#which doesn't make the fact that i may or may not get a refill (at all) before i get my yknow what even MORE FUN

[bunnyb34r]

Man I love having mood swings again

So fun! Having time of my life! I wanna die! Having a blast!

[be-with-me-so-happily]

il gran finale

ONE SHOT

Summary: As photography apprentice to Lloyd Wakefield, you have been around Harry quite a lot on tour, capturing all the mesmerizing moments on stage. But at the after party of the final show in Reggio Emilia, he seems to be the one zoned in on you.

AN: I don't know if this is any good. I haven't written smut in so long, but with Love On Tour coming to an end, I needed to do something!

Warnings: Some explicit language, alcohol consumption, mild exhibitionism kink, fingering, public unprotected intercourse (wrap it before you tap it people)

You've always known Harry Styles is a gentleman. Even before you took on the role of apprentice photographer to Lloyd Wakefield, you only ever heard positive comments about the man, about how kind and caring he is. No one ever has a bad thing to say, and touring with him has only proven those things to be true. He is a sweet guy, just as everyone claims him to be.

That's his reputation. His public reputation.

But the way his enchanting and lustful green eyes have locked in on you for the past several minutes has made you think of nothing but the other reputation he has. The dream that you and thousands of his fans indulge in. The fantasy of him taking control of every single part of you, of using you, of pleasing you. Of giving you everything he has while you are under him, and on top of him, and in front of him, and…

You reset yourself as nearby laughter pulls you out of those delicious yet indelicate thoughts, ones you may need to draw upon later in the privacy of your hotel room.

It's bad enough that he has a flirtatious side. The subtle winks, the cheeky smiles, the wiggles of his eyebrows when a mildly indecent comment has been made. Usually by him. Both on and off stage, each of those gestures can easily get you flustered.

And it definitely doesn't make your job any easier, especially considering it's your assignment to watch him, to photograph him, to view him in a variety of different angles, none of which could be considered unflattering. He always looks good.

The outfit tonight, the shaggy silver get-up, showcasing his glistening pecs and chiseled abs, only added to the assortment of desires you only dwell upon alone at night. You're usually very composed, for the most part. You know how to play it cool.

But right now, as his stare exhibits something primal, you feel as if your entire body is on fire, and you can't help but be engulfed by the flames.

Clinking of the ice in your glass as you bring it to your lips alerts you to the fact that your drink has been fully consumed, and you decide to head to the bar for a refill. If not just for another drink, then for the moment of solidarity to gather yourself and bring some air back into your lungs. Because you are sure it's not the alcohol that's causing you to feel so dizzy.

"Hi, could I please hav-"

"Another margarita?" You hear in a deep, sultry, British voice sounding out from behind you. Right behind you.

"Yes please." You utter, almost inaudibly, to the bartender, the heat from before intensifying with each breath of Harry's that you feel on your neck.

"And I'll have two shots of Tequila, please sir." He states, so casually, as you stand frozen in place.

A cold breeze hits your skin as you see him move around and position himself to your left, leaving you to miss the warmth he was just providing.

"You look like you're having a good time." He states, as he brings his glass to his lips. You watch as the rim rests on them. You watch as the liquid slides between them. And you watch as a smirk pulls in the mischievous dimple that he is so well known for, unintentionally licking your own lips in the process.

"Sorry… what were you saying?" You ask, attention moving back to his gaze and finding those glistening green irises already locking in on your eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" He chuckles in response to your question, leaving your heart pounding with embarrassment.

"I am!" You exclaim, quicker than anticipated, clearly not playing it cool like you believe you usually do.

"Good." He replies simply.

"Are you?"

"I am." He nods, his eyes quickly flickering down your body, before switching their focus back to the bar, creating a warmth between your legs, and you try desperately not to squirm.

"Good." You reply, with a giggle, finally taking the sip of margarita that has unknowingly been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. "So we're both enjoying ourselves."

He chuckles along with you, shaking his head as he throws back his second shot. He swallows it harshly, drawing your eye to the way his Adam's apple bobs with the consumption of the liquor. You notice his body begin to turn towards you, and as you glaze up his neck to his gorgeous face, a lustful expression falls over it. His brows narrow, and deviancy sparks in his eyes, turning them to a deep, enticing emerald.

"Want to enjoy each other now?"

"Sure, that-" You begin to respond, but your eyes begin to travel down to his lips, noticing how his teeth dig into the bottom one. His look of determination makes you wonder if there's a more devious meaning behind it, and that thought alone causes an extreme yearning between your legs. "Wait… what do you mean?"

He leans against the bar, his tattoo-covered forearm resting on top, as the palm of his right hand gently slides over your hip and draws you closer with the mildest press of his fingertips against your dress.

"YN, I just had one of the best nights of my fucking life! I want to celebrate. Really celebrate."

"And… how-... umm… how do you want to really celebrate?" You chuckle nervously, every hair on your body standing straight, every nerve on high alert.

"I can show you. If you want me to." He utters, almost a whisper, barely audible in the jumble of conversations surrounding you, but loud enough that it sends the coldest shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his body following along until you are only inches apart. "And considering how tightly your thighs are clenched together right now… I think you do."

Your mouth instantly drops open, and if he wasn't actually correct, and those contracted muscles weren't holding you upright, your legs would have buckled beneath you.

"C'mon." He whispers, softly running two fingers down your arm and grabbing your hand, pulling your body to follow him.

"Harry, wait." You manage to get out, surprisingly, considering the daze he's just put you in. "This… is your party..."

"Yeah." He states, shrugging so casually as he turns back to look at you. "So?"

"We can't just leave!"

Harry stops his trek, along with your heart. He swivels around, the most salacious smirk wide across his face, and to your surprise, you manage to clench your core even tighter.

He leans down to your ear, his lip barely grazing the bottom, his breath steady but thick.

"Who said anything about leaving?"

An exhale releases all the air held in your lungs, leaving you unsure whether it is the margaritas or his suggestive statement that's making your head spin.

He turns back and maneuvers through the crowd of people that have come to congratulate and party with him. But he seems to be a man on a mission.

Through the dim lights and the loud thumps of the music filling the room, you somehow find yourself looking at a staircase leading up the the second floor of the venue.

"Just us?" You hear Harry ask the security staff member guarding the way.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." He responds with a quick nod.

Without hesitation, Harry leads you up, each step building the anxious anticipation inside of you. It's not even clear what may be waiting for you at the top, but if Harry's apparent determination is any indication, it won't be boring.

As you reach the landing, you do a quick scan of your surroundings, seeing a couple of purple velvet sofas pushed against the wall. He takes you further in, letting go of your hand and placing both of his large palms on the thick, black railing in front of him. You stand at his side, copying his stature, though feeling the sweat of your hands being transferred to the metal within them.

The neon flashing of lights is the only thing brightening the venue, as the music sounds and provides a rhythm for the rest of the attendees to move their bodies to. You feel Harry's closest arm glide its way across your back, settling itself on your opposite hip, and squeezing with enough firmness to tell you he wants to be gentle with you, but also wants not to be.

The rest of his figure moves along behind you, pulling you closer to him, as if your bodies had an unretractable magnetic connection. The warmth of his lips suddenly hits right below your ear, causing every muscle you have to practically melt under that simple touch.

"Harry…" You utter, unsure if you've been heard over the sound of the new song beginning to play. "People could see us…"

"Doubtful." He mumbles, his breath tickling down your neck. "No one's looking anyway."

Another kiss moistens your skin, and your head falls backwards to him, resting against his broad, strong shoulder, encouraging him to continue his tantalizing exploration.

He grazes your hips with his palms, running them up and down the tops of your thighs, letting out a heavy exhale when he stops at the hem of your dress. His fingertips tease the edge, sliding around to the front. One hand lifts up to your waist, while the other glides around to your inner thigh, and you could swear your panties are already soaked.

"Do you like this?" He whispers in your ear, and with the state of daze he currently has you in, all you can manage is a subtle nod. "Tell me. Do you like this?"

"Y-yes." You breathe out.

"Do you want more?" He asks in the lowest tone he's ever spoken in, barely needing to convince you that he'll give you whatever you want.

"Yes." You reply, anticipation thick in your stomach.

His fingers run up and under your dress, and you thank yourself for picking the shorter of your two options when you were getting ready for the party.

You attempt to push him back a few paces to the closest velvet sofa for some privacy, but he stands solid in place and you stretch your neck to get as good of a look at him as you can.

"Stay." He states simply, not a demand that you couldn't reject, but the way his tone hit your soul, you can't even imagine refusing him of almost anything he wanted.

Suddenly your body jumps, as you feel mild pressure slowly moving up the center of your panties.

"Soaked." Harry whispers. "Didn't realize I got you this wet, this fast."

His teeth begin to nibble on your earlobe, as his fingers snap the fabric of your underwear, causing you to let out the most pathetic and needy whimper.

"Harry… please." You whine, desperate for something, anything, that he is willing to give you.

"What do you want, YN?"

"Touch me." You reply, your legs already weak at the thought.

He listens, running his index along your center, feeling how slick he's made you. Suddenly, he dips it inside of you, and you worry he could make you cum right here and now. But god you want to feel so much more. You want him to give you so much more.

