#also I took a video and screenshot it to get this picture | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whataperfectwasteoftime · 10 months

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

526 notes · View notes

junnieverse · 9 months

Text

— NI-KI AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ! 💭

➙ boyfriend ni-ki thoughts

pairing: nishimura riki x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warning: not proofread (may be minor typos)

request: " Heyy!! Could i request a Ni-ki as your bf ? "

a/n: thank you so much anon for requesting it, I hope you liked this <3

the best friend sort of boyfriend

you and riki are that comfortable with one another that he feel more like your friend alot of the time, sometimes it slips your mind you're actually dating him

super playful boyfriend, he's always teasing you or play fighting you because he loves to hear the sound of your laughter

will either be sending you a bunch of memes and tiktoks or he could actually not text you for the entire day because he was gaming, there's no in between with him

you're his gaming partner by default now (I hope you're good because you've got yourself quite the competitive boyfriend) but if you're not the best gamer out there then he's definitely gonna teach you

he's always telling you stories about his family or the other members because those are the most important people in his life

you get riki's lover wardrobe privileges

I'm talking full access to his closet, he gives you free reign to pick whatever of his you want and you get to wear it, the bonus is that it smells like him too :)

arcade dates >>>

and just fun and active dates in general like amusement parks, go karting and etc are guaranteed to be the best time spent with riki

he may have a whole bunch of beautiful pictures of you but that's just about 30% of it, the rest of the 70% is unfortunately crack, 'unflattering' candid photos he's taken of you when you weren't paying attention

he will use those meme photos of you to post on your birthday but you also have a bunch of embarrassing photos to use against him too

best believe if you aren't pranking other people together then he's probably planning to prank you

not sure whether he loves you or your bed more because he's always sleeping there

sometimes he calls you on video call just to see your face and say nothing at all after that, you both probably end up falling asleep on that call but he also took a few screenshots too because you sleeping was just too adorable

late night walks with him and then proceeding to take a whole bunch of pictures together because you're a photogenic couple

not necessarily the best at comforting you with warm words but is better at making you laugh until you feel better

most likely has your name saved as something humorous instead of cute and romantic but honestly speaking, you probably do too

would have this little habit of holding onto your pinky or linking your pinkies together

makes sure to call you every day or send you videos of his adventures while he's on tour

you had once hand made a little bracelet for him and he has never taken it off since then because it holds alot of sentiment for him

has a whole playlist dedicated to you too specially curated with songs you both enjoy or remind him of you

calling each other "bro", "dude" and "bruh" affectionately is normalised in your relationship

doesn't like to admit it but it's pretty clear he's quite clingy with you, he's always around you because even a second away he forgets how to breathe, not my words but his

he is OBSESSED with kissing you, he is always showering you with kisses and hugs in a passive aggressive way

going shopping together has become a form of a date between you both too

having similar styles, you're both able to help each other pick outfits and accessories that compliment one another

"Riki, would you love me if I was a worm?"

"Bisco might end up accidentally eating you, I can't let you suffer that way... let's just be boneless and limbless together. Then have a worm wedding :)"

#junnieverse.zip #ni ki #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #enha #enhypen #ni ki x reader #ni ki headcanons #ni ki fluff #ni ki scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop headcanons #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

403 notes · View notes

catreginae · 2 months

Text

Researching Games You Can't Access

I don't care if people don't actual want this or not, but I felt like putting down some sources so that people can experience or learn from games they do not own. I'm going to assume that you can't access games for whatever reason and you aren't just going to emulate it (no judgment either way from me).

Zelda Wiki

Bookmark this link right now! This my go-to when I need to brush up on some info, like who has what items, which enemies come from which era... spelling monster names because I never get lizalfos right on my first try ... I go here first! Go to the link provided because that wiki is not affiliated with Fandom, which makes easier to read because you'll have more article than ad. If you click on any of the titles in the main page, it brings you to the article about the game which gives you a pretty good synopsis and introduction to the characters.

I also like to go here for the galleries for character art.

I say click around and have fun!

Youtube

If pictures aren't covering it and I need more information or a better idea of the landscape that the pictures are giving me, I go to Youtube and find a playthrough. You can watch somebody play the entire game, 100%, and if you desire, with absolutely no commentary from the uploader.

I needed to brush up on Faron Woods from Twilight Princess so I typed in 'twilight princess faron woods walkthrough' and looked through a few videos to find exactly what I needed. I even took some screenshots for the minimap to use for myself later. I haven't gotten everything I needed from Youtube just yet but I'm pretty happy with what I got so far.

Zelda Dungeon

I think I'm kind of attached to this because I used it when I was young, but Zelda Dungeon has pretty good walkthroughs that can also provide more maps and pictures.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #mostly meant for lu people but not fandom specific

106 notes · View notes

reysdriver · 1 year

Text

Behind The Venue | J.P.

(part 1 to this fic) you discover rockstar!james is cheating on you through a fan's social media post — modern!rockstar!james x fem!reader angst

warnings: james being a cheater

words: 1k

warnings: umm just to let y'all know, a lot of my writing is gonna be angst for the time being cus i'm going through a breakup lol and also let me know if you want me to write a part 2 to this cus i can defo see it already

James was currently on tour with the boys; last night was Berlin, tonight was Vienna. Although you both wished you could join them as they visited almost every European capital, you couldn’t leave everything for two months.

Well, you could. James had made it clear you didn’t need to work, that he would buy you anything you ever needed or wanted, but you didn’t want to be completely dependent on him. So while he travelled all around the continent, you stayed home to wait tables and keep your flat warm.

But it wasn’t like you were completely away from your boyfriend for the whole time; you called each other every night—even the ones where the boys got blackout drunk in foreign hotels, and you constantly stayed updated on everything regarding the band.

The little bits of connection were how you found yourself on Austrian social media scouring the hashtags related to The Marauders. You scrolled through selfies of fans in front of the empty stage, waiting for the boys to start. Some people brought posters and gifts for them, which always made you smile. Some of the fans even mentioned you in their posts and you commented on a few of them, wishing them a fun time at the concert.

Then, you sent James a good luck text and went to make yourself dinner. You’ve learned that the best concert pictures and videos get posted a day or two after they’re taken, so you know you don’t need to stay online all night. Instead, you take your food to the couch and put on a movie while the concert hall in Vienna was electric with excitement.

Near the end of the second movie of the night, you almost fell asleep in your living room, but your heavy eyelids shot up at the feeling of your phone buzzing shamelessly against your thigh.

It had been going off periodically before, but the notifications increased exponentially in the last few minutes.

Although you were half-asleep, you couldn’t just let your phone explode with activity. Scary thoughts that something happened to James at the concert overtook your mind and you quickly reached for your phone while attempting to hope for the best.

It was about James, just not what you were expecting. Someone had caught a video of your boyfriend making out with Lily Evans, the lead singer of their opening band, outside behind the venue.

The clip was short but inarguable. That was obviously James and Lily, and there was no debate on what they were doing.

It showed them quickly, then the teenage girl who took the video flipped the camera to herself and said something in German. The only thing you could understand was your own name, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what the rest meant.

The video was just posted, but it was already spreading. There were so many comments and reposts; everyone seemed to have something to say on the matter.

It ranged from ‘you should take this down, imagine how humiliating it is for (y/n)’ to ‘I mean, we’ve known this was coming lol look at their constant flirting’, and you weren’t sure what hurt more.

