#cuuute!!

Going through the photo albums for a bit and I came across several photos of guitarists Dave Murray and Adrian Smith - taken to accompany an interview and article on the pair of them for FACES Rocks or Circus that I did in '84 or '85. I don't recall these pics being used in print, however. Both Dave and Adrian have always been super kind and polite good guys. It's very apropos that these two teenage friends are still fabulous musicians onstage together until this day in mighty Iron Maiden. These are just a sampling of the pics.

(Photo Copyright: Marcia Pefley)

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:0 hello there!! I tried my best to fit everything you put into one fic- I really liked all of the ideas you put down lmao. Anyways, here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy!

Snatcher x Reader - To be a Ghost

Unfortunately for you, you… were dead. 

And have been for a while. 

It took nearly a year to get used to being dead and having your bottom half end with a tail instead of legs, but you found a way to cope via messing with people with your newfound abilities. Making objects float was very easy– a little too easy. Though, trying to paint a floating mask with a floating paint brush? A little difficult, even for you.

“How’s it coming along?” Snatcher said encouragingly, peering over your shoulder.

“I think it’s… somewhat coming along,” you said, tilting your head to look at it from a different angle. “I think. It seems like it’s missing something…”

“Missing something?” He hummed, leaning in close to look at the mask. “Hmm…”

As you floated in front of the mask, trying to coax the ethereal paint into cooperating and not to drip onto the tree-home’s floor, Snatcher's presence was oddly comforting. His encouragement was a balm to your spectral soul, and you were grateful for his support.

Snatcher leaned in more, his translucent eyes studying your creation intently. "Maybe a touch of cerulean blue around the edges? That might give it a bit more depth. Either way, I think you’ll be able to finish before tonight."

Even though it was always night time in Subcon, they were having an event in the middle of the village. Some sort of reconciliation with life and death and to aid with mourning… or something. You weren’t a hundred percent certain what it was for, but this was the first time Snatcher has invited you to join. 

Really, you were just excited to dance and hang out in front of a warm fire. 

Despite the fact that most of your senses have eroded; taste, smell, touch– you could still feel temperature. You couldn’t warm up by yourself, of course, so you had to find other sources.

“...Say, do you miss being alive?” Your voice was soft.

“Do I miss being in a meat sack?” He snorted. “That old thing was a hindrance! I couldn’t do anything that I can do now!” Snatcher floated past you, flopping down into his maroon chair. 

You chuckled at Snatcher's candid response. "Fair point," you mused, a smile tugging at the corners of your spectral lips. "But there must be some things you miss about it, right? Like... the taste of food, or the smell of roses?"

Snatcher tilted his head in thought, considering your question. "Well, I suppose there were some pleasant moments, yes. I… suppose I miss the taste of bacon, but overall, this form suits me just fine. No need to worry about trivial mortal concerns."

You nodded, understanding his perspective. It was fascinating to contemplate the stark differences between your current existence and the memories of your past life. The transition from flesh and blood to this ephemeral state was a journey of its own.

You continued to refine the mask, each stroke of the brush imbuing it with a sense of depth and mystery. It was shaping up to be a truly unique creation… or so you hoped. It might look a little dumb at an angle.

Snatcher watched with curiosity as the mask began to take on a new dimension. "I can see it coming together," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. His tail flicked against the floor. "You've got quite the talent."

You waved a hand, feeling just a little embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m sure your minion’s masks look much better than mine.”

“Well, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder!”

“Did you steal that quote from a book somewhere?”

“...Maybe!”

You lightly laughed, continuing to work on painting the mask. You could pick items up in your ethereal hands, but not for long. Even sitting down was an issue… Well, that is, if you weren’t sitting in Snatcher’s lap. You blushed at the thought, recalling a few instances where he allowed you to sleep on him.

“...Say, when does the event start, again?”

“In a few good hours,” he answered. “Why?”

You carefully placed the mask down on the table, finished with it and wanting it to dry. You turned towards Snatcher, trying to put on a non-embarrassed face. “Well… maybe we could… I dunno… read a book together or something?”

“A book?” Snatcher seemed amused. “Is this a ploy to come sit in my lap again?”

You grunted, your tail swishing. “A-And what if it is?”

He took a moment to pretend to think. “Hmm… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…” After a pause he patted his lap. “Come hither.”

You tried not to look excited. As quickly as a mouse to cheese, you plopped down onto his lap, cuddling up to him. 

Snatcher chuckled, his purple form providing a surprisingly comfortable perch. You could feel a sense of warmth emanating from him, despite the lack of true physicality. It was a small comfort, a reminder that even in this ethereal existence, there were ways to find solace… Though, you wondered how he was able to sit down for so long without phasing through the chair… maybe it was an experience thing?

As you settled down in Snatcher's lap, he produced a worn, leather-bound book from the folds of existence, teleporting it to his clawed hands. It was adorned with cryptic symbols and strange glyphs, a testament to the otherworldly nature of this place.

He flipped it open, revealing the unique language used. “I’ll read it to you,” he told you, likely seeming your bewildered expression. "Now, let's see what tale we can unearth from the annals of Subcon's history," he mused, his eyes glowing faintly as he flipped through the first few pages. “It’s been a while since I’ve read this…” 

“...Anal?” Your lips quivered upwards as you tried not to laugh.

“Annals, as in yearly.” He pouted. “Silly ghost.”

After a moment his clawed fingers passed over the ancient text, expertly navigating the script and reading it aloud. The words he spoke seemed to come alive, weaving a vivid mental tapestry of Subcon's past. It was a tale of struggles, of rebirth, and of the enduring spirit that lived on in this forest.

…You rubbed your eyes, leaning back into him and getting comfortable. Although sleeping was a bit… difficult to do as a ghost, you found yourself drowsing off, head bopping a few times before settling backwards, against his chest. Although you were always interested to learn more, he was just too comfortable to lay on.

Then an Insecticon M!A you shall have! I'll make it last a fee days since you didn't specify. Come as lil Rosy Maple Moth Rosie some questions!!

This is an old drawing so I might also do a redesign later.

1st four Bendy sprites are done!! More coming soon!