One Nice Bug Per Day
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Today's Document
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
blake kathryn
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Mike Driver
RMH
Janaina Medeiros
JBB: An Artblog!
🪼
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almost home
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Jules of Nature
Origami Around
DEAR READER
seen from United States
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@uncovereliminate
Small reminder that (even though I’m not coming back to the Tumblr RPC) that doesn’t mean that I don’t still think of and care about y’all. Hope every single one of you is doing alright!
(Shout out to the people who’ve been sticking around despite me leaving.)
@uncovereliminate // starter for frank fontaine atlas !
he was — different , to how she’d pictured him. late twenties to early thirties at the most , toned physique && an irish accent to match. no wonder the RESISTANCE had labelled atlas a hero , as he certainly looked the part , yet according to chris , he rarely revealed himself out in the open. understandable , considering that he was the only obstacle that stood between ryan && rapture — so she supposes that she should feel honoured to be meeting him in the flesh when most didn’t get such an opportunity. ❛ it’s nice to finally put a face to a name — you’ve made quite the reputation for yourself , huh ? ❜ the fact that chris has already raised arms under his name gives her little reason not to doubt him , yet the OVERPROTECTIVE sisterly nature is something that she can’t ignore. they’d made lives here in rapture , && she’s not about to let him get himself killed needlessly — because he was all she had left now.
Chris Redfield had made quite a name for himself within their little resistance, and not one day would go by without him mentioning his dear little sister who was also living within Rapture’s walls. It should have come to no surprise that Atlas would, at some point, turn his interest towards the young woman and the capabilities her brother claimed she possessed.
Atlas wondered how much of it was true and how much of it could be chalked up to hot air and simple brotherly bragging.
The moment she opened her mouth; he liked her already.
“Oh? Good things, I hope? The lad’s become like family to us, you kno?”
fxrtfrxlic:
Despite himself, the artist smiled at Ben’s laughter. And maybe if he were sober he could convince himself that that snort wasn’t endearing – cute even. But this was already such a disaster, there was no point in lying to keep up appearances. Cover already blown and night already in shambles, what did it matter?
Sander was still smiling when Ben kissed him. His arm circled the director’s waist, pulling him away from the wall and pressing him tight against Sander’s body. This was a little more like romance and less like the violence of the first kiss, but still clumsy and confused, like the artist’s emotions.
His teeth grazed Ben’s lip in a way that was far too heated for the hallway outside a ballroom, and Sander pulled away before someone could stumble upon them in a position that would really get people talking. But honestly, it wouldn’t be a first for Sander, but he still had the presence of mind to keep it from being a first for Ben.
“Take two. I think that we can keep that one,” Sander said, grinning at his own stupid joke. The grin broke wider as he took in sight of his own lipstick on Ben’s face. He traced the director’s lower lip with his fingertip, surveying this new work of art.
“Oh, I’ve made a mess of you. Can’t go back in like that,” Sander said it like it was a tragedy, but his expression was full of mischief. “What a shame.”
A soft noise left him through his nose as Sander pulled Ben tight against his body, the change of intent behind the kiss not lost on the young actor at all. He slipped his hand from the front to the back of Sander’s jacket, allowing his fingers to dig into the smooth fabric as he held on tight.
His hips made an unconscious and stuttering movement forward when the feeling of teeth grazing his lips sent a shiver of arousal down Ben’s spine, and the blush on his cheeks spread over to the rest of his face and his neck in embarrassment.
Ben’s lips parted slightly at the pressure of Sander’s lips, eyes focused on the man with dilated pupils. A slight grin took over his features at the teasing, and Ben wrinkled his nose at Sander in a playful manner before grabbing his hand and giving it an almost enthused tug.
It wasn’t long before he took off, dragging Sander along with him through the hall, connected by their hands as Ben whisked him away from his dull party.
He ushered Sander inside of a somewhat isolated room not far from the ballroom the party had been held. It was a medium - sized room, with enough room for two grown men to spread their arms and spin around in (one half of that, Ben was already displaying) but not big enough to hold many guests.
Ben gestured something at Sander with his hands once he realized the man was focusing on him, then playfully rolled his eyes at him before placing a hand at his own ear to indicate ‘listening closely’ as they would be able to hear the party’s music (and perhaps some of the guests blabbering, though Ben had not much interest in that) from the room.
[@avoicebeneathandbeyond] "𝘉𝘦𝘯 𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘮. It marvels me how a name can possibly glide so well on someone's blabber. And, 𝘢𝘩, those eyes. I’ve seen mouths speak plenty yet less than those eyes of your do. Gerard “Hopper” LeFevre, that’s me, and it’s nothing but a delight having crossed paths with you this day. Am I allowed to inquire what your career might happen to be?”