And even though every single take felt like a slap in the face, you kept scrolling through them all. You were careful not to interact with any of them so as to not encourage drama, but it seemed like the fans were doing fine on their own when it came to stirring the pot. Eventually, it just became all too much. You took a screenshot of one post and sent it to James.

But despite that, you weren’t staying up any longer. You shut off your phone, plugged it in across the room, and started getting ready for bed. You didn’t care if the only other thing to do was cry yourself to sleep, you weren’t spending any more time watching your boyfriend kiss his coworker.

✦✧✦✧✦

The night barely consisted of sleep. There were periods where you calmed down enough to sleep, but you woke up several times in a pool of emotions. You managed to stay asleep for long enough that you’d be adequately rested, and that was good enough for you.

When you opened your phone in the morning, you were sure that any limits to messages and mentions must have been hit. So not in the mood to hear anyone else’s opinions on your relationship, you didn’t even bother opening social media.

You saw that James had sent a string of texts and tried calling you several times, and your heart ached. He was the only person who you would listen to about this, but you didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. What could he say over the phone to fix this?

Then, as if on cue, your phone vibrated with an incoming call from him.

You were torn on what you should do. Answer and listen to him begging for forgiveness, decline and ignore everyone? If you answered and he asked for mercy, would you forgive him? You even thought about airing out all his secrets online in a petty act of revenge. But none of those really seemed like something you would want. In this fragile state, you wondered if anything could help.

Then your attention snapped back to the picture of him on your screen, letting you know he wanted to talk.

Compromising between all the ideas that had just been running through your head, you declined the call and opened your messages. ‘come back home and we’ll talk.’ was all you sent James before tossing your phone aside.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter angst #rockstar!au #rockstar!james #rockstar!james potter #rockstar!marauders #marauders era #marauders angst #marauders au

699 notes · View notes

givemeanaccountalready · 8 months

Text

"Undercover" Makes Me Suspect Things

I went into watching "Undercover" thinking I could make a fun analysis post, and now I just have a Tumblr post with enough red string that I could make scarlet letters for all the Milgram prisoners.

Let me just address the elephant in the room: I understand that Es's "Undercover" probably just serves as a hook to get people's attention and that I am probably reading too much into this. But consider this, wouldn't it be great if I'm right? Now, right about what exactly?

Well, namely, I think Es's song is either a prophecy/warning, or it was not extracted until the three trials ended or at least after the first trial concluded because Es seems to know far more than they should about the prisoners if this song was extracted after the first day of Milgram when Es and Jackalope's voice drama took place.

Now, “Undercover” is very fast, and even at 0.25x speed, I constantly had to rewind and pause to take screenshots. A picture is worth a thousand words and holy guacamole, there were so many frames. To be honest, even if I don’t have the words for everything, I will be showing off what I found to be the most interesting.

The Song Extraction Device & the Panopticon:

First, I want to get into the Song Extraction Device (SED). We know from Jackalope’s “This is Milgram” that the SED can pull mental images from a person’s mind and turn them into a music video. Thanks to Jackalope, we also know the SED can’t pull them all in one go, hence the three trials. Jackalope also states that the verdict of a trial will affect what the SED will pull in the succeeding trial. In the opening and closing shots of "Undercover" we can see that 000 is stamped in its red button/latch.

When I rewatched the “This is Milgram” video, you can see the rooms in the Panopticon spinning on the projection board. In the first voice drama with Es and Jackalope, “Es”, Jackalope tells Es to think of the Panopticon as a clock, with the entrance being the 12 o’clock position and the prisoner rooms being the rest of the corresponding numbers. You can see the room numbers on each room. The first room moving clockwise from the entrance is 001, but the first room moving counterclockwise from the entrance is 000, not 011.

In “Es”, Es asks if there was someone in that room at the 11th o’clock position. They even note that the door looked even older than the others thanks to the rust, and it didn’t even have a lock like the others. Jackalope tells Es not to worry, and before Es can even respond, a bell rings, and Jackalope diverts the conversation by announcing that the prisoners should be waking up soon.

The normal pattern is voice drama, then musical number, but to be honest, I don't know for 100% certainty if the voice drama came before the musical number. I would assume so, but you know what they say about assuming. It would be interesting if Es, because they are different from the ten prisoners, had a musical number and then woke up to have their voice drama with Jackalope. The 000 room is very suspicious to me. It's the oldest room, and if it used to be Es's, then that is a point to the Es is the eleventh prisoner theory. My only point detracting from the Es is the eleventh prisoner theory is that Es didn't get a second song during the second trial like the ten prisoners receiving. That, and besides the amnesia, what made Es so special that Milgram inducted them into their odd prison? Did Es prevent a murder?

Bookend Frames & Chalk Es:

Let’s kick things off with the bookends. We open up on Es walking towards the SED with Jackalope following him, and then the song closes with only Jackalope in view.

Bookends are a framing device primarily used to link the beginning and end of a story in a satisfying way. The ending can be a word for word copy of the beginning, or it can be a mirror of the beginning.

The most obvious mirror moment is the beginning shot ending on the SED opening up and the ending shot starting on the SED closing. The location of both shots are the same and the fog seems to be about the same amount and concentrated in the same area in both shots. Jackalope is on the viewer’s left at the start, facing the viewer, and then at the end, he’s on the viewer’s right with his back towards the viewer. But Es is gone.

Where is my child cop, Jackalope?

Let’s focus on the opening shot. We have Es and Jackalope entering from the viewer’s left, which is stage right. While I was trying to get a good shot of the two in the opening, I noticed that Jackalope spends a considerable amount of time in the fog compared to Es. It could just be that Es is considerably bigger than our most honorable warden, Jackalope, and that the mist is heavily concentrated on stage right. Since Es has amnesia, perhaps the fog he walks through is literal brain fog or just the intrigue of Milgram in general. Intrigue fits why Jackalope is so hidden in the beginning. It's not deep or hidden, but it is nice and straightforward.

Right before the third chorus, Es sings, “losers please exit left.” Did Es exit stage left from the frame? Did Jackalope follow him across the stage but didn’t step offstage? But here is what really skeeves me out about Es not being in the ending. The song ends after the last chorus, and once Es finished the third and final chorus, we see what looks like a chalk outline of Es. Es is not wearing their full prison guard uniform. Their hat and cape/cloak are missing.

Now, chalk Es first has their back turned to us and is watching the prisoner montage. Their silhouette is hazy at first, but it becomes more clear as the montage continues. And then they turn around. I don't know what causes Es to turn around, but they look like they are trying to figure out what caught their attention. Then, what seems to be a spotlight directly overhead turns on, blinding Es so they shut their eyes. They bring up their hand to their eyes and they open them again. Their eyes adjust, and they make something out. Whatever it is/was, it appears to have surprised or shocked Es.

Now, Es isn't exactly stoic. They're very touchy about their role as prison warden, and they become very agitated whenever the prisoners throw them for a loop. But chalk Es doesn't lash out like Es does in the voice dramas. They may not have had the time to react, but even when Orekoto was beating the crap out of them, Es was still taunting him. Something definitely caught chalk Es off-guard. The question is what exactly is capable of rendering him silent.

