to the hairbrush in hand, and he tried to brush his hair a bit more, but alas, he could not. Not when there was a woman only six feet away from him there at the end of the hall. Not when there was a free show all being put on by accident.

She put on her little lace panties and she removed her bra right after that. He stopped when he saw her nipples, out there in the open, in all of their rosy pink glory. Careful not to make a lot of noise and bring a lot of attention to himself, he set the brush back into the drawer all to watch her all the way. She seemed oblivious to the fact that he was watching her and in the most lecherous way possible, but he couldn’t stop watching her no matter how much he tried to focus on his own hair and his own business. The door was open and there was nothing that either of them could do about it at that point.

Thus, rather than fight his own thoughts, Alex wondered if Krista would be willing to come close to him, bare-chested, pregnant bellied, and everything. To feel those curves against his own body. To have those curves caress his body down with all of their lightness and softness. He pinched his eyes shut for a moment as he pictured her hands on his thighs: her fingers up the inside of his thighs to his own crotch all to please him as well.

“Squeeze me,” he muttered aloud. “Squeeze me, mama.”

He opened his eyes in time to see Krista hold up a little white lace teddy up before her chest. He couldn’t see the whole thing but he knew delicate white lace when he saw it, even with the bath of a veil of golden light and a mirror’s reflection. He realized that she posed with it before her before she prepared to put it on for the evening. A little lace teddy in lieu of a plain nightgown.

“That’s a really nice look for you,” he said in a whisper so light that he nearly breathed the words. “Yeah. Yeah, put that on. Keep it on. You look so good.”

She paused and then she turned back towards the spot behind the doorframe, the spot that he soon remembered was the bed.

“No?”

She ducked away for a second, and then she returned into his view, still with the teddy in hand.

“Phew. Do it. Do it.”

She ran her hands down her chest and down onto her stomach again. Alex didn’t move as he watched her every move down the hallway. The curves of her body, the caress of his tongue along his lips, the cozy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and of course, the firm, full feeling right in between his thighs, the feeling that rose up and firmed up even more at the sight of her body, wrapped in that skimpy, delicate white lace. All she missed was that little teddy and he knew that he would have to remove those tight pants for himself.

“Come on,” he whispered once again. “Come on, come on. You know you want to.”

Like magic, Krista peeled back her bra and exposed her bare breasts to the mirror before her once again, all for a better look before she put on the teddy. The lamplight bathed over her chest as well as the little mound on her waist. She looked so womanly, like the statue of Venus right there only six feet away from him.

“Whoa…”

Those exact same breasts, and yet, with the way in which she stood there before her own mirror, he was able to have a full view of her curves as well as those breasts in repose at the utmost right angle. He swallowed and he couldn’t hardly contain the feeling between his legs. His jeans were too tight and the room felt too warm for his skin.

He closed his eyes and he knew that he even so much as reached down into his jeans, he would leave the mirror dangling in his hand and he knew that that could make a hard glare over at her when he didn’t want that.

Instead, Alex pictured himself like the Venus de Milo right before her, with his bare body exposed from the crown of his head all the way down to his narrow spindly feet, and his little belly and broad chest bathed in that warm light adjacent to her bare nipples. She could hold onto the underside of her breasts with the inside of her arm and her hand while he held onto his crotch with one hand, and his other hand upon his head: his fingers snaked through his black curls.

The two of them, goddesses of eroticism, side by side to each other with the golden light over their bodies.

He opened his eyes again and he took another glimpse into the mirror’s reflection. Krista had taken off the white lace and, in its place, she had put on a red silk chemise that hugged her curves and scooped up her chest to make it look all the more perky.

“Oh, my lord,” he muttered under his breath. She stooped down and rested her hands upon her knees: he moved the mirror ever so slightly to see behind the doorframe. She wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath that chemise. She had gone commando, and as far as he knew, she would go commando for the entire night.

To go commando for the whole night and into the next morning, especially when she seemed to be in the best state for it as well.

“I want you to touch my ass,” he whispered to himself. “I don’t care if you’re carrying a dead man’s baby—I want you to touch my ass. Put your hand right on my butt—”

Krista turned her body to the side so he could have the best view of her figure from straight on, and that was when he couldn’t hardly take it anymore.

