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ametunns · 9 days ago

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The secrets of the Machine are a little underestimated.

This is a place for posters, I don't argue. But all these events take place after BATDR, before the start of B3NDY, some kind of last grandiose Meatly project,

after which the Bendy franchise will canonically close and we will be expected... different ways from this story.

Just like in the last time, I want to talk about the"Secrets of the Machine as the outline of the future world". It's more of a discussion about how the game itself reflects how the Bendy game can changing and how priorities can be set.

I don't think I'm saying anything new, but I was just curious to think about it. Enjoy reading!

||| Collecting parts before analyzing "Secrets of the Machine" >>>

Before I go into how Secrets of the Machine relates to all the latest projects, I need to show some of the things that will be reflected in the teaser game.

Remember the post from Meatly about "Bendy is like BATDR but like BATIM, and it will be in B3NDY". I'll add to that:

Some of Meatly's posts that somehow touch on B3NDY,

Announcement of the book "Silver Screams" with the status "non-canonicity of books",

cucumber pickle on April 1st (as strange as it may sound ik I'm fine believe me)

And I'll try to put it all together-

| • The Meatly's posts >>>

*"Either he has difficulties in tying all his desires together, or he is burnt out from the number of projects on his shoulders" - this is the first thing that came to mind at that moment. But now is not the time for this-

----

Bendy will receive new changes in B3NDY, but keeping the atmosphere of BATIM and taking into account the experience from BATDR to create a new approach in the design of the atmosphere.

---

Considering that the game literally has ink sewers and train tunnels, the Gent Corporation could easily create something like that under their organization. It could be a warehouse, archives, places for experimenting on people or trying to create "their own cycle", as noted in the book by Alan Gray himself...Wilson clearly got help from this book for many things.

I'm not even talking about creating a dictatorship, but I want to note!- do you remember the ritual things in Joey's office FROM THE CYCLE? What stopped him from taking these duplicates to start changing the Cycle from the inside, and not taking the real objects that could be under supervision? He got them only for Audrey and a wonderful coffee break also under the Arch Gate studio and in Wilson's personal lab. Again these repetitions "lower and lower"-

And the shaft... I remembered one small detail from the Cage teaser - something similar to a shovel, while we have a very heavy enemy in armor in front of us.

There will be new characters, but the focus will still be on those who have long been familiar.

---

By the end of B3NDY, the future of the franchise may move away from the horror theme, which, as it seems to me, could give new life, new breath to the Bendy games (or they will develop all the April jokes, who knows: a bazooka and dynamite are already lying in BATDR)

---

Now let's turn to "Secrets of the Machine", which showed us the next:

The atmosphere of the game sets a new tone from the very beginning: the emptiness of space, in the middle of which there is only an old house and a metal arch that turns on the light with the sound of cold metal. You just don’t know what this secret is, but you keep going, going deeper into the darkness and you notice the world’s attempts to return its details like coffins, pentagrams, things... You notice that the house is bigger inside than outside; Riley’s story doesn’t look like a monologue of a tape, not like some kind of note, but like really being in the role of this girl. And at the same time preserving the color palette and quite directly, without strong guesses, to understand this story. Nothing prevents them from repeating something like this in B3NDY or The Cage;

Bendy can be summoned, although before that it was necessary to either break the cardboard or just hope for a unexpectedness. Changes in character after talking to Audrey..?/...Gent?

New characters like the old cartoon character and the mannequin. They are minor roles, but it is possible to add some story to them too.

'Silent City' teasers suggest new directions for Bendy

|| • A new book >>>

The cinema in Secrets of the Machine can be considered as a premise for a Bendy movie/book. But let's be honest, that sounds very far-fetched.

It's easier to believe that the screen is simply a part of Bendy's world; an element that will sooner or later become a reality, either in the imagination ("Fade to Black") or in reality, all the while continuing to use technology and scientific advances.

The screen in Secrets of the Machine shows Gent's involvement. Yes, this was already made clear to us by the ending of BATDR, when all the real objects and the Machine were finally transferred to the corporation.

And the teaser itself for B3NDY, as you can see, is connected with the theme of the laboratory and research.

And the appearance of Nightmare Taxi, Riley's voluntary departure to Gent (oh yes, her depressed blood for the entire ink machine at the very beginning) - that't all can only give prerequisites for what the corporation is capable of.

||| • A joke, but I haven't found it funny anymore.

The cucumber pickle again showed colors like green and red. In BATIM, we only saw color in Drew's apartment, but with BATDR colors appeared in general. But you know...

There is a box in the Secrets of the Machine. With a questions. And for many efforts, you just get nothing.-

But in the cucumber joke, the doors are always open. Because at least somewhere there should be a "joke" in a place where there are vegetables and water from words.

And personally, I'm already tired of it.

Just it will BE EASY for newsreel worms to eat quickly spoiling foods. And besides cucumbers, you know who will be the next product...

The human.

Fresh, meatly and canned in tomato sauce

---

Thanks for reading. I hope it was interesting ⭐

#batdr #bendy and the dark revival #batim #bendy and the ink machine #bendy the cage #bendy fan art #my theories #my thoughts #wilson arch #bendy secrets of the machine #bendy fanart #bendy art #fan theory

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eccentricbookworm99 · 7 days ago

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In the Winter

(Sequel to The Nightmare and the Honored One)

Fragment II

It is into a golden gloaming that Sukuna roams, slipping through the dusky streets of Hampstead. Through lanes that look old, that seem out of time, where perhaps dead poets and painters once passed. He turns through a wrought iron gate, bounces up the steps of a tall narrow house. Lets himself in with an old brass key.

Once inside, he silently stalks down a winding hall, lit by amber wall sconces. Shadows flicker and unfurl from the corners.

In his head there is a whispering, from something or someone just out of sight.

He continues through the beckoning gloom until he reaches Satoru’s studio. He opens the oil starved door, its hinges groaning in complaint. Sukuna’s eyes land on Satoru’s back. He is wearing an untucked white shirt and is standing at his work table.

The crunch and swish of his movements pricks at Sukuna’s ears. There is a familiarity to the this scene and for a moment, just a tiny indiscernible moment, Sukuna sees and hears—

—the glow of candle flame, a stone platter filled with jewels. Across the room is an arched window, looking out into a clamoring dark. There looms the shape of a tower, crowned by a crescent moon—

—Sukuna freezes in the doorway, overcome by…what? A far off longing, a long ago memory. Nostalgia blooming in the dark like moon flowers.

Longing, but for what he cannot say.

As Sukuna stands there he sees Satoru’s arm still. Silence hovers over the room. He watches his head turn slightly. A single glinting eye spears him with a look.

A pang of dread pierces him. But the reason for this is unknown.

Despite this anxiety Sukuna crosses the studio floor, approaches the work table. Normally he would not be so restrained. Normally he would bound up behind Satoru, curl his arms around him, be rewarded with a smile, with that tall perfect frame leaning back into his own. Seeking out his warmth, his heat.