I think it has to do with whoever is running Milgram. We know Es relies on social hierarchies to maintain a sense of control. They lash out when the prisoners, their social inferiors, disrupt that hierarchy and act familiar with them. I don't think Es would lash out if it was their superior in Milgram. Es can be short with Jackalope and even tease him, but they tend to take Jackalope at his word, albeit with exasperation for the not-rabbit's antics. Perhaps, it's not a superior calling for Es's attention, but something Milgram is doing to the prisoners. Something that goes against his firm belief that Milgram is all-good.

The Prisoners & the Choruses

(EDIT: WHOOPSIE DAISY. It turns out that Milgram had changed the subtitles for the third anniversary. The vibes between the lyrics quoted below and the original one are quite similar, but let me do a quick review and reblog for corrections.) While the lyrics played over the prisoners aren’t directly pulled from their respective Trial 1 songs themselves, all of them reference the titles to their respective Trial 1 songs (see bold).

I only highlighted one of Kazui's "half"s since it was not doubled like MeMe was for Mikoto.

The information presented in each two line sets is not something Es could have known before the trials began. Es can only remember their name and age. This is what got me thinking that maybe "Undercover" takes place between the first and second trials, or after all the trials had been completed. At first, I thought maybe "Undercover" took place before the three trials had even started, and this was what Milgram was erasing from Es's mind: his knowledge of what they had done. Because during the third and final chorus, we see the prisoners 'kill' Es just like how they killed their victims. Did Es learn of their crimes and had to have his memories removed to ensure a fair three trials? Or is this even the first time these prisoners have been tried through Milgram's system?

Here are the two line sets overlaid on the prisoners during their respective mugshot montage.

Haruka: “If you say INNOCENT, you’re complicit and weak / I’m so lonesome, please love me”

Yuno: “My cord is being pulled but nothing’s ever enough / Contractual desires, oh what to do”

Fuuta: “Hiding and seeking from sin / Bring it, submit, and also shut your trap”

Muu: “Clutching a broken heart / The pain’s still there, after all this time”

Shidou: “Which way will you throw down your weight / To be the deceived, or the deceiver”

Mahiru: “I don’t wanna just give / Giving and taking, this is how to be in love”

Kazui: “I just keep on dreaming / half in, half out, I’m doomed”

Amane: “The magic is in believing / There is no righteousness in broken promises”

Mikoto: “Don’t you lie about Me / Me, I’ve done nothing wrong”

Kotoko: “Dedicating my life / Harrowing, burying the thing I want erased”

During the third chorus of the song, we get a rapid sequence of frames that are supposed to clue us in to each prisoner’s murder. But what I did not notice during my previous viewings was that the expressions and the positions of the prisoners during the first chorus change to something different in the second chorus.

Haruka & Yuno:

Fuuta & Mu:

Shidou & Mahiru:

Kazui & Amane:

Mikoto & Kotoko:

You can see that the lyrics overlaid on the prisoners in the first and second choruses match, but that may just be luck on my part. Or maybe it means something, I don't know anymore.

Something clearly happened between the first and second choruses. I think that the first chorus images were the prisoners' reactions to being dropped into Milgram, but what caused their second chorus expressions? Is this supposed to be their reactions to being moved out of Milgram? Something is clearly happening, and they are restrained. Kazui looks like he is avoiding a hit while Kotoko is rearing up to charge full-steam ahead. They're both the heavy hitters of the ten prisoners. Amane, the youngest, smallest, and weakest prisoner, is stumbling backwards like she was hit or she was scared enough to try and retreat from harm's way. The remaining prisoners look scared and/or worried. What exactly is going on here? Is something happening to them? Or to Es? Mikoto (must be Bokuto) and Mahiru are leaning over like they are checking up on someone. Are they escaping? Do we get an escape musical number to conclude the series? How baller would that be?

Very, but in all seriousness, something is up. There's just something about "Undercover" that is making me pause. This very well could all be useless speculation, and "Undercover" is canon in the way that the timeline conversations are canon without actually aging the characters.

TL;DR: Milgram is sus, and come the conclusion of this series, I have a <2% chance of being vindicated.

#milgram #milgram es #haruka sakurai #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #muu kusunoki #shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #kazui mukuhara #amane momose #mikoto kayano #kotoko yuzuriha #milgram theory

217 notes · View notes

sgntr · 2 months

Text

Adventure 15 - Sex best served with revenge

A few days back, Ruth found out her BF was cheating on her. She was looking though his phone when he was sleeping and an IG dm popped up. It was a message with a girl on instagram.

Here is the summary of what Ruth told / showed me:

They were sending nudes to each other. She knows he is attached and got more excited. He sent videos of him jerking off to pictures and videos she sent. They had video calls to masturbate together. The most fucked up was he did not want to bang Ruth because he wanted "sex after marriage" but he banged this chick a few times when she is not around. they have videos and stuff.

She screenshot it all on her phone but did not tell him she knew. All this time we were fucking she was feeling guilty, thinking that her BF was just being faithful. But turns out all this guilt was for nothing.

After she told me all that, I wanted to be kind and console her. But she said she dont need any consoling and just want to fuck. I definitely am not going to say no to that.

So i was thinking to go to the normal place where we always fuck. but instead she suggested to do it in the nap pods in our office instead. Our office nap pods is a shared room with a few beds around. When we went in there was one other person in one of the nap pods.

We both got into a single nap pod and closed the curtain before she went straight for my pants. We have to be very quiet as she sucked my dick. As hard as we tried, the sound of my dick hitting her back of her throat still could be heard. She did not seem to care. So I just went on with it hoping no one hears us.

I then took her head and forced my dick into her mouth and held it there. Choking her and making her unable to breathe. Tears were flowing out her eyes as she tapped my thighs to ask me to stop. But i did not and kept holding it there.

When i finally released her, ropes of her saliva was still connected to my dick as she pulled away. She coughed away gasping for air. Before she could say anything, grabbed her throat, pulled her in and whispered in her ear.

"is this why your bf want to bang someone else?" followed by a slap to her face.

Ruth's make up was ruined by that deep throat. She wanted to speak, but i stopped her by stuffing her own panties into her mouth before getting her into doggy position. My dick lubricated by her saliva slid in with ease even though it was still rather tight. My hands held her throat from behind. It was not long before I was gonna cum.

We transited back to blowjob and then she gave me a tit job. Her tongues sticked out and her eyes crossed. Looking at her cum begging face, I shot it all over her face and hair.

We heard the curtains of the other nap pod open. I was stunned but Ruth did not care. She continued licking the head of my dick which was sensitive AF and I had a hard time keeping quiet.

We heard the person leave the room and Ruth rushed to lock the door and on the nap pod closed sign. I looked at her ruined make up face covered in my cum with confusion. She got on all 4s and crawled over to continue sucking my dick.

"teach me how to be a good fuck doll so people would want to fuck me"

My dick got instantly hard again and I wasted no time to deep throat her again before stuffing my dick into her tight pussy. This time no parts of her body was spared. I spanked her ass till it was red and her moans filled the room. (thankfully the room is sound proofed)

Slapped her face and spat on it as she kept repeating "im a brainless fuck doll"

Proceeded to fuck her missionary on the floor and before long, I was gonna cum again. She was also on the edge as she said she was cumming. Thusted my dick deep inside her pussy before shooting it deep in her.