A somewhat lopsided smirk took his features at the compliment, and Ben subconsciously leaned a bit closer to the smooth talker as if hanging onto his every word.
He looked at the notepad laying on the bar between them, feeling it was almost a shame to have to avert his gaze from Gerard to write on it. It would be just rude to leave him hanging, however.
In the neatest and most elegant writing he could muster in his slightly intoxicated state Ben wrote
I started out as a simple stuntman, but now I am an actor who does his own stunts. I also direct most of my own movies. The only cinema that exists outside of Fort Frolic is mine.
A lot of people had considered a bold (and somewhat stupid) action from him to split off from ‘the greatest’ and start on his own, but he had been able to keep afloat just fine.
@uncovereliminate
Johnny very rarely found the opportunity to work alongside his fellow artists over in Fort Frolic; Sure, he was down there all the time, but never for his own benefit, rather to help his family down in the casinos work over clients.
Make a man think he’s worth a penny, and he’ll do anything, even bet his whole life’s savings away on a risky gamble. It happened often, especially to one man in particular. What was his name again? He’d feel guilty about it if he didn’t look at the whole debacle from a business perspective.
Though being able to take a rest-bite so he could work on other projects was a much needed break from the hustle and bustle of the gambling dens. It was a time for reflection, to figure out exactly what he wanted and how he would go about getting there. If this new project was a success, whatever it may be, it could potentially propel his career to a whole new height. He’d be able to work on his writing full time.
That in itself was worth everything.
Johnny didn’t know much about the other artists of the City, his attention always being drawn to one thing or another. He’d heard a lot of good things, however, which filled him with an undeniable confidence. After all, Andrew Ryan only wanted the best of the best in his City. He knew he hadn’t a thing to worry about.
The writer stood outside Le Marquis D’Epoque for the man he was meeting, promptly leaning with his back against the wall as he smiled at a few passing people he was certain he’d seen someplace. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be waiting, considering he was fifteen minutes early, but he didn’t mind; It was his own fault, with his fear of being late for anything playing a large part in his days events.
Ben came running past the place at top speed, not only his facial expression but his entire body seeming to move in a just as animated manner as it did when on camera. He slowly walked backwards with a somewhat bashful smile once he had realized he had run past the location he needed to be in his haste, then grinned up at his colleague.
With as much flair as people had come to expect of him, Ben gave the man a piece of paper he had already pre - written before coming there, reading:
Hello, my name is Ben Film, I am honored to meet you!
He continued looking up at the other with that same excited expectancy, now offering an outstretched hand.
3 and 5
MULTIMUSE ASK GAME
3. is there a muse you never write, but want to write more?
I would have to say… mainly Mark Meltzer! (Though I’d really like to use Steinman, Matt O’Reilly, and Songbird more as well.)
5. what are your criteria for adding new muses?
For this blog they need to; a) be a Bioshock character, and b) have a secret that they are trying to keep. Both to fit within the theme of the blog!
Steinman → knife play (thinkin' about the scalpel) and make up/tracing/bruises (make up as mostly writing on a person's body)
Send my muse a 🕯KINK⛓ and they’ll rate it!
Knife / Scalpel play
SCALE not today satan | fuck no | no thanks | eeeh | not sure | I’d give it a shot | sure why not | omfg yes | there go my pants | holy fuck take me now
makeup / tracing / bruises
SCALE not today satan | fuck no | no thanks | eeeh | not sure | I’d give it a shot | sure why not | omfg yes | there go my pants | holy fuck take me now
@uncovereliminate/nogodsxrkings
Send me a url and I’ll write some positivity for it.
@uncovereliminate
I have written so much about Emile in positivity posts, but am I going to stop? Definitely not! I love his writing style so much, he brings so much life and humanity into his characters, and I honestly think that interacting with him for as long as I have has improved my own writing in a lot of ways!
He’s been there for me through some things that I have gone through, and I’ll forever be grateful for it. I always get excited whenever I see that he has replied to any of our threads because I know it will always be amazing. He’s a very talented writer, and if you guys haven’t had the pleasure of interacting with him, you’re missing out!
He has so many RP blogs, so if you guys aren’t specifically for the BioShock fandom, or feel like branching out and trying different AUs/crossovers, then chances are that he will have a blog that you will be interested in. His main hub is @emilesmuseassembly.