But something in that icy look just now warns him off. So he approaches slowly, like some hunter approaching a deer—

—but no, that’s not right, he is not the hunter right now. No, his senses are screaming at him, putting caution into his steps, because something inside him knows…

“You’re earlier than normal, the sun is barely down.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow. He stops alongside the table. He remains at arms length. There is a clipped tone to Satoru’s speech. A foreign tension in that beautiful profile.

Something is not quite right, he thinks.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Sukuna says diplomatically. His eyes drop to the platter on the table. A perfect shade of cerulean winks up at him, shining like a tropic ocean in the sun.

A sun that never seems to exist here.

He watches Satoru’s long fingers stroke the lip of the bowl. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This perfect shade of blue?” Sukuna sees him tilt his head at him, feels those eyes pierce him with a calculating stare.

Feels invisible fingers wrapping around his throat, eyes peering into his brain. As if something malevolent, something cold and vicious has taken up residence in the room, in the air, in—

Sukuna shakes the feeling off. He reaches for Satoru’s hand, only to have him slip his attempt at capture. Sukuna’s eyes flick upwards and he meets Satoru’s gaze. His mouth slides up in a sudden knowingness and he says without hesitation:

“You are not my Satoru.”

“And you are not my Ryomen.” The reply is dripping with derision, with restrained hostility. The air sparks with a simmering yet undefinable tension. Sukuna can feel a warning instinct raising the hairs along his skin, the pulse of danger stabbing needles through his nerves. Yet he does not turn, does not leave.

No, danger does not dissuade him at all. It draws him closer. He sways nearer like a pair of drapes, skirting immolation from a burning flame. In a foreign tone Satoru says:

“We are the wrong versions for each other. Five centuries apart.” Those faceted eyes are on him, sweeping over him, weighing him. He sees them take his measure. Sees him find him lacking in some way. An outcome that is confirmed with Satoru’s next observation:

“You are far too young, too untested.” Like a striking cobra, the hand that had been resting on the platter lashes out and grabs a fistful of Sukuna’s pink hair. Lapis eyes brimming with cunning, with a dark intensity, peer into his rust colored ones as if they could discern his thoughts, his reasoning, his very soul. Dangerdangerdanger! his instincts are telegraphing to him, over and over and over. Yet Sukuna holds firm; he tilts his head up arrogantly as Satoru (yet not Satoru) observes him.

“You are too fresh, too unformed, too unfomented. Aged grapes make the very best of wines, after all. And you in this current incarnation are lacking, too removed from the source.” Lapis eyes narrow. The hand clutching his hair drops. Satoru (yet not Satoru) turns back to the platter.

Sukuna’s eyebrow shoots up at this odd declaration. His pride rankles at what he sees as an obvious dismissal. Ignoring the sparking live wire that’s in front of him, the striking cobra, the sense of—

—dangerdangerdangerdangerdangerdanger—

—that cracks and thrums like electricity (or is it excitement?) underneath his skin, he moves behind the body of his lover and attempts to cage him in.

The feeling of cold metal pressing at his throat makes him freeze. Both he and the creature in his arms go still. The canvas blade is steady, the hand holding it unflinching. A voice as calm and cold as a northern wind says, “You tempt my ire with your movements—“

“—maybe I wanted to see what you would do—“

“—what I would do is cut your throat and watch you bleed out like a gutted pig by this table—“

“—would you really—“

“—I would.”

The dead calm with which these words are delivered is unnerving. The blade pushes in closer. The telltale slide of blood slithers down Sukuna’s neck, like a red ribbon, a lover’s favor he cannot see. Satoru twists his head to look at him. That look freezes his blood even as the body against him is warm. He sees the look of a cunning predator, of a practiced killer. He sees fury and anguish and—

“I said, do not tempt me,” the specter, the Other, that has taken up residence inside of Satoru says in a menacing whisper. “Part of me wishes vengeance for what was done to my Ryomen, for the destruction of my love. You are but a fragment of what he was—“

“—yet your blade hesitates,” Sukuna observes softly, in an almost purring voice. Because there is something familiar in this tableau of theirs. A kindred feeling, a drawing down of likeminded desires, a likeminded darkness, between them. Sukuna sees the other’s eyes momentarily soften and he remembers—

—lying on a mattress made of straw, in the cold of night. But around him are the warmest of arms, the sweetest of lips, and instead of danger there is an overwhelming feeling of devotion, of desire, of lovelovelovelove—

—Sukuna lowers his head, boldly claiming the lips that threaten him. Fearless in his nonexistent fear, despite the knife at his throat. It isn’t in his nature to fall back from threats. He knows it is the same for the creature in his arms, this icy killer, and for a tiny moment, his kiss is returned. There is a synchronicity to their movements, a shared instinct, a shared hunger. Memory works its divine alchemy, melting ice, slicing through hostility, puddling heat. Changes their dynamic and their makeup like the sparkling minerals lying in the bowl.

But it is only for a brief moment.

A whisper of warning from an unknown source makes Sukuna flinch back as the knife arcs over his throat, grazing him. The sting of it radiates through him as he dances backwards. That glinting eye is on him again, the curved blade of a smile radiating malicious intent.

A practiced killer, Sukuna thinks again. Utterly enrapt, enthralled. Obsessed.

As always, forever and ever and—

“You’re bold like my Ryomen, but not seasoned enough to…” The words trail off. The Other tilts his head appraisingly, flips the canvas blade with a steady hand. The blood shines on the metal. Sukuna watches it like a magpie, hypnotized. There is a dual meaning in those words, the truth of which Sukuna can only guess. There is an obvious agility in the way Satoru (yet not Satoru) casually handles the blade. He is adept. He has sliced and severed and sank sharp metal into human flesh before. Sukuna can tell.

Can tell by his movements and by the sharpened blade of his smile. Both are cutting and cunning.

“We two were alike, my Ryomen and I. Formidable. Not to be meddled with.” A hint and a warning statement. Sukuna doesn’t move away when the other Satoru suddenly slinks towards him, a graceful panther on the prowl. “But you…” and here the Other reaches out, swipes four fingers across Sukuna’s throat.

“…you have never tasted blood.” His fingers come up carmine. His whispered words are pronounced in a way that is sensual, almost obscene. The eyes that crawl up to meet his are brimming with restrained bloodlust, reflecting transgressions and torments and taboos that Sukuna can’t recall, can’t remember. The calculating creature before him offers up his hand, like a bloody chalice, a blood offering, a temptation. Sukuna wets his tongue behind his teeth and swallows, staring with desire, wet and willingly offered if he would just—

If he could just—

He blinks, hesitates. The moment passes. Satoru (yet not Satoru) lowers his hand and scoffs. Poisonous thoughts and venomous compulsions hum inside Sukuna’s head. Chatter at him from the shadows. But he mustn’t let them out, let them lead. The Other turns his back on him and decrees:

“Begone, young one. Before I change my mind and gut you like that pig I mentioned.”

