#thank you Erika for the pic find!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

just found this summer stock pic from the 'til we meet again scene orvphil rights love wins never give up

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

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.”

[magalidragon]

Gee thank you @youwerenevermine I now have yet ANOTHER fic to work on 😭

The tales of Ghost and Dany’s three shitty little dachshunds who whip him into shape. (And by shitty I mean, horribly spoiled and ill behaved, hated by all but their mother 🤣)

[moonshinersims]

SIMSTA PRIDE PARADE 2021

Hello my queer and ally friends! I teamed up with Simmerika and Simmireen to create an online event for your sims to attend Pride! 

How it works:

-Download the lot

-Download the content from Erika and Irene

-Take pics of your sims on the lot

-Post your pics on insta or tumblr from June 13th - June 19th with the hashtag #simstaprideparade to be reposted on our page @simstaprideparade

-Last but not least HAVE FUN! 

What you will need:

-Lot by MoonShinerSims (Credit to all creators of CC that was used on this lot)

-These Pride Recolors from Simmireen (She also has more available for download here)

-This ally pose pack from Simmerika (For more pride pose packs, download here and here)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Check out more of Simmerika's content HERE or HERE

Check out more of Simmireen's content HERE or HERE or HERE

Check out more of my content HERE or HERE or HERE

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SHINE AS BRIGHT AS THE MOON SIMMERS

Until Next Time:)

Thanks to: @ts4-poses​ @maxismatchccworld​ @ts4cc-finds​ @ts4maxismatch​ @ts4-posess​ 

[realhousewives-fan]

Guess Who Isn’t Supporting Erika?

Of course the women of RHOBH is supporting Erika Girardi.

As I have mentioned many times before, they’re not really showing their real reality on that show. 

But it has been rumored that one of the ladies isn’t being that supportive.

Thank God for Sutton Stracke, who apparently has a lot of questions about Erika’s divorce and lawsuit drama. 

Thank God someone is being real on this show.

And Erika is apparently throwing digs on Instagram:

“Heard it’s International Women’s Day… some in this pic I love and trust more than others. 

No shade, just truth.”

It’s obviously a dig at Sutton, as it has been heavily rumored that she isn’t supporting her.

Garcelle Beauvoir pretty much confirmed it on “Watch What Happens Live” that Sutton was the most “inquisitive” about Erika’s situation.

In this particularly case I find it hard to believe that you wouldn’t have questions!

It wouldn’t surprise me if Erika’s demanding blind trust from the ladies.

Of course Dorit Kemsley reminded the fans that Erika’s innocent until proven guilty, which is true.

But Erika’s situation is pretty much unprecedented on Bravo. 

Yes, there’s Teresa Giudice who went to prison, but this is something else!

I probably shouldn’t judge so much before the trailer, but knowing RHOBH I’m not expecting much.

The rumor also has it that Sutton is fighting with everybody and fans are hinting that she has finally earned herself a diamond this season.

And you know what? I’m here for it! She was such a joy on season 10 and was refreshingly honest and shady. 

We need that in that town full of fakes and wannabees.

But according to Garcelle, Sutton is also both this season’s “most self-absorbed” and the one who “cries the most” out of the women.

We all know that Erika is cold as ice when she feels attacked, so there’s no surprise that Sutton would cry so much.

The season 11 trailer is right around the corner and we’ll finally see how this will play out. 

As dramatic the trailer for season 9 was about Puppygate, this should be explosive!

[punkmunky23]

🎉 Happy 10th anniversary @thedisneybound 🎉 You know I had to do a post dedicated to @leslieakay the creator of DisneyBound! So grateful, thankful, and proud of you! And thankful for this community too! 💗 As most of you know DisneyBound started on tumblr and is now on pretty much every platform with people around the world participating in this amazing community! I personally found it through Facebook (the only good thing from having a FB account lol) when Erika posted about it on the Dapper Day page in the spring of 2013. I then made a Tumblr account and the rest is history. I really want to know how did you find out about @thedisneybound and when did you start bounding? First pic is when I first met Leslie and then the That’s From Disneyland 90’s party! . . . . #memorylane #disneybound #disneyboundchallenge #disneybounding #disneybounder #marchdisneyboundchallenge #marchdisneyboundchallenge2021 #dapperday #winniethepooh #theforceawakens #cinderella #princessjasmine #90sfashion (at Disneyland) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNGh23ThKu6/?igshid=1kkg8qpoxjub5

[ajokeformur-ray]

Soft asks: cherry, ivory, twilight, buttery, pencil, cupcake, paper, peaches, kiss, cuddles, roses

cherry - what is your sexuality?