As i pulled out her legs start to spasm as she shaked uncontrollably on the floor. I guess this is a sign of a good fuck. My cum leaked out of her pussy. It was such a nice view that I had to take a picture

Once she recovered from her spasm, she got on her knees and used her mouth to clean her my dick again making sure nothing was wasted.

As she was cleaning, she said "I have a revenge plan. Can you help me?"

TBC

===========

Any suggestions on a good revenge plan?

Do drop me a follow if you like me to continue sharing my adventures. Give the post a repost to share it around!!

Follow me on twitter at sg_ntr for snippet updates.

#sgntr #sgntr ruth

76 notes · View notes

us-costco-official · 3 months

Text

ok this post probably won’t make sense to a lot of you but.

pinterest culture…?

i’m not talking about the, like, recipes side of pinterest, or the aesthetic photos side of pinterest. i’m talking about the pretty specific subsection of like, tumblr screenshots and badly edited facebook memes, and mentally ill gay teenagers. i myself, am on this side of pinterest, i’ll admit.

there’s some, like, niche pinterest micro celebrities, for example, pickle man, erm what the frick, johnny the mommy, etc etc. whenever they’re seen in a comment section, there’s at least one person saying “omg you’re everywhere!1!!11”

another example, pinterest commenters are special. there’s like…inside jokes, just like on tumblr, but..idk

here’s an example:

(some kind of weird/oddly horny post)

person a: let’s remember our digital footprint guys !

(replying) person b: foot 🤤

(replying to b) person c: i have feelings for you

—

you can probably find that exact thread if you just look through the comments a bit. now, this type of thing is fine, of course, we all love inside jokes.

but, starting off as a pinterest kid, that became like, ingrained in my brain, so whenever im on tumblr my immediate reaction is to say shit like, “i want you” “i have a crush on you” instead of just “what”.

another thing, pinterest fucking sucks. and everyone on there (the gay side of pinterest, i mean) knows it. the ui sucks, especially on the browser version, the dms hardly work, and pins just disappear sometimes. lots of brands (i guess?) will take like ‘memes’ and upload it to pinterest, to get people to click, and take them to some shitty article. this leads to, fuckin idk, a picture of some tumblr post with the ifunny logo, and the title of the pin is like Top Ten Ways Wives Aren’t Satisfying Their Husbands.

pinterest hate culture, is also very interesting. for example, if you mention, say, ed sheeran, or look for ed sheeran pins, it’s so. much. hate. and then there’s troll/bait accounts, that exclusively make posts going against the grain so they’ll get attention. because there’s another thing, pinterest users fucking suck at ignoring bait. the boyfriends comic (? i think it’s called that) has so much hate on there. i’ve never even read it but i know so much from people talking about how shit it is. those pinterest kids are crazy, they talk to the obvious bait accs and tell them to “sayori challenge” (video game character that took her own life). i could go into the mogai/xenogender discourse but that’s a whole other post.

so. pinterest. it’s crazy.

why’d i write all this but i can’t write one fucking science paper oh my god.

#pinterest #from the shelves of costco #costco lore

90 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

Note

What do you think about how the bots would think about seeing pictures or videos of when the kids were smaller. Like a video of Jack in middle school with a lisp from his retainer or pictures of Miko having an awful haircut her parents got for her to make her look more “presentable” as well as her fighting tooth and nail for them not to watch an old video of her piano recitals. Raph’s glasses being a little too big at first because he had insisted on getting glasses from the adult section like his dad and grandpa and they weren’t the right size for his head yet and the multiple little tools he made growing up to try and hold them up until his head grew.

Little things that as they got older they found embarrassing but just are general parts of growing up.

Pfft. This idea is rather humorous. I added my own little twist to it too.

Embarrassing Pictures

The whole situation began when June brought a camera into base to take pictures of the children. It was nothing new, Miko took pictures all the time, so the team didn't question it. However after June started making a fuss over the pictures, trying to convince the children to smile and whatnot, the team became vaguely interested. Once asked, June revealed that she intended to add the photos to her photo album, electing a groan from Jack. And when asked to explain what that was, she told the team all about how she liked to take photos to save and look at again in the future.

Suddenly very interested in seeing photos of the children, the team gathered around June and asked to see her photo albums. June was perfectly happy to oblige and returned to base a day or so later with not only her photo albums, but also ones she had managed to haggle off Rafael's parents and Miko's host family (Why they had the albums was a mystery, but some liked to theorize it was because Miko didn't want her parents to have them to show off). The children were mortified as June put the albums under a magnifier and projected the pictures onto big screen for the bots to see.

Jack's baby pictures came up first. And in the beginning they were pretty tame. It was a few photos of when Jack was an infant and aside from the odd bath photo and a picture of him dressed up as his favorite superhero, everything seemed fine. It was mostly just images of him being a cute kid, which the team found to be both fascinating and adorable. They hadn't realized humans could get any smaller, so seeing a tiny version of Jack doing adorable things not too dissimilar from what sparklings did on Cybertron brought smiles to their faces. Of course then Jack's middle school photos came out and suddenly the teenager couldn't look anyone in the eyes or optics as pictures of him with his braces and then retainer were shown to the team.

Ratchet: *pointing at the picture of Jack with his retainer* Is that some form of human torture?

Arcee: *suddenly very worried* Jack, are you already at home?

Jack: NO! WAIT! I mean-! Look, I had to wear a retainer for a while to fix my teeth, that's it.

Miko: *laughing* You really do look like you are being tortured in that pic!

Jack: Shut up!

Bumblebee: You had to have a cover over your teeth to fix them? Why not just remove them and put them back in the right way?

Rafael: *softly* Bee... no. Humans don't work like that.

Thankfully for Jack, he wasn't the only one who got a taste of humiliation since soon after Miko's own photos came on screen. Just like with Jack, it was mostly cute baby photos (which the team collectively cooed at and more than one may or may not have saved a mental screenshot for later). However by the time her photos from between the ages of eight and twelve were brought up, she started wishing for the sweet release of death.

The worst haircut she had ever gotten was the beginning of the torture. In the photo she was frowning and trying to fight back as she was held in front of the camera, a shoulder length bob cut and bangs taking the place of her usual wild hairstyle. This earned her a bit of mockery from Jack who was still feeling rather bitter about her prodding at his pictures earlier. However it didn't end there, her parents had also recorded several of her recitals which began playing as June hooked them up to the projector. She tried to stop it, but could only watch in horror as the team witnessed her horrendous singing combined with her rather remarkable skill with the piano. The team weren't all that concerned, finding it mostly cute, but Miko wanted to die right then and there.

Bulkhead: You play that instrument well Miko. Why haven't you played that one around base?

Miko: BECAUSE ITS EMBARRASSING!

Optimus: Is it? I find you talent with that instrument rather pleasing.

Ratchet: *under his breath* She screams like a Turbo-fox.

Optimus: *kicking Ratchet lightly* Your voice is lovely too.

Safe to say Miko didn't walk away from her photos being shown around mentally sound. But with Rafael's own photos up next, she opted to try and draw attention away from herself by mocking her younger friend as his baby pictures were displayed.

Rafael honestly didn't have all that many embarrassing photos up until an image of him duct taping his grandfather's glasses onto his face came on screen. Young Rafael was waling as he tried to rip the tape off in the photo, causing the team to chuckle in amusement much to Rafael's horror. After that more and more photos of him trying and failing to wear adult glasses came on screen, each more dooming than the last as Jack and Miko laughed. One image showed him with glasses almost three times the size of his face tied to his head with string as he tried to walk around looking normal only to run into a wall.