Sukuna turns away from the work table. The crunch and swish of mulled minerals reaches his ears once again as he drifts from the room.

As he quietly closes the door behind him, on an encounter with someone—or rather something—he does not, cannot understand.

***

There are steps out in the hall. The sound stops at the door.

Sukuna looks up from the art book he’s been idly perusing, sees Satoru standing silently in the doorway. Finally Satoru asks:

“Why are you sitting all alone out here?”

“Why? Because you sent me away, that’s why.”

Sukuna watches him blanche. Watches moonlit brows draw together. “I did no such thing.”

Sukuna notes that the clipped tone is gone, along with the seething, underlying current of hostility from earlier. This is my Satoru, Sukuna thinks to himself. He allows himself a small smile.

That smile fades when he sees the change on Satoru’s face. He watches him tilt his head, as if attending to a far off voice.

Sees him suddenly turn and storm down the hall.

Unnerved, Sukuna gets up and follows.

Sukuna watches Satoru’s form flit down the long hallway, the amber wall sconces flickering in his wake. He appears and disappears in and out of the light. A golden idol one moment, a darkened shadow the next. He reaches the studio and pounds both hands on the door, flinging it wide.

“What has gotten into you?” Sukuna calls after him, in pursuit.

Sukuna rounds the entrance to the art studio. He stops at the threshold, sees Satoru standing by the work table. He is peering intently into the stone bowl.

Bristling at the mulled stones inside of it.

Satoru turns his head and regards him. There is anger there, but Sukuna feels it isn’t directed at him. After a moment Satoru says,

“Do you see this shade of blue?”

“Yes?”

“If you should encounter it here again, I want you to leave. Immediately. No questions asked. Do you understand?”

Sukuna does not understand. Still, he nods slightly, as if he does.

Satoru stares off, considering. Then he adds:

“And do not accept any drinks from me anymore. Only from Uraume.”

*End Fragment II*

Link to the original:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55723399/chapters/141454255

#ao3 author #jjk fanfic #sukugo #ao3 writer #gothic #creepy vibes #the nightmare and the honored one #sukugo fanfic #writing fragment #i keep thinking about it #things i’ll never finish #things i’ll never write #things i day dream #good old English gothic horror #I like leaving bits of writing here #writer stuff #I am bad at formatting #I am good at leaving fragments

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audreyhepburninblackandwhite · 2 years ago

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Audrey Hepburn's cover story for Illustrated's 2 June 1951 issue.

Carefree, off and on duty.

Audrey — The Other Hepburn

Photography by Joseph McKeown Story by Charles Hammlett

After four years of theatres, cabarets, and films, a young dancer takes a day off from career building

The Sphinx of Hollywood, otherwise Katharine Hepburn, actress and movie performer, recently spent a few days in this country wrapped in rain and mystery, and wearing an old pair of eye-catching, publicity-snatching slacks. As one of the country’s legends, Miss Hepburn has earned the right to flinch at the rustle of a reporter’s notebook, or to duck at the sound of a photographer’s footfall.

Even as pressmen determinedly pounded the Hepburn beat, a few miles away at Ealing Studios another Hepburn was quietly performing in front of the camera—as yet blissfully unaware of the hysterical mobs and frustrated fanatics who often make the lives of Hepburns, Stanwycks, Gables, or Turners unendurable.

This other Hepburn was Audrey—Britain’s answer to every filmgoer’s hungry dreams. Twenty-two, brainy, beautiful, tantalizing, and talented, she is a girl of simple tastes to travel to Ealing by Underground from Marble Arch, takes Sunday afternoon strolls in Hyde Park, and stops to listen to the geniuses of Orator’s Corner.

Restful spirit at Rottingdean . . .

Over a gate for home . . .

She rides on buses or browses in the Charing Cross Road bookshops. Visits to cinemas and theatres are still fun for her. Given a day off, she will rush to the coast and join countless other holidaymakers. Audrey Hepburn is also a hard and fast worker. Just over two years ago, Jack Hylton selected her from 2,000 other girls to dance in High Button Shoes. After this “break,” Audrey tripped into the chorus of Sauce Tartare. There she caugh the eye of producer Cecil Landeaus sufficiently to be given a solo part in his sequel Sauce Piquante. This, in turn, caught the attention of the theatre critics and the public.

Among the regulars who went to see Audrey’s performance was film producer Mario Zampi. He went fourteen times. Like many pretty showgirls, Audrey had frequently been told she ought to be in films. Zampi not only said it, he gave her a small part in Alastair Sim’s Laughter in Paradise. Other “meatier” parts followed in The Lavender Hill Mob and Young Wives’ Tale. She obtained a contract with Associated British Pictures and a leading part in Ealing’s The Secret People—before her first three pictures were released. During the next few months, filmgoers will be able to make up their own minds about Audrey. They will see a lithe, dark-hair, large-eyed girl who slightly resembles Jean Simmons. Unlike Jean, however, Audrey has a cosmopolitan and somber background.

Secret performances for members of Dutch Resistance were some of Audrey’s experiences during the war. Now, at twenty-two, she takes the part of a refugee dancer in the film The Secret People.

A mixture of Scots, Belgian, and Dutch, she was in Belgium at the outbreak of war. After the Belgian capitulation, the family moved to Arnhem. Their house there was shelled during the airborne landing.

It was at Arnhem that she made her first public appearance as an entertainer. Black, or secret, concerts were given in private houses by performers who had refused to join the German sponsored “Chamber of Culture.” Audrey, then fifteen, was invited to appear at one of these concerts. Her mother helped her to make costumes from old curtains and chair covers. Later, conditions became so bad that cothes and jewellery were sold to provide food for the family.

Looked at from the Mayfair flat where she now lives with her mother, these days seem unreal. Though she entered show business as a dancer, Audrey is rapidly developing as an actress. Unusually tall for films—she is 5'7"—she has passed the stage where producers can brush her off by telling her she is “too lofty for camera work.” A girl with her potential star value can be as tall as a giraffe and still get by.

Audrey Hepburn could gracefully occupy a star’s chair in Britain’s studios. She might even attract some of the international attention now lavished on “Katie” Hepburn, and enable that much harassed star to pursue her life far from the madding crowd.

#audrey hepburn #vintage #classic #style #photography #fashion #old hollywood #old hollywood glamour #1950s #1951 #readings #audrey hepburn readings #magazines #vintage magazines

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voice-of-anarchy · 8 months ago

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“It feels good to be back!” Arch Enemy sound antagonistic as hell on new single Dream Stealer

The melodeath squad’s first new music since 2022 has some big choirs and even bigger riffs

Arch Enemy have surprise-released a new single.

Watch the video for Dream Stealer, directed by Patric Ullaeus (In Flames, Dimmu Borgir, Children Of Bodom), below.