Aro-ace (read: Arthurflecksexual)

ivory - describe your pajamas?

Already answered :)

twilight - best friend?

For as long as I can remember I’ve been my own best friend, but I’d say @impulsiveclown @jokershyena @ode-to-ledger @loveletterstoledger  @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile and @nectarine-dreamz are my best friends on here, though of course I consider everyone in this community to be a friend!💗

buttery - favorite snack?

Sour cream and chive oat biscuits!

pencil - do you own a journal?

Already answered!

cupcake - are you a good cook?

I mean... you wouldn’t die if I cooked for you. I can cook basic things and I could survive on my own, for sure, so I suppose I’m an all right cook!

paper - favorite children’s book?

Already answered!

peaches - do you have a skincare routine?

Already answered!

kiss - have you ever kissed a friend?

A few times. When I had irl friends it wasn’t something I did very often.

cuddles - do you have any pets?

Yeees ~ omg two beautiful rescue cats! Pics are on my Instagram (same URL as my tumblr!) if anyone’s curious 😊

roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

The ones no one picks. The ones which are a bit damaged and torn, the ones which look defeated but still face the sun. The ones which have seen the heaviest of footsteps but still thrive. I find some comfort in that.

Thank you for the asks, omggg ~ you’re too kind! I hope you’re okay, my love!

Block the tag ‘erika soft’ if you don’t want to see these posts!

[volturialice]

Spork Haven chapter 11 - fucking oracle-like insight

welcome to spork haven, where I spork the EL James fic you’ve never heard of

previous chapter | next chapter | contents

previously on Spork Haven:

actor!Edward and hotel maid!Bella ate chips fries! Edward refused a turn down service! Bella called Emmett! Hi Emmett!

in chapter 11, Edward wakes up at 5 am and gets a ride to work. erika drops this bombshell:

first Emmett and now Fig Newton?? hell yeah

then he arrives at work and we find out that the “sweet little PA” he’s mentioned a few times before (the one responsible for buying Bella flowers) is in fact

it’s Eric!! the bois are all here!!

Edward delivers a charmingly punctuated aside:  “the wonderful thing about what I do – is that I can behave like a complete arsehole... and get away with it”

and then orders this sweet little gentleman to go out and buy the fanciest, most expensive cello he can find.

Edward is zonked out all day at work due to daydreaming about Bella, but it still goes ok because Tanya isn’t there. He heads back to the hotel and decides to do laundry (”I never do this”) by which he means “send my laundry to someone else to do.” he congratulates himself extensively for making a pile of clothes and handing them off. what a truly competent 21st century man

Bella shows up, Edward gives her the cello Eric bought, and she's so excited that she starts playing right away, causing Edward to wonder if he can get her to play it naked.

luckily for him, playing the cello makes her horny and she tackles him to the floor, where they have sex and both—both—come in about ten seconds. ok then erika

cut to a few minutes later when

which. not to knock ravioli but just try to imagine eating it in bed for a second. really think about that. think about the logistics of being in a luxury hotel bed...feeding ravioli to another person. 

also, isn’t Ravioli Cullen their child?? stop eating Ravioli! Let her date adult werewolves in peace!

just then, there’s a knock at the door and it’s—oh no—Tanya! she yells that she knows Edward is in there, so he opens the door.

"foolish twat, cullen” should be the tagline of this story.

anyway Tanya is upset because she saw 

don’t you just hate it when they snap pictures of you and Shit Bella? poor Shit Bella she’s in the witness protection program why can’t they respect Shit Bella’s privacy

so Tanya demands to know who this mysterious slut is, telling Edward “you are supposed to be dating me” and reminding him of when they “made love the other day.” Edward tells her that that wasn’t making love. He’s implied to mean that it was just dirty fucking, but this is a rare instance of erika being right for the wrong reasons because it was in fact sexual assault. 

then Tanya, in a “sudden rare moment of fucking oracle-like insight,”

(uh excuse you erika first of all that’s alice’s thing so jot that down)

realizes the mysterious slut whomst Edward is schtupping must be in the next room. Edward tries to block her from entering, but Bella surprises everyone by emerging from the bedroom to rub herself all over Edward and mark her territory.