Slowly, his finger pulls out, but immediately glides back in, accompanied by another, pumping them both in unison, and sending your head into a spin.

"Do you want more?" He asks into your ear.

"Yes." You barely reply, hoping with all you have that he heard your response.

He adds one more finger, and the trio pick up their pace as his thumb puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit.

"Oh my god." You whine, feeling a sensation ripple through your body. Nothing you've done to yourself, alone with just your thoughts of him, could ever compare to the feeling of what he's doing to you now.

In and out, his fingers pump, and you're sure if the music suddenly stopped, the noise of his motions would echo from wall to wall.

"You're so tight." He utters. "Don't know if you'd be able to handle my cock."

Just the mention of that word has you moaning, so you reach your arm up to grab onto the back of his neck, and you tilt your head towards him.

"I want that."

"You want what?" He asks, quickening his pace, and halting your words until you swallow the lump that's caught in your throat.

You look down, scanning the crowd for any prying eyes, only to find everyone distracted by their own activities below. Although, at this moment, you aren't sure if that matters to you. If that would stop you.

"I want your cock." You admit, using your free hand to push in between your two bodies and palm over his hard bulge, the feeling of his thick girth creating an even deeper yearning for it.

"Fuck." He growls, his cock twitching under the fabric of his pants.

The emptiness created as his fingers leave your body almost has you wishing you hadn't made any other request, but as you feel his waistband tug down, and the bare skin of his cock as it springs out from its confines and back into your hand, you get wetter than you've been in any moment before.

A strong thigh parts your legs, the back of your dress inches up, and as you feel his long, thick cock glide between them and coat itself in your wetness, Harry lets out a deep, rumbling growl. He runs one hand up your spine and pushes slightly on your back, getting you to bend over a bit and prop yourself up with your hands gripping the railing.

There's never been a desperation so intense as now, as you feel Harry's tip tease your entrance. You've never wanted anything more than the sensation of him pushing into you, stretching you out, giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.

"Think you can fit me inside there?" He asks, the smugness more enticing than you could have imagined possible. But his words, his touch, his everything is overwhelming and rendering you speechless. Then you hear Harry hum, as if knowing your inability to reply, and answering it for himself. "I think you can."

And just like that, he slips in. Slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size each time he pushes in a little further. Filling you completely with every inch he goes deeper, until all you feel is him. Until all you know is him.

"Oh my god." You moan out, unaware if it has been drowned out by the music and chatter of everyone else.

He quickens his pace slightly, and your hold on the railing tightens, not only to steady yourself, but also to possibly disguise your actual activities as simply enjoying the rhythm of the song.

"All these people… and no one knows what we're doing up here." Harry grunts as he thrusts into you, drawing out another, yet much heavier, moan from your chest. It's followed by a pleased groan from behind you, the sound almost as good as any song he's ever sung. "But I wouldn't care if they did… if they saw how well you're taking me… and if they heard much you love it."

"Harry…" You whine, as an extreme sensation builds in your core, feeling every nerve peek, alerting you to the fact that at any moment now, you'll be completely taken over by the intense amount of pleasure he's giving you. "I need to-"

"No." He states sternly.

"Please!" You beg, all dignity being tossed aside.

"Not yet." He replies, and all of a sudden, you feel hollow. Something is missing, and as you feel yourself clear out from the heightened state of a daze you've been in since you reached that second level of the venue, you realize his glorious cock is no longer inside of you.

"What-" You begin, stepping back and turning around to face him, finding his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, creating an even stronger desire to have him fill the gap again.

"I need to fuck you harder, and faster." He explains grabbing both hips as he backs up and lowers down to take a seat on the sofa. "And I need to watch you when you cum all over my cock."

A shallow breath makes its way out between your lips at his statement, and you slowly lower yourself to straddle his lap, feeling a throb inside yourself as you feel another underneath you.

Your hips begin to grind on him, hoping to create an impatience in him as strong as the one in you. You cup his cheeks within your palms and bring your lips to his, smiling against them as they part and release a deep moan. You move to kiss his jaw, letting the stubble tickle your skin and you make your way down his neck. His hands begin to roam your body, exploring more than they had been able to when standing at the railing. They grip your back, your waist, and settle at your hips, gripping just tight enough to guide them back and forth.

"All I've thought about tonight… is having you like this." You hear him utter, the words hitting deep into the pit of your stomach. "Hell, all I think about most nights is… fuck… is having you like this!"

You pull back, your eyes immediately locking in on his, as if your bodies are confessing their deepest desires to each other in a secret, seductive language. Without a word, you push up on your knees, hovering over and inviting him back inside of you, where you want him the most. One of his hands holds his cock steady as the other remains on you, helping you to lower back down onto him. In this position, you can feel him ever more, much to your surprise considering he filled you so well just moments ago.

"Then fuck me how you've been wanting to." You state, your focus still fully on him.

As soon as he's given that permission, both palms squeeze tighter to your body, pulling you down on his cock as if to meld your bodies together.

"Oh god." He exclaims, throwing his head backwards to rest on the sofa, dropping his mouth open as you begin to bounce.

Almost instantly, with the new depth he's hitting, you feel your body reignited and a release drawing near.

"Harry, this is…" You mumble, the pleasure hindering a complete coherent sentence. "It's… how…"

"Tell me, baby." He replies, holding you down as he starts to thrust up into you, leaving you unable to feel anything other than him.

"This is how… oh my-… I've been wanting you… to fuck me, too…"

"F-... fucks sake!" He exclaims, no longer holding back his vigor as he goes as fast and gets as deep as he possibly can, causing moans to burst out from both of you.

"Harr-... I'm gon-..." You whine, trying to plead with him to get you over the edge and fall into a pool of ecstasy. The sight of his hair becoming messy with sweat, the feel of his hands holding you down, the taste of his skin on your lips, the smell of his cologne exuding off his chest, the sound of his breathy moans in your ear. He has completely taken over all of your senses, and you know this is the best experience you've ever had.

"Say it, YN. Look at me and say it." He growls, and as your eyes find his, the amount of lust in his begins to push you off the ledge.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"On your cock!" You blurt, the level of volume coinciding with the intensity of your desperation. "I'm gonna cum on your cock."

"Do it." He commands, and with his permission, you immediately let go, completely melting into him as that desired ecstasy rips through your entire body.

Your face falls into the crook of his neck, only leaving enough room to draw in some shallow, labored breaths. You can feel Harry squirm beneath you, his stride becoming less rhythmic with each stroke into you, his chest rising and falling in the same, unsteady way.

"YN… if I can't cum inside you, tell me now, 'cause I'm… fuck, I'm so close."

Your head lifts and pulls away, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, pupils blown and a glaze covering them. You lean down to his ear, letting your breath puff gently over his skin.

"Cum inside of me, Harry." You whisper, placing a kiss right below his ear.

"Y-yeah? You want my cum?" He fumbles, his breathing becoming more random with every sloppy thrust. "I'll give you… f-fucking all of it!"

Harry grips tighter, bouncing you on himself with a determination you aren't sure if you've ever seen before. He lets out a moan so gritty you know it originated deep in his chest. The sound alone could have you orgasming again if it drew out a few seconds longer. It's accompanied by one last thrust of his hips and a powerful, pleased throbbing of his cock, as his cum coats your walls.

If the dj wasn't blasting anything through the speakers, the sound of your synchronized, labored breaths would be enough to fill the room. You sit up straighter, still straddling Harry's lap, and you finally take in the mess of a man in front of you. His head still rests back on the sofa, his eyes now shut, and a blissful smile stretched across his face.

"That's one way to finish a tour." You chuckle, pushing your palms against the fabric of the shirt now sticking to the drizzle of sweat on his chest.

His palms shoot up to your face, holding it so gently, but with an untapped passion behind his eyes. They flicker to your lips and he dives in for a taste, running his tongue along to part them, and sighing as your own tongue dances along. A pop sounds out as you pull apart, with just enough room for an inhale of air, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"And cheers to the next one."

Main Masterlist

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[anikasheep]

SCENTS - The Older Brothers

MC is a sweet adorable sheep, yes.

Lucifer

Lucifer is the type who desperately wants your scent to stay on him but doesn't want anyone to find out. It's not that he doesn't want people to know, but he doesn't want them to get the wrong impression that the Avatar of Pride has become a human captive.

It's you who should smell like him. He owns you, not you.

But there was a part of Lucifer that kept convincing him that he should at least smell like you.

Little Lamb is special, if other demons smell the scent of Little Lamb from you, doesn't that mean that Little Lamb, a human being, is recognized by Lucifer? How many humans have been recognized by Lucifer, who is at the top of the power in the entire demon world? Don't you want to see the group of sorcerers and witches looking enviously at the lamb? Not to mention the fact that you can see Solomon's eyes holding back his jealousy, which is definitely something worth doing!

You'll use a laundry detergent that smells like lamb and sneak it into your locker, and then the next morning, with a troubled look on your face, ask if you've seen his uniform.