Guitarist Michael Amott comments: “First new Arch Enemy song we release in a little while and it feels good to be back!

“It was a blast working on Dream Stealer in the studio, this song just has the high energy and twisted atmosphere that makes it so fun to play!

“Crank it up, loud and heavy! Metal is immortal!”

Dream Stealer was mixed by Jens Bogren (Opeth, Sepultura, At The Gates) and mastered by Tony Lindgren (Billie Eilish, Enslaved, Wardruna) at Fascination Street Studios.

It’s the first song the band have released with guitarist Joey Concepcion. Concepcion replaces predecessor Jeff Loomis, who departed the band in late 2023.

Dream Stealer is also Arch Enemy’s first new music since the release of 11th album Deceivers in 2022.

Metal Hammer gave Deceivers a glowing four-star review upon release.

“Such was the blinding quality of Arch Enemy’s early 00s heyday that all subsequent releases have been met with an unfair weight of expectation,” wrote journalist Adam Brennan.

“But yet again, not only does Deceivers earn its place in one of the most reliable discographies in modern metal, it does so by being among the bravest and most entertaining to date.”

#arch enemy #dream stealer #news

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lunaandco · 15 days ago

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spaghetti meatballs

pairing: marc casadó x ofc

summary: marc invites teresa to have dinner with him, like in that movie he loved as a child.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // i do not take requests

Marc took a deep breath, as he parked the car in fornt of the gates of the Vilamajor household. It was practically a mansion, as fancy as it got in Barcelona, the kind of opulence very few could afford.

He texted Teresa, informing her that he has arrived, checking the time three times in his phone to make sure he was not late. Her silouhette appeared on the garden, strutting like a supermodel towards his car.

Marc adjusted the collar of his buttoned up shirt.

It was now or never.

The door of the passenger side opened, and a soft and expensive scent of roses reached him.

"Good evening," she said. She was wearing a white fur coat, and beneath a black dress that Marc could not wait to see properly.

"Hi!" he replied anxiously. He was already lucky that Teresa had agreed to this date, let alone, allowed him to talk to her, he could not fuck this up. "How are you? How is your day going?"

"It's been a nice day," she said softly. Even her voice was silky. "But it depends on you how it ends." Marc gulped. "And yours?"

"I've been very anxious about this date," he admitted. "Been thinking about it for days."

A small smile tugged on Teresa's lips, as he started driving back to his house.

Marc had deep cleaned the entire apartment that moring, he had been in the kitchen preparing the tomato sauce and meatballs for the dinner all afternoon, only stopping to get showered and panic over his wardrobe.

He was glad this was his free day, or he would have been a disaster in trianing, and Flick might have tried to drop him from the starting eleven.

"So... what did you plan for today?" Teresa asked casually.

"Spaghetti meatballs and candle light for dinner," he said proudly.

"Is that so?" Teresa was arching an eyebrow, and amused expression on her face. "Eyes on the road."

"Sorry," he said, fixing his gaze ahead. "It's just... you look very pretty."

"Oh, well, aren't you a flatterer."

Marc's ears turned pink, and he became grateful that he had something to do with his hands and could not take his eyes away from the road.

"It's the truth," he mumbled. Marc could not see Teresa's endeared simle, but he could feel her eyes on him, which made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

His apartment wasn't as luxurious as her home, but Marc made an effort to keep it tidy and nice. It was a studio, in a calm neighbourhood of Barcelona, the only big investment he had done after leaving La Masia.

Marc took Teresa's coat and hung it by the entrance, as she stepped inside, gray eyes scanning her surroundings.

"You're really into Barça, huh?" she commented, as he started to boil the water for the pasta. He had not wanted the food to be stiff whent they came back, so he had decided to cook the spaghetties once he had picked her up.

"Yeah, it's my life," he replied truthfully.

"You know, usually die hard football fans are considered a red flag," Teresa said, fingers caressing a blaugrana blanket he had folded in a corner of the couch.

Marc's gaze shot towards her, alarmed.

"I..."

"But I guess it's different when you actually play for the team," she decided, with a cheeky smirk. "Whatever happens to the club actually affects your life."

Marc sighed in relief, as the water started to boil. He threw the salt and the spaghettis, impatient to have the food ready.

"You can sit if you want," he told her, grabbing the matches and lighting up some candles he had set up in the middle of the table.

"Thank you."

The dress was small and tight, made of silk. Marc hoped it wasn't expensive, because if he had his way, he would be tearing it down by the end of the night.

Teresa sat with her legs crossed, and accepted the glass of white wine Marc opened for her. Her red lipstick left a mark on the rim of the glass, that had Marc going a little bit insane.

He drained the pasta and mixed it with the toamto sauce, added the cheese and the meatballs, and finally set the dish on the table, sitting in front of Teresa.

It was then when he finally noticed the smile on her face, the way it reached her eyes. She was fond, endeared. A sigh left his chest. Okay, he could do this.

Teresa grabbed a forkful of pasta and put it in her mouth, all while making eye contact. Marc hel ¡d his breath.

"It's good," she said, and he could tell that she meant it. His entire body relaxed. "Any reason as to why we only have one plate?"

"Like in the movie."

"What movie?"

"The one with the dogs, I can't rememebr its name."

"You planned a movie themed date and you don't know the movie's name?" she taunted.

"It's hard ot think when you're looking at me!" marc complained, ears turning pink.

Teresa giggled, singling out one spaghetti with her fork.

"Here," she said, offering one end to the boy. Put it in your mouth."

Marc obeyed and Teresa put the other end between her lips. That way as they both were suckling on the spagheti, their faces got closer and closer, until their lips met in a small kiss. Teresa broke the spagheti with her teeth, and smirked as they parted.

"The name is Lady and the Tramp," she said with a teasing smile.

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multi-level-shipper · 2 years ago

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so as I stated before, I'm re-reading Joey's gay memoir. and here's the thing.

Joey talks about how he LOVED Coney Island as a kid, and he seems to hold it to a slightly higher degree of reverence than the theater. Probably a few reasons for this- it was his vacation as a poor kid, it was time spent with his family, and he also draws some very strong connections about the heart and the soul to his experience being there.

"We arrived at the gates of Luna Park on Coney Island just when they opened."

"The gates were tall towers, with a huge arch entrance beneath. Above, between the towers, was a giant heart, bright red, freshly painted, with the words The Heart of Coney Island written on it. I think about those words sometimes, even these days as I trudge through the mud in the Meadowlands. I think about what it means. The heart. The soul of a place. The beating core."

"I have been searching for the soul for so long myself. That one illusive piece to my puzzle. Art imitates life, that was the solution. But how to live within an imitation? How to step into the cell of a cartoon? How to break the fourth wall? With a hammer? An axe?

Or a whole world." (Pg 200)

There are a few things I want to say about this.