With one hand, he reached down onto his snug jeans and unfastened the button. He reached down inside, and his fingers crawled over his skin. But that wasn’t enough, given the warmth spread all throughout his body from the hips outward.

He moved his hand up his shirt, as if he was changing into sexy lingerie for himself alongside her. Down over his chest and onto his stomach and then his hips and thighs. He pictured her touching his body that way: she and him had blurred the boundaries and edges of one another and fused into a single lover keen on touching itself at the sight of itself before it burst into flames. He nudged his jeans down his hips and his thighs a bit, and that was when he noticed Krista had disappeared from his view once again. He pursed his lips and froze right in his own tracks as he wondered where she could have gone.

A whole minute passed before she returned to his view again, that time in a romper of thin black lace and a low neckline to show off those breasts and the top part of her stomach.

Alex's mouth dropped open as he watched her pose before the mirror again. She still had not a pair of panties on. That black lace caressed over her curves, such that he could hardly contain the hard feeling in between his legs.

“Yes—” he whispered. She set her hands on her breasts: he could see that her nipples poked out from underneath the bits of lace. Her fingers swept over those taut nipples. She caressed herself down right before his very eyes.

She moved her hands down to her waist and the full shape of her hips, down onto her thighs and in between them.

“Yes—”

He watched her slip her fingers in between her legs. He raised his eyebrows as she slipped them inside: that little bud of nerves at the front there as if to mirror his own.

“Yes! Mmm… ooh, I’m so bad.”

Krista closed her eyes as she relished in the feeling of her own skin as well as the lace. Alex swallowed: the back of his throat felt parched and dry, and he wished that he could take a drink of water for himself right then, but the show she had accidentally put on was too much fun to even look away from. He instead glanced away from the mirror down at himself.

“I may be skinny but I’m stout like a stone. You know it, and I do, too.”

He returned his gaze to the mirror before him and she had bowed away from the doorway again, much to his chagrin. She was behind the door frame for a good long minute before he realized that she wasn’t returning for another round of it. Alex let out a low whistle and he held the mirror close to his body so she wouldn’t have to see the reflection for herself thereafter. He swallowed and he thought about a glass of water for himself.

He put the mirror away and he bowed out of there and into the dark hallway, followed by the living room and then the kitchen for a glass.

He stood there at the counter with the glass of water from the fridge and every time he blinked his eyes, he could see her there, embedded on the backs like a woman of inferno and cold stone. The cold rock that surrounded the flames of the impossible world down below. As he sipped down the water, he reached down and adjusted the crotch on his jeans with three fingers. It was futile, given he could still feel the firm fullness there in between his legs.

He tilted his head further back for a better drink of the water and then he fetched another refill from out of the fridge before he turned off the light and ambled back to the room. At that point, Krista had closed the bedroom door and he hoped that she had missed him there in the bedroom. He dared not ask her about it as he bowed back into the bedroom for the night.

Alex closed the door behind him, and then he took off his own clothes. Another drink of water from the glass before he lay down for the night in his own underwear. He pictured Krista looking on at him from down the hallway herself, and he pictured her doing the same things to herself as he did for himself right before then.

The next morning and a dreamless sleep, he awoke to gray rain clouds outside as well as the fresh and warm aroma of coffee in the kitchen. He vowed to never mention it for a second to Krista as he put his pajama bottoms on, followed by a plain white shirt. He ran his fingers through his black curls and he made a promise to himself to finish the brushing job once he had another moment to himself once again.

He picked up the glass from the dresser and stepped out to the hallway: though he had lost quite a bit of that firmness in between his legs over the course of the night, he could still feel it there with each and every step. His punishment for not properly reaching down to relieve himself lest he be caught spying on her, perhaps.

Alex padded into the room next door to the kitchen with the glass in hand: he peeked into the kitchen to find Krista there at the counter with her back towards him. She wore nothing more than a bathrobe over her still-slender body. He swallowed yet again, and he wanted to fetch himself some more water out of the fridge but he still had his worries.