Or he'll use the fact that he's too busy as an excuse to ask you to help him put away his clothes. He knows you can't resist stealing his shirt or jacket and taking pictures of him in his room. There's a popular custom called boyfriend shirts and he'll let you have it!

He will adjust to the lamb's acceptance of physical contact, from kisses to hugs, to fixing your fringe, to tying your hair (this usually happens before a big party, and Lucifer won't hesitate to steal Asmo's place of work, believe me).

If he doesn't really like the physical contact mentioned above, he will inadvertently put his right hand around your wrist and gently rub his thumb on your wrist. Lucifer one day accidentally discovered that this behavior can make you relax, and then you will smell even better.

Lucifer's study has a blanket which only MC and himself could use, every time the sheep study with Lucifer to deal with the student body affairs will be draped in this blanket. Lucifer refused to let anyone but himself and the lamb touch it, and he would ask the lamb to take the blanket with him when he washed his clothes for various reasons. Don't ask too many questions, you KNEW WHY.

Mammon

Invade your room, what's yours is his, offer him all you've got, he craves all you've got, lamb.

You've all slept together. I don't think he'll ever not smell like you.

He holds the lamb in his sleep and keeps saying the lamb's name under his breath.

More than once, he suggests to the sheep that they can wear his jacket if they are cold.

He is a cuddle fiend and will get next to you whenever he gets the chance, and will let you hug him from behind if you are okay with it. Loves to put his face close to your neck and shoulders, with the tip of his nose brushing against the arteries in your neck.

This way he can smell you at the same time, and then feel the pulse of your life, as long as it is about you, he craves hopelessly.

He's proud of the fact that he smells like you. After all, you're his human, his lamb.

He likes to use the excuse of wanting to sleep or something like that and puts his face close to the inside of your elbow, where the body temperature is high and the smell of you is strong. ←Birds

They may steal your body lotion and remember to refill it, but if you want them to stop, tell them to stop:

“Mammon, you're old enough to use your own body wash.”

“Huh? Oh sure, I'm a great Mammon, human.”

“Do you like the smell?”

“Is it the smell that counts, no! No! Yes! The point is that you use this body wash and it smells good, you little twerp. Uh...damn it!”

If it's okay, let's try inviting him to buy the same kind of body wash next time.

Leviathan

To be honest, I think this otaku is one of the seven brothers who know the most about this kind of thing, but this otaku is really too shy, so his way will be as euphemistic as Lucifer's.

He will take advantage of the time when you are playing together in his room and put his tail on your wrist or ankle.

His tail will take advantage of the time you play together in his room to rest on your wrists or ankles, his tail can feel your smallest heartbeat and tremors, and for some reason, it can also feel your most real emotional reaction.

He can't easily turn into a demon at school, so he's used to putting his hand around your wrist when he's anxious.

If you're generous enough to give him a hug, Leviathan will hold you tightly like an octopus, hooking his arms around your waist, and if anyone dares to try and separate the two of you, you'll see Leviathan make a hissing sound like a snake warning off its enemies.

There is a HANA RURI blanket around you two, and it's a cold night in the Demon World, so be sure to stay close to Leviathan to keep warm.

If you see Leviathan wriggling around with a familiar towel, blushing and asking you to wash it with him, please indulge him in his little request, lamb!

May fantasize about a lot of slightly perverse situations, but he knows those things are not acceptable and he respects your wishes. So accordingly, he may collect a set of HANA RURI clothing peripherals for you, shirts, jackets, scarves, etc., looking forward to you to satisfy this nerd's COSPLAY wishes and his hidden small one.

[daftpatience]

how would one get into fountain pens and inks ?? i’ve never liked using those 50 pens for a dollar types and only used fountain pens at school . honestly i’d love if you infodump at me about your favs pens, inks and how the tiktoks only show those glass pens with the swirls that slowly drip off ink and not any love for pens that hold ink themself

yaa sure!! and firstly i wanna say the reason you see a lotta glass dip pens on tiktok is simply because they are pretty and people think they are cool. dip pens have a lot of neat benefits of their own! dont let the bad app make u bitter abt em! (for example dip pens let you use a muuch wider range of inks made out of pigments that a fountain pen couldn't handle!)

but i digress. getting into fountain pens usually starts with an affordable one! (or a fancy hand me down if you're lucky!) jetpens & gouletpens are good shops to find fountain pens, and you may be lucky enough to live near a stationery shop that carries them, who knows!

generally good pens to start with are cheap enough that you won't feel too bad if it doesn't turn out to be your favourite but still a smooth writer. they should feel good in the hand and be refillable (since we are talking about avoiding disposable pens! but disposable fountain pens do exist.) generally these pens are in the $10-$30 range, but some cheaper pens like the platinum preppy and jinhao shark will surprise you!

especially worth taking into account with starting to get into pens is the nib size and filling mechanism!

nib size:

fountain pens generally come in Extra Fine, Fine, Medium, Broad, and Double Broad nib sizes, although there are other fancy ones like stub, flex, cursive, and left handed ones. (i am left handed and don't use them, so don't worry too much about that if you are.)

generally western nibs run a little broader than Japanese nib sizes, so keep that in mind when choosing a pen!

personally i find that finer nibs are more useful for me drawing-wise, and i enjoy broader nibs for writing (especially since i tend to draw in black and write in pretty colours i want to see more of!) this just applies to me of course ^u^

filling mechanisms:

fountain pens can come with ink cartridges (sometimes universal and sometimes proprietary) which tend to be a good choice for folks that like mess-free easy ways to reink a pen even when you're out and about. they do limit your selection of inks, though!

cartridge pens can usually be converted to piston fill/squeeze fill pens with a compatible converter, and some even come with one by default (like the jinhao shark!) some fountain pens (like TWSBIs) have a piston fill mechanism integrated into the entire barrel. (they have a very big ink capacity!) these converters/pens allow you to use any fountain pen ink you like, and also help make pen cleaning easier as you can take up and flush out water with it.

another type of fountain pen is eyedropper fill - where the entire barrel is watertight and you simply fill it with ink via eyedropper (or god forbid just pouring the ink from the bottle into it lol) these kinds of filling mechanisms are a lot messier and are generally done at home since you might not wanna bring ink bottles and paper towels along wherever you go, especially if they're big. some pens can be converted to eyedropper fill by making the barrels watertight with silicone grease on the threads & plugging any breather holes.

fun fact! ink cartridges are much more popular in europe, and bottled inks are more popular in america. idk why!

in terms of my favourite fountain pens, i very much like the TWSBI ECO/ECO T, LAMY safari, platinum preppy/plaisir, kaweco sport, and jinhao shark! they're all great and come in lots of fun colours and i want more twsbis so bad aaa

ok this is getting long but lets talk about inks!! im dying to talk about inks can we talk about inks

i already went over the difference between pigment and dye based inks here, so let's talk about what to think of when choosing an ink and also some of my favs!!

picking out an ink for your pen should consist of at least 3 factors!

make sure you are looking for fountain pen ink! (drawing inks & dip pen inks will clog a fountain pen!)

what colour do you want!!! (as a tip, light colours look even lighter when reduced to the fine line of a pen, and can sometimes be rather disappointing or hard to see. stick to broader nibs for those!)

do you need it to be water and/or highlighter proof?

most online shops let you filter to find what you're looking for, and most irl shops have sample cards for you to look through (while they may not show you about the waterproof part, generally the people working there should be able to tell you about it! most of the shops ive been to are staffed by fellow enthusiasts!)

aside from that you really can go nuts! there are inks with shimmer, inks that are suuuper bold and solid, some that vary in shade (and hue!) and some that develop a metallic sheen around the edge!

as for my favourite inks, i really like these and heres why!

pilot iroshizuku: they have some REALLY pretty colours. plus the bottles are big and very pretty!

Diamine: these inks come in some absolutely luscious colours (and TONS of sparkly shimmery options) and are known for being very consistently good performers across all their colours.

sailor: these inks are fancy and preddy and smell good to me wehehe

j. herbin: they make a green i really like >:) and also are popular for being good inks im pretty sure!

special extra shoutout to ferris wheel press: i havent actually gotten an ink from them i truly love yet (ive only ever tried a sample set of pastels and i like my inks darker) but their bottles are truly to die for.

ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR COMING!! TO MY TED TALK!!! im fully info dumped out!!!! whee!

[horce-divorce]

And ykw, in re: queer people eating up terf rhetoric uncritically, I'm STILL reeling about how, when I came back from Twitter, i was seeing all these ads for Folx and Plume on Tumblr, and the ONLY comments and reblogs were attacks, things saying "this company exploits trans people, don't use it."

Plume is a company run BY trans people. It's a bunch of trans doctors who will prescribe you HRT via telehealth and do all your labs, refills, needles etc for like $99/mo (last time i checked). Folx is the same but a bit cheaper and operates in different states, in an attempt to cover gaps in trans Healthcare coverage.

As soon as I started blocking terfs I stopped seeing those comments. But I also stopped seeing anyone talking about Folx or Plume. Point blank. I dont even get the ads for it anymore. It's like everyone just absorbed the idea that they're "preying on trans people" by giving you HRT, which is TERF 101 LEVEL SHIT. None of you even fucking Googled it!!!