As if we needed any more proof, this is a really long way of getting the point across that Joey craves living in a fantastical world. He needs this sense of creative wonder to feel fulfilled. Directly on the next page he goes on to say that the train ride home sucked balls, and he only felt as if the corners of each of his five senses were fully reached while having this experience at Coney Island.

So, firstly, he mentioned that he was "searching for the soul" for so long. But what in the fresh hell does that mean? Well, either Joey doesn't know how to define the parameters of what a human soul even is (which is a fair and complex question to be asking,) or he's been searching for his soul. Or rather, his purpose in life. While he has the studio and Sexy Lawrence at this point, he might be doing a bit of serious introspection here- which, let's be real, Joey never does this unless he's scared of something to do with his own well-being.

I don't have too much to say about the "heart" side of things. Although, this seriousness about the amusement park could explain why Joey was so ungodly finnicky with the Bendyland edits he kept sending back to Bertrum. He had to make things just right within one of the studio's most important features, or he might actually explode.

The SOUL, however, where do I even start. Firstly there's a direct parallel here we can add to the conspiracy board- the Ink Demon has no soul, and here in IOL Joey is trying to find his own. Another thing to note is how he personifies Coney Island, a non-breathing and non-living place, giving it a heart and a soul. It would be safe to assume that, seeing as Joey Drew Studios is his own form of safe haven, that he would ALSO personify the studio in a similar way. Also willing to wager that he saw Joey Drew Studios as a perfectly curated fantastical world to surround himself with- which is why he would simply not allow anyone to say anything otherwise. He had to keep up this illusion, or the safe haven would fall apart.

Joey giving places a soul also has interesting implications when considering Bendy and the Dark Revival.

We technically don't get an actual ink copy of Joey, we get a "memory" of Joey, as he puts it. However, we don't really see other spirits in BATIM or BATDR that aren't tied to a body. Ghosts are strangely never really explained, with a few exceptions like the ghost train in BATDR. I think this is an interesting distinction to make, because this could imply that Joey's soul is tied to the studio directly. Everything in the BATIM world was created by Joey- our Henry, Alice, Boris, everyone. The BATDR world was created by Wilson, so any existing creatures there are either by his hands, or have been directly taken from the BATIM loop and brought there. It was the assumption that Memory Joey came from Wilson's timeline, but we actually have no idea where he came from specifically, as he quite literally shows up and then vanishes in our first encounter with him.

#illusion of living #bendy illusion of living #joey drew #batdr #batim #bendy and the ink machine

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camillathe6th · 2 years ago

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Snippet. You catch me, I catch you.

DISCLAIMER: Obviously, this is all inspired by Baldur's Gate 3 and Larian Studios. CONTEXT: Another short snippet to explore my Tav's demeanour, her bullshit, the vibes of the group, her dynamics with Astarion and all that. The goal was to write your character(s) caught in a lie, and observed by a third party. Shadowheart is the POV of choice for this. SOME DETAILS: Hero is a bard, she plays the lyre, she loves psychic damage, she's weak of arms and poofy of shorts. If you're into her, she appears in another snippet here. I think that's all you need to know! There's no spoilers in this, this is just for fun and the location/quest is invented.

Somewhere in Faerûn, 1492. (SHADOWHEART)

It happens like it always happens—sometimes, more and more, I do wonder. I do wonder if they already know and delight in being caught all the same. The theatrics of the aftermath. Sharing something as real as anger by way of the lie.

The jewellery case lies at the back of the room; we have agreed to leave it alone. It will curse us all, said the sentry; it will mess with our heads, and our heads are already tilting on an unstable axis. Mine, because it is full of shadows; theirs, I surmise as they grow in power, because it is feasting on illithid parasites. Better focus on the delusions that come for us at night, and look away from the Amulet of Godliness.

I believe too much in gods to be tempted by it; Hero believes in them too little. But Astarion…

“I’ll scout ahead and lockpick the door,” he whispers, slipping on his gloves. “Wait for my signal.”

She is looking at him. She does not miss a beat.

“Careful”, she says, eyes alight with a spell I don’t know. “The turret’s beam falls right on the door. You can hide behind the jewellery case to reach the lock.”

She was looking at him; not at the room. I think my brow arch; but he doesn’t see, no: he is looking at her too.

“No traps on the jewellery case?”

She blinks away the diamond glow, and there she is again, the picture of innocence, her face as youthful and soft as a fairy stool.

“No traps,” she whispers, holding his gaze. “Just stick to the shadows, vampling.”

“Trust me, I always do,” he preens, his sharp chin raised, his sharp smile cutting.

She smiles back; here, now, next to his blade of a face, she looks like sweetness incarnate.

“I do trust you,” she says, quickly, just a breath, like a secret escaped, and with a touch at his wrist so fast and artful it manages to look instinctive. The need for contact. The impulse to connect. This is what faith does, doesn’t it?

Of course, that is her biggest lie of the day.

“And I trust you, little lyre,” he lies right back. His fingers against her cheek are a surprise: there is intimacy there I didn’t expect. He turns away quickly.

And there he goes, swift as a sigh, weaving in the darkness of the room, a bare glint of opal through the stone-forbidding hall. I lean back against the wall; our gazes follow his trajectory to the coffers and the case, behind which he disappears altogether.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

She looks up at me. This time, the smile is genuine. I think.

“Just testing a theory.”

“You think the Amulet…”

The scREAM cuts me off.

At the back of the room, a column of radiance has fallen on the jewellery case, and Astarion stumbles away with a howl, his graceful hand burnt charred black; around us, the room EXPLODES in sounds of shots and fractures; defensive turrets whirr to life, sweeping the ground for hidden intruders, blasting derelict statues to bits.

“Hero!” Astarion screeches, running towards us through the chaos, teeth bared. “I’m going to ki—”

“Don’t threaten me, you ass-white half-corpse!” Her eyes shine blue, her voice booms above the shattering of rock and glass; Astarion dodges a magical beam but hits the wall nearby, holding his head.

“Stop using vicious mockery every time we fight, or I will use my teeth,” he seethes.

“Is this really the time?” I sigh, redirecting one of the blasts with the blade of my glaive.

“My hand is burnt to a crisp!” Gods, his voice does really reach new heights when he is angry. “How dare you! You said there were no traps!”

“And you said you wouldn’t steal the Amulet of Godliness.”

Apparently, it is really the time. I roll my eyes and pull Hero through the latch from whence we came. This little detour heist will have to wait until the turrets’ have discharged.

“It’s called the Amulet of Godliness. Of course I was going to steal it,” Astarion huffs, following us lithely. “You’ve made your point. Now cure me.”

“No.” Here it is; that face is her genuine one: mouth hard, chin high, she looks like a petulant little lord. And he doesn’t like being lorded over.

“Cure me, bardlet, or I’ll have to take a hand for a hand,” he hisses, fangfull.

There’s something there, though, in the treat of the threat: after all, he could ask me to cure him. He prefers the game of inconsequential violence, I think: a dance of darts, an equal footing of non-lethal strikes. Her stubborn mask melts into a smile as whetted as his dagger.