It was moments like that he genuinely wondered if he was chickenshit because he couldn’t bear face his own desires at their most basic level, right there right before him in the form of a widow’s body. He turned away and he glanced down at the glass in his hand.

The water would have to wait as he took a single step over to the table. He leaned over the chair closest to him as he tried to better relieve the pressure on himself without having to resort touching himself. It was once again, futile, and he figured that it would be best to surprise Krista by sitting there at the table with the glass before him.

Before he took his seat, he felt a hard tap on the back of his head. He turned to face her and the cup of coffee in one hand and her other hand down on his crotch.

He swallowed yet again as she leaned in closer to his face. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips a little bit as if she beckoned a kiss from him. He held still as the pads of her fingers fondled over the tip through his pajama bottoms. She did for him what his ex-girlfriend could never do for him in the time they spent together and that was make him feel at ease with himself. Though Krista never kissed him, she did move her lips closer to his ear.

“That’s for spying on me, you little dirty dog,” she whispered into his ear.

She ran her hand down the curvature of his ass, right down the seat of his pajama bottoms.

“That’s what you get,” she whispered into his ear again; she gave his ass a little squeeze with her fingers and he flinched from the feeling. Alex opened his eyes and he noticed that she wore a simple nightgown underneath that bathrobe.

He could see that she had put on that little black lace romper underneath her nightgown: those white straps showed through the filmy shoulders of the gown, and he froze at the nervous feeling inside of him.

“I may be skinny but I'm stout like a stone,” she whispered into his ear again, and she burst into a fit of giggles. She moved back and showed him a little smile. “Would you like some coffee, big boy?” she asked him in a louder tone of voice.

“Uh, yes, please,” he said with a break to his voice.

[sofiiel]

So this album cover may or may not have given me an idea for just how Eddie gets saved in one of my fics.

Which one I'm going to work it into, I have no clue. It fits the plot line for two of them, possibly three. But it's taking everything I have not to make another new one, until I finish up the four I already have going.

Also, the birthday of this album is just too perfect.

[xx-gh0st-in-d4-m4chin3-xx]

freyungk beylow ayux riydjur

Go ahead, put anything.

once apon a (persistence of) time a person name (y/n) met da most bootiful baessist in the WHOLE INTIRE WORLD and his name was frank. "oh how bootiful he is" wispered the iconic (y/n). "hey baba girl/boy, itsa me frayunk beylow" he screamed into my ears as loud as a kaboom boom "oh. my. god. SENPAII" (y/n) replied with a heart full for frank. "oh my god u r perfect for my forever partner, please PLEASE BE MINE" frank begged and cried "yes papi" (y/n) answered happily and they both made out.

the end

[bokkerijder]

notes for fanfic writers from a current metalhead with knowledge about the metal scene in the 80s (my mom was an 80s metalhead):

of course, everyone is free to write eddie however the hell they want! but after reading idk how many fanfics, a lot of them written by people who aren't into metal themselves, i thought i could share a couple of things!

- the fact that eddie deals drugs doesn't automatically mean he uses them. he might smoke a joint every once in a while, but a lot of metalheads just stick to beer and booze.

- i love the mental image of eddie wearing makeup. however, realistically, eddie wouldn't be wearing makeup. not even when performing. the most he would wear is black nail polish, maybe some eyeliner during shows. yes, there's a subgenre of metal where the musicians do wear makeup like eyeshadow and lipstick, however, that is not the type of metal eddie listens to (with the exception of W.A.S.P. who had members who did wear eyeliner)

- eddie would absolutely love a lot of music that isn't necessarily metal, especially 60s and 70s rock, like Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix ect. he would absolutely admire David Bowie. and i'll let you guys in on a little secret. a lot of metalheads love the fuck out of ABBA. he might not admit it to his friends (he doesn't want to look uncool), but ABBA is notorious for actually making very technical music, and for using elaborate mixing techniques on their albums. that alone would get eddie to listen to it.

- that being said, there are also definitely bands he would absolutely not listen to. i've seen people mention eddie listening to Guns N' Roses and Mötley Crüe. he wouldn't. eddie listens to heavy metal, trash metal, and the beginnings of black metal. bands like Mötley Crüe are more glam leaning than heavy metal. and 80s metalheads listening to eddie's subgenres of metal wouldn't be caught dead listening to glam metal. i know, it's a weird thing.

