#i'll have this as a print at impulse!!

[cantobear]

put your hands together —

[meikyuunolovers]

Searching for overseas musician autobiographies that are NOT Keith Richards or a KISS member in the middle nowhere of French countryside thrift shops is like searching for a needle in the middle of a haystack

[sysig]

Can’t talk now, I’m making Pokéballs

[orcelito]

Sometimes. Impulse purchases. Can be so personal.

[hua-fei-hua]

composing a commission email like "yeah you can just take your time with this since it's just for personal enjoyment... yeah i think half the fun is in supporting artists anyway so if you keep quiet long enough w/o sending me anything then i'll probably just be like 'dang they're taking a while i hope they're doing ok' n honestly you can just keep the money if that happens it's okay i'm not gonna come for you"

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[dotster001]

Can I request overblot crew + malmal (idk if he's gonna be the one who does it so) w a mc who has the uncontrollable impulse to just. Touch things they deem pretty/cute/whatever? Like malmals horns, leonas ears and tail, idias hair, jamils little coin things in his hair, vils crown, etc?

Or funnier, things they're supposed to not touch bc common sense? Like the boiling hot liquid in the alchemy cauldron, the fireplace, broken glass, basically anything someone would have to rip their hands away from lol

A/N: I did a mix of things. As someone who wants to put dungeons and dragons dice right into my mouth, I had a lot of fun with this one 😂 I want to put my hands in jamil and Azul's hair so bad 😭

CW: injury in Azul and Idia's parts, self inflicted, cause obviously 😂

3k follower masterlist

No one was allowed to touch the roses. Well, no one but you. You like to run your fingers on the petals, tracing any visible veins, touching paint spots, and booping him on the nose if the rose hasn't dried yet.

So sweet, so soft, so innocent. He only wished that…

"Fuck!"

No matter how many times he reminded you not to, you always poked the thorns.

"Y/N," he said sternly, "the entire point of thorns on roses is that they hurt.  They are intended to protect the rose!"

"But if not for touch, why touch shaped?" You pouted.

"Sorry?"

You sighed, and stared at the rose with a sharp glare, before turning back to him with a mischievous grin. 

"If I can't play with the roses, can I play with your scepter staff thing?"

He should have known. You'd been asking to "play with it" for weeks now. And every time he'd clutched it tighter, and taken a step back. He loved you! But he didn't trust whatever it was you wanted to do with his staff.

"Please, my rose?" You gently traced the collar of his dorm uniform, pressing your free hand to his chest and  giving him the sweetest puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, and placed his scepter in your hand, and was given immediate whiplash as you started swinging it through the air like a baseball bat.

"What are you doing?!?"

"Fighting crime!"

He felt a ticklish feeling in his half awake state. Assuming it was a fly of some sort, he flicked his ears, and attempted to drift back off. But the ticklish feeling was insistent. He opened one eye to see you scratching his ears. He groaned. He should have known. This was a common occurrence.

"Oy, Herbivore!"

Your eyes widened, and flickered to his.

"Oh! You're awake!"

"Yeah, cause there's a fly buzzing by my ear."

You looked down at your hands then pulled them away.

"Oh, sorry."

You reached out to fiddle with one of his braids, your fingers doing what he could only describe as kneading the plaits.

He gripped your wrist, and pulled you down to his level, pressing you into his chest.

"If you're gonna mess with my hair, then, quid pro quo, you should expect there to be a price."

You nuzzled into his chest and nodded, your hand snaking back into his hair as he drifted off to your gentle fingers.

This was exactly why he had the Leech twins watch you. You always complained you didn't need a babysitter, but when left to your own devices…

"As your partner, I shouldn't have to sign a contract or pay a price for a healing potion!" You cried, clutching your burnt hand.

What had you done?

You'd touched a stove seconds after the burner was turned off.

Call it stupid curiosity.

"If there's no price, how can I ensure you won't keep making these decisions!" Azul cried, finishing the final touches of the contract he was writing.

"Decision implies I thought about it. I can't stress enough that there was no thought involved."

He glared at you, before pushing the contract over to you.

"Sign it, and I'll fix your hand."

"My hand hurts too much," you whined.

"Your non-dominant hand is the one you burned. Sign it."

You looked at the fine print before grimacing.

"This says I can't touch anything if it's an impulse touch. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"That means I can't just touch your hair anymore? I can't just come up and kiss you anymore?"

Azul groaned a massaged his temples. 

"This is a punishment. You get those privileges back in two weeks. Sign the damn contract."

You intended to glare at him, but a wave of pain hit your hand and you quickly signed it in shaky script.

"There," he pulled out a potion and gently took your hand. "Hopefully you learn something."