Like honestly I'm pretty bitter about this whole thing, and the fact that I've not yet seen ANYONE talk about this or own up to it in the 2-3 years since???? Folx and Plume are both still around. I've had to consider using them multiple times even in relatively "safe" states like Michigan, because sure, your insurance might cover HRT, but good luck finding a doctor who will prescribe it, because PP doesn't do HRT there, there's like 4 doctors in the whole state that will, and they will be like a 6 hour drive from you if they're accepting patients at all.

So like idk especially with all the absolute HORSE SHIT that you guys like to put TPOC, intersex ppl, asexual ppl, and trans men thru at the mere SUGGESTION of terfs, I just have to wonder how many of you are STILL repeating word-for-word terf rhetoric without unpacking it. (I mean, in addition to those of you I SEE STILL DOING THIS.) You may be critically/outwardly against TERFS, but if you don't actually take ANY time to block them, or even recognize and challenge their rhetoric in your head, you arent doing enough to avoid them. Cause you're STILL repeating it and you look foolish, WHICH WAS THE GOAL, BTW. To make queer (esp trans) people look foolish and disorganized, and to drive a wedge between our communities about struggles we actually fucking share.

Another example: I've said it before and I'll say it fucking again, "trans men can't speak to being oppressed bc you are MEN and therefore have Male Privilege, SILENCE, OPPRESSOR," is the SAME ARGUMENT from a few years ago about "ace and aro ppl aren't queer bc you don't experience sexual attraction, you can't be oppressed for something you dont experience, therefore, silence, cishet!" Signed, an asexual gnc transmasc. This was another instance of queerphobic, divisive terf rhetoric getting passed around uncritically for YEARS. (I can't speak to this bc I'm not a lesbian but it does feel eerily similar to "bi lesbians are harmful to our community" as well, that whole, "anything that could even feasibly one day sorta be tied back to Men means its #unsafe" vibe, but also a very, "anyone queerer than a cis political lesbian is a threat to our community," vibe, which feels r/dfemmy to me.)

I see people TALK about the dark ages of asexual hatred on this site, but I dont see a lot of you dissecting how that happened or how to prevent it from happening again to other communities. I see people talking about "wow everyone on this site sure was unhinged about asexual ppl" and then turning around and saying shit like "transandrophobia truthers." fucking look at yourselves.

[thewackypegasus]

i ramble about soul-based magic in ye olde hallownest

alrighty so i've been thinking about the state of magic before the fall of hallownest, because while spellcasting is a significant part of the game and the knight's journey, it's also not... super common among other characters? the only other characters who seem to practice it (unless i'm forgetting someone) are the snail shamans and the mages at the soul sanctum. it's also not a significant part of the infrastructure of the kingdom (except for the soul totems, which i'll get to later because i forgot they existed until just now). and i think this sort of makes sense, since the easiest and most plentiful way to gather soul is to wound and/or kill other creatures. when most of the creatures around you are infected husks, this isn't so bad, but when most of the other creatures around you are alive and sapient bugs, murder becomes a whole lot more iffy.

now, i do think it's possible that mages in ye olde hallownest farmed or hunted non-sapient bugs (like vengeflies, baldurs, crawlids, et cetera) for soul to use for spellcasting. i think this is especially likely for the snail shamans, as a.) when you go to their mounds in the game, they are filled with non-sapient bugs who can be fought for soul, and b.) i feel like if the snail shamans were murdering people en masse, we as players would know about it.

why, then, would the soul master decide to use sapient hallownest citizens for his experiments? two reasons: 1.) he's a fucked-up bastard, and 2.) sapient bugs produce more soul. i think it is plausible that sapient bugs produce more soul than non-sapient bugs because many of the non-husk sapient enemies in the game (moss knights, mantises, denizens of the hive) take more hits to kill than husks or minor non-sapient enemies like vengeflies, and therefore give more soul in total if you fight them to the death. there are, however, regular mosskin who take just as many hits to kill as husks, who are outliers here, and it is also plausible that the other sapient enemies take more hits to kill because they are more trained in combat.

back to soul farming—and not the kind the soul master did where he murdered countless innocent bugs! if creatures could be raised as livestock to farm soul, that begs the question: why didn't the bugs of hallownest do this? i mean, first of all, there's just the fact that there isn't much evidence of farming in hallownest in general aside from the hive. i also imagine soul farming was just impractical compared to the other resources the denizens of hallownest had at their disposal. i mean, the pale king was literally a god, and both his innovation and the innovation of the bugs he granted sapience begot elevators and trams and mining equipment and whatnot, which seem to run reliably without needing a power source as difficult to gather as soul. soul totems do exist, but there are a relatively small number of them, and most of them have a limited output before they presumably need to refill. farming soul would require a lot of labor for a power source that is not nearly as reliable as the power that already runs most of the tech in hallownest.

i do wonder exactly how many bugs practiced soul-based magic in ye olde hallownest. it seems to be a significant tradition among snails, as evidenced by the fact that most of the magic practitioners we findin hallownest are the snail shamans. however, the existence of the soul sanctum implies that other bugs studied soul-based magic as well, and the snail shaman at the burial mound seems happy to share his knowledge in exchange for some basic pest removal. it may not have been commonly used by most bugs in everyday life, but there is evidence for it being accessible to those interested in seeking it out.

tl;dr: i think raising livestock for soul in ye olde hallownest would have been possible but not necessarily practical for large-scale projects, and overall it doesn't seem like soul-based magic played that big of a role in the life of the average bug before hallownest's fall, but it definitely did exist as a tradition that is cool to think about

[bornbreathless-archive]

@handgiven from here

it may have been the port wine char set them up with. it may have been the very fact that no matter what they were willing to admit, raym did miss char horribly and seeing her now made them giddy beyond what the port alone could have done. still, what a nice evening. what lovely talk. what wonderful -- char. they caught themself staring a little too long and that fact alone made them frown to themself, unsettled ever so slightly at whatever the hell kind of mood they could feel settling in the pit of their stomach. whatever. char is a friend. char is nice. char cares about them and gets them port wine to drink even though she herself thinks it's gross. char looks out for them. char has a delightful cat. char is always willing to let them stop by when they just so happen to hop the earth. char is... they frown a little harder, watching char through their empty glass, slightly out of focus, slightly twisted by irregularities of the material, slightly tinted red with the leftover traces of the liquid. the emptiness is what bothers them, surely. nothing else. when they pull to their feet, they are slightly wobbly. just slightly. they consider turning into their bird form to move around the room but regretfully recognise that that would mean leaving their glass behind. and the glass is the point, innit? the glass they cradle in their hand as they make it over to char, who leans against the counter with her back and enjoys the show. oh devils, they must look ridiculous right now. it's really not even that they had that much. mostly, they were just out of shape. and their cheeks were burning before they got that first sip, anyway. and their head was all fuzzy before they'd even begin to consider-- wrong calculations about their movement lead to char getting in their way, between them and the bottle. or has she always been there? what is it that raym comes for? they look up to meet her eyes and they just about melt. they do miss having their wings for maintaining balance right about now. they do miss just... being a bird and not having to make decisions like this. they do step on their tiptoes, to press a shy peck upon char's lips, pressing a little closer as their hand snakes around her to grasp their prey; the all-guilty bottle of port wine. sure. this was all for that one bottle. nothing else. "i was, um, runnin' on empty."

Most who know her know that Char is, perhaps, one of the least patient beings on the planet. Which is admittedly somewhat confounding given the very nature of what she is, a living embodiment of that which waits for everyone no matter how much they may try to outrun it.

Everybody knows that Char isn't patient. Which is why it might surprise them to know just how patient she is with Raym.

Raym, who denies any accusation that they may have missed the Reaper when she's not around. Raym, who lives amongst the drab and dreary hallways of Hell, but whose eye is always drawn to the shiny trinkets that litter the Earth. Raym, who she can't help but notice has been staring at her almost the whole evening, partly because she's been staring back nearly as much.

Char stands with her back to the kitchen counter, having moved to refill her wineglass a few moments earlier - not that godawful port wine, but a nice red, most of the bottle already gone over the course of the night. The conversation has slowed to a comfortable silence as she watches Raym from over the rim of her glass, unable to help from the way her lips curl into an amused smile as the little bird stands from the table on wobbly legs. Oh how she wants to comment, to tease, but she doesn't dare risk bursting the warm bubble of contentment that seems to have settled over the apartment. No, she'll settle for watching Raym toddle over on unsteady legs, and doesn't even really notice that their trajectory puts her right in their path until they're face to face and Char is suddenly very aware of just how close they are.

And then, Raym kisses her. Just softly, shyly, the barest brush of lips that almost makes her question if it had really even happened before the demon speaks. Char's eyes dart sideways to the procured bottle for a second and her expression - more startled than she'd be willing to admit - melts into something amused, and then something near-hesitant. She sets her glass on the counter behind her, eyes never leaving Raym's face as she then reaches up to carefully, gently, take the little bird's chin and tilts their head up again. Allowing a moment for them to pull back before she closes the distance between them, stomach set to fluttering as she finally does what she's been thinking about for weeks and presses a tender kiss to their lips in return. Searching Raym's face for a reaction when she pulls away.