I’ve met a lot of people through RPing here on Tumblr, and Emile is one of the best people I’ve interacted with. I’m glad I get to call him a friend of mine! <3
tagged by! @sylphim tagging! @atlasshrvgged, @toooldforgermany, @spellfear
( imagemaker. )
❝ you weren’t taking control. you were losing it. ❞ for jack.
the witcher (show) starters
(Jack is now over at @nogodsxrkings, for if you want to continue this as a thread!)
Sometimes when Atlas ‘comforted’ him, his words didn’t feel like kindness (even though Jack always managed to convince himself that he meant well). They were like hooks targeting at his deepest fears, dragging them up to the surface and laying them bare.
Jack leaned his head back against the damp concrete of the building’s exterior, sitting against one of the few spots of the wall not splattered with Splicer blood.
“They gave me no choice…” he deflected, watching his own hand numbly as the last sparks of Electro Bolt still danced along his palm. Of course Jack knew this was the ‘easy way out’; a person always had a choice.
❝ i’ve waited all these years for you to admit we’re made for each other. ❞ for jack.
the witcher (show) starters
(Jack is now over at @nogodsxrkings, for if you want to continue this as a thread!)
His breathing steadily quickened as Atlas Fontaine closed in on him again, his very presence backing him up against the wall. Jack felt pinned, despite having the upper hand in size and strength, green eyes desperately scanning the environment for an improvised weapon.
Had it been years already? Jack felt his chest deflate as if those words forced the very air from his lungs, his gaze locked onto Atlas’ Frank’s Fontaine’s … Damn it!
“Damn it!” he was nearly sobbing at this point.
Jack did love Atlas, or Fontaine, or whomever the man in front of him was. But they were only made for each other because Fontaine had created him that way.
❝ My heart was never pure ❞ for Ben from fxrtfrxlic
SENTENCE MEME ⟶ Mumford & Sons
He frowned at him, unable to fully process the meaning of his words. Ben slowly lift his hand, resting it upon the left side of his chest with a questioning look.
Ben could feel his own heart beating unevenly against the palm of his hand as he waited for an answer that he knew wouldn’t satisfy him.
Why? he wanted to ask What does this mean?
But instead of taking out his sketch block to write it out, Ben grabbed Sander by the front of his shirt and pulled him closer with mild desperation, refusing to let him take another step away from him.
* okay but frank calling jack "buck" or "pup" when he's teasin' him??? would atlas get any nicknames?? :o
That totally sounds like something Frank would do!
I also wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret the second question, so I answered it in two possible ways underneath the cut (to avoid public embarrassment).
fxrtfrxlic:
Sander let out a deep breath against Ben’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized how stiffly he had been holding himself until the man’s hands on his back and left him melting into the embrace. He felt a bit more human now, memory straining to find the last time someone had held him like that. It felt nice. Too nice. The artist could have stayed there all night, hidden away in Ben’s shoulder if it hadn’t felt too nice being wrapped up in his rival’s arms.
Sander pulled away too quickly and the universe thanked him for his haste by dipping him with all the grace of an inconsiderate dance partner. He staggered and pressed his back against the wall beside Ben, shutting his eyes tightly against the dizziness.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” Sander said, opening his eyes again and turning to face Ben. It was about the kiss, but in the moment, mostly about moving, and he sighed as he reached out to rest his hand on Ben’s back again. It was bound to happen as much as Sander hoped that it wouldn’t. He had spent to long fantasizing about grabbing Ben by the collar, pushing him against a wall and doing… something. Maybe not this, but something to wipe the smile off of that pretty face. Sander had really began to love hate that smile.
Ben looked at him in surprise for a short moment after Sander so abruptly pulled away from him, entirely unsure of what to do. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, but he could find nothing sensible within any of the lines dancing through his mind. No one would write a scene this messy.
Sander’s words send him into a sudden bout of laughter, an action that was almost soundless (except for his slightly wheezing breathing and the soft snorting leaving through his nose) his body made the full movement of laughter, however.
This really was a mess.
Once he felt the hand back on his back, he carefully grasped Sander by the front of his suit jacket and pulled him back against him. Ben seemed far more comfortable with his position against the wall now that it was by his own choice, and had no trouble claiming Sander’s lips again.
So why would they even try to salvage this? Why not just go along with the flow and leave the worrying to their future - selves?
@uncovereliminate continued from here (kind of)
All attention is good attention.
Sander faked a smile at a reporter and forced out pleasantries, sweet enough to make himself nauseous. He could tell she was a reporter by the hungry way she needled him with questions. Flies on a corpse was all they were, looking for the softest place to burrow.
