marcy

🕷👁🐑 ~ eastermans lab-bunny [ selfshipping sideblog ] [ mdni ]

[sainteasterman]

INTRO POST

 ░  marcy ⯍  19 ⯍  she/her + he/him ⯍  easterman selfship blog ░ 

✶ i yume/selfship just for personal comfort/fun, so i dont mind doubles

✶ my self/canon search tag is #lab-bunny

✶ most of my posts are easterman related, but still, no minors please

✶ amelia antis/gennuine easterman apologists dni. besides that, i block freely

links: sona , main

[sainteasterman]

[ lab-bunny - sona / canon ] - recovery protocol

summary: amelias second escape threatens everything easterman has built, and marcys devotion drives her to defy the one man she wants most to please.

note: got RIGHT to work right after i saw the new trailer premiere, so this wasnt proofread oops

cw: (legal) age gap, power imbalance, substance abuse, improper drug use, physical aggression, unhealthy dynamics

The office door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the wall. Easterman strode inside without a word, muttering under his breath as he crossed the room. Every muscle in his body felt tense, his pulse refusing to settle. 

Across the room, Marcy stood in front of one of the many bookshelves lining the walls. Fresh from a shower, damp strands of hair curled just past her shoulders, leaving dark patches on the plain white patient gown she had borrowed from the storage closet. She had been absentmindedly tracing the spines of old psychology texts until the door burst open. Her face brightened immediately. "You're back!" She turned towards him with an easy smile, already lifting her arms to embrace him.

Then she stopped. His expression caught her off guard. The warmth in her smile faltered. "What happened?"

Easterman offered no response. He brushed past her without so much as a glance and walked straight to his desk. He yanked open a drawer, retrieved a small translucent bottle, and shook several tablets into his palm without bothering to count them. He swallowed the pills dry at first, then reached for the half-empty glass of gin sitting forgotten among the scattered folders. Tilting his head back, he chased them with a long drink, the alcohol burning down his throat. Only after setting the bottle down with a dull thud did he release a slow, measured breath.

Marcy remained where she was, carefully sliding the book onto a nearby counter. "I thought you were going to speak with the cop." Her tone was much quieter than before, careful to not agitate him further. 

Easterman drew another long breath, though it did little to steady him. "Catatonia," he began, his voice oddly measured, "is clinically defined as a state in which the patient remains awake yet profoundly disconnected from the world around them. Motor activity ceases. The body persists while the mind withdraws. A conscious coma." He resumed pacing the length of the office, one hand dragging across his mouth as his steps became increasingly uneven. Whatever medication he had taken was already beginning to dull the edges of his thoughts. His words came slower now, occasionally running together.

Marcy watched him carefully, trying to follow the path his mind had taken. "...This isn’t about-”

Before she could finish, a deafening crack echoed through the office. Easterman's fist collided with the desk, hard enough to send the empty glass tumbling from its edge. It struck the floor and exploded into glittering shards across the hardwood. 

Marcy instinctively flinched.

Easterman's breathing had become uneven. "Amelia," he repeated through clenched teeth. His jaw tightened so hard it trembled. "That... bitch." He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She got out. She actually.. escaped, again." He laughed once, though there was no humor in it. "The eel is once again slithering through this facility’s walls."

Marcy's eyebrows lifted. Carefully, she stepped closer and rested a tentative hand against his forearm. "Maybe..." she began softly. "Maybe you can look at it another way. You found her once. You could find her again."

He brushed her hand away with a sharp slap, not enough to injure her, but enough to make her recoil. " We do not have the luxury of indulging in Amelia's little game of cat and mouse." He turned away again, pacing. "The last time we decided to play, it cost us nearly everything." His expression tightened. "Facility staff, half of my reagents…..Clyde." He drew a slow, unsteady breath through his teeth before finally looking back at Marcy. "The last thing I need is to lose more of what belongs under my care. They've already taken enough from me."

Marcy rubbed absentmindedly at the spot on her wrist where he'd pushed her away. The sting had already faded when she began to speak once more. “I could try to find her.” Easterman's head turned toward her, surprise flickering across his face. Marcy held his gaze without wavering. "I've hunted down countless Reagents before. My evaluations speak for themselves. Amelia shouldn't be any different." She hesitated before resting lightly against his shoulder. "Besides... it would take a huge weight off your back." 

Easterman's expression remained unchanged. "Absolutely not. You stay here, you hunt inside the trials. That‘s where your responsibilities begin and end. Amelia is no longer your concern." His tone left little room for argument. 

Marcy frowned. "But if I can help..."

She was interrupted with a sharp "No."

She opened her mouth again. "But..." Before she could finish, his hand closed firmly around the same wrist. Marcy inhaled sharply. The pressure was stronger this time, enough to make the lingering ache flare as he drew her toward him until she was standing directly in front of him.

"Listen to me." His voice was low, barely over a whisper. "I won’t allow you to gamble your life chasing someone who has already chosen to throw hers away. Unlike her, you’re not expendable. Do you understand me?" Then, after a few moments, “Nod your head.”

Marcy obeyed immediately, nodding her head slowly, then quickly. Only then did his hand fall away. The imprint of his fingers lingered on her skin long after he had released her. Without another word, she slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her. She knew better than to remain in the office when he was like this. His anger had dulled, but the tension still clung to him like smoke. 

Outside, the corridors felt strangely hollow. Marcy had made a home for herself inside a spacious storage closet tucked beside the entrance to the Trial Grounds. It had once housed spare equipment and cleaning supplies. Now it belonged almost entirely to her.

A thin mattress rested against one wall beneath a pile of worn blankets. Milk crates overflowed with psychology books she had quietly "borrowed" from Easterman's office over the months. Magazine clippings covered the concrete walls alongside faded concert posters and empty vinyl sleeves salvaged from forgotten storage rooms. Tiny fragments of the outside world survived there, stitched together into something that almost resembled a bedroom.

On most nights, she could hear the Prime Assets arguing through the adjoining wall, especially during Prime Time. Though tonight..nothing. The silence was almost unsettling.

Marcy reached overhead and pulled the dangling chain on the lone lamp. A warm yellow glow filled the cramped room. She let herself collapse backward onto the mattress with a long sigh. "You're not expendable, Marcy." She stared at the ceiling. "You stay here, Marcy." She repeated the words in an exaggerated imitation of Easterman's voice before clicking her tongue in annoyance. "Oh, sure."

Rolling onto her side, she reached beneath the stack of books beside her bed and pulled free the weathered journal she had been filling for months. "I'll show him how expendable I can be." She flipped to a blank page and uncapped a pen. Within minutes, rough lines formed the unmistakable outline of Amelia's face. She tore the page free and fastened it to an empty patch of wall with a rusted staple.

Marcy sat back, studying it like a detective examining evidence. "If I were Amelia..." Her eyes drifted across the room as though the answer might already be waiting for her. "...where would I hide?" A slow smile crept across her face. "If he won't let me look..." She tapped the end of the pen thoughtfully against her lip.

"...I'll just have to make sure he never finds out."

[sainteasterman]

gennuinelywhat do i do with myself until the 14th. thats so far from now.

[maxwell-mtv]

New trailer for Project Boneyard is great! I especially love the little hip sway Easterman does when bursting through the doors at the end

[sainteasterman]

hendrick joliet easterman i wanna touch you inappropriately

[usedgimpsuit]

yikes....!

Easterman gonna kill us all...

[usedgimpsuit]

... gyulp...

~

@eastermans-drafts

[eastermans-drafts]

Everybody in charge of the comatose ward I hope you are fucking happy you are all going straight into the trials you petulant fucks nobody can do anything right here that’s because everyone hates me and everyone is out to get me because they’re all afraid of me and nobody is on my side so everyone must suffer and die forever amen

[sainteasterman]

are we for serious rn

[the-singularitys-discourse-blog]

Easterman goes back to his office and starts screaming and crying and punching walls

[sainteasterman]

he looked so fucking bald and rancid red barrels youve fed me so well

[sainteasterman]

oh my god.

[sainteasterman]

cinematic trailer dropping tomorrow .. i cant wait for my 3 seconds of easterman screentime im highly anticipating it

[sainteasterman]

TODAYS THE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[jolietshowhigh]

10 am ET guys!!! I am starving, and by that I mean we need more easterman. now.

[sainteasterman]

[ lab-bunny - sona / canon ] - treatment plan

summary: marcy visits easterman in his office, and vows are reaffirmed.

note: just something short i wrote to get back in the groove of things, haha ^^"

cw: (legal) age gap, toxic codependency, power imbalance, easterman being weird to his controversially young subordinate

Bright fluorescent light from the hall filtered through the shutters, spilling thin strips of white across the office. It was just bright enough for Marcy to make out the familiar outline of Easterman, though the shadows concealed most of his face. His features dissolved into darkness, leaving only the occasional glint of his reading glasses and the glow of a slowly burning cigarette. She sat quietly atop the edge of his desk, elbows resting on her knees, studying him with absentminded fascination. 

Most evenings ended like this. 

Marcy would be released onto the trial grounds, dispatched to invade active trials and terrorize the poor reagents within them. She always returned with blood on her gloves, another exemplary evaluation waiting in her file, and another quiet walk back to his office. It’s been like this for as long as she can remember, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

"My dear."

Her head lifted immediately. The doctor wasn’t a man known to waste affection. Every endearment carried purpose, and every purpose demanded her attention.

Easterman tapped the ash from his cigarette into the crystal ashtray beside him. The sound echoed softly through the office as he then set aside his glasses. Without looking away from the documents spread across his desk, he extended his now free hand and gave his thigh a single, absent pat. 

Marcy's lips curled into an eager smile. She must have exceeded even his expectations today.

Without hesitation, she slipped from the desk and crossed the short distance between them. One hand found his forearm, and she carefully settled onto his lap. She folded herself against him, her cheek resting near the curve of his neck as her arms loosely circled his. The scent of tobacco smoke lingered on his clothes, softened by expensive cologne and a light tinge of musk.

Easterman sighed, offering her a tired, almost wistful smile. He gently brushed a hand through her curls before returning his attention to the scattered reports covering his desk. "They're trying to take you away from me, you know."

Marcy's eyes opened a little wider. "What?" she asked quietly, lifting her head from where it rested against him. "Who?"

He never met her gaze. Instead, he calmly sorted another stack of papers, aligning each page with meticulous precision. "Who else but Avellanos?" he replied. "She questioned my judgment ever since you became my most... valuable asset. She insists I've grown distracted, and that my priorities have shifted." A quiet laugh escaped him, warm but lacking its usual certainty. "I suppose, from the outside, it must seem that way."

Marcy searched his face, unsettled by the distance in his expression. "They won't do that," she whispered. "They can't."

"They'll certainly try."

Only the faint rustle of paper and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights filled the office. After a long moment, Easterman spoke again, his voice lower than before. “I know a teacher isn’t supposed to love a student but..” His fingers paused atop the folder in front of him, smile softening into something almost melancholy. “I can’t help myself. You’re wonderful.”

Marcy felt warmth creep into her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, unsure whether to respond. 

So, Easterman went on. “You truly are my most remarkable creation.” His eyes remained fixed on hers a moment longer than necessary. Almost as if waiting for something.

Marcy understood him without needing another word. She shifted closer, her heartbeat loud enough that she wondered if he could hear it. Slowly, almost timidly, she reached up and pressed a gentle kiss to his dry, weathered lips. She felt warmth bloom through her chest, spreading until it settled comfortably beneath her ribs. 

When they finally parted, they remained close enough that their foreheads nearly touched. She searched his expression, desperate for any sign that she had pleased him.

Easterman's gaze softened in a way few people would have ever believed possible. "There you are," he murmured, almost to himself. "I'll never let you go. They can pry you from my cold, dead hands before they take you away from me." His hand lingered against her cheek, reluctant to let go, almost holding her face in place with that iron grip of his. 

Marcy's smile came easily this time, small but sincere. "I know," she whispered.

And she believed him completely.

[local-twat]

mmmm discord mod easterman 🤤🤤

[sainteasterman]

cinematic trailer dropping tomorrow .. i cant wait for my 3 seconds of easterman screentime im highly anticipating it

[fairlyfallen]

[sainteasterman]

lab-bunny headcanons [ sfw + nsfw ]

cw: age gap, unhealthy dynamics, emetophobia

marcy sometimes misses the sleep room, and often watches other reagents through the windows of the overhead lab

the jackalope mask acts as an actual mask for marcy, she's really only somewhat confident with it on

that being said, her 'jackalope' outfit was made by entirely by hand, taking scraps from her wardrobe, as well as deceased reagents she'd encounter/kill in the trials

marcy is in this odd state where she isn't technically a reagent, but she also isn't exactly ex-pop

easterman rarely uses her real name, unless she's in deep trouble, or he's in desperate need of her

often times, easterman makes it a point that he is in control of their 'relationship', but he's very susceptible to substance-induced meltdowns, ones that usually result in marcy consistently having to pamper him

easterman tried to share a drink with marcy, but she vomited all over his desk after the first sip

due to her strong connections with easterman and other murkoff personnel, marcy will never be granted permission for rebirth

other staff and scientists don't take their relationship too kindly, but (in fear of removal of their job and safety) typically keep quiet or neutral when the topic comes up. the only one to vocalize their discomfort with easterman and marcy's affair is avellanos, who views it as 'entirely unbecoming of a man in the director's position'.

their relationship is not healthy by any means, their attraction to each other is entirely centered around being needed by the other

nsfw under the cut!

easterman is an olfactophile. he prefers when marcy doesnt wash up after an invasion, adoring the scent of the blood stuck on her skin

for whatever he doesnt have in length, easterman makes up for it with his tongue and fingers, he's very experienced in this regard

marcy has such a prevalent praise kink, she's convinced she could get off on the doctor's voice alone

their entire relationship is built on a dom/sub dynamic, which carries into their intimate encounters

marcy is open-minded to most of the things easterman tries with her, though as time went on, these acts became more and more depraved

both have tasted the others blood at least once