Jack: *laughing* You ran into a wall?

Rafael: I was eight!

Miko: You look like a bobblehead!

Rafael: ...

Bumblebee: Why did you not just get normal sized glasses?

Rafael: I wanted to be like the grown ups...

Optimus: That is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I believe I have some pictures of Bumblebee doing something similar...

Bumblebee: Optimus no! Please no!

It was too late. Before anyone could do anything about it, Optimus helped June put her albums away and highjacked the projector and uploaded images directly from his personal databanks. Bumblebee died a little inside as Optimus unapologetically showed pictures of him being a feral monstrosity and tearing up furniture and consoles around high command. He could only heat up in embarrassment as Optimus then proceeded to show pictures of him doing numerous other things ranging from eating rations like an animal, shooting Prowl with a blaster by accident, to picking out his first earth alt mode and the subsequent car wash that came with it.

Rafael: Why a Volkswagon Beetle? That's such an old model.

Bumblebee: I liked it alright!

Arcee: He thought it was cute.

Bumblebee: NO! I DID NOT!

Ratchet: He did. And he even thought it was the height of motor transportation on your backwater world for nearly a month.

Bumblebee: RATCHET!

As if contented, Optimus finally stopped sharing his pictures after Bumblebee started steaming from the stress of having his past exposed. But Ratchet being the slightly malicious medic that he is took the chance to throw Optimus under the bus in turn. He hooked up to the projector next and began sharing pictures of Optimus back when he was Orion Pax, much to the Prime's silent humiliation. Pictures of him eating wild animals innocently, him screaming at a stray cyber-cat on all fours, him getting drunk as pit the one time he allowed Ratchet to take him to a bar, and all sorts of photos of him gnawing on things came up one after another. It was a different time, but Optimus should have known better than to assume Ratchet wouldn't have collected such incriminating photos of him.

Bulkhead: Prime... are you eating a datapad in that picture?

Optimus: ...

Arcee: Why were you crouched on top of the bookcase with a electro-dove in your mouth in that one?

Optimus: ...

Bumblebee: *squinting at a photo* W-Where you trying to size up a statue?

Optimus: I wasn't always a Prime.

Ratchet: Who could have guessed.

Optimus: You weren't always and honorable medic either Ratchet.

Once again taking his place by the projector, Optimus plugged back in and began airing out all of Ratchet's past escapades for all to see, the children practically forgotten in the midst of the silent battle going on. The Prime quickly began cycling through dozens of photos of Ratchet high as a kite doing stupid scrap like pole dancing, screaming at mecha, and throwing things. And before the medic could process that, Optimus pulled out even more of him competing in street races, competing in drinking contests, and even a video of him swearing up a storm at everyone and everything while drunk. Ratchet could do nothing but silently offline internally as he watched his dark history get replayed.

Bulkhead: So... a party ambulance?

Ratchet: Shut up.

Arcee: I should be asking you what's humming doc.

Ratchet: I was young and dumb. Weren't we all at one point?

Bumblebee: Young and dumb usually points toward breaking someone's window or accidentally trespassing, not getting stoned, drunk, and then doing incriminating things.

Ratchet: ...

It only got worse from there as Ratchet pulled up the pictures he had acquired from Bulkhead and Arcee's files on their own little misadventures as younglings. The children were completely forgotten as the team became focused on airing each other's dirty laundry for all to see. And the children had no problem with that as they watched the dark past's of their favorite Autobots gets shown around like contraband reading material.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #tfp kids #team prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #it started with baby pictures and ended with mugshots #no one will ever recover from the emotional damage

674 notes · View notes

maryhadalittlehobby · 21 days

Text

Recap of my experiences at the IWTV Premiere April 30, 2024

I found out about if from one of the most unlikiest sources. A person I thought was an even bigger fandom lurker than myself😅 I wasn't even gonna ask but I said fuck it, maybe they know someone who knows someone. And they did but said people were under ndas. Initially said they couldn't say but then last minute said they believe they knew where it was going to be.

I didn't say anything because 1) I didn't want them or their friend to get in trouble by spreading the info. 2) possibly spread misinfomation if that wasn't the place and 3) nobody asked lol

I thought I would just show up and see what I could see. In the past I have done this at a Walking Dead premiere. At that event it turned out that they had a lobby full of props that anyone could enter and take pics of. They even had walkers roaming around. Then the kicker-I got into that TWD premiere TICKETLESS by pure accident! So why not fuck around and find out again.

I put on a "closet cosplay" of Claudia in the upcoming yellow dress using all stuff I already owned and headed out.

I walked up to Mckittrick hotel, asked if there was a standby or waiting list but the person said they didnt know. There was a lot of important looking people surrounded with guards double checking lists and whatnot so I gave up that angle and loitered around with the other 15 or so fans who found the location too hoping to just see a glimpse of our favs.

Didn't have to wait to long as one by one they started showing up. The first one I noticed was Delainey and she slayed in that black sheer number. She was soft-spoken and a little shy but took her time and signed/took pictures with all the people who were there. Not sure if she knew I was cosplaying Claudia but she did compliment my contacts.

I had all my pics on motion video so if I didnt like the actual pic there was a few frames of vid to pick from as well. The actual video is a bonus! Too bad I can only link 1 video here but a lot of vids are on my IG in the highlight. Same name!

Then Sam came. As soon as he exited the car the wind blew his hair back and I lost my train of thought. He is pretty and his eyes are a lighter shade of blue than they look in pics. Also he is blonder! And so slim! The suit they had him in was a fun nod to vintage suits.

He too complimented my contacts! In the vid he is asking me questions about them but as soon as I take the pic another fan was yelling his name and grabbed his attentionl. Not mad lol I probably would have gotten less coherent the more I talked😅

Jacob showed up soon after-all smiles. What a cutey. He was damn near falling in the garbage they had us lowly non invites next to trying to contort this way and that to sign and take pics. Again-so small! And he too complimented my contacts😁 if the suit would have been properly tailored( the pants looked to long!) It would have been slay

Not gonna lie I kinda blacked out after meeting Sam so my memory with jacob is fuzzy.

Assad and Luke arrived together shortly after but got whisked away pretty quickly so I didn't get a pic with them. Eric was the very first to arrive and despite me being there I missed him too.

But I was sooo happy getting the unholy family little else mattered. I contemplated waiting after but I was BUZZING with adrenaline and starving lol. My fandom plug said she did come after and met EVERYONE and their momma. Cast and crew alike and they were still happy to engage even after their long night❤️

Finally Fang Gangers, please do not repost/ reupload/ or screenshot anything of mine as your content. Linking back / sharing is ok.

🖤🧛🏾‍♀️

#iwtv premiere #iwtv cast #amc iwtv s2 premiere #iwtv #sam reid #jacob anderson #delainey hayles

44 notes · View notes

mickeys-malarkey · 2 years

Text

Pt. 3/3: My BATDR Timeline & Plot Twist Theories!

First, I think both BATIM and BATDR take place sometime between 1978 and 1991. I already suspected BATDR was happening in the ‘80s based on the fact that card readers – which have featured in many of the environment screenshots we've seen – were invented in 1979...

…and Audrey's clothes and hairstyle look very 1980s.