Tanya storms out in a huff, but not before seeming to recognize Bella “from somewhere.” Bella sure sucks at being in witness protection.

after Tanya leaves, Bella, having overheard their conversation, asks Edward if he’s slept with Tanya, to which he replies:

ok then Ed.

Bella pretends to be mad about this, and questions whether what she herself and Edward are doing is “just fucking.” but she’s just kidding, she’s actually having a great time fucking Edward and enjoyed winding him up and making him think she was upset and going to leave.

Edward, realizing he’s been had, says this exquisitely crafted line:

he starts tickling her, sucks on her earrings again, and then they presumably bang but it’s (thank god) another Fade to Black.

then it’s late so Bella has to make another phone call. this time she calls Jasper!

I really wanna be excited about this the way I’m excited about Emmett, Mike, and Eric, but I can’t because I’ve been spoiled for the fact that Jasper is going to be The Hypotenuse™ of an edward/bella/jasper love triangle. 

anyway Jasper seems to be another witness protection bodyguard, because Bella tells him where she is, much like a teen asking their parent if they can sleep over at Becky’s. then she hangs up and goes to piss in Edward’s bathroom.

Edward turns on the news and is dismayed to see that they’re showing the grainy paparazzi pics of him with Bella and speculating about the demise of everyone’s fave RPF ship, “Tanward.” 

Bella and Edward are both nervous about the pictures, but he reassures her that she’s not recognizable in them and she reassures him that she won’t leave him just because he’s famous. lmao what a fucking dumb hoe you’re supposed to be in hiding idiot

the chapter ends with Ed complaining about fame once again and then another fade to black.

best “fucks”

“no fucking preliminaries”

“I fucking blush”

“slow fucking speed limits”

“my secret fucking fear” (that he’s too famous)

“on fucking tenterhooks” (edward)

“a bit fucking rank” (edward’s dirty clothes)

“so fucking pleased with myself” (ed making someone do his laundry)

best “shits”

next chapter: the fucking rumba

[magicplanetanime]

Let’s Watch HeartCatch Pretty Cure! Episode 6

I have had a VERY LONG and quite frustrating week, so as it rolls over into Saturday nothing gives me greater joy than being able to get back into the Precure groove. Let’s get started

Episode 6 Scoop! The Precures identities are revealed!?

Before we even get to the theme tune (what Nihon TV helpfully labels as the “Intro” segment of a Precure episode) we’re immediately reintroduced to an old character and introduced to a new one in a very short span of time. On the reintroduction front we have the androgynous school council president, who we learn here is also a martial artist.

Is there anything our boy can’t do?

More pertinently we’re introduced to Tada Kanae, a photographer and, as Erika puts it, “scoop-lover”, which is certainly....a turn of phrase.

After the OP, there’s a bit of in-class discussion about the Precures, the series’ first acknowledgement that yes, other people do remember that they exist. But mostly, we see what exactly Erika means by her oddly old-fashioned phrasing. Apparently the case is that this Tada girl likes to take pictures of people and....well, just kind of stick them up on a board for the world to see. I was sort of expecting the series to take a “school newspaper” angle here especially given the mention of Scoops (tm).

She also seems to enjoy taking pictures of people in embarrassing situations, which Erika (understandably) objects to.

This segues into Tada promising to get shots of the Precures, which Tsubomi hilariously responds to with a loud “EHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?”, proving that regardless of whether or not they’re fictional, middle schoolers cannot keep secrets. (If you’re wondering how she plays this off, it’s by claiming to be really excited about the pictures. Yeah.)

Our girls regroup, and soon spot Tada asking around about the Precures. To the photographer girl’s frustration, all she gets is people (more specifically: characters-of-the-week from some previous episodes) saying that they dreamed about them or that they’ve heard rumors, something that she can’t exactly snap photos of.

I must say, even in the episode’s first third it’s pretty obvious that the moral is going to be about Tada’s habit of taking pictures of people screwing up. Which, while certainly not a bad message in the social media era (and that was surely a consideration, this show isn’t that old mind you) just seems a little....thin? Compared to the near-universal themes of the past couple episodes.

Another thing I’m noticing is at least in this earlier part of the episode the animation is rather janky, there’s some oddly-composed shots and lots of popsicle stick walk cycles.

Neither of these things are dealbreakers by any means but one does get the impression that this is a bit of a lower-rung episode of this series.