"I probably won't," you muttered bitterly.

"I know," he lamented.

His heart couldn't handle it. Even asking you out had nearly sent him into the recesses of his hood for eternity. 

But ever since then, whenever you got the chance, your hands were in his hair. Usually playing with the gold medallions in his hair. But if he happened to have worn his hair down that day….oh sevens.

You'd somehow snuck up on him, and snuck your way into his lap, cupping his face and running your hands through his hair.

You were technically looking at his face, but he knew you weren't actually seeing him. You were seeing his hair.

"Y/N," he muttered, feeling his face burn, "I have to finish this homework."

"Mhmm," you muttered, as dazed as if he'd charmed you.

"Y/N!" He whines, unable to stop himself from leaning into your touch, just a little.

"Mhmm," you hummed, before unexpectedly pressing his face to your chest to allow yourself more space to play with his long hair.

He thought about speaking up. But you couldn't see his increasingly flustered expression with his face pressed to your chest. And you were warm and comforting. And your hands in his hair didn't feel too bad. Maybe he could indulge. Just for a moment.

Crash

Vil groaned, and left the bathroom he'd been doing his makeup in, watching you stare at a shattered bottle. Was it potion, perfume, or lotion? Even you probably didn't know. You just saw a shiny, pretty bottle, and had to touch.

"I'll pay for it!" You shouted, eyes wide with fear.

He sighed, flicked his pen at the broom he'd bought not long after dating you, and watched as it magically swept up the pink shards and goop on the floor.

He then half heartedly glared at you, lazily pointing his pen in your direction.

"Don't touch another one."

You aggressively nodded, and he returned to the bathroom to finish his look.

Ten minutes later, he heard it.

Crash

He covered his mouth to hide his quiet laughter. He truly couldn't leave you alone for ten minutes. It was endearing truly. He heard the broom fall as you, he assumed, hastily moved to sweep it up, and he couldn't hold back anymore, allowing himself to release a full, joyous laugh.

"Hold that," Idia said excitedly as he passed you the scissors he'd just been using. His new game system was here! And he'd bundled it so that it came with Star Rogue 2, which had only just come out! 

He slowly pulled it out of the box, holding his breath from excitement, and,

"Fuck!" 

He turned to look at you, and your thumb was in your mouth.

"What's wrong?" 

You pulled your thumb out, showing a cut on the finger pad. 

"Ortho!" Idia called in a panic, holding your hand and staring at the cut. In his panic, he stuck your thumb in his own mouth.

"Ew, Idia," you said, face full of disgust at your boyfriend's spit on your hand.

Ortho came over before he could respond, and pulled your hand from Idia's mouth. He immediately got to work on the cut, seeming to have been aware of the problem immediately.

"How did you do this?" Idia asked, rocking back and forth to get rid of his nervous energy.

You looked up at Ortho, then back at Idia, then back to Ortho.

"I'm embarrassed to say it when Ortho is here. He'll just give me a speech."

"I only give speeches when you need them!" Ortho said defensively.

"Which is everytime," you muttered bitterly.

"Y/N, please, I'm scared. Tell me what happened!" Idia cried, beginning to pace as Ortho wrapped a bandage around your thumb.

You stared at the floor. "Well, you handed me the scissors, and I was curious how sharp they are, so…"

Idia groaned, and Ortho immediately began his speech about scissors.

Malleus knew he was tall, especially compared to humans. So he'd never thought much about how insistently stared up at him, eyes full of expectation.

It wasn't until he watched your cat creature's eyes do the same thing as he tied a shoelace, one day, that he realized that you wanted something. And it wasn't hard to figure out what it was.

"Are you looking at my horns? If you're so curious, you can touch them freely. But only if you are ready to see what will happen afterwards."

Little did he know that he had stumbled upon a rare breed of human, one that was unafraid of him, but to an unrealistic extent.

It was visible today, while you were on a walk together, and then you stopped walking. He paused to look back at you, but it was too late. You were climbing his body like a koala, all to reach his horns.

"If you simply asked me, I would let you touch them."

"So shiny! Must touch!"

He laughed lightly as you reached his horns, and heard you attempt to knock against them. They didn't have feeling, but he could guess from previous times this had happened that you were poking the points with a finger and running your hands up and down them.

He felt a pull on his head as your lower half lost its grip, and you helplessly dangled while holding his horns.

"Oh, my silly child of man," he laughed. "What am I going to do with you?" He flicked his pen and helped you float down, then turned to you. You were sitting in the grass and pouting.

"I wasn't done," you muttered.

He knelt in the grass with you, then lay his head on your lap, laughing again as you excