#but the depression is hitting hard tonight so I'm gonna make myself happy by posting this

[headoverhiddles]

Universally Loathsome - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: After his show at the Hard Rock in Orlando, you and your man put your complimentary Universal Studios park passes to good use. 

Notes: I wrote this because Universal Florida is my happy place, and I need a pick me up right now lol. Also, this takes place right after this concert, so Heaven Upside Down era. 

His lazy drawl fills the Hard Rock Cafe arena, as the strobes go crazy.

"I love you beautiful motherfuckers so much," he points to the crowd, to a response of deafening cheers, "Florida's where it all started for me, and... I almost got arrested for indecent exposure in Jacksonville, which is... pretty close to here." More cheering. "So if any willing gentlemen in the crowd would like to come up here... and let me put my dick in their mouth..." The cheers grow. "...History can repeat itself." He grins, stumbling around and leaning on the mic stand. "I wonder what would happen if I... oops," he pops the top button of his vest open. "Oh no, I can't believe I just showed you all my tits, ahh, I'm such a slut..."

The crowd is going absolutely insane, and he winks over to you suggestively. You watch your boyfriend, trying to hold in your giggles. He's in what he likes to call rascal mode tonight, you can tell. And good thing-- you two roped complimentary passes inside the theme park for the rest of the night to celebrate, so he can let out all this energy after the show. The regular park closes in a half an hour, horror nights too, with it being Halloween, but the extra hour is just for you two, paid for well no doubt.

After Mar's done and the strobes distract the audience enough for him to bound off stage, he runs into your open arms. After you hug your sweaty man, he picks you up, spinning you around and smiling like a big kid.

"Let's go play." 

"Shower first," you give him a stern look. He nods, resigning himself to the fact that he's really gross and covered in sticky glitter makeup.

You hang out backstage as he gets cleaned up, saying goodnight to some of the roadies. You check social media and search for this concert, as you do sometimes just for fun, and see people already sharing photos they'd taken of Marilyn screaming or wading into the crowd.

You snort to yourself, and save one that looks right up his nostril. Beautiful angle, and perfect for blackmail when he's being a dick.

"Let's do this."

You turn, and see him dressed in a hoodie that reminds you of the full body zip from his High End Of Low days.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, this is not the depression hoodie," he sticks a finger in your face and wags it. "I burned that a long time ago." You pretend to bite his finger, and take his arm.

Your bodyguards, who warily agreed to leave the two of you alone once you get into the park, lead you down, out the back door of the hotel venue, and through a citywalk shortcut to the front gates of Universal Studios Orlando.

"I haven't been here since I was a teenager," you grin, listening to the entrance music and sighing from the nostalgia. "This has always been my happy place."

"I've literally never been here," he tells you, "We go to the one back home in LA, but I've never been to this one myself. I used to live here but I only ever wreaked havoc on Disney with Twiggy."

"Oh, Universal was spared?"

"Until now, yeah. So you'll have to be my tour guide here." He takes his sunglasses from his face, hands them off, and turns to his guards. "Okay, that's fine, we're fine."

"Sir, we really think--"

"We talked to the park operators, and there's like... nobody here right now, we're both fine," Marilyn insists, "Bye." So, you two are left alone as you walk toward the gates.

Your passes are scanned by an older woman who doesn't seem to recognize Marilyn, since his name on the pass is Brian. For the best. To your left, towers one of your favourite rides.

"The Rip Ride Rockit," Marilyn reads the sign, "Ooh. Ooh, I wanna do this. Fuckin cool looking."

"Bri, you get sick on roller coasters."

"I'm too drunk to be sick, the drunk sick makes me not motion sick."

"Well, glad to hear your body has a system," you sigh, and he takes your hand as you two run toward the lit up ride.

"You get to pick your song as you ride," he muses, "Motherfuckers should have my songs on here."

Because he likes to stir shit up and see what he can get away with, Marilyn uses a VIP lanyard with his face on it to get into the express lane.

"Uh..." the young employee hesitates, frowning, "Sir, this is a meet and greet for that concert, not for--" Marilyn puts his hood down, and the guy's eyes widen. He waves you both through, starstruck. 

"Whoever said you shouldn't use your fame to get stuff... probably wasn't even famous," Marilyn says, pulling you up the steps.

"What's the hurry?" you laugh, trying to keep up, "You're just gonna throw up all over me anyway."

"It's a music ride, that's very exciting to me," he says. You can't deny you've missed this ride too, so you keep up.

You're the only two on the roller coaster train as you both pull the bar over from the side to strap yourselves in. The employee working comes over to check, and gives a thumbs up to the operator.

"Give me a handjob," he giggles.

"No! I'm gonna rip your dick off if we do that on this!"

"Nah, that'd happen like... on the Mummy." Apparently he remembers what the Mummy is like in the LA Universal park, and he's not wrong. "Uh. Uh," he starts to snap his fingers as the ride goes up, "Yeah. Hell yeah."

"What song?" you laugh.

"Stronger, by my boy Kanye."

"He's a dickhead, you know."

"So am I, doesn't make my music any less amazing."

You smirk. You'd picked Stronger as well, anyway. 

After the ride, Marilyn hangs onto you, a little bit woozy. "That was a mistake."

"I told you."

"I don't listen, I'm a child, you know this. I don’t like the rides, but the rides like me."

You two walk through the park, past the San Francisco area of the water in the middle.

"This is nice. Just walking."

"Yeah," he says. "It's nice not to vomit." You rest your head on his shoulder, giggling.