Well, I say that, but Tada, following a lead, soon makes her way to the botanical gardens. The ones that Tsubomi’s grandma, the former Cure Flower and--shudder--Coupe are based in. She spots the fairies not long after entering and then....this happens.

Yeah, remember this guy? Cuz I kinda completely forgot about him myself. This is by my count his first appearance in four episodes, and he shows up here only to briefly distract Tada long enough for the fairies to escape. They dive in Coupe’s fur, and granny successfully feigns ignorance, which gets her to leave. Flower then openly speculates about the state of her heart flower, setting up the second half of the episode.

Cut back to the Desert Apostle lair and we have Sasorina vowing that she will succeed where her two comrades failed and yadda yadda you know the drill by now.

We then get a midcard, with this comment from Nihon.TV, which I think is a Final Fantasy reference if my memory (memery?) is serving me correctly this chilly spring morning.

Anyway, we cut back to Tsubomi, who notices Tada walking over to Erika’s place and briefly assumes that she’s found out that they’re Precures. The truth is both more mundane and a good deal more Kids Show, though not quite in a bad way.

You see, it turns out that Tada is actually going to Erika’s house to seek the advice of an expert photographer, a man internationally renowned for his work, a man with blue hair!

Also he’s Erika’s dad, and boy, over the course of this sequence do you REALLY get a sense of where Erika gets a lot of her own personality quirks from, because this guy is a lot.

No really like a lot a lot.

No Tendou Maya?

In any case he talks with Tada about photography and ends up kind of accidentally insulting her photographs while trying to impart what is at its core a reasonable lesson (that photos should make both the viewer and the subject happy), and she leaves rather unhappy. We get this weirdly deep observation from Tsubomi

Honestly who isn’t these days, kid?

Tsubomi and Erika resolve to go cheer her up, but, before they can....well, six episodes in you can probably take a reasonable guess as to what happens.

Well ok, then Sasorina turns her into a Desertrian. This one camera themed and honestly, for just basically being a bunch of square shapes, this thing looks pretty goddamn creepy. Also it petrifies people by taking pictures of them, which is also kinda creepy.

I have somehow not mentioned it yet, but I do wanna point out that the choice of font that Nihon.TV gave to the Desertrians is pretty cool. No idea what it is, but it conveys the rambly aggressive nature of the creatures quite well.

The fight scene here deserves a breakdown, since it’s easily the highest point of the episode. Pretty early on, Marine gets petrified.

Somewhat hilariously, the action then almost completely stops so the fairies can whip out a new toy. It’s not exactly graceful and it really could’ve been integrated into the flow here a bit better, but, on the other hand I do feel that complaining about product placement in Precure is like complaining about it in Transformers.

Yes, a heart seed, those things they’ve been collecting from the people they’ve helped. They use a red one here, which I am pointing out but I probably didn’t really need to.

I would have a bigger problem with this powerup were it not for the fact that Blossom just randomly gaining Flash levels of super-speed is pretty goddamn cool. Look! She even gets a new tint to her outfit! I think the only way to improve that would be if they’d actually fully redesigned her costume for the powerup, but at that point you’re probably in prohibitively time-consuming territory.

I also want to make a nod to Sasorina’s absolutely great facial expressions throughout this fight.

In any case this all leads up to what is maybe my favorite thing that’s happened in the show so far. Observe.

What could I possibly say about this to make it any funnier than it already is? Butt Punch. She used her butt, but it was a punch. Why did she do that? Who knows! Butt Punch. You use your butt, but it’s a punch. I can’t compete with that.

Anyway before long the whole flower crucifixion thing happens again and I am seriously never going to get over how weird this piece of imagery is.

And Sasorina buzzes off, and the fansubbers translate whatever she says upon leaving....liberally, we’ll say.

The episode more or less ends here. There’s a bit of an epilogue where Tada, after being awoken by Tsubomi on the hillside, concludes that her photos really *do* need “more love”. As a thank you to Tsubomi, Tada gives her some photos of the class president, who it is at this point evident that she’s crushing on.

The episode ends with her resolving to continue her hunt for precure pics, and Erika teasing Tsubomi about the pictures she got.

I have to be honest, I am a bit mixed on this one. Tada has the core of a good character but I don’t quite care about her yet as much as I do the rest of the main cast (since I have a hunch she’ll be returning, though I’m not 100% sure). There’s also this episode’s moral which is just kind of....weird, I guess I’d say?