In the dark, I sit on a chest we’ve already looted, smooth out my leather skirt, and settle for the show.

#bg3 #astarion #hero #shadowheart #notebooks #party tales

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queenofcats17 · 1 year ago

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I've been thinking about how I want to handle BATDR in my AU and this is what I've come up with.

So, after Henry frees everyone from the studio, GENT probably comes in and repossesses the machine, much to Tom and Joey's collective horror. They both try to argue that it should be destroyed, but GENT refuses to listen.

Tom and Joey end up meeting up quite a bit to try and figure out some contingency plans and what to do if the machine gets turned on. They actually start to become somewhat good friends during these meetings. Joey begins to really respect Tom and his knowledge and Tom admires how dedicated Joey is to trying to be better.

And then Nathan buys the machine and some other assets from the old studio.

Both Joey and Tom are nervous about this, but Joey's still in a bit of a self-deprecating slump, so he thinks his legacy would be better off in the hands of someone else. Not to mention, both Joey and Tom are pretty paranoid about what might happen if anyone finds out just what the Ink Machine is truly capable of.

Unfortunately, GENT has already figured out some of the machine's capabilities, having gathered data from the remains of the studio and the ink left behind once everyone was freed. And worst of all... Wilson has caught wind that something strange is going on with his father's old friend and the fact that he doesn't seem to have aged in the 20 years he's been gone.

So, Wilson goes and starts messing with the machine.

And Joey feels the first time it gets turned on. Fusing himself with the Ink Demon for 20 years gave him a connection to the machine and the ink that none of the other survivors have. So, he calls Tom in a panic and the two of them head over to the Arch Gate building. But, of course, they aren't let in. And by the time Joey manages to get Nathan over to let them in, the machine's been shut off and Wilson's cleared out.

This repeats a few times more times as Wilson goes back and forth, building up an empire in the studio world. After the first two or three times, it becomes clear that they can't keep rushing over every time Joey feels the machine turn on. So, they elect to just observe for now, with Joey telling Tom when he feels the machine be turned on so Tom can note it down.

In this case, I think an imprint of the studio would have been left in the ink. None of the people who were trapped there for those 20 years are there anymore, but imprints of them remain, captured in the ink. So, there's a twisted Alice Susie, a more perfect Alice Allison, a Tom Boris, a deranged Prophet Sammy, et cetera. So, it's a pocket dimension like the base game, but also a recreation of the real place.

And while Wilson is messing with the studio, Joey is having dreams about what's going on. But they're pretty vague, just sort of thoughts and feelings coming through from the Ink Demon.

I think by the point Wilson starts messing with the machine, Audrey's been working at Arch Gate for a while. Nathan probably hired her as a favor to Esther and Joey, wanting to give his friend's daughter an opportunity. Not that he goes around saying that, of course. And although Audrey is probably using the name Klein, Wilson knows she's Joey's daughter.

And, like, all the other times, Joey feels when the Ink Machine is turned on when Wilson drags Audrey in. But he also feels Audrey go in. Which leads to another panicked call to Tom to alert him. But Joey ends up going to the Arch Gate building on his own. He can't wait for Tom. He needs to go in there.

So, Joey ends up in the pocket dimension to try and rescue his daughter, forced to confront his mistakes once more.

I think he and Audrey do meet up pretty soon after she goes in. Maybe when she's getting ready to head to Artist's Rest. And, Joey had told her about the things he'd done after he was freed. But being told and actually seeing the devastation is another thing entirely.

I think the Ink Demon and Baby Benders would be especially hostile toward Joey because he perceives Joey as having abandoned him. The Ink Demon didn't get to be freed with the humans. He returned to the Ink. So he didn't understand why Joey had left and why he'd had to go through the pain of Wilson's experiments alone. A part of the Ink Demon also probably both resents and sympathizes with Audrey. Because, on one hand, he feels like Audrey is the child Joey chose. But on the other hand, he knows Joey abandoned Audrey too. So, the Ink Demon has some complicated feelings.

There also probably wouldn't be a cell for Henry in this, or a Henry at all, because it's not a timeloop. But Joey would probably get thrown into a cell when the Keepers catch Audrey and take her to Wilson. Which would mean he'd be the one going through The Cage plotline that's coming up.

I'm not entirely sure how things would end, but I think Joey and Audrey would try to work with Tom to figure out a way to help the memories left behind in the ink. Especially the Ink Demon, whose mind Joey knows he poisoned.

There would also probably be a very interesting conversation with Nathan about how his son is dead.

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #the king's heavy heart au #joey drew #freckle drew #wilson arch #thomas connor #audrey batdr

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ametunns · 1 month ago

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THIS CONCEPT IS SO FAMILIAR WITH THE CAGE. And this idea can't leaving me-

Below I'll discuss the character Keeper in the BATDR; some guesses about the role of this new character in the Cage. Enjoy reading!

# The Keepers. In the BATDR >>>

ofc in the ink world this versions of the Keepers are works because -

a giant gear in the spine is not bad for balance when picked up a weight stuff in forward;

the third hand is nice for supporting a thing or a person (not just for correcting its back lol/j);

ability to flying is actually about movement, way to make a painful high-speed strike by massive left hand / catching by right hand. Рerhaps "crawling" on appendages rather than legs makes it easier to walk around the ruins of the studio. And once again - they can fly.

Despite the fact that they have yellow inside, which indicates the presence of a soul, they do not react to the Signal Towers. I can only suggest that Wilson created "Yellow ink", and inside Keeper are not "Golden ink". Otherwise the Golden ink would have provided a link to Demon power, and metal octopus would have been against Wilson sooner or later.

...I personally think that it is easier to get the lost one's soul with the help of saws, and then start changing the soul in order to place it inside something. Like make a "soul semblance" - "Yellow ink" as I called it; get fairly similar minds, which is ideal for Keeper.

In case he's design looks silly, slowly moved, pretty blind because of the game mechanic-

but if you take them as those who can:

performs certain tasks,

move through space almost without interference,

catch the intruder,

conduct an experiment,

or even performing small construction work (for example, conducting power grids through a train tunnel)-

Within the framework of the lore of the world, these creatures, as they are, have done a lot.

# But what about the previous version of Keeper? Let's check out >>>

This creation is much more complex than would be seen...

Yes, we saw how Boris was turned into Brutal. That the mind can be partially rewritten. The sawing process also has a rewriting process. But-

A hybrid of a living mind and metal structures for the first experiments...it sounds like rewriting biology so that the body doesn't go crazy and start self-destructing because of unperfected souls and the realization of what they has become. And even Wilson can't make a perfect soul if he invited Audrey in the Cycle.

...Aaa-and also can tell about the REAL HUMAN in IT'S CREATION AND BLOOD...but a little later-

Attempts to create Wilson own being is unstable...and that is why we'll can meet them in a Cage!!! :D

# Details in the photos >>>

First thing - is another hoses behind;

Second - he had 3 hands, and maybe one of them (as possible 4 hand) is free from the lockers; you can also see that the lower hand is thinner and the plate on the outside of the palm glitters;

Last thing - a familiar detail.

Nothing more...

but a general similarity to the concept

# His role in the Cage. Theories and thoughts >>>

It's interesting things...Let's back to the thought that it can be a human. How much it will affect the story? Well-

Role #1 - He's a living proof about experiment of humans.

...the Gent corporation literally drowned people in ink ("Fade of Black");

And there is a temporary antidote to ink in the form of the chemical "iron oxide", which also resembles blood ("The Lost Ones");

It seems that through chemistry and past research, Wilson was able to create colored ink, a way to get back to the real world, and in collaboration with Alice, who lives in half of his house, and with Ink Machine, he was already beginning to think about creating a Keeper. About getting "the first good soul"...Pick out the right clothes, became anyone from Arch Gate Pictures, not just a humble cleaner. But after understood the difficulties (let's say, with blood) and maybe managed to update the methods for creating ink creatures...And my theory "Yellow ink" from Lost Ones.

Due to the details, a human being in the creature is doesn't't look like something unexpected, but it would definitely be intriguing.

Role #2 - If he's able to talk, new information about the corporation. Maybe even about Alan Gray. Maybe gives some hints of how getting away from the Cage idk just a thought-

A human being who was trapped into a monster for someone else's purposes it's pretty similar to Henry...ahem

Role #3 - Abilities of the blood. Perhaps we'll see hints of blood power in Lone Wolf. But in essence - there will definitely be something new...and something more powerful.

...What role will he play for the Henry.. it's unclear:

It's easy to say - this is the enemy who thoughtlessly wants to kill the hero.

It's easy to say - we can have a possible "free it" quest for game necessaries.

Possible to say - two points together 🤝

The last thing what I wanted to say:

‼️ I'm praying LIKE HELL he's not leaked FOR A COUPLE OF SECONDS like it was with all the new BATDR characters. Like Sammy-🥲

---

thank you for reading! If you have any ideas or thoughts, comments please! I'll be interested ⭐

☕ Have a good time!!

#fan theory #bendy the cage #batdr keepers #keeper batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #batim #wilson arch #batdr wilson #bendy fandom

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arapuroy23-blog · 10 months ago

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```"INDIA IS GREAT"...... Apart from though I was/am ever grateful to my PARENTS(@MOM+DAD),before/after my "GRADUATION" (Bachelor of Architecture)..... Attn!... Ladies&Gentlemen.... Boys&Girls..... Back to my year 96s-97s(in the year 1996-97),while after I just appeared at my Final Semester, SEMESTER NO-10(B.Arch),from my College Campus Address in "AURANGABAD" District, Maharashtra State(IND), Moved to Mumbai, without asking my "MOM" & my Real SISTERS.......it was at that time, quietly interesting/thrilling/expedition to me, first time, while at night boarded in a luxury bus, arrived at peak_very morning hrs at MUMBAI CENTRAL BUS DEPOT/might be "VICTORIA TERMINUS" (VT) Bus Depot.... OK... then came to "CHURCH GATE" LOCAL SUB URBAN WESTERN RLY STATION.... though at that time, both "WESTERN" /"CENTRAL" / "HARBOUR" local lines of "MUMBAI" I visited..... #@@KUCH LAMHE, KUCH YANDEIN..... I am grateful TO Mr "NAIR" UNCLE, Caretaker of Lodge, Mrs KUTTI,landlord of Lodge, who gave me shelter to stay over for maintaining my Architectural JOB/EMPLOYMENT at her Lodge/GUEST HOUSE at that time(1996-97), i am grateful to my Senior fellows, esp GUJARATI GENTLEMAN, Mr "JEETENDER" UNCLE, Mr "FERNANDES" UNCLE(South Indian Gentleman),Mr "Mohan MUDLIYAR" my Senior fellow, Mr MUSTAFA Bhai, Bidyut bhai(Mr BIDYUT SARKAR, a fellow from KOLKATA) & etc.... at that time, complete ADDRESS of that LODGE/GUEST HOUSE, while I used to did correspond to my MOM&SISTERS,as follows: "GREEN COTTAGE" /preferably "RAM VILAS LODGING", AT "CHATTRAPATI SHIVAJI MAHARAJ ROAD", VAKOLA BRIDGE, SANTACRUZ(EAST), MUMBAI-55, MAHARASHTRA STATE(IND)..... <<< any kind of feedback/Calling, without any hesitation Please Contact me, M:+91-9089149107/ 9402156929.... or mail me, [email protected] [email protected] <<<FOUNDER, "CEO"(CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER) & ARCHITECT, on behalf of "ARCH DESIGNING STUDIO" (IND), GSTIN:16AYSPR1667C1Z3........."THANK YOU"....```

#@@@architecture...

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jadelotusflower · 1 year ago

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Stargate rewatch: 1x13 Hathor

An episode Jonathan Glassner is on the record as regretting - an attempt to up the sexy quotient to please the studio.

Fingertips over the sarcophagus a nice parallel to Ra in the movie.

I guess Hathor popped over to Europe to get herself a host huh 🤨

“Since I was the only one to ever do research in cross-pollenisation of ancient cultures, they tracked me down.” I have several problems with this - first Daniel works on a top secret military project and was likely declared dead, he can be tracked down by academics? Second, the incredulity of no one in the SG universe researching cross-cultural myths, and that such theories would be laughable. Third, the other archeologists have this paradigm-shifting artefact and just send it to some dude rather than study it themselves, and forth, that the Mexican government let them, even though the thing is solid gold?

I like the framing of this shot and the symmetry of the Gate and sarcophagus.

Jack: “It’s like that thing on Ra’s spaceship-” Daniel: “That brought Sha’re and I back from the dead.” I mean I like it when they mention movie events, but technically Jack never saw the sarcophagus. I guess things played out slightly differently in showverse.

Sam gets a shoulder pat and is not happy about it, because it's a patronising shoulder pat, not the shoulder pat of comfort.

She also does research on 90’s era internet in what looks like Janet’s office - this was before Sam and Daniel had their own labs.

"I just can't figure out how to be one of the guys with these guys you know? I always feel like I’m The Girl.” Ironic that this is said in an episode where it’s all about her being The Girl. Other than CotG and Emancipation, I’m not sure we see Sam treated as anything other than one of the team? The narrative treats Sam as The Girl, but the characters generally don’t.

I think the main struggle of this episode is that it veers so close to camp, but is played so sinister there’s a tonal dissonance that can’t quite be reconciled.

We want to have fun with Hathor, she’s glam and arch and should be fun! But there’s no fun in this storyline.

I mean this is an episode where Daniel is raped and Jack is assaulted, not exactly family friendly fare.