- a short list of metalbands that eddie does listen to (both canon and assumptions): Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osbourne, Dio, Iron Maiden, Motörhead, Mercyful Fate, Venom, Saxon, Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, Anthrax, Queensrÿche, W.A.S.P., Judas Priest, Accept. of course there are more bands, but these are just a few i can list from the top of my head!

- and the most important note: eddie is a metalhead, NOT a punker!!! i've seen some writers describe him as punk, or punk rock, or him living in the punk scene. there is a big difference between the two! plus, a lot of metalheads and punkers didn't even like each other that much during the 80s. there was a bit of a musical rivalry.

hope this helps!

[macdenvalentinesparty]

MacDennis Valentines Day Party 2023 🔫❤️

As a gay [redacted], I’m more in touch with my feelings than the rest of you, so I know you all trust me to put together a Macdennis Valentine’s Day event!

I don’t know what this is, you’ve not explained it

It’s simple: all you have to do is something creative involving MacDennis and either The Gang Tends Bar or Valentines Day in general. You can write a fic, create art, make an edit, a video, whatever the castle wants you want to do to celebrate and I’ll curate everything here at the end.

What are the rules?

Submit your creation by either posting it on your own blog and tagging it “Macdennis Valentine’s Day Party” so I can reblog it here, or submit your creation directly to this blog (let me know if you want to remain anonymous)

Deadline is this Valentine’s Day, February 14th Any time before or on the date itself is fine (but if you’re a little late I’ll still let you slip in)

If you write a fanfic and post it to AO3, add it to the MacDennis Valentine’s Day Party 2023 collection

There is no minimum or maximum—make content as long or as short as you want

Explicit content is allowed as long as it is tagged appropriately

I didn’t go to school for this!

Here’s some ideas to help get you started if you’re stuck (if you have more prompt ideas for people to use, feel free to send them in!):

Mac and Dennis' first Valentine's Day (submitted by @literatigeek)

Mac and Dennis getting together on Valentine's Day (submitted by @literatigeek)

Established relationship Valentine's Day (submitted by @literatigeek)

High school Valentine's Day (submitted by @literatigeek)

RPG Valentine's Day AU (submitted by @literatigeek)

Valentine's Day while Dennis was in North Dakota (submitted by @patheticboydennis)

MacDennis Valentine's Day traditions (submitted by @patheticboydennis)

Valentine's Day before Dennis put "anthrax" in the box (submitted by @patheticboydennis)

[pigeorgien]

my wacky mind brought me idea about anthrax attack (Amerithrax) in welcome home and i wrote a fanfic about this... It's still upcoming, but i think, it's will uploaded, if i want...

[halfmoon-horse]

Ace attorney fanfic ideas i have Considered:

Edgeworth's car has the brakes cut and he crashes

Phoenix fucking dies

Someone sends anthrax to the prosecutor's office

Wtf is wrong with me?

[feverinfeveroutfic]

”this kiss”

a/n: little short one this time (time kind of got away from me this week so i had to hustle a bit)

I spent the night with Eric and Lou and I would never forget what I had heard in that next room as I was trying to fall asleep. It didn’t help that the room and the entire house had fallen dark, and I had nothing better to do than to eavesdrop on them in there.

As far as I remembered, they had gone to bed after having shared a whole bottle of wine from Paso Robles together. I, too, had gone to bed as well, but I stayed up when their laughter seemed a bit more interesting than the suggestion of going to sleep, especially when the next day was so exciting that I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway. I kept the door slightly ajar so I could have a sliver of some extra light prior to falling asleep. I had this thought that I could look on at the light and count down until I fell asleep, but I lay flat on my back and gazed up at the ceiling. The shadows all around the cottage cheese and that was all I could think about as well. A bit of cottage cheese on some crackers, that was all I could think about whenever I even attempted to fall asleep.

Some cottage cheese and some prosciutto.

Eric and Lou were downstairs, and the last glimpse I took of them, they had busted out some champagne flutes but they were laughing it up as if they had had a bunch of soda instead. We were all in the realm of royalty but we knew how to let loose every now and again, be it with our crowns or our childhood memories.

I put my hands underneath my head, and I closed my eyes. I tried to go to sleep. I thought about going downstairs to join them but I had to be well-rested for the party the next day.

I opened my eyes at the mere suggestion.

They were the one match that I had always seen as odd, simply because they had no drama between them. As much as I loved Alex and the two Chucks, I needed to breathe every now and again. I needed to see something normal and good. I was glad that they let me stay with them for the time being, that is until I found a place myself and I could find my way into the royalty on my own. I could have my own crown and my own prince once I found my own footing through it all.

The thought of them being the normal ones was enough to make me sleepy. I closed my eyes yet again when I heard the cork popping off the neck of the bottle. It was going to be a long while before they went to bed, but at that point I had no desire to fall asleep.

Their laughter floated up to the second floor and I held my breath so I could better hear the words that they were saying. I could just hear them drinking it up and laughing it up down there, but I wanted to know about the one normal couple in all of this, though.

Their words were then muffled by something. There was nothing more than a wall dividing me from the two of them, but I knew that it had nothing to do with that. There had to have been a reason why their voices had muffled down right then.

I finally sat up in bed and swung one leg out from under the blankets. I barely rested my foot on the floor lest the boards creak underneath my weight.

Maybe it was the sense of fatigue overcoming me but I had to figure it out. The one normal couple in the whole shebang, and I was witnessing some real dirt right at my fingertips. Or right at my ears, rather, and when they least suspected it as well. Even with my flagging energy and dropping eyelids, I had to find out about it.

Their whispers floated up to me as if they were ghosts on the backs of notes. I swore that I heard the words “this kiss”. I had no idea as to what they were expecting from each other, but I wished to know, and a part of me wanted to get out of bed just so I could see what was happening down there. I had to think of some kind of excuse, some sort of explanation as to why I got up again, like whenever I would explain to my parents why I got up in the middle of the night, and it was always to fetch a drink of water.

That was it.

I slid out of bed and I sauntered over to the doorway for a brief moment.

I swore that if I was going to hear the words “this kiss” one more time, I was going to have to pick myself up off the floor and see what was happening because as far as I knew, things were going crazy in there.

I wanted to know and yet I also didn’t want to know. I wanted them to have their privacy together, their champagne together, all of it all together.

And then I could hear it. The gasps. The heavy breathing. I could hear everything from up there at the doorway and I could put two and two together even from there. I needed a drink of water but then again, it was probably just my own predisposition, like a placebo effect of some sort.

Careful not to make the floor creak under me, I crept back to the comfort of my bed. I slid under the bed as I realized what they were doing downstairs and after they had kicked back a little bit of bubbly. They were bigger lightweights than me!

Bigger lightweights than me and yet I couldn’t help but laugh to myself.

I was wide awake, and I could hear everything that was going on in there. And I couldn’t help but laugh to myself.

I finally laughed myself to sleep, no less.

[josiebelladonna]

When I'm away from you, I'm happier than ever Wish I could explain it better I wish it wasn't true Give me a day or two to think of something clever To write myself a letter To tell me what to do, mm-mmm

do you read my interviews? Or do you skip my avenue? (My avenue) When you (when you) said you were passing through Was I even on your way?

I knew when I asked you to (when I asked you to) Be cool about what I was telling you You'd do the opposite of what you said you'd do (what you said you'd do) And I'd end up more afraid

don’t say it isn't fair You clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable So if you really wanna know

When I'm away from you (when I'm away from you) I'm happier than ever (happier than ever) Wish I could explain it better (wish I could explain it better) I wish it wasn't true (wish it wasn't true), mmm-mmm…

“’”I’ll kill this little girl like how I had her father killed.”’ He raised his gaze to her as her mouth gaped open.”

You call me again, drunk in your Benz, Driving home under the influence.

“She turned away from those two men and she peered out to the cold waters of the harbor, which in turn gave way to the great wide unknown that was the ocean. To think that that woman was so close to her, and to think that she had trusted Mrs. Jones this whole entire time, too. She began to look back on her behavior towards her, especially right after Joey had passed, and she realized that there was in fact something rather strange about her reaction to the whole thing. She was rather standoffish, as if she had no concern whatsoever.”

You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath, 'cause you only listen to your fucking friends.

“There was no way that she could use her blindness as an excuse because there was not a shred of blindness in there, only part of the way.”

I don't relate to you. I don't relate to you, no.

“She stabbed him in the back with a smile on her face.

She stabbed him in the back with a smile on her face.”

'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty. You made me hate this city.

“Much like the habitat at the Irish Sea, Joey’s state of being was irreversible. His ashes back in San Francisco, and the house that they built together hidden away from the world, and yet he was still with her every step of the way.”

And I don't talk shit about you on the internet. Never told anyone anything bad,

“’You were my everything,’ she whispered as she pictured Joey next to her. ‘You are still my everything.’”

'cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything, and all that you did was make me fucking sad.

“She pictured the knife to his throat. The knife with the poison that reeked of turpentine. No kill like the sense of overkill, but it was to ensure that he would die. Two x’s on each eye to signify that he was genuinely dead, only to have nothing more than the ghoulish glow of the green light in his wake. To either take the thing with the turpentine or have his throat slit. The ultimate game of blackjack. The ultimate gamble, complete with no way out.   They had made him their penultimate slave in their poison garden.”

So don't waste the time I don't have, and don't try to make me feel bad.

“Their smiling faces flashing those big wide Cheshire cat smiles at her as they both preyed on him like a couple of vultures. He was a sitting duck. He was a sitting duck, and they killed him dead with their noxious poison, and though she didn’t realize it until it was too late, they still tried to bury him in his wake.”

I could talk about every time that you showed up on time, but I'd have an empty line 'cause you never did.

“She took her love away from her, and add to this, she took Olivia’s father away from her, and she tried to put on a good face all the while and acted as though nothing had happened, to boot. She also made it seem as though she was in the right with everything as well. But nothing could rob the truth, even from beyond the grave, from something set in stone.”

Never paid any mind to my mother or friends, so I shut 'em all out for you 'cause I was a kid.

You ruined everything good. Always said you were ~misunderstood~ “Krista opened her eyes, and she stared out to the wispy gray clouds which hung low over the dark ocean. ‘You won’t get away with this,’ she said aloud. ‘You ruined everything good. You motherfuckers will not get away with this.’” Made all my moments your own. Just fucking leave me alone.

[girlwifteef]

“I’m sick of it” James Hetfield x Fem!Reader!

Part 1- TW: Toxic S/O, fighting, abuse (mental and physical), nightmares, and language. (pls lmk if I left anything out in the comments) Pls don’t read this fanfic if any of these fields disturb you ❤️ thanks :3.

Description: Y/N is out and about with her toxic boyfriend and he’s not having it with her. Y/N is also sick of the constant abuse she receives and tried to get away from him. Until one night;

1984 James:

It was a cool Friday night and I just had gotten off of work. After the break up with my now toxic ex-boyfriend, I’ve done everything in my power to get away from him. So much that I had ran to California from Florida to put as much distance between us as possible. From state to state, it seemed like he was just two steps behind me. Now, it’s been a year of silence, it terrifies me.

On that Friday night, I had just completed a 10 hour shift in a nursing gig I picked up straight out of college and I felt like I needed a break. I got in my 1980 chevy cavalier and drove to my apartment. It was a real piece of shit but it’s all I have at the moment, again; broke graduate over here. Once I got home, I changed out of my scrubs into an Anthrax t-shirt, dark blue jeans, a black leather jacket, a pair of combat boots, and rings (incase anyone tried anything) to go out to my favorite bar; Mr. Richie’s Tavern. Coolest non-hotspot in town (in my opinion) to get a drink and a quick bite. Mr. Richie and my dad have been best friends since I was in high school. If I’m having a ruff day, he’ll give me a Sam Adams on the house, real sweet guy.

I pull into the tavern parking and you could tell that it was pretty packed by the amount of cars that had to park on the street.

“What the fuck? It’s never busy like this.”