It’s not like photo privacy and consent aren’t real issues in the modern age--they definitely are--but it’s sort of a strange thing for a kids’ show to try to tackle, as it’s a pretty complex issue. And the conclusion reached, that Tada’s photos just need to be taken “with love”, is sort of a strange one in that it does not really say anything concrete. Maybe there’s a cultural barrier here or maybe I’m just misinterpreting the whole thing, but it struck kind of an odd chord. Between that and the janky animation in places this is low on my rankings of episodes of this show so far.

That said, the episode does definitely have its strong points too. Building up some continuity by bringing in old characters--even if only for a little bit--is a really good call (and it’s honestly something that the currently-airing Star Twinkle Precure should perhaps be doing a little more of, much as I do love that show also). And despite its abruptness I did end up liking the powerup that Blossom got here, and I really cannot ovestate how absolutely hilarious Butt Punch is. Juvenile, sure, it’s a kids’ show, but it’s also very basic, elemental comedy. You use your butt, but it’s a punch. Amazing.

I’m also quite curious about the fellow with the black hair and glasses. My guess at this point is, some connection to the student council president maybe? Who knows. I’d also love to see Tada developed a bit more as a character, as I said earlier, she’s got the core of a fun character in her, it just needs a bit more work.

So overall, while I did not like this episode as much as some prior ones, I did still quite like it. I find it hard to ever walk away from a Precure episode with negative feelings.

I’m gonna make this a one-episode post. I hope to get back more into the swing of things this coming week since I’ll have more time than this past week (which was incredibly busy and awful and involved a failed job interview and bluerrrrghhh but that’s not why you’re reading this blog). Until next time!

[drrubinspomade]

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[goldenlandfiascos]

How many actual canon couples are there? Because especially in the manga, half of the scenes in Chiru look like shipping to me. And most of them are gay

ok it’s been a while since this was sent to me but i know i got this ask after reblogging a bunch of gay shit lol. alright my mind that overthinks things can’t tell if you’re saying this as, “hell yeah these ships are all gay so which ones do we consider canon?” or “they’re all just gay shipping moments that the fandom takes out of proportion and aren’t actually deemed canon” if that makes sense…sorry, my mind jumps from one possibility to another a lot of the time, i hope you get what i’m saying XD i’m assuming it’s the first one but i’m gonna play it safe and just answer it in a way that covers both~

so let’s start with the obvious: the married couples. Krauss/Natsuhi, Eva/Hideyoshi, and Rudolf/Kyrie. That’s three. Add the next three that the story is basically built around: Battler/Beatrice, Jessica/Kanon, and George/Shannon. Then there’s Bernkastel/Lambdadelta. I think that’s all the ones that are canon without a doubt. What i mean by that is, there’s no denying they’re all couples. Like, legit. You might get some blind fools being like “Bernkastel and Lambdadelta are just gal pals” and being serious about it but, regardless of any personal views on their relationship, it’s made very clear numerous times throughout the story that they are an item. They declare their love for each other openly. They flat out refer to each other as their lover. The manga has them often being quite touchy feely. There’s just…You can’t fucking deny it, man.

Moving onward, we get to the couples that are more “arguably canon” in that it’s not explicitly stated as in “oh, we’re married” or “i love you” or something along the lines of that, but it’s still pretty evident that they have a thing. Ange/Mammon is probably the first one that comes to mind. soo, tbh Ange is fucking not straight. just…seriously. i personally headcanon her as flat out gay but if others wanna see her as bi/pan/whatever else that’s cool too and i could see it being a case of she’d fall for someone so long as they give her the love and support she’d need, but there’s no doubt in my mind this girl is not straight. daydreams about 7 half-dressed girls fawning over her on a constant basis?? no heterosexual explanation. that’s not even all, if you look at her dialogue on certain parts, it’s almost like she‘s purposely making it a point to say she’s totally interested in the girls. like in the end of ep3 when she first comes in and stops Battler from signing the thing she says something along the lines of “ahh i’m so jealous! you get to play these games while surrounded by beautiful witches!” she really didn’t have to specify “beautiful” and that she’s jealous of the fact but that’s none of my business ☕️👀anyway, so her relationship with Mammon is already pretty fucking gay in the VN but from what i’ve seen the manga just amps it up tenfold. and in the end of the story, Mammon is like “so this means we can finally be together forever?” and ange’s just all “YES!” while. holding. her. face. close.

like. ???? you’re fucking blind if you don’t see it. but that’s still not even all, cause in the very end of the story when Ange has Tohya come to the place and the whole everyone’s there to greet Battler back and whatnot, the manga does a similar thing with Ange herself and who’s the one who hugs her and all that shit?

fucking Mammon. and i’m not about to be putting up every pic from the last few pages of the manga but listen. the ending shows like all the canon couples together. the Golden Land is a place where they can all be together with who they love. and the manga. deliberately. shows. Ange and Mammon. together. within. these same. pages. Ange and Mammon are canon as far as I’m concerned. If one of them were male there’d be no question about it.

Next is another one that most people would consider canon and that’s Erika/Dlanor. their relationship is completely different from Ange/Mammon but there’s still a lot of evidence throughout the events of the story that they are meant to be thought of as a couple. or at least potentially becoming one. starting with the “confession” scene that threw everyone for a loop. fun fact: the first time i read ep6 i was reading really fast at this particular point and it took me forever to realize erika wasn’t actually talking “to” dlanor. i just saw “I really like you” (my official copy of the manga has it flat out as “i love you”) and i was like “yoooooooo holy shiiiiittttttt!!!” ok, so towards the end of ep6 there’s that whole thing with erika being all “thanks for protecting me last episode. it made me very happy. no one’s ever protected me like that before…” and dlanor goes on being like “when i felt how weak your truth was i had to protect you… no, i wanted to protect you”

AND ERIKA’S FACE RIGHT AFTER SHE SAYS THAT

and then erika goes on to say “thank you” and that dlanor was a great partner even though it was only for a short time (which i’ve made a joke about this before but kyrie tends to refer to rudolf as “partner” sooo i’m just saying) and dlanor says she’ll continue to be her partner. like, no hesitation.

GAY.

and then there’s dlanor being incredibly worried and frantic when erika’s injured in the final duel of ep6. and then the end of the story we see how erika and dlanor are keeping in touch with each other like, BRUH. i’m telling you, it’s set up to imply they’re gonna get together one day. #erika’s bi af you can’t deny

There’s Will/Lion which, I actually remember the least about ep7 cause i haven’t read any of it in like 4 years and i’m not about to go looking through the manga online to find scenes cause ep7 is depressing af and i’m not about that life right now, but it’s pretty obvious they’re supposed to be a couple.

as far as developed canon/arguably canon couples go i think that’s all of the main ones. I could very easily be forgetting some though. there’s a lot of characters, man. lots of possibilities. everyone else is either just never really a main focus, or flat out shipping that fans like. For example, Virgilia and Gaap totally have a thing. I feel like the story was hinting at something possibly between that bue-haired rabbit chiester 410 and Lucifer but there was nothing really built upon it outside of their initial interactions. uhhhhh what else is there…? you could headcanon Ikuko and Tohya are together, especially since originally Ryu was going to have them be married but i personally just see them being more like bros.

anyway, so there are quite a few actual canon couples and then there are the ones that are usually accepted as canon cause they are and within all that lies the endless possibilities of shipping which, depending on the particular pairing, really is more just reading into things and liking the idea of two characters together. regardless, i say this a lot, most of the time as a joke, but it holds true: just about anything is possible in the cat box and given how the story of Umineko and its characters are supposed to have more than plenty of room for different interpretations, there’s no denying gay couples can most definitely be a thing. i’m gay af but reading into things and seeing parallels and just literally everything, i truly see how and do headcanon like 90% of the cast isn’t 100% straight.

[wallpaperpaintings]

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[magalidragon]

garden party | a prince and me moodboard

Daenerys, Duchess of Winterfell, is terrified for her first solo-organized event in which the King and Queen of the North will be in attendance, plus all the other associated Starks. A garden party should be easy enough!

That is until her precocious daughter the Princess Lyanna decides she wants to decorate, the Royal Hound Ghost discovers a curious buzzing black and yellow bug with a stinger on its butt, and they discover Jon is allergic to well…everything.

Let’s not mention the three demon dragons and their hatred of Sansa, Princess Royal, which results in a pot of tea spilled all over someone’s designer dress…

Dany’s got this. She might be a duchess, but she’s still a dragon. Just need to crack some skulls, breathe a little fire, perhaps shed a tiny bit of blood (Jon ends up in the rose bushes), and by the end of the day she will be sitting on the swing with her prince, vowing to never organize another Royal event again.

[wallpaperpainter]

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Sitting in advanced of an easel, Anaïs Zhang moves her besom beyond her painting. Otherwise she is still, staring, for several minutes.

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The arena is agilely outlined. With anniversary dab of color, it takes on depth: a man in a clothing and hat; several women in continued dresses with abounding skirts, additionally cutting hats; a accustomed ambience with grass or collapsed leaves underfoot. Perhaps they are on an airing to a esplanade or the country.

These were absolute people. This was a absolute image, photographed a hundred years ago about in France or abroad in Western Europe.

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For Zhang, it is addition footfall in acumen an aesthetic activity she has capital to do for a continued time. While abounding bodies accept gone a little stir-crazy ashore at home these accomplished few months, she has accomplished a greatly advantageous time.

Zhang came to Columbia in January with her husband, Jean-Jacques Verdun, to appointment his sister, Jackie Verdun. They planned to break for two weeks, but the communicable fabricated them clumsy to acknowledgment home to Guangzhou, China.

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Her husband, a French aborigine captivation a Chinese assignment visa, may not access China because the government has barred access to about all foreigners. They accept been active with Jackie Verdun and her husband, Dave Baugher.

With little abroad to do, Zhang absitively to assignment on a activity she’s had on authority for a while. She is recreating dozens of photographs of 20th century, atramentous and white, European landscapes and axis them into active acrylic paintings.

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Zhang begin the photographs, hundreds of them, taken added than a aeon ago by the Verduns’ great-

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[wallpaperpainting]

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If you’re attractive for an clear crumb allowance acrylic blush that is additionally soothing, our experts acclaim activity with a bendable adumbration of blue. “A bendable and aerial blue, like Headspace, brings a faculty of calm to any amplitude and creates a serene, spa-like vibe in a baby bathroom,” Gibbons says.

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Searching for a able crumb allowance acrylic blush with a little bit of oomph? Consider a aphotic apple tone, such as abysmal amber or charcoal gray. “Dark neutrals, like Aphotic Truffle PPU5-19 or Graphic Charcoal N500-6 add ball to a bath while confined as reliable tones that brace able-bodied with décor and furnishings,” says Erika Woelfel, Vice President of Blush and Creative Services at Behr.

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It may assume counterintuitive, but Woelfel says painting a small, aphotic allowance a active blush can accommodate a anesthetic wow factor. “Bold, jewel-toned hues like plum, navy, or backwoods blooming can accord the amplitude a adult accomplishment while creating the apparition of an all-embracing space,” she says. “A few of

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[simnovels-blog]

Replies~

The disappearing notes are really starting to piss me off. I lost a lot of replies I think and I’m sorry for that. I checked my recent posts and added some manually, but if I forgot you it’s not because I didn’t read your reply it’s because Tumblr made it disappear from my activity log :(.

So gorgeous!

I know right! The mod is amazing. Unfortunately, it does limit me a lot in taking pictures because I can’t control the depth of field and sometimes it won’t focus properly on the sim, so I’m going back to my old enb unless I can find a fix. I’m talking to the developer though so maybe they can help me out :)

@dandylion240 replied to your post “Welcome new followers~”

Thank you!

Noo, thank you instead for following me! :)

@asimmerssims replied to your post “@asimmerssims replied to your post: SIMS ¾...”

I think that is a very good idea! I have everything already (illegal, for a part, and I don't really want to redownload it all legally) but a lot more people could be interested.

Lol I’m the same I own half the store illegally, I think EA already has enough of my money XD. But I’d never say no to a chance to get something legal instead if it’s for free ;).

@ktarsims replied to your post “SIMS 3/4 GIVEAWAY~”

I’m in the group of Sims3 people who already have everything: EP’s, SP’s, and store content. It’s really generous of you, though!

No problem! I’m glad you replied anyways so I know you guys aren’t joining because the giveaway sucks or something haha.

@dandylion240 replied to your post “SIMS 3/4 GIVEAWAY~”

I think it's a wonderful idea. I just started following you so I'm not caught up on your stories yet to participate. I'm looking forward to reading then though. They all look so interesting!

Thank you! Make sure you read my new updates and you’ll soon figure out the answers so you can join ^^.

@josiesimblr replied to your post “The Avesnes Aristocracy - 88“

The pics look amazing!

Thank you! I think so too :). Especially that last one of the dip kiss <3_<3 Ferdinand and Erika just look amazing together. He was going to propose to her there but something came up lol, you’ll see next chapter ;).