You two do a few more rides-- he has way too much fun in Men in Black shooting at everything, and Simpsons becomes a favourite, even if the only part he could keep his eyes open for was the funny queue playing the episodes. He even takes some dark, creepy pictures with the employees in Diagon Alley, posing in his new Slytherin scarf he bought.

"Can this be used for sexy purposes?" he asks one of them, holding up a wand. The girls giggle, and you roll your eyes.

"Um. Wouldn't recommend it," one responds.

"On the other hand..." the second one shrugs, "It's magic. You could just make it into something that could be used for sexy times."

"I like the way this one thinks," Marilyn smirks. "(y/n), I'm gonna use this in you."

"Like hell you are.”

“Please?”

“You can use it to spank me.” You lean in to whisper. “It’s too thin to put it in.” 

Marilyn buys the wand just to make up for the trouble he's causing the poor employees.

You head out of Harry Potter world, and circle back around to do ET.

"I wanna do the Mummy again. And what about those big ones across the citywalk thing? Spiderman, he's cool. I wanna do his ride." 

"That's the other park. If you wanna deal with your manager having a meltdown by requesting another day here tomorrow, that's your call." He immediately takes out his phone, and you huff, feeling sorry for the guy, always having to rearrange flights last minute. 

"Yeah, hey. It's me," Marilyn drawls into the phone, "I need another day here tomorrow. No, I'm just... I'm gonna be really hungover. Lots of vodka and drugs and stuff. Yeah. Amphetamines, got my face in a big... yeah, really bad, I won't be able to fly tomorrow." His eyes light up like a kid in a candy store as he sees the Halloween Horror Nights 2018 tribute store. "Gotta go, I'm snorting coke off (y/n)'s tits. Cancel my flight!"

You both run in, and get shirts from inside-- yours is a Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers one, and his is a Killer Klowns from Outer Space one, with a little clown in boxing gloves on it that says 'Shorty's Boxing Gym: Knocking Blocks Off Since '88." He poses for a picture of the new shirt in front of an old horror movie poster, hands in his jacket pockets and doing his signature sneer. He posts it on his Instagram, captioning it: 

Next motherfucker's gonna get my metal. Pic📷: @(y/handle) #justustwoclowns #wannatussle #truelove #wehatelovewelovehate #happyhalloween #universalorlando #shooterjennings.

You head inside the Egyptian crypt that leads to the Mummy, listening to Brendan Fraser's fake interview about the strange things going on on set. 

"I met him once," Marilyn tells you, "He was scared of me, he thought I was flirting with him."

"I can see how he would. You're just overly affectionate," you pat his arm.

"And high as fuck, but I wasn't flirting with him. He's too much of a pretty boy for me." 

"Yet you still wanna fuck Johnny," you tease him, and he grins, unable to refute that.

You finally get to the loading area after Marilyn stumbles over four posts in the dark queue. The lady there squeals. She's a different one than the one working earlier, and she's obviously a fan.

"Sorry for her," her coworker says, "She's a huge fan of your stuff."

"Nah, it's cool," Marilyn offers a smile.

"I was at the concert, which is why I'm working late," she explains hyperactively, "God, you were soooo amazing!" Marilyn thanks her. She waves at you as well. "By the way, I see your pictures together on insta at shows and premieres and stuff, you two make a really cute couple. Goth icons!" You smile at the girl, and thank her and her coworker for working late for you two. An obligatory selfie later, you and Marilyn get into the ride, and start heading through the darkness. You get to the part where Imohtep's face appears and fire blows beside you.

"You say god," he mutters. "I say Say10."

You get off the ride, and you nearly lose your shit when you see the ride photo. You fall to the floor, and Marilyn looks up at the screen in inquiry.

"Oh my god."

"We're buying it!"

"Absolutely fucking not. Look at my chin!"

"I love your chins, baby."

"I only mentioned one, but thanks."

You dash over to the counter, ordering the picture in the biggest size. It's gold. In it, you've got one hand up happily, the other looped with Marilyn's, and you look generally normal, other than your hair blowing a little from the force of the acceleration. His eyes are glinting yellow from light reflection, so he looks legitimately possessed; he's got his chin pressed down into his neck folds, and his mouth is halfway open, like he just remembered something he wanted to say. It's the most awful picture of him you've ever seen, so naturally, it's getting framed at the house next to his lovely prosthetic limb collection.

"Mm, makes me wanna fuck you," you lick your lips, "Give it to me, baby, I wanna look into those sexy yellow eyes while you destroy my pussy."

"You're fucked up."

You nearly collapse in laughter again.

Despite the terribly candid ride picture, Marilyn decides he likes the Mummy a bit more than the Simpsons, and after riding it four more times without fail, he's nauseous as all hell (as are you) and done in for the night.

You hold hands, heading to the gates. "Hey. Want to stop at Ben and Jerry's on the way out?" you ask.

"Nah," he drawls, hand moving down to your ass and giving it a spank, "You're the only thing I wanna lick tonight." Even motion sick and half-way to hungover, he's still in rascal mode.

A car comes to pick you up, and some press follow you to the car for a bit, taking photos and asking Marilyn for comments on the park and the show until Marilyn wraps his Slytherin scarf around his face. He gets into the car with you, and rolls the window up. The paparazzi obviously saw the Instagram post.

That makes you think...

Messing around on your phone as you're driven back to the hotel, you giggle. Marilyn keeps looking over, but he's currently too nauseous still to speak. You giggle again, and send off what you'd just done.

"Happy Halloween," you grin, punching his shoulder playfully.

He looks at his buzzing phone, and snorts. His bad Mummy picture and stylish posing Instagram picture are side by side, with your accompanying text: "Get you a man who can do both."