Then they released the images of Audrey's office, where her chair and desk lamps also look very 1980s, and the wallpaper and flooring looks pretty 1970s…

…and @inkdemonapologist pointed out that the type of bankruptcy we see documents for in Joey's apartment didn't exist until 1978…

…and I remembered that Joey's apartment also had a newspaper whose headline took place in the future— Princess Diana's 30th birthday which, as TetraBitGaming on YouTube pointed out, would be in 1991 since Princess Diana was born in 1961. She should be two years old if BATIM were really taking place in 1963!

Maybe, at the time, they didn't mean for these two to be clues, since they seem to have rolled the date backwards a bit from the newspaper one; but at this point it feels pretty clear when BATDR takes place, to me. And I'm even more certain than I already was, after finding out that this image from the JDS website…

…is titled “museum” (good work yoinking it, @halfusek /gen 👍🏻), that we know the ink dimension's new home: Nathan Arch Sr.'s private Joey Drew Studios museum that he mentioned he was curating in TIOL (meaning it's existed since around 1972).

“Over the years, I have collected every single piece of the studio memorabilia I could find to restore it to its former glory, to create, in a sense, a private museum that gleamed with the true vision of Joey Drew…” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 2

Also, besides the fact the museum image has clearly aged, here's some more evidence that at least a few years have probably passed since Bendy was purchased: it generally takes a fair bit more time (years!!) to make movies/documentaries, as Archgate Pictures seems to have made about Joey, than it does to make shorts.

As for BATIM, I think that time has been moving as normal outside of the loop, we were just seeing a repeat of that significant day in 1963; Henry and Joey have been trapped in the ink dimension for somewhere between twenty and thirty years, and the bankruptcy paperwork and Princess Diana newspaper were pieces of the real world leaking into the memory. This explains how there seems to be evidence of Audrey in BATIM and how BATDR is still supposedly neither sequel nor prequel to BATIM despite all the evidence that it takes place long after 1963! They're happening at the same time!! I wonder if Audrey is the daughter of the little girl we hear at the end of BATIM? So, Henry's (great-)granddaughter or Joey's (great-)great-niece?

Now, onto my big theory: the plot twist.

If they handle it right, it would be really, really cool if “break the cycle” really doesn't just mean “end the time loop” but also “break the cycle of abuse/trauma” and a lot of the huge cast of not-so-innocent characters wind up with the potential to get redemption arcs. I have an idea of exactly how they might be planning on even providing the opportunity for Joey.

Victor McKnight commented this on his Artistic Hallowing music video and pinned it:

Those last two sentences. “Make sure you're watching every second! You don't want to miss any vital information. 😉” Does that not sound to anyone else like he's got insider information? Now, I want y'all to watch these music videos that either Victor himself or his brother Noah were suspiciously involved in all of (and one of which is supposedly a BATDS song but for some reason involves Audrey) and tell me if you notice any patterns.

youtube

This one seems to be a duet between Sammy and the Ink Demon, both singing to Audrey. Sammy mostly sings in the default sepiatone, asking us things like “Can you see me? Can you feel me?” (that feels so… sad… and desperate…) and telling us things like “make sense of the consequence we witnessed on that day” (Excuse me, you're telling me that there was a consequence for something on a specific, significant day that we witnessed?? 👀) The demon, on the other hand, mostly sings when the grayscale effect is on, and seems to just be playing a stereotypical villain roll until you notice “be forced to believe what I see” (why would we even give a crap about what you're seeing /srs? How the actual heck would we see what you're seeing /gen? You don't even have eyeballs, bro /j) and “be damned in this evil received” (how do you receive evil that damns you? Maybe by being abused and becoming an abuser in response?).

youtube

Two apparently-separate characters singing with the same voice but very different tones and outlooks on the situation, still both singing to Audrey, in this one. One mostly sings in the default sepiatone, again, at first seeming more hopeful, helpful, and friendly until you start noticing ominous comments like “you've made mistakes, accept the change. You will be punished too” (*incoherent noises* 🚨🚨) and “welcome to my dream . . . you still think you are safe in my dream.” The other mostly sings when the grayscale effect is on, again, and seems much more aggressive and seductive until you start noticing comments like “take up your weapons, just leave my friends be” (why is this stereotypically evil-seeming character both telling us to take up weapons, not just letting us have them, and asking us to leave his friends alone with them?).

youtube

More hints that the demon who will rise and presumably is most important to the story is linked to grayscale, in this one.

youtube

And, in this one, Sammy's asking if the grayscale-linked demon is the one who will set him free (as he claims to be in the first two videos).

Across all four of these first videos, there seems to be an overall “things change when we switch from the default sepiatone to grayscale” and “grayscale is dangerous and seems hopeless but it's important and linked to truth and freedom” theme…

youtube

…You're telling me that Sammy and his followers' past (BATIM?) selves were worshipping an imposter demon…? And the truth will be revealed in BATDR…?

Hum, hum, hum… fascinating. I'd noticed the sepiatone vs. grayscale split and imposter vs. true savior thing long before I read the books; for the longest time, I thought it meant we would be dealing with a Henry-Bendy and a Joey-Bendy, as I've been seeing people theorizing. But then I read TIOL, and discovered what I think is evidence that this info is indeed canon and was not left on the cutting room floor while BATDR was in development limbo.

Nathan makes a very strange note on Joey's story about the Sparkle Unicorn speakeasy…

“…I remember this night well. Though I remember it being at the Bee Room, gold and black, not silver as the main design aesthetic. Doesn't really make much of a difference though, I suppose.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 44 (emphasis added)

Nathan remembers that night in sepiatone, Joey remembers it in grayscale.

Now, I've seen all kinds of theories all over about how Wilson actually “banished/killed the ink demon…” “Wilson took advantage of some sort of blip in Bendy's existence that happened when Joey died,” “Wilson got rid of him by purifying him and turning him into Dapper Bendy,” “Wilson got rid of him by fusing him with either Henry or Joey,” “Wilson got rid of him by trapping him in Henry's loop,” “he didn't, Wilson's just another liar manipulating everyone,” etc…

What if we're looking at this from the wrong angle? What if the point is that, whatever happened, neither of the BATDR Bendys is the original soulless monster we see in BATIM and the books? What if, whether they share a body or are separate, there are two human souls involved here? What if one of those souls is the “new evil” in the ink dimension, not Wilson, who may have been meddling in ink dimension affairs since 1963?

Going back to the time frame I propose BATDR is happening in… Joey was born in 1901, which means that if Nathan was 18 or 19 when Joey was just turning 16, then he was born in 1899 or 1898. So, in 1978, Nathan would've been 79 or 80, and in 1991 he would've been 92 or 93. Especially considering the clues that point towards Nathan having been a smoker, it wouldn't surprise me if he's straight-up already dead in BATDR. Mayhaps for 211 days? During Loop 414…? Could this be why the BATIM loop is different, with Henry apparently not remembering anything that previous versions of himself could? The now-previous owner of their prison has died of old age and/or lung cancer? And could that be why the JDS museum has fallen into bankruptcy? Has Nathan Jr. taken over and isn't as ruthless a businessman as his father?