I said out loud in my car. I just really couldn’t believe my secret spot was out of the bag. I hop out of my cavalier and slam the door so it would lock. It was the only way it would ever since, him.

“Piece of shit car.”

I could barely get through the entrance because of the crowd of people huddled in the front. There was loud and heavy music playing near the back of the bar. It was a band I’ve never heard of: “Metallica”. “Hm. Sounds like the right name.”

They were honestly pretty badass from the few minutes I heard them. I shuffled my way to the bar, pushing and shoving just to get a damn seat. There, I saw the famous, bubbly Mr. Richie. He’s had one or two underground bands perform here, but this was like everybody knew them. Who are they?

“Hey, Rich.” I said.

“Sup’, Y/N/N. Aren’t they rockin’?!” Richie exclaimed.

“Fuck yeah they are! But who are they?” I asked over the roar of the solos.

“Oh! They’re Metallica!”

I rolled my eyes. “No shit, Rich, their band name is everywhere in the bar. I mean, what are their names, who are they?” I asked again.

“OHHH. Well, their rhythm guitarist/singer upfront with the blonde hair is James Hetfield. The guy to his right, that’s totally shredding, is the lead guitarist, Kirk Hammett, I heard he’s new. Then..you….he..”

I honestly wasn’t paying anymore after he said his name, James. Looking up at him, I saw the sweat glistening on his temples from playing in the heat of the bar. He didn’t even have his own band t-shirt on. He had a Motorhead shirt on. They way his fingers slide across the fret board made me feel like I was doing it with him. He sang with so much anger and rage, I loved it. I wanted to get to know them better, mostly their singer.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“When are these guys done?” I was genuinely curious.

“I’d say in about 30 minutes, why?”

“Well, do you mind if I go with you to the back and meet them?”

“Not at all, Y/N/N. What can I get you to drink?”

“Margarita, you know, my usual please.”

“Comin’ up in two shakes.”

“Thanks, Rich.”

Man, if I don’t land a good impression with these guys, I’ll never let it go. Especially blondie over there. END OF PART 1!

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my first fanfic! <3 Yes, Yes, I’m working on part 2 right now and it will be up shortly, feel free to ask me anything. I think after writing this series, I’m going to post what I will and won’t write. Again, thanks so much for reading and tell me what you want to heard and what I need to work on! If you liked it, pls like so I know I did an ok job :) That’s all from me! Have an awesome summer!

[nuagederose]

a tale of two joeys 🌙🩸

(now it’s dark/sci-fi joey + like blood from a stone/rags to riches joey)

[boldlyvoid]

With the amount of crazy fanfic plots I have seen I’m so surprised no one ever wrote Spencer x reader who worked for the CDC and scrubbed Spencer down after the anthrax outbreak like she saw that dong and was like I’m gonna ask him out if he lives

[hardestgrove]

You can tell Eddie was a character only thought of for s4 bc if he’d been at least vaguely brewing in the minds of the writers for longer him and billy would’ve been hanging out. There woulda been mention or a clip of like an extra in the Eddie look bc they hadn’t solidified the character and didn’t get his real actor yet or something.

Billy imo bc of his california cool guy status has this incredible power of social straddling. It’s insane to think he wouldn’t have talked to/hang out with Eddie just because he’s a nerd. Billy and Eddie are both deeply passionate about metal, in fact it seems like the only people who’re into metal in Hawkins are the older members of hellfire. So ofc Billy talks to them. Bc who’s he gonna talk to about Anthrax??? Tommy?? Nah.

Like we have similar things in buffy, where a character/concept is brought in late in the game and SHOULD have been taken into account the whole time but isn’t bc it wasn’t thought of/fully formed until later seasons. Part of fanfic is rectifying this. Steve wouldn’t have ever have talked to Eddie before the plot mandated it. Billy woulda seen that vest and been like “oh this dude’s alright fuck yeah” and IMMEDIATELY talked to him. Full on same hat moment. Eddie should’ve been at the s2 halloween party, if only as a bg character to sell weed. It’s our job as the people able to easily and cheaply retroactively place him there and do the smoothing out of show creation that occurs with shows like this.