She thinks that maybe she could get used to the taste of port wine.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Unpleasantness

The migraine is still hanging on. The physical pain is a little less horrific, at least, but gods, I would like my head to stop hurting now, please.

Work seems to be getting back onto something like an even keel, though I'm still having to push a little harder than I should to get the backlog under control, because gods know no one else speeds up at times like these. At least New Girl didn't pull her shit again today. If I didn't mention New Girl's Shit ... well, it's a little stunt she pulls that is now common enough to be very clearly deliberate:

Collects a bunch of typing from the queue, even some of the longer stuff

Types the short dictations in her personal queue

Refills her personal queue with more short dictations, avoiding the long ones this time

Repeats 2 and 3 over the course of the day until about 4:50pm

Dumps the long ones (which by now are dated the previous day, most of the time) back into the queue, obliging the people still typing to prioritise them

Picks up another couple of short ones "because that's all I have time to do!"

Leaves

Like, I leave at 5:30 on Thursdays and Fridays. So I end up with those just left for me. And Goblin, though I may not particularly enjoy her company, works until 5:30 every day, so she gets it worse. It doesn't matter that I don't like Goblin as a person; neither of us deserve that bullshit.

Anyway, she didn't manage to do it today. Though I did get stuck with an ungodly number of hemicolectomy reports.

So ... yeah. I want to play video games, or talk about the demos I've found on the Steam Next Fest this time around, or something ... buuuut my head is killing me and ... well, my pain level is not "horrific" but it is "bad". Sooooooo ... y'know. I guess I'll have to stop at whingeing about the fact that the last few days have been shit. Not expecting much better out of tomorrow, honestly.

I swear, I wish it wasn't so awkward to call out sick when working from home. Like, I'm going to have to if the migraine gets any worse but the last time I had such a bad pain day I could barely move, I got Scruffman saying, "Is there anything that we can do to make that less of a thing?" and I'm like, "I HAVE FIBROMYALGIA; SOMETIMES I'M JUST GOING TO HURT FOR NO REASON!"

I have having limitations. So much.

[squiggly-mctwig]

What do you think the Rise boys’ favorite ice cream flavors are? I’ve been seeing everyone’s takes on them and I’m curious lmao

Oo that's a good one! ehe (putting under read more because I may have went a little overboard-)

For Donnie, he says that his favorite is probably like basic chocolate or strawberry, but it's actually mint. He just (rightfully) doesn't say his actual favorite because he knows Leo is going to call him something like 'stinky mint boi' or 'toothpaste kisser' for forever lol. His favorite part about it is probably the 'refreshing' chill in his mouth like he just brushed his teeth after consuming an entire bucket under 3 minutes (after sneaking it into his lab ofc).

I'd have to say Mikey's favorite is something along the lines of cotton candy flavored ice cream, but honestly he'll eat anything that tastes like candy. Can't bring himself to eat neapolitan icecream in honour of icecream kitty. Mikey loves to mix flavors and sometimes it comes out pretty good! I say sometimes because he once mixed slices pieces of fish, vanilla ice cream scoops, and the arm of a Lou Jitsu action figure and threw it into the freezer (guess what movie he watched before making it).

Raph's favorite flavor would probably be chocolate chip cookie dough! He just loves the texture of the little balls of cookie dough and the subtle small cronch kahsdhhd. His love for it also probably roots from the fact that he's usually the one to (not so) sneakily eat all the excess raw cookie dough on spoons while baking with Mikey. This usually results in him being caught 70% of the time. Unlike the rest of his brothers who gulp down the ice cream under a minute, he takes little bites to savor the taste.

Cookies n cream would probably be Leo's favorite! According to him, it's essentially just a cold oreo paste (he has a secret oreo stash beneath his bed he refills every week). Sometimes to trigger his brothers he'll put the ice cream in a cone, wait for it to melt, and then bite the bottom of it so it acts like a funnel of constant melted ice cream, which gets EVERYWHERE. Donnie isnt fond of cleaning that sticky situation (BA DUMM TSS) so he just hides all the ice cream cones before Leo can get his hands on them.

[funnier-as-a-system]

You've mentioned your blog runs on a queue - can I ask how far back submissions are right now? I submitted something a while ago and don't know if Tumblr ate it or if your queue is just super long (/gq /nbr)

-🐻‍❄

Well, right now the queue will take about 12 days to empty out if we don't refill it, but the thing is that a lot of submissions don't go directly to the queue. A good number of them aren't even accepted, in fact. See, a lot of submissions are just repeats, meaning we would just be posting the same posts over and over again (sometimes multiple times in a row) if we took every submission. Of those that are accepted, they often get placed into the draft box until we can properly vet and address them, especially if they need a long image description, such as videos or comics. Both tag submissions and ask submissions often fall into this for a long time.

However, there are other reasons why a submission may not be accepted, which we've wanted to touch upon for a while now. We try to avoid reblogging posts that are distinctly about other mental conditions unless they really stand out to us, since we don't want to derail a post or be insensitive by reblogging something about personal mental health struggles to a system gimmick blog. There are also submissions that we don't reblog because they, quite frankly, do not make sense to us. Often we'll reblog those posts anyway, because obviously the person tagging us got some sort of joke out of it (even if we don't get the joke), but every once in a while we pump the brakes because something just seems off to us.

And finally, there's the last pitfall submissions can be tripped up by: we just don't receive them. Tumblr's notification system is notoriously flawed, and we have had instances where someone tagged us in a post but we never received it. There's also instances where we do get a tag notification, but because our main has been blocked by the blog tagging us, we can neither see nor reblog the post.

In conclusion... our queue is about twelve days full at the moment (and that's about the average length it runs), but that doesn't mean your submission will post in that time. Thank you for your patience, our apologies if your submission isn't accepted, and we hope this answers your question.

[messengerhermes]

Vulnerability Hangovers

Vulnerability is necessary to building close relationships, to showing up for others and also to opening up and making the space for others to show up for us.

But.

But sometimes we can stretch too far out of our comfort zone.

Maybe we're share something we weren't as ready to talk about as we thought we were.

Maybe we try something that required a lot of courage, and it goes not as well as we hoped. Or maybe it goes great and we still find ourselves overwhelmed.

Maybe we misjudged our support needs around something and find ourself struggling.

Maybe someone didn't react the way we played to something we shared and we have to address the gap between what we expected and what happened.

Either way, we can find ourselves in what I call a vulnerability hangover without realizing it.

Vulnerability hangovers can come after a big moment of vulnerability, or happen overtime if smaller moments of vulnerability stack up without you getting chances to refill your cup or the kind of response you need to feel like you're vulnerability is strengthening your connections.

Signs you may be in a vulnerability hangover:

-Feeling an urge to withdraw from others, to stop sharing certain things, or increased anxiety around certain subjects

-Finding your ability to do vulnerable things is smaller than usual. These things can include share things you care about, confide something you're embarrassed or ashamed of, put yourself in situations where you might be rejected

-Finding yourself more guarded or uncomfortable with people you're close with, either in general or in specific

Vulnerability hangovers suck ass and can be stressful.

Here are some ways you can help yourself:

Find your comfort zone again and stay in it for a while. Try to start with at least a couple of days, then see if you need more time. Depending on the circumstances, you may need weeks or months more in your comfort zone before you stretch out again in order to feel secure enough again.

Identify what caused you to overstretch. Think of this as figuring out which muscle you've pulled. Was it a certain subject that you felt too vulnerable around? An activity? Does the trouble sit with a particular relationship you have? Figuring out the source can help you address what went wrong and better give yourself a break.

Reestablish boundaries for yourself. Particularly when our overwhelm comes from something in our relationships to others, we can struggle both with keeping our boundaries--the rules that make us safe and comfortable--and respecting others' boundaries.

Sometimes feeling vulnerable can leave us needing more care than a specific person we may want it from can provide, in that case, seeking out other means of support can help us feel okay until we can address things with who we need to and how.

Remember your own agency, that you have control over yourself. If being vulnerable doesn't go the way we expect it to, we can feel hurt, anxious or powerless. Finding things we can do to remind ourselves that we have value, that we are safe, and that being vulnerable is not a bad thing even if others do not receive us how we wanted can help us feel more grounded and "in control." This can look like setting aside solo time to work on a hobby, do something we enjoy, or let ourselves feel our feelings. It can look like writing about what happened and what we wish happened, and acknowledging that we did our best in the situation.

Attempt to talk it out. If you realize that you've been overstretching with a particular person or people, let them know what you're feeling and ask if you can talk about it. This is in fact a vulnerable thing to do, but others may not know you've been vulnerable with them in a way that's hard for you unless you tell them so, and thus may not be able to show up for you how you want or need. If the people you want to talk with can't meet your needs, try to get support from others to help you move through your feelings and figure out what you need to be okay.

Figure out what needs to change in order for you to be vulnerable in the future. Is there a certain kind of feedback you need around this kind of sharing? Are there things that need to change in your relationships? Is there a confidence you need to build up around something? How can you make these changes slowly so you don't overwhelm yourself?

Getting overwhelmed after being vulnerable is scary and hard but the answer is not to stop being open in your life and with others.

Be gentle with yourself and let yourself recover and have patience for the places you need support from others.

[tuefort-teamfort]

Heyo! Got any general headcanons for the tf2 mercs?? :D

Yes, yes I do :D These are all varying lengths.

masterlist

Scout

Ok, this boy has adhd. Basically canon. But! He didn't know he had it till an informative check-up with Medic who happened to be looking into disorders at the time.

But to be honest he's not really worried about it. It's not like it's that noticeable anyway.

...On behalf of the rest of the mercs I am here to say it is very noticeable. And they have taken to throwing a bunch of random hobbies at him to see what sticks so he'll maybe use up some of his energy.

He's a quick learner, able to pick up new skills pretty quickly.

When he first joined the mercs, he wasn't...the best cook.

He knew the basics because his momma did not raise an idiot.

But it wasn't till Misha and Dell started to tutor him did he really start to learn.

He's pretty close to Heavy, but his actually really good friends with Sniper and Engie too.

Heavy's endless patience keeps him distracted and out of the others' business for awhile, Sniper's a damn good sounding board for all of his ramblings, and Engie is just a sweetheart who looks after everyone.

Soldier

Jane 1000% learned to play the trumpet because he wanted to be a bugler at some point

Not allowed within 50 miles of any military base. No one is entirely certain why.

The raccoons all have little helmets with tiny flags on them. And there is a matching tiny flag inside of Jane's own helmet.

In his free time, he decorates helmets for the other mercs. They're of...varying quality and all have some American iconography somewhere in the designs. But the sentiment is there.

Always, always, pesters Medic about whether or not his medicine is American.

Pyro

So those helmets Jane decorates? Pyro has a shelf dedicated to every one Jane has given them.

They are such a sweetheart it's almost heartbreaking. They make portraits of their teammates all the time. It always shows them hanging out with whoever they drew in a field of flowers.

Loves finger painting

And arts and crafts in general.

Super protective of their teammates - to them, the others are the closest thing they have to family

Frequently has nightmares, can often be found in Dell's workshop late at night because of these - teddy bear and fluffy blanket in hand.

Dell is their favorite person, hands down

The Texan is always so genuine with them

Has a little unicorn nightlight made by said Texan

Heavy

Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think this man knows how to knit, crochet, and sew.

You can't, because he does in fact know how to do all of that.

Finger-knits a lot of the time when he's bored

knits sweaters for Sasha

Is very protective of his team mates, especially Medic, Engie, and Scout.

Has a soft spot for Pyro too, sees them like a little sibling.

Carries a small picture of his family in his wallet. It's a family portrait from when Zhanna was still a baby.

Knows how to sew and thus can do pretty basic repairs and hems. His mother quilts and he'd like to learn how to as well.

No one on the team expected him and Sniper to get along as well as they do but Misha thinks it's because they are both quiet and more introspective which allows them to just exist in each other's spaces pretty comfortably.

His room is full of books, mostly classics, but he's always taking recommendations from Medic, Engie, and Spy.

Has read the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings...may or may not be working on translating the books into Russian

Demoman

Loves card games - poker, blackjack, rummey, nickels, mao

Is also near unbeatable. The only person to ever beat him in any of those? Sniper

Doesn't really like to read but he doesn't mind settling in with a book of Scottish myths and folklore every now and again

He has some hidden distilleries around the base. Drink the product at your own risk.

Collects vintage bottles...refills them

Frequently works with Dell to make his explosives all the more impressive.

Also works with Ludwig to make them do more damage

Him and Heavy try different vodkas together. It's more fun for him than it is Misha but the Russian humors him.

Engineer

This man...this sweetheart

Chronically sleep-deprived (why do you think he never takes his goggles off? you could carry the team's groceries in the bags under his eyes)

Is so smart yet so dumb sometimes, has lost his helmet on his head before.

Is always fixing something. It could be his own machines but more likely he's fixing random appliances.

Shit breaks around the base all the time and he likes to be helpful

If he's not working [and not passed out in his room] he can be found in Medic's lab or hanging out with Pyro

Doesn't really play his guitar around the others but is just waiting for someone to ask him

On that note, he found out by chance that Tavish plays the piano and has played a simple duet with him

I don't know why but I'm convinced he can speak...or well...understand some Spanish. He's not fluent by any stretch of the word but he can read and even understand some spoken Spanish. Would like to actually learn the language

He's not insecure about his hand but he doesn't like to show the gunslinger off. It's one of those things where if you're observant you'll learn about it but if he likes you he'll tell you about it.

Medic

As a man of science and experimentation, he is always learning new things about the human body

And that is showcased in his random experiment of the week.

Prior to actually resurrecting Sniper, he would often just focus on keeping things that should be dead alive. Case in point, Spy's head and his teammates.

Is actively trying to create his own Frankenstein's monster, resurrecting a man was just step one - making his own from scratch and spare parts would be a crowning achievement

Is fluent in multiple languages: German, English, French, and Swedish

Is learning Russian from Misha and similar to Dell can understand, read, and write in Spanish. Difference being he can also hold a conversation.

Frequently experiments on Soldier to figure out why the man is so deranged.

Don't fall asleep around him, you'll miraculously gain five organs.

Doesn't have many hobbies because he's so focused on his work

Misha has tried to teach him to knit but Ludwig just doesn't have the patience for it. Likes to be up and moving and knitting, while stimulating, doesn't scratch the itch in his brain

All of his birds are named after famous philosophers, doctors, and mathematicians

Sniper

So, something I'd like to get straight with the fandom - the Bushman is quiet but not shy.

He's a lot like an old cat that likes to sit in the windowsill - don't touch him, let him watch the world, but feel free to talk at him. Just don't expect him to talk back.

He's also not as awkward as you'd think. Sure he's not great with people but he can hold down a conversation when he has to and is plenty observant, meaning he knows the right kind of questions to ask to keep the other person talking.

Speaking of, he's only particularly close to Misha. And Spy to an extent.

The gentle giant respects his stoicism and Spy does agree that Mick is a very capable professional. They also get along considering both of their work requires a certain level of discretion.

Vulture culture. He takes walks about the base looking for bones a lot of the time. Sometimes makes jewelry and ornaments out of them.

Also a man that can't stand stationary hobbies. He's already resident for work, let him get out and stretch his legs.

Hiking is a big hobby of his. And hunting although that's more out of necessity given his fondness for going off the grid.

Listen, he's a momma's boy. Through and through. If he's near civilization for an extended period of time guess what, he’s calling his mom.

Often talks to his dad too but he’s just not as close to him.

He does know how to play the sax and if he’s really feeling it, he’ll practice in the camper for hours. He thinks this is how spy found out he could play

Spy

Wine aficionado and unfortunately the pretentious kind.

Despite constantly wearing a balaclava he is incredibly well-groomed. He shaves the second he feels the prick of even one hair. His eyebrows are plucked, teeth whitened. He also gets his nails done pretty regularly.

Charcuterie boards are his passion.

Like Medic, he also speaks several languages: English, Arabic, French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Greek, Nahuatl, you name it he can probably speak it. Or read it at least.

Is another man fond of the classics when he has time to sit and read, soft music playing in the background.

His knife collection? Vast and not just for show. He has all sorts of fine weaponry from all around the world and from different time periods too. And he knows how to use all of them.

He’ll never admit it but he does have a soft spot for his son

..…………………

Here ya go @iamobsessedwithtf2 and I’ll get to work on the romantic version shortly!

[loliwrites]

How would Alexander react to Addi when she called him "love" for the first time?

Oh heeeey Non! Just want to point out that the first time I read your request, I read it as the first time Alex calls Addi "love" and it got me thinking that she's probably pretty particular with what she likes to be called? I feel like that's a quirk for her. "Baby" is fine. "Babe" makes her skin crawl. In fact, she sort of makes Alex go through the motions until they land on a couple she actually likes: sweetheart and honey.

Now that I've read this correctly! Alex, sweet boy. At the time she probably calls him a pet name for the first time, she's still getting used to this vulnerable emotion stuff. It's a lot for her and Alex is beyond patient. They've already said 'I love you' to each other, granted he far more than her. And he knows it's not because she doesn't love him, but rather because she feels that saying it seems like she's just going through the motions of vocalizing it. What is love? What does that feel like? And how would you know you were feeling it if you'd never felt romantic love before? In the midst of trying to figure that out for herself, sometimes the words got lost.

But the day that it happens is... tender. Even though I know they were together for a good while before their first Sweden trip (and I may have a quickie fic that contradicts this), but here in this moment, I want this to happen while they're in Sweden together for the first time. Because with the first Sweden trip, we get the secluded cabin. And this is really where that happens, isn't it? They're away from everything. Everyone. Any pressure of what they should or shouldn't be is far, far away.

Alex ambled out of bed late that morning, having been left exhausted by the previous night's activities. Addi had already gotten up nearly an hour ago. A pot of coffee was being kept warm by the highest technological device in the entire cabin -- the electric coffee maker. It was as if she had pulled him from bed with a form of telekinesis. Just as she silently wondered if she should go ahead making breakfast, he roused enough to make an appearance. He stumbled on over to the kitchen table and all but flopped down into the chair.

"Good morning, my love," Addi hummed, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for him.

He glanced up at her, quickly returning his gaze downward before she could catch his reaction. He didn't want to frighten her by looking too excited about a pet name. But then she started coming toward him with the cup, and he sat up straighter. Upon her setting the cup on the table, Alex wrapped his arm around her hips and tilted his head back for a kiss, which she gave immediately.

"Feeling good, sweetheart?"

She nodded and pushed her fingers back through his hair. "Tired you out, didn't I?"

"You're getting too good at that thing you do," he winked and leaned in again, this time, burying his face into her stomach to plant a kiss there.

The innuendo made Addi blush, and after a moment, she backed away from Alex and return to the kitchen counter where she'd already cracked some eggs into a bowl. "Can I make you breakfast, my love? French toast?" When he didn't answer right away, she looked over at him to find him with a shit-eating grin on his face. "What?"

"You said 'my love'. Twice."

"You don't like it?" She looked back at the bowl of eggs and began to beat them with a fork. "I can go back to old man. That's a fun one for me,"

"No, I like it," he got up from the table and padded up behind her. He snaked his hands around her hips and rested his chin on top of her head. "I like 'my love'. It sounds very... you,"

Addi shook her head. "No, you ruined it now. I'm going back to old man. Old man,"

As much as she wanted a refill of coffee, or even some breakfast, she knew exactly what she was doing. And so she let go of the fork and bowl just in time for Alex to tighten his grip on her hips and tug her backwards. Free from colliding with any counters or furniture, he whisked her up and over his shoulder and carried her off to the bedroom.

[rrasado]

Hi this looks like fun!

I have a bad back and bad posture which usually leads to me having a bad time. So can I make a request of g/n reader who takes Lucifer, Levi, Satan, Asmo, and Belphie out for massages platonically. Asmo just likes getting pampered, but I imagine the other four have backs that pop after sitting in one position for too long.

Thanks!

• Massage Mishaps •

I feel like, I personally need a massage myself ToT, this took longer than I anticipated soley because I keep thinking about the demon brothers' backs- guilty as charged I know but shh-

When you take them out for a massage:

He's the man, the myth, the legend- and you audibly heard something crack the moment he stood up to refill his Ink vial.

Thus leading you two to stand within the first spa you managed to rope him at, tread cautiously because if you look away you may find him briskly walking back to do his paperwork so let me say this now, keep a close eye on him.

Luci doesn't like being touched from behind most likely, especially since he has faint scars from a time he's long left behind- the thought of someone kneading their hands into that part of him doesn't please him so he'd explicitly state to keep it only to his shoulders.

Other than that, he seems quite relaxed once he's on the designated bed for it. Once the two of you are settled He'd begin making small talk about the affairs in the Devildom ranging from your current progress to your opinion to his brothers' mishaps.

Whoever was assigned to do him, must be in for one hell of a session because this man's back feels so stiff you'd have to wonder if he had metal for muscles. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case considering how much the staff was struggling in relaxing him without touching his mid back.

"They ought to practice more of they're expecting me to come back again."

He received a pitiful scolding from you, they were doing their best and besides- you two were here to relax not outright critique the establishment. They even went as far as to close the whole spa in consideration for the avatar of pride! Even if it wasn't part of the agreement-

At the end of it all you two have managed to at least release the unneeded stiffness (literally and figuratively). He may not say it out loud but he did appreciate the fact that you took him out through your own consideration, even if only a part of him was released of its tensed state. Next time should be better, he'll make sure of it.

You're worth a standing ovation if you do manage to convince him to come out- Leviathan has every excuse flung in your direction ranging from game time to socializing to the thought of other people touching his bare back,

This was different from the tropes he'd gush about in his beloved series. You could've taken him to a hot spring or a pool (since you're so eager to get him out) but a massage? At a spa?? Just what exactly do you plan on- besides relaxing.

It took a bit of time before you all managed to get him laying down on the allotted spot, even then he was reluctant on being touched but you managed to distract his focus by asking the establishment if they could play animes osts as background music (you had to explain how music so upbeat and intense relaxes the otaku-)

Your small talk with him consists of random spurs of Otaku rambles along with call outs that may or may not have the staff sweat dropping, Levi's whines come out from either your answers to his far fetched theories or the sudden jolt of detensed muscle being pulled.

I have a hunch that Levi's muscles are already soft and flexible in the first place due to his admiral duties and being good at swimming (?), it's just him having horrendous posture whenever he games in his room for days on end, once the demon in charge got him to lie straight then they're gucci-

"You can't keep saying do it for Ruri-chan and expect it to work- aHH-"

It worked anyways, along with a promise to drop by a game store to check out one he's been dying to try out but pre order said no to him online. Levi does however feel less icky than usual now that he was kneaded back into his actual state.

The massage also helped him realize just how much you two truly work (sure he may be a shut in most of the time but he still does Practical stuff in there to balance it all.) Maybe this trope isn't as bad as he initially assessed it to be who knows.

Now don't get him wrong, it's not that he doesn't want to- it's precisely because he doesn't want to who am I kidding-/LHJ but when you mentioned how you took lucifer once and it went decently well, Satan is already pulling you to the nearest spa.

He is on the neutral spectrum, on one hand he's fully aware and intrigued with the benefits of massaging but on the other hand the aspect of taking time away from his precious reading feels iffy for him.

Until you suggested that he brings his phone so that he can listen to a podcast or audio book, he gets to relax while also catch up on the mountain of books he needs to tackle! Win win.

I feel like he'd also give random trivia about the body should the person dealing with him touches a specific part, he's also interested in the difference between human and demon biology so would that difference also affect how you take in the massage? Surely human realm techniques differ from this spa's craft of therapeutic wonders.

Unlike the previous two Satan is quicker to appreciate the activity, it was beneficial for his own body that and he was able to spend time with you where both are able to accommodate their own needs! He'd never admit it but he's slowly running out of books to lend you everytime you drop by for a reading time-

"We should also try doing it ourselves sometimes"

He's the type to try things for the hell of it, pressure points muscle behavior everything in between- He'd read up on them and try some techniques on you when you're both free, He'd make sure to not bring more harm to your back tho!

Overall the avatar of wrath finds the activity nice, maybe he doesn't initiate it but he wouldn't decline a next time should you want one. His own body could use it after how much he slumps on his chair with a good book.

This is his domain I think that's one thing we can all agree on- between you two, he's the one who's taking you to a good spa he knows. This was only a segment of his planned day for the two of you but massage is definitely the priority.

He's probably on a first name basis with the staff there- they probably already have a spot ready for the two of you complete with complimentary music, scents and tea to discuss-

He'd keep his talk lighthearted! The ambience is relaxing and you can bet your grimm that the staff also join in your chatter- occasionally he does becomes indecisive with what ointment he wants to be used as prep or should he also have a face mask on, considering the time you two have there.

Decisions decisions and Asmo is juggling with them while you simply enjoy the feeling of your body finally being released of it's wince worthy tension.

I can also see him teasing the staff with promiscuous comments here and there (worry not they're used to it and adhere to a strict professional code regardless.) It's just Asmo being Asmo, along the way he does go quiet to relish the feeling in blissful silence littered with satisfied sighs here and there.

"This is the life darling~! Being relaxed as our bodies should be~"

You two would stand up feeling like a new person, he does give them a big tip and would briskly tug you to the rest of your hangout day- a boutique and the likes. And now that your bodies feel good as new now is the time to try out now fits (at least that's what he says.)

You can bet that there are more to come, Asmo may not be the very best at saying it (due to being sandwiched between his other comments) but the time he spends with you knowing that you two are at ease gives him a sense of joy different from what his sin entails.

He's unironically on board, to be fair he's probably tried it once...or twice a few decades ago- we have Beel to thank for that! (Athelete's code shalala) belphie doesn't mind going, what he does mind is getting there in the first place-

The avatar of sloth isn't the avatar of sloth for nothing, I think the fastest way to get him to the nearest spa is to have Beel come along and carry him- in the instance that he's unavailable then you'd have to be very persistent to get him up and at least get there before he can sleep.

Gloriously arriving late and a half awake belphie in tow the staff managed to catch him before he can faint on the marble floor of the establishment.

A massage session with him was, peacefully quiet as expected, but there were a few times where he'd murmur something under his breathe. And you'd think he has crusty joints due to sleeping 90% of the time but surprisingly the staff didn't have much trouble working with him.

I'd say he's the third most flexible brother after Asmo and Levi. Belphie isn't one to complain either unless the hand digging goes deeper than usual, this isn't much of a problem since he does manage to go back to sleep right away. The scented candles aren't helping in keeping him awake either.

"This...isn't so bad..."

The struggle of getting him to the spa was nothing compared to the struggle of getting him to stand up after the session. If you hadn't brought Beel in the first place then you're definitely dialing him now. Belphie's hold on the designated bed is almost impressive but the staff need to manage other clients to-

Belphie probably likes it the most at face value, the massage was definitely in called for due to how much he lies around all day and his body needed the rearrangement in tension. Once you guys are home he can only murmur out a quick thank you, he did like the time spent today.

[slashbitch2]

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - t w o

Temptation vs Freedom

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

I don't like memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. Its a constant battle . A war between remembering and forgetting.

Back in her darkened bedroom, Tallulah still couldn't wrap her head around her current situation. The rest of the night consisted of her being introduced to people who seemed to know more about her then she had wanted, clearly word spreads fast around La Push. Josie had introduced her to some of her friends that had arrived later, after the tribal stories. Clearly only there for the party. They seemed nice, but they were definitely not the type of people she would choose to be friends with herself.

Lenna had made herself scarce throughout the entire, to which her twin stated was typical behaviour. But Tallulah figured it had more to do with her presence than anything else. Tally couldn't help but look for the tan boy she had locked eyes with, something about him was so alluring. It was almost frustrating, Tallulah Forester doesn't get captivated by anyone, not ever. She was the captivating one, at least that's what Xander had always said. “You're like a tornado, with pretty eyes and a heartbeat. Luring in bystanders until you’ve ruined their lives..That's what I enjoy so much about you”, that was the last thing he had said to her before she had left his house party the night she had been caught. Their relationship was a mess, both of them struggling for control, even if it meant hurting each other in the process. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but it was all she ever had. She craved it in an almost masochist way.

Tallulah's phone had been off all night, not in the mood to deal with the onslaught of messages she was sure to get, now that she had a moment to breath by herself she figured she may as well read them, 1 5 messages from Lina and 3 missed calls, her best friend, was more than likely freaking out, consumed by guilt over the fact that their lies to their parents had been crossed. 7 messages from Kit, who she figured was already trying to plan how to spin this to make herself the victim, as Kit does, and 1 lone message from Xander, the only one she read before she shut off her phone to go to sleep.

That sucks :(

Was all that it said.

-

After a lot of tossing and turning in the bed that was almost too soft, mixed with the pillows that weren’t soft enough, Tallulah drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of the boy who had taken her by storm, his smile seemed brighter than the sun and the way he laughed was like music to her ears. They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, she could see that he was talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying, she watched as he stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, looking as though he was about to jump, she stood up in a panic--

Tallulah startled awake to Kira shaking her shoulder gently, a soft smile graced her face. It was raining, but Tallulah could tell it was early morning.

“Tally, sweetie, you’re dad and I would like to speak with you before he goes to a meeting” she said quietly, “Get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes,” she spoke, the smile never leaving her lips. Tallulah groaned, not one to be a morning person in the slightest, she swung her legs out of bed, toes touching the cool hardwood floors. She could hear low murmurs outside her door as she heaved herself out of bed, still not used to her surroundings she walked to her two duffle bags and sifted through the clothes before settling on an oversized, green long sleeve to cover the stick and poke tattoos that littered her arms, with ripped, loose, blue jeans. One disappointment at a time, she thought to herself as she got dressed. She grabbed her hairbrush from her bag and ran it through her hair, leaving it to lay in its natural waves down her back before quietly heading downstairs to whatever talk she was awaiting.

She was met with Kira and her father sitting at the kitchen table next to each other, and as they beckoned her over to sit, she noticed the thin, blue rectangle laying in the middle of the table. The same blue rectangle she had so carefully hid in her room back in Seattle, or so she thought. She could feel anger begin to bubble in her belly as realization dawned on her, her mother had been through her room.

She sat expectantly, waiting for her dad to chastise her for using drugs, or even alcohol, as a minor and how that could affect her future, but he looked to Kira to begin. The gentle smile that was near permanent on her stepmom was almost comforting in the moment, almost. “Tally”, She starts, “We are aware of your.. pastimes, in Seattle, however, we will not be encouraging that same behaviour here.” she sounds like a damn counselor, Tallulah thought to herself. She’d honestly prefer being yelled at. “We have a few ground rules that we expect you to follow, as we do Lenna and Josette.” Kira continued, “Under no circumstances, will we allow drugs under our roof, including nicotine,” she says referring to the vape sitting in between them, “Or alcohol that does not belong to your father and I. If you are to partake in these activities and are caught you will have consequences.” She looks at Joseph, as if they had rehearsed their own parts, looking towards her dad expectantly, “Secondly,” He speaks up, “As we expect with the twins, any boy, or girl, that you are,, having relations with, we expect to meet, no sneaking them through bedroom windows.” Tallulah cringes internally, it was one time, she wanted to yell. “Curfew will be 11:00 pm on school nights and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, no exceptions.. Understood?” he asked, looking at his eldest daughter. She wants to argue with them, tell them that policing her life won’t make her change, not the way that they wanted her to at least. That was something her mother learned the hard way. She had taken the door off her bedroom when she had found out she was sneaking out in the night, which only caused Tallulah to start sneaking out the front door instead, right in front of her.

“You done?” she asks, yawning, this wasn’t new to her at all, and she really didn’t care to be frank. The two adults look at each other, Kira nodding her head in Tallulah's direction, Joseph sighed before tossing a key chain on the table next to her vape. A small house key was connected to what looked like a car key. “Choose one.”

Temptation or Freedom?

Tallulah spent the rest of the day running errands with Josie, who had offered to show her around the reservation. They had stopped at Monets, the local cafe, run by the Littleseas, its the go to hangout spot, according to Josie. Who happens to be friends with Colin Littlesea, the eldest son of the owners.

Tallulah picked at the half eaten muffin sitting in front of her as she waited for Josie to return with a refill of both of their coffees. They were so different from each other, Tallulah drinking hers black, while Josies consisted of mainly cream and sugar, just like their personalities, but for some odd reason they clicked.

The car her father and Kira gave her was originally supposed to go to Josie, so that the twins no longer would have to share their current one. Finding out that alone made her reconsider her choice, at least a nicotine addiction only really affected her, but with a lot of reassurance from Josie, and the simple ask that Tallulah help run her errands eased her guilt. She didn't want to upend the twins' life, it wasn’t their fault her parents decided to force her to move to La Push. While Josie seemed to enjoy her presence, Lenna did not, and it's clear now she was avoiding her.

Tallulah gazed around the quaint yet homey cafe, its hand painted walls consisted of the same trees that surrounded the reservation, it was peaceful. She looked towards the door as it chimed, alerting the staff of new customers entering, a group of extremely tall, good looking men walked through the door, causing the calm energy to shift with their booming laughs, everyone seemed to be used to this behaviour, considering she was the only one to look in their direction.

Her eyes followed the group of boys, taking each one in, by the time she reached the last, he was already looking at her. Paul Lahote. The largest of them all, in height and muscle, she thought to herself as her eyes raked his body.

Josie setting her coffee down in front of her broke her concentration on the boy, her attention fully shifted to her half-sister. “What do they feed the men here? They are all so tall” Tallulah asked jokingly, to which Josie laughed, shaking her head. “Not all of them. Just the ones who hang around Sam Uley. Some people say he's giving them steroids but dad swears against it. So does mom.” She watched Josie grimace, and cut her off before she could correct herself, “--I’ve seen boys roided, they look nothing like them.” she spoke before taking a sip of her coffee. Josie nodded, an almost fascinated look on her young face, “So it's true then..” At this, Tallulah raises her eyebrows, “ what's true?”

“Your mom sent you here because you got mixed up with some guys who did drugs or whatever. At least that's what Lenna said she heard dad say”

Of course she did, so much for a fresh start, she thought.

Tallulah rolled her eyes, “Sort of, I guess --”

Now she was being interrupted, a large looming figure was now standing at the edge of their table, greeting Josie, she watched as the younger girl blushed in response, before saying “Hey, Ethan. Uh, this is my older sister, Tally or um, Tallulah,” Josie fumbled over her words as she introduced her. Tallulah looked up at the towering boy with a half smile, nodding her head as a way to say ‘hey’ , Ethan nodded back before asking, “I didn’t realize you guys were sisters. Do you go to school off the rez?”

Tallulah shook her head, “I did but I just moved here from Seattle. I start at the rez school tomorrow.”

He nods before engaging with Josie in conversation about some project they were working on and she can’t help but look over at the boisterous table in the far corner, she can see Paul and another boy glance at her as they talk, she excuses herself from Josie and Ethan, the coffee in her mug no longer appetizing and itching for her little blue rectangle in that moment.

Tallulah makes her way up to the bar-like counter, the waitress coming to take her order almost immediately. She orders a sweet tea, hoping to wash some of the lingering bitterness from her mouth, hoping it would help curve her cravings. She can feel someone come up next to her but doesn't bother to look who it is as she fiddles with a napkin, the waitress comes to take their order and their voice sounds like velvet in her ears despite the hint of gruffness to it.

“You're Joseph Forester's daughter, right?” She hears him ask, she looks in his direction to see he's already looking at her, a small cocky, smirk toying on his lips. He already knows the answer clearly. She wants to roll her eyes and tell him to fuck off, but she can’t bring herself to do so. So, she nods and softly says, “Yeah, Tallulah.” This causes him to actually smile, like he's thankful she didn’t just blow him off. That hot, cocky persona is nearly untraceable now,

“I’m Paul Lahote.”