Itsjustjord on YouTube pointed this out in his trailer reaction, which when he said it set my Clue Radar off so that I went to the trailer again to get a closer look. And… well… *clears throat*

…Do y'all see this weird effect over Dapper Bendy? Compared to every other character we see in the trailer as well as the environment around him, does it not look as if we're seeing him, specifically, through some sort of cartoony filter? Maybe it'll only be in circumstances like this (far away in weird lighting) that the edges of the illusion will fray in-game, based on the other teaser image we have of him, but it definitely looks off to me.

Especially with what I now suspect Allison and Susie's situations were in relation to Nathan, I think that the ink creatures’ perfection vs. imperfection has nothing to do with how pure/good vs. impure/evil their hearts are as we've been lead to believe/is the conventional surface-level reading, but instead how intact vs. broken their hearts are. I think that the more horrific the ink being's appearance, the more the soul inside was abused while it was alive. Allison isn't a perfect Alice because she's a better person, it's because she obeyed Nathan and wasn't made to suffer as severely as Susie, who Nathan chose to be his next Isabel. So, why is one new Bendy (apparently created after Joey lost everything, I suspect even being made to watch his Shoulder Angel's murder before being murdered himself) so much scarier than the original (created before Joey lost everything) and the other so goshdarn perfect, proportions and all?

Maybe the banning of everything related to Sammy's demon cult and Henry under Wilson's rule has to do with his decades-old mission to keep the Creators from joining forces, as well as everyone including himself feeling like they're finally free from The Great Puppet Master?

I love Dapper Bendy's design as much as everyone else!! He's positively adorable, and it would also be a nice outcome if the baby boy is exactly what he seems and just a precious lil friend to love forever; but I theorize that Dapper Bendy is the perfectly sane, untraumatized, and truly evil one, that (assuming we actually get choices in BATDR, unlike in BATIM) his route, no matter how things seem in the moment, is the wrong one, that he's Nathan. And I think Freaky Teeth Bendy (that's been my nickname for him since we first saw him and I'm sticking to it lolol) is the damaged as heck but able to be saved one, that his route is the correct one, that he's Joey. I also think that we won't get to see either demon for what they really are – won't be able to get the True, Broken Cycle, “Joey's Redeemed & Nathan Faces Justice” Ending – unless we somehow unlock Grayscale Mode like we could in BATIM and gain the ability to see Joey's truth. Until then, we'll be seeing the demons the way Nathan wants us to see them. Through Nathan's tainted, gaslighting, sepiatone filter.

If I'm right, the fact that they did choose these color palettes is so perfectly poetic~! Sepiatone is what happens when black-and-white images have been chemically altered for preservation purposes; Nathan's altered our perception of himself, Joey, and all the events surrounding them, and his version of events is much more resilient. Meanwhile, Joey's would be more pure and unaltered but easily destroyed— including by himself, with his Illusion of Living coping mechanism… The only thing that could make it more perfect is if not only do we get to see Henry in BATDR, but when we do he's an angelic toon… *Vibrates with excitement*

Please, please, please, JDS, let me be right about where you're going with this!! Cause this would genuinely be so freaking cool…!! 🙏🏻 I hope that we eventually get to “rejoice with our founders,” as Artistic Hallowing says, when they're reunited.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk, rofl. Congratulations on making it through the ramblings of a hyped AuDHD fangirl (though, I guess we already knew you were capable, if you've read TIOL. I could do a whole nother rant on evidence that Joey's basically confirmed canonically ADHD(+?), my freaking gosh). 😝

Read the Rest of the Original Analysis/Theory: Part One • Part Two • Unexpected Part Four

BATDR Analysis/Post-Playthrough Theory Revision: Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

823 notes · View notes

angelisgonnastartchangingurls · 20 days

Text

jim and jenny

annie started seeing jim once a week. just going to his apartment for aggressive sex and a little worried conversation about julia. jim loved being rough with annie, and taking pictures of her asshole while he fucked her from behind. annie loved that he had so many pictures of her asshole.

he also had, he showed her, a picture of jenny's asshole and pussy, which she'd sent him a few nights earlier with a text

"i'm feeling very needy and in need of validation am i hot am i pretty?"

"yes," he'd replied. "you're very hot and very pretty."

"fuckable?" she'd written back. "fuckable and breedable?"

"yes," he said. "i mean i wouldn't breed you because that would be a bad idea genetically, but fuckable."

"you'd fuck me?" she replied. "really?"

"hell yeah," he said.

"and then maybe cum on my face and tits?"

"fuck yeah," he said.

"that makes me so fucking horny" she replied.

"good girl," he said.

"i stg if u call me good girl to my face i will yank my panties right off," she said.

then she sent him a video of herself fucking her pussy with a dildo.

"you should go see her," annie told him. "you deserve a little break from the other crazy women in your life."

a week later, jim flew to colorado for the weekend, surprising jenny at her door. he called annie late that night to tell her about what happened.

"she literally pulled me in the door, sat me down on the couch, and took her shorts and panties off," he told her. "her pussy was very stubbly around her landing strip, it looked so good. and she told me to get my cock out."

"and you did?" annie asked, biting her lip and reaching into her panties.

"of course," he said. "and she sat right on it like a good, loyal girl, already soaked."

"fuck," annie said.

"she took her sweatshirt off after she came on my dick so i could cum on her," he said. "she hasn't put anything on since."

he sent her a picture of jenny in her kitchen, naked, her tits covered in cum.

annie was suddenly hungry for robbie, who was asleep in the bedroom with casey. she slipped in to the room quietly and woke him gently. he left casey naked in the bed and took annie from behind against the couch. he told her that casey hadn't shaved in over a week, and that he loved the feeling of the smoothness of annie's pussy. for weeks after, annie shaved every single day, dedicated to maintaining that feeling. robbie came inside her and went back to bed.

still desperately horny, she texted tom, no answer. he was likely asleep. she took a picture of her pussy and sent it to her dad. still no answer. she sent it to her mom.

"you're still up?" she replied. "we're so similar."

"too horny to sleep," annie replied.

"i can see the cum leaking out of you," she replied. "i get it."

she sent a picture of herself dripping cum. at this point she was basically shaved, her bush was trimmed so short. annie said as much.

"your father and brother like it this way," she said.

"funny," annie said. "they like me smooth."

"well, we need to give our men a little variety," she said. she sent annie a video of herself jerking off her husband. he was groaning as his cum shot everywhere.

"it's so fucking hot." annie replied. "do you think i'm a weirdo for thinking it's so hot?"

in response, her mom sent her a screenshot of text she's sent her own father -- nudes of herself. "my gorgeous girl," he'd replied.

"has he ever touched you?" annie asked.

"only when i was pregnant with you," she told her. "he would touch my belly so low that his fingers would graze my panties. so i stopped wearing panties around him, and his fingers would graze my bush. so i trimmed my bush, and his big strong fingers finally found my clit."

"you ever get to suck his cock?" annie asked.

"i've been doing that since i was 17," she said. "he told me one day that my mother no longer did that. so i took over."

40 notes · View notes

mc-lukanette · 6 months

Text

Luka laughed into the phone. "Marinette, I'm sure you don't need lessons anymore. Your playing already sounds amazing."

"You say that all the time," she huffed, Luka grinning as he imagined the pout on the other end of the line. "Besides, it'll—it'll be different! We'll be in a real place you'd play music instead of your room, so you can judge my playing fairly!"

"Mhm~"

"And I already called Penny so she could get it! There'll be some extra time too if you want to call the others to practice—!"

"You don't have to try to convince me," he cut in, leaning back on his bed casually. "I'm looking forward to it."

"It? How—?!" She paused, then let out a sheepish giggle. "Right, our lesson. Gotcha. See you later!"

She hung up before he could reply. Still, he said a fond, "See you," into his phone even though she couldn't have heard it. As he took it away from his ear, he navigated to his gallery and tapped on the picture that Juleka had taken of Marinette's first guitar lesson with him.

More specifically, it was a screenshot he'd taken of Marinette's post online that contained said picture. He already adored the picture itself - even if he'd been a fool to be staring at Marinette while a camera was being pointed at him, trapping his love-struck face into eternal replay - but Marinette's caption just made it better.

Starting guitar lessons today courtesy of Luka! 🥰🎶

He grinned wider, the heart face in particular warming him. Regardless of how Marinette saw him romantically, she clearly thought highly of him and that was enough.

She was good - really good - at guitar, just like he knew she'd be. She listened to him with every lesson, asked politely for feedback, and was willing to admit when there was something she didn't understand.

The only tragedy that came with seeing her get better was knowing that their lessons would get shorter and eventually come to an end altogether. Luka vividly recalled Marinette asking Juleka to take a picture of her first lesson to post online, then muttering about how glad she was that pictures didn't capture the sound of her awful playing.

He honestly didn't think she sounded that bad for her first time, but he might've been too focused on the song she played without need of a guitar.

——

Eventually, Luka arrived at the TV studio, trying not to smirk too wide at the guards who now had to let him in. The ride up the elevator felt long compared to what he expected, but he knew he was impatient when it came to Marinette.

Even if it was as simple as a guitar lesson, he loved spending time with her.

He entered the room slowly, a mix of positive and negative memories rushing back to him at the mere sight: the designs and music in their video getting stolen, getting mocked by Bob Roth and XY, Marinette being threatened, and finally getting the justice they deserved that let Kitty Section play on live TV.

In the center of all of it was Marinette, who he saw sat down on the stage they'd played while holding a guitar - his guitar - in her lap. It was technically something he let her borrow, but he also had no intention of asking for it back. After all, he had two black-and-white guitars, not one. Both had the same base, but the neck design was different for them. The one he gave to Marinette continued the black-and-white theme with a monochrome neck, whereas the guitar he used for himself had a wooden one.

Because there was so little difference between them, it made it easy to instruct Marinette on where her fingers should go, especially when he could either guide her hands or use himself as an example. She'd always appreciated the ease of it.

Seeing her cradling it like she was, despite already having it for so long, made him unreasonably happy.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted.

She made eye contact with him, her shoulders relaxing as he approached. Taking one hand off the guitar to wave, she greeted him back with a smile.

He took his guitar case off, then sat down next to her and set it beside him. He turned away from her to undo the latch keeping the case shut, but her hand caught his arm before he could.

"Wait."

Glancing at her, he raised a brow. Her face seemed oddly serious all of a sudden, but he couldn't imagine why she wouldn't want him to take his guitar out.

"I, ah..." She pulled her hand back, fingertips rubbing against her thumb self-consciously. "I wanted you to listen to something before our lesson?"

He perked up. "You wrote something?"

It hadn't been his intention, but his enthusiasm alleviated her anxiety. She took a breath, sheepishly averting her gaze as she replied, "Um, sort of?"

He leaned towards her with intrigue, watching quietly as she checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the guitar to ensure it was properly tuned. He wouldn't have doubted if she'd also checked it before he arrived.

He was absolutely fascinated. Marinette had already had so many talents and hobbies that he thought she was just picking up guitar for the sake of it or as a tool to get her emotions out, but for her to go and actually write something?

He couldn't wait.

Once Marinette was ready, she closed her eyes and strummed a simply melody. It was a warm-up that Luka had taught her - only drawing him in further - but the moment she was done, the real song began.

It started out slow and even a bit bitter. While she didn't add any lyrics, Luka could feel the emotions in the song: loneliness and a lack of hope. It sounded strangely familiar to him, yet he couldn't place it.

Then, the song picked up, and the familiarity came with it. It didn't take Luka any time to catch it because he'd not just heard it, but played it himself. It wasn't a perfect recreation, but it was the song he'd played for Marinette when they first met.

She'd remembered it all this time.

It took one more change of tune, but that was when it clicked for him: she was playing them. She was playing all of their moments together and how they made her feel, from their slightly shaky beginning to his song for her and everything after that. He swallowed, already overwhelmed.

It all culminated when she got to the day they'd learned their music video had been stolen. He could hear the anger of the realization, the low subtlety as they snuck into the studio together, the fear when Bob Roth threatened her, the shock when he'd gotten akumatized to save her, and finally the tenderness when he'd confessed to her.

It took a lot to put one's feelings into music. It required a sense of vulnerability that Luka genuinely admired in a person: the ability to lay one's feelings bare to someone they trust. He almost wanted to ask Marinette to stop - seeing the visible strain on her face at everything she was trying to play right - but he couldn't bring himself to tarnish her efforts in any form.

Thus, he kept listening, almost forgetting to breathe in his awe of her.

There had always been something he could hear in the background of her song whenever he was with her, but he hadn't been sure of it. He thought he may've been fooling himself or was simply mishearing, yet now Marinette was playing it right in front of him as if to make sure he heard.

Love. She was playing not just their experiences together, but her feelings for him. She hadn't fallen as hard as he had when they met, meaning that those feelings started small and only grew over time. He hadn't noticed or at least tried not to, unwilling to be wrong despite his intuition so often being correct.

This was her way of confessing, her way of saying that she cherished their time together, that he was important to her, and that she was even sorry for taking as long as she did for it all to come together. Luka couldn't imagine a single thing that she needed to be sorry for, and certainly not when she was making him feel such a way. His heart was pounding like it wanted to escape his chest and he could barely sit still.

Eventually, the song came to an end, Marinette's face flushed red as she rested her arms on the guitar. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she explained shyly, "Y-you did it in words, so I thought... I thought I should do it in your language." Turning to him, eyes glistening with emotion, she added, "I know I'm still learning, but I couldn't wait! I wanted you to know, and if I waited too long, I was afraid you'd—mmphf—"

He kissed her. He'd never been the one to just act, but his guitar was still in his case and he needed her to know that he still reciprocated regardless of how much time had passed. He'd even scooted closer to be within distance to kiss her, and the guitar that she'd used to play such beautiful music was suddenly a nuisance, keeping him from showing his full affection.

Marinette, either reading his mind or being naturally in sync with him, used a hand to move it off her lap and to the side opposite of him. Legs free to move, she turned fully towards him and grabbed his jacket to pull him closer, Luka moving in response to cup her face with both hands.

He'd already been breathless from her performance, but he held the contact as long as he could, no other thought in his head beyond showing her that she was loved.

When they both pulled back, it was only a few inches away from each other. Luka simply had no intent to get any further away than necessary and Marinette still had a firm grip on him.

They made some attempts to speak, opening their mouths a few times to form words, but nothing came out. He thought that perhaps she'd seen him opening his mouth and stopped herself, but the timing was all off. They were both lost for words that they didn't need anyway.

A gentle yet insistent tug was all he needed to kiss her again, thoughts of inviting the rest of Kitty Section there having been abandoned long ago.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

69 notes · View notes