Daniel is dosed twice to fall under Hathor’s thrall, then when he finds out she wants to use him to spawn Goa’uld larvae he tries to stop her and is dosed again, and it’s so uncomfortable to watch.

And it’s meant to be uncomfortable, villain does villainous things is not something I have a problem with. And on some level the show does convey the gravity of this - the next time we see Daniel he’s in a dissociative state - but then it glosses over the trauma.

Because something like this is pertinent to Daniel’s character in particular, being powerless under the hold of a Goa’uld gives him a glimpse into what Sha’re is suffering and would only make him more determined to find her, but it’s never addressed.

Look I know Daniel sometimes gets grief for being “my wife” all the time, but he should mention her all the time? Especially when it’s relevant to what’s happening to him.

Maybe I’m just expecting too much from a tv show, but codas are often my favourite part of an episode, especially when there’s a need to deal with the aftermath of the episode’s events. Perhaps that’s more for fanfic than broadcast media, but I do feel that if a show is going to present something like this, there needs to be more than “ew” at the end.

Suanne Braun, however, is an absolute delight. Check out Hathor Hosts on Youtube.

Rumor has it Sharon Stone, who in the late 80’s was married to executive producer Michael Greenberg, was tapped to play Hathor at one point. Grain of salt.

5 women on the whole base? No female scientists at work that day I guess.

I mean, I know this episode was well intentioned in an attempt to give some focus and hero moments for Sam and Janet, but it really has Men Writing Women vibes.

With this setup Hathor really should have been more of a recurring villain because the concept behind Goa’uld queens is interesting, she is genuinely menacing, and the team have a personal beef with her.

Page Dr Mackenzie, they all need to boatloads of therapy. It’s Stargate: PTSD at this point.

#stargate sg1 #stargate rewatch #1x13 hathor #jlf posts #jlf watches stargate

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clariannahoney · 8 months ago

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Love Unveiled - Chapter Two

Plot: Thailand is known for its vibrant Boy Love (BL) culture, and Bangkok is the epicenter of it all. Two young men, both successful fashion designers in the city, have an intense rivalry that escalates to pure hatred. But when they're forced to work together on a project, they begin to realize their feelings for each other may run deeper than they thought. As they navigate through their complicated emotions and budding romance, they must also confront the reality of their status in the cutthroat world of fashion. Will they give in to their feelings or stay enemies forever?

As Kavin stepped out into the night, the city lights blurred before his eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors that mirrored the chaos within him. He walked aimlessly, the weight of Ravi's words pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. The air was thick with the scent of street food and exhaust fumes, but all he could smell was the lingering aroma of Ravi's cologne from their close proximity in the studio.

He found himself at a small, secluded park, its tranquility a stark contrast to the bustling city just beyond the gates. Slumping onto a bench, he stared up at the stars, trying to make sense of the emotions roiling within him. The sound of rustling leaves and distant traffic faded into the background as he replayed the day's events over and over in his mind.

The touch of Ravi's hand on his arm during a particularly heated debate about fabric choices flashed through his thoughts. The way their eyes had locked, conveying more than their words ever could. Kavin squeezed his eyes shut, willing the images to fade, but they only grew more vivid.

"You can't keep running from this," a voice inside him whispered. "Face it, Kavin. Face him."

With a deep breath, he stood up, determination steeling his resolve. He knew where he needed to go.

Back at Ravi's studio, the lights were still on, casting a warm glow against the night sky. Kavin hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the door handle. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

Ravi was there, bent over a table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted a seam. His hair was slightly mussed, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned, muscular forearms. Kavin's throat went dry at the sight.

"I thought you left," Ravi said without looking up, his voice tinged with surprise.

"I couldn't," Kavin admitted, his voice rough. "Not until I figured some things out."

Ravi straightened, turning to face him fully. His eyes searched Kavin's face, reading the turmoil there. "What did you need to figure out?"

Kavin closed the distance between them, his heart pounding in his ears. "Us. This...whatever this is between us."

Ravi's gaze softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "And what did you decide?"

Reaching out, Kavin cupped Ravi's cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over the stubble there. "That I don't want to fight it anymore. That I want...you."

Ravi leaned into the touch, his eyes darkening with desire. "Are you sure? Because I won't hold back if we do this."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Kavin murmured, his voice husky with need.

Their lips met then, a clash of heat and urgency. Ravi's hands gripped Kavin's waist, pulling him closer, while Kavin tangled his fingers in Ravi's hair, deepening the kiss. Their tongues danced together, exploring, tasting, claiming.

Breaking apart, they gasped for air, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Ravi's eyes burned with intensity as he pressed Kavin against the worktable, the sketches and fabrics crunching under their weight.

"Tell me you want this," Ravi demanded, his voice raw.

"I want this," Kavin breathed, arching into Ravi's touch. "I want you."

With a growl, Ravi kissed him again, his hands roaming over Kavin's body, mapping every curve and plane. Kavin moaned into the kiss, his own hands desperate as they sought to undress Ravi. Buttons popped free, fabric slid aside, exposing skin that begged to be touched.

Ravi's fingers traced the outline of Kavin's erection through his pants, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through him. Kavin bit back a groan, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"So responsive," Ravi murmured against his ear, his voice dripping with lust. "I love it when you lose control."

Kavin shuddered, his head falling back as Ravi's mouth trailed kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking, leaving marks that would tell of their passion. His hands fumbled with Ravi's belt, desperate to feel skin on skin.

Finally, they were naked, their bodies slick with sweat as they explored each other with feverish intensity. Ravi positioned Kavin on the table, his eyes never leaving Kavin's as he lined himself up and thrust inside.

Kavin cried out, his fingers digging into Ravi's shoulders as waves of sensation crashed over him. Ravi moved with relentless rhythm, his hips snapping against Kavin's thighs, each thrust driving them both higher.

"Look at me," Ravi commanded, his voice gruff with exertion. "See me, Kavin. See who I am."

Kavin's eyes locked with Ravi's, the world narrowing down to this moment, this connection. "I see you," he gasped, his body tightening around Ravi's. "I see everything."

With a final surge of strength, Ravi pounded into him, his release cresting like a wave, sweeping them both under. They came together, their bodies shuddering with the force of their climax, their cries echoing off the walls.

Spent, they collapsed against each other, their breathing ragged as they clung to one another. The room was silent except for their mingled sighs, the only sounds the beating of their hearts, synced in unison.

"We should talk about what this means," Ravi murmured, his voice soft against Kavin's ear.

"Later," Kavin replied, his lips curving into a tired smile. "Right now, I just want to hold you."

Ravi nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around Kavin. They lay there, lost in the aftermath of their passion, the future uncertain but no longer something to fear.

As the night deepened around them, they drifted into a contented sleep, their dreams filled with possibilities, their bodies entwined in a promise of more to come.

#gay #gay story #thai bl #thailand #lgbtq story #lgbtq #lgbtq fiction

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