#'at least the supply is limited'

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I think a recession is just what we call the phenomenon when too many people realize the economy is fake too quickly

[mantisgodsdomain]

Y'know, we've been experimenting with Noodler's a bit more, and honestly we think that the talk about the smell as a sticking point has been overstated somewhat. We might be biased by our own background, but we think a lot of the reason that it's so overstated is because it's being encountered by people who have never been on a farm before and are unused to the scent.

We like to have opinions on things. This post is on your dashboard for two reasons - one, we've been using this Charlie pen for something like two-three weeks now, and thus have gained enough experience to be comfortable making statements about it, and two, like every review we've seen online and also the one person we talked to about using Noodler's immediately hit us with "oh but the SMELL" and we honestly didn't find it that bad.

We have, for reference, a Noodler's Charlie pen (came free with Baystate Blue), and a few bottles at this point. Noodler's is a brand that, at least for us, stands out due to affordability (guy making them apparently has previously stated that he takes pride in how little money he makes off his ink, and we checked and they're legitimately the cheapest ink even when compared to clearance inks) and the ridiculous amount of properties they bake into inks (waaterproof, forgeryproof, flourescent, "bulletproof", freeze-resistant - there are a good chunk of these that bind to the cellulite in paper, and Baystate Blue specifically is known for staining pens and such). Its pens are made with a vegetal resin that is cheap, biodegradable, and known for its smell. We also had one guy bring up the inks having an odor.

While the pens are where the "smell" note came up most often, we find that it's honestly... less bad than billed? It's noticeable when you put it up to your nose, but leaving it out in sunlight for a few days, as most manufacturers recommend, definitely does make a difference. The immediate smell is best described as putrescent - it reminds us a bit of manure, which is definitely something some people will have less tolerance for. With exposure to sunlight, it mulls into something more akin to a rich fertilizer, which we personally find somewhat pleasant, though YMMV on that.

This pen smells more when it has been used often - body temperature and sweat will get it smelling stronger, and it may stick to your fingers for a few minutes. Putting it down before writing again will get it back to its neutral state - and with the specific pen, doing this every now and then is a good idea anyways, since the Charlie Pen when eyedroppered can have excess flow if the hand's body heat causes the air inside of the pen to expand. This is probably a dealbreaker to some - we don't blame them, if so! This is an acquired taste, for sure, and we feel that a lot of our personal view on this particular manufacturer works the same way as

The chemical smell on inks is something that we'd definitely agree with with some, but not all - we have a sample vial of Noodler's Black Eel, and it has enough surface tension that it acts more like a simulation of a liquid than an actual liquid. It smells sharply artificial, like silicone condensed into a liquid. It is intense and distinctly unnatural and honestly it's a really fun substance to play with partially because of this. Other inks, like Southwest Sunset (3 oz bottle, obtained a few months ago by now), are significantly less... pronounced? There's a chemical smell, but it certainly isn't noticeable unless you stick your nose right up in there. Honestly, we think that unless you're getting a lubricant ink, it's nothing to worry about.

If we paid fifty dollars for this pen, then we might consider these complaints to be... hmm, more significant? The Noodler's Charlie Pen we have was free, and writes better than a $50 pen - and we do mean legitimately free, we checked the price of the ink and it adds nothing to the price to add the pen. Things like Noodler's Flex pens are ten bucks below the next most expensive thing and much prettier. Your mileage may vary, of course - we have a relatively sensitive nose, but we also grew up in the middle of fuckass nowhere and had more than enough time to get used to the smells of livestock and animals, whereas we could easily imagine that someone who didn't grow up on a farm would be shocked and disgusted by the smell. But it's a free pen, we like "biodegradable and sturdy", it functions better than our more expensive ones, and... honestly, we kind of think the resin is worth the price of admission.

This post does not necessarily have a purpose - it is, mostly, us sharing our opinions on something, and you should take it how you will. Most sellers recommend that you leave the pen out in sunlight to sap the smell, and we noticed that it was more or less gone when our of use after about a week and a half of that. Our $0 Charlie pen has a significantly better flow than our $25 Pilot Metropolitan, and a less scratchy nib. We feel like if it works it works - you may want a less strong-smelling pen, or a pen that doesn't need to be left out in sunlight for a week. Though we, of course, can be more than caught up in form, we tend to vastly prefer function over looking fancy, so this has become one of our most well-used pens over the past little bit.

So we aren't just obliterating your dashboard - here's a picture of the moddle, and of our foster kittens serving as our backdrop for our Charlie pen. Do what you will with this information. Also, to our loyal followers, thank you for continuing to attend our blog posts as we slowly descend further into the madness of fountain pens. We refuse to buy anything that costs over $100 without a job and at least a few years sunk into the hobby, but Fountain Pen Day has given us a handful of sales good enough to get spendier pens that would otherwise be out of our price range, so you will probably be hearing about those soon enough.

[ktarsims]

Life Updates and Such...

Soooo.... many things! At the moment, I've finally pulled myself somewhat out of the doldrums caused by lack-of-job + job-search-sucks and am making all the preparations for celebrating the end of this year and the start of a new one.

I think I've binged something like 30+ anime series in the last month or so, along with reading many many books.

Today, I've finally got some bots working in the Creator's Cave discord, to make things a bit easier there. There are more updates I still need to do, but it's a start.

My hope for this week, is that in addition to my preparations for New Year's, I'll be able to actually finish my project of turning some of my flower photos into TS3 art. No promises, but I'm hopeful.

Below the cut, for the curious or nosy, the menu and preparations for New Year's.

Before anyone starts to wonder... two of the friends coming to my place for New Year's are really really into Pumpkin, so this is reflected here. Yes, this is probably too much food and drink for... 6 people, but hey... leftovers.

**Food** 1 frozen lasagna, family size 1 batch homemade mac&cheese (made by not me) Cheeses! (Extra sharp white cheddar, brie, various spreadables, 3 varieties of goat cheese) Crackers! (Ritz garlic butter, rosemary flatbread, 5 other assorted) Meats! (Summer sausage, dry salame, fig salame) Tea Sandwiches! (Cream cheese + smoke salmon or cucumber or jam) Scones! (I plan to make at least 3 varieties, but haven't yet decided which.) Oven ready appetizers! (Takoyaki, bagel bites, baked potato skins, loaded tater tots, mini quiches, mozzarella sticks, and more.) Shrimp Cocktail platter Veggie Platter Sweet Maui Onion potato chips Homemade snack mix (Corn Chex, Rice Chex, Pretzels, Cashews, Pistachios, white cheddar cheeze-its, white cheddar cheese puffs)

**Sweets** Pumpkin Spice Twinkies Iced Pumpkin Cupcakes (this is also hostess brand) Yackwa Korean donuts (gift from a neighbor) Assorted flavors of KitKats Pumpkin Pie yogurt covered pretzels Butter Rum Crunch popcorn Bourbon Crunch popcorn Milk Chocolate cherry cordials Other assorted chocolates

**Non-Alcoholic Drinks** Five different flavors of Martinellis sparkling cider Pumpkin Spice cold brewed tea (caffeinated) Pumpkin Creme Rooibos cold brew tea (herbal) Pumpkin Pie cold brew tea (herbal) Various Gatorade

**Alcoholic Drinks** 'Strong Mead' from a cider festival (gift from friend) Expensive bottle of Sake 'Demon Slayer' 1 bottle Louis Perrier Champagne for ringing in the new year Berenjaeger Green Apple Sake Peach Sake Umeshu Plum Wine Matcha Plum Wine (I'm really curious about this one) Butterscotch Shnapps Pumpkin hard Cider Dark Chocolate Cherry Moonshine Eggo Brunch Sippin' Cream A cupboard full of other assorted things that probably won't be looked at.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

had a dream about a mid-apocalyptic dystopian town, forced under a strict regime by a need to survive. People who bent or broke the rules, even accidentally, were imprisoned, straight-up beaten on the spot by guards, or publicly tortured depending on the offense.

Now this is a Very Whumpy Setting, but the most memorable part of the dream was me trying to stop a guard from beating a man who was obviously having bones broken, and when I yelled for her to stop, she glared at me and went,

"are you trying to stand in the way of the law?"

and I didn't have a good reply so I was just like, "no, I just think you're hot"

And she got all flustered and the guy she was attacking got away lol

[sysig]

A hero is only as good as his weapons, so make ‘em count (Patreon)

[braisedhoney]

please tell me about the pigments i would love nothing more than to hear you talk about that one shade of red you like and the process it took too recreate it

... oh, op. you have no idea what you've unleashed.

alright. here we go.

OKAY SO THE RED PIGMENT. pr206. my beloved. my dearest friend. it was an absolute bastard to find because there are so many of these. however many you think there are, there are MORE, and that's only if you don't count the many many scenarios where colors are known to be multi-pigment mixes, usually varying in tone/shade/intensity depending on the brand and manufacturing style. some colors are more consistent than others, but there are situations where a color can be named the same and contain the same pigments and STILL look wildly different depending on the ratio, binder, and paper you use. and that's not accounting for the way the pigment is processed. some pigments (like pv19 for example) can come in so many shades it's frankly kind of ridiculous.

anyway, my quest begins when i am, admittedly, in an edgier phase. i want a blood red, but not specifically because of that—no, i want it because it is THE IDEAL COLOR (to me) for a perfect, warm, slightly muted but still intense shade to add to a muted autumn watercolor palette. and... if you look at my whole theme, you probably know how much i love warm colors. i want to paint mushrooms. i want to dim down some of the brighter greens to make them autumnal. i want the perfect red to put as an undertone.

the search starts in earnest.

the immediate issue is this: reds (and purples and pinks) have horrifically bad lightfastness. not all of them, mind, but many are NOTORIOUS for fading under uv light, which means they will also fade if exposed to sunlight even in passing should it happen often enough. and—in especially bad cases where they're essentially working with dye and not pigment—they can even fade inside your notebook. inside of a drawer.

so not only are we working with an unfortunate pigment base (i'm simplifying here, there's way more nuance to this but shh) but we are working with one that skews heavily toward floral pinks or oranges. the red i'm searching for is warm, but not orange. dries dark but not brown. is transparent, not opaque. that last part is agonizing, because i also desperately do not want a color that will fade on me or generally destabilize, and most of the stable dark red pigments are EARTH pigments like red ochre (pr101) or the like. which, while fascinating because of their historical usage in things like pottery and even cave paintings that last to the modern day, are VERY OPAQUE. this is an issue with my preferred style of watercolor painting specifically, because opaque pigments tend to lift easier off the page and limit layering.

the search continues. pigment after pigment breaks my heart for one reason or another, drying too close to the cooler purpleish-red tint of wine at best. i think i find it in perylene maroon, but the drying shift (the difference between how a color looks wet vs after it dries on the paper) is so extreme that it loses the luminosity AND it's more opaque than most. i languish.

for a while my search turns to creation. i try and mix as many of my single pigment colors as i can into something that vaguely resembles what i'm looking for—so i take quinacridones and mix them with napthols, with nickel azos, with dashes of ultramarines and burnt sienna. everything turns out either just a bit too opaque, just a bit too muddy (that happens with multi-pigment mixtures, and is why so many people swear by single pigment colors. it's personal preference, really, great art can be made either way.)

still, nothing works. failure haunts me. i sit before a pile of used up watercolor paper that is literally covered edge to edge in nothing but similar red squares with various gradients and blooms as evidence of when i tried and failed to convince myself my efforts were close enough. i admit defeat.

in the meantime i shift my focus. i try and appreciate different color palettes and profiles, experimenting with things like fully transparent palettes (personal favroite) to fully opaque ones that function more like gouache. but despite finding appreciation for it, i still think about the damn red that i could never recreate. it kills me.

and then one day, a youtube video. a pigment is being discontinued, and the watercolor community is distressed. this happens a lot, because pigments are actually not always popular because of artists—sometimes beloved colors are put out of production because larger markets like car companies no longer find them popular enough to invest in. this time, the casualty is pr206, aka brown madder, aka quinacridone burnt scarlet.

let me tell you a little about quinacridones. they are genuinely remarkable colors. they have their own cult followings because of how bright and abnormally stable they are under uv light. they're transparent. they're luminous. they come in mostly shades of red and pink and purple, though there are a couple oranges and yellows in there. (there are no quinacridone blues, as far as i'm aware, but the phthalo blues have that category covered.) they also rewet beautifully, so you can put them on your palette and let them dry and not worry about it turning into a useless little rock of color that you can't get any pigment from anymore.

quinacridone magenta (pr122) is probably the most popular of these, the most often used besides maybe quinacridone violet (pv19). a few years prior we suffered the loss of quinacridone gold (po49) and since then people have been On Alert when it comes to losing these colors. i am one of them, because i never got the chance to even see po49 in person, and now the tubes are so stupid expensive that even the student grade versions go for Ridiculously High Prices on ebay, and the professional brands are being hoarded like (ironically) gold by anyone lucky enough to have a tube left over.

but back to our main character. not me, the pigment. pr206. i have legitimately never heard of this one, which to be fair is probably because i try to limit the random colors i fixate on since the hobby can easily get VERY expensive if you aren't careful. but it's a quinacridone, and that catches my eye.

i open the video.

now, i'm sure any artist out there will be familiar with the fact that screens don't display color consistently. it depends on your device, but most can agree that something that looks cooler on one may be warmer on the other, it's just what happens. but i see this color being swatched, and my brain implodes.

it's almost a perfect match.

it could work. it could. years of thinking that same thought have left me bereft and mistrustful of this specific quest marker, but the thought refuses to leave me. probably because the 'discontinued' label flashes like a neon sign.

i resist for about six months, and then i cave. at this point i have genuinely been trying and failing to find this color for upwards of five years. i am desperate, and the color might not be available anymore soon anyway, and apparently i am weak to sales pitches. (note: the color IS now unavailable in some brands, but others bought a decent supply and should have it available for at least a little while, alongside po48 which is quinacridone burnt orange, a favorite of mine and probably one of the only oranges i use regularly. both are discontinued officially, but they'll still be on sale till those supplies run dry.)

the color arrives. i grab my favorite brush. i pull out my stash of paper that i save for special occasions.

it's almost perfect.

i mix it with quinacridone burnt orange.

the result is, i swear, a perfect match for what i have been searching for.

it's warm. it dries dark but not dark enough to look brown. it keeps its luminosity (thank you quinacridones). it's fully transparent (thank you quinacridones). i genuinely feel the urge to weep, but i don't because i am clinging at last to the dredges of my sanity and also salt makes watercolor pigments behave differently and i will not risk this glorious moment. finally, after all these years, bill cipher has a gun i found the goddamn COLOR.

i mix it with warm yellows and with my favorite blues. with the pinks, just to laugh. life is beautiful and i am painting its sunsets, and i do not care if they look ridiculously messy. i have won.

the moral of the story is to never give up. or maybe it's to remember you never actually know everything about even the fields you love the most, because this color totally blindsided me despite being much more common than i expected. or maybe it's that i seriously needed to chill out for a while.

but yes. that is the tale of one (1) of the colors that has taken up residence in my soul. i hope you don't regret asking now lmao.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Whenever I play A Little to the Left, I like to imagine Heathcliff is the one sorting through things ... my favorite scenario is imagining him tidying Baker Street while Sherry's out working on a case.

[snzluv3r]

all i’ve done today is sneeze and having to stifle over and over has given me the worst headache it’s so hard being sexy 😔💔

[liroyalty]

While I'm sick my bf is playing FFXVI for me.

Watching the volcano run. And god poor Jill is dying in there.

[ritualslaughter]

was talking to my sister about this oceangate thing and she brought something up: how long do you think they wait before they start killing each other down there?

[shamiamja]

Help Jamal Shamia family

Jamal Shamia, Iam a criminal lawyer, lam suffering of many diseases hypertension and diabetic mellitus and Muscle spasms and always got shocked and coma .

Unfortunately, I was injured in the war and suffered a very serious injury, which was a blood clot in the hip joint area, which caused him many infections and the infection spread in the area. is currently in Gaza, and my home was destroyed at the beginning of the war. We have lost security and peace. We have witnessed how a single rocket can destroy your entire life, both your past and your future. Our dreams have been shattered. Now the future is unknown and dark. There is no home, no basic life essentials, no job. We are now seeking to leave this country for a life abroad and to obtain security. We estimate our loss to be at least $50,000 to rebuild a home and start our lives anew.

My wife, Mufida, is 62 years old. She traveled before the war to have surgery on her eye alone, and now she is stuck on the Egyptian side. She has no breadwinner and needs many medications and medical supplies.

After that, she suffered a broken hand due to the lack of necessary care for her. I want to collect money to go to her and support her.

Rasha Jamal Shamia and her husband, Khalil Abu Samaan, have two children, Mira and Omar. They have been forced to flee their home in Gaza City and are now living in a tent in Rafah, far from everything they once knew. Their home, their children’s education, and their future—everything is gone. Their days are filled with fear, and their nights bring no rest. The constant sound of bombs haunts them, and they have no way to provide their children with the life they deserve

Ahmad Jamal Shamia resides in Gaza and is a third-year student in dental school. He lost his education due to the devastating war in Gaza. He was studying at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, and his home was destroyed in the war. He is currently suffering from moving from one temporary shelter to another. Ahmad was a diligent, ambitious, and creative student who ranked first in his class. He didn't limit himself to what he learned in university. He attended courses and workshops online with Egyptian doctors to learn more and excel in his field. He always sought excellence and worked hard for it, and he loved helping all students.He now needs money to continue his education, which will cost him a lot of money since he will complete his studies in Egypt.

Vetted by:

Gazavetters no.#82

@90-ghost here

My link

PayPal account:

@sylvianritual @ana-bananya

@aristotels @bixlasagna @bonesashesglass @blackprinter @buttercuparry @briarhips @cagandante-communistoide @crimsaph @crispyartdev @determinate-negation @distillatoria @dontbelasagnax @dlxxv-vetted-donations @deepspaceboytoy @distillatoria @evilreceptionist @ehksidian @e @fr0ge @freeshfries98 @feluka @fromjanna @f3l1c1af0x @greenwingspino @group-oc-tournament @gottfried @garden-of-vegan @hojanaranja @ip2lb @jacksonharries @khanger @kibumkim @lishadra @lightning-in-your-teeth @mangocheesecake @mobileleprechaun @oursapphirestars @omegaversereloaded @phantomofthetacobell-blog @primmsfairytale @paper-mario-wiki @pcktknife @sayruq @soullesscoyote @sanleigh @spacefunclubs @tilltshift

[mostly-imagines]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨

[asinglesock]

water update: the whole area (including a hospital) is cut off from running water because of a leaking water main. Even once we get water back we'll need to boil water till further notice.

[captain-amadeus]

Ivy gives the most aggressive kiss to Eus when he is about to destroy something and takes him to the bedroom and slaps his face with sleeping dust like calm the fuck down go to sleep

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.” 

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you. 

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you. 

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed. 

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around. 

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound. 

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed. 

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom. 

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh. 

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained. 

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely. 

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way. 

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become. 

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch. 

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch. 

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were. 

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat. 

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch. 

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered. 

“Do you?”  

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him. 

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh. 

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench. 

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back. 

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in. 

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed. 

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust. 

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him. 

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders. 

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck. 

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment. 

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful. 

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing. 

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own. 

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs. 

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.  

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips. 

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff. 

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure. 

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak. 

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch. 

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high. 

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance. 

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at. 

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud. 

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…” 

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes. 

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.         

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp. 

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole. 

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself. 

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole. 

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom. 

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was. 

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy. 

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore. 

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel. 

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock. 

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards. 

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass. 

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more. 

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another. 

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[oblique-lane]

Another take on the TF2 Clone Theory:

Continuation to this.

When I was talking to people about the clone theory, they were always asking me about who were originals and who were clones. I didn't understand why that matters; they're all same people with the same memories of their pre-service past, right?

What I didn't understand is that people had entirely different take on how clones are made than I do. I've never even thought about the fetus tubes until someone specifically pointed out that scene in Emesis Blue... (I also didn't know cloning was a real life thing?? Not just sci-fi trope??)

So yeah I've always thought cloning was instant because it would also explain how respawn works. Classic "resurrection" either isn't the thing (lame) or just takes too much time to commit. However, the super cool very scientific respawn machine will use your remains + storage bio supply to quickly rebuild a new body (as it was at the assigning day) and put your consciousness into that body so you feel like you're living nonstop.

(at least that's the theory)

Also, to answer these questions:

They do remember their connections, their past and their memories. Memories of the past are the same.

Their families were not cloned, they aren't involved in this business in any way. They don't know.

However, to keep this secret from the mercs... Of course if both of the clones will speak to their families they will soon spot some weird things and inconsistencies (talking about things that seemed to never happen). Not even talking about visiting family on holidays, that's an obvious no-no.

So... First of all, a big deal is to make REDs and BLUs lives and experiences here as similar (ideally identical) as possible.

And second: I think their connection to the world is just very limited/prohibited. The telephone connection is entirely controlled by the Administration (Sniper has to drive far away to sneak talk to his parents). Letters are monitored, censored and withhold if necessary (or copied if they are FROM the family). No going home until the contract is due (many years??) etc...

Which contradicts comics in s lot of ways but you know what? I don't even care. Comics are an unreliable narrator anyways. I mean uh... I uh. I'll talk about it some other time.