Too much attention is better than none at all.
It wasn’t just her, it was all of them. Reporters, fans, hopefuls. All of them. Hovering around him expectantly. All of them wanting something and soaking that want in glamour and praise, like it made it more palatable.
Alcohol almost could, but finishing another glass –how many now? – Sander knew he had drank too much and still the gnats swarmed. His answered slurred and toed the line of acceptable and the artist could feel a scandal brewing somewhere in him. It would just be the next thing to prod him about at the next event.
It all itched underneath his skin, but a face a little ways away pulled the artist out of his spiral. Ben. Ben Film, who had a way of pushing through the cracks of Sander’s coldness in a way that was infuriating any other day —and sometimes enough to keep the artist up at night, if he was being honest with himself. Tonight, Ben was a blessing. He was a ray of sunlight in this mess.
“Ben!” Overeager, and yes, he had caught Ben’s attention, but also everyone else’s. He could feel the questions before they were asked and predict the wording of the rumors that would be woven into the article in the Tribune tomorrow, but still he dodged that insect reporter and reached out for Ben.
“Oh, Mr. Film, I need to talk to you,” He began, and it was the most collected thing he had said in the past half hour, his hand gripping Ben’s arm as he offered a honeyed smile to the woman.
“Sorry, excuse us.”
And he lead Ben away with no explanation, lighting a cigarette before they had even reached the door. Out in the hall Sander felt as if he could breathe again and he used the freedom to fill his lungs with smoke. The nicotine and alcohol merged to make something even more anxious – as if that were possible. The artist turned his head away, directing the smoke away from Ben and avoiding that annoying, pretty smile, if it were even there instead of confusion.
“I needed to– I saw you and you’re so… nice. You’re not all of that,” He gestured vaguely towards the ballroom. The thoughts poured from the artist as much as he wished they would just stay put so he could suffer through them alone instead of dragging the target of his confusion directly into it all.
“Why do you – Why are you so nice to me? What do you want?” The artist asked, confused and slurred as put the cigarette out beneath his shoe. His hands didn’t give Ben any time to respond, frustration at the night, the party, and himself redirected at Ben. He pushed the man roughly against the wall. Too roughly. He saw that look of shock on Ben’s face, but everything was already in motion when Sander’s lips crashed into Ben’s.
Sander’s hand curled around the back of the other man’s neck, fingers threading through dark hair as the artist deepened the kiss. It was clumsy and champagne-messy, teeth knocking and Sander leaning far too heavy on the other man. He broke away only when he forgot how to breathe and pressed his face to Ben’s shoulder.
Moments passed before he realized he should say something, but the words weren’t ordering themselves correctly and the hallway started to sway under the effort. Beyond the wall, the party was still in full swing; Sander could hear the music and the voices and his other hand found the small of Ben’s back.
“I can’t go back in there, they’ll – they’ll eat me alive,” Sander said, words muffled by the fabric of Ben’s jacket. It was no explanation for the kiss, but it was the best he could offer at the moment.
He would never admit it, but this had been his first kiss.
Ben had read a lot of books about romance, about handsome men sweeping beautiful women off of their feet, about sweetly whispered words in between soft kisses. He had even written such tales himself.
The movies he directed were always more successful when they included romance, and Ben always seemed to know exactly how to write them.
If word of his inexperience ever came out, he would be seen as a fraud.
He kissed back, just as messily as Sander had, clumsily mirroring the man’s actions in a try to keep up.
Ben relaxed his fingers when Sander had stopped kissing him, running his flat hands around his body to rest on his back. He rubbed one along his spine soothingly when he expressed fear of going back to the party, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
His back had slightly hollowed at first but soon relaxed against Sander’s warm hand.
They didn’t need to go anywhere.
♚ for Ben from fxrtfxlic
Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to yours...
♚ - Pushing them into a wall and kissing them with passion.
A raspy breath left him when his back hit the wall (the first audible noise Sander would have ever heard come from his mouth) his hands instinctively came up to defend himself, though his elbows easily gave out under Sander’s weight.
Once their lips touched, Ben’s resolve faded almost immediately, hands now pulling close instead of holding off, and fingers digging into the fabric of Sander’s suit jacket.
Ben’s lack of experience was clearly noticeable, but he still attempted to to answer the kiss with as much vigor as Sander put into it.
[spank] (from Frank for Moira)
Smut Starters & Symbols
[spank] - to spank my muse
Moira wasn’t exactly sure how they got into this situation … she knew it had started with an argument, but the entire point of it had been long forgotten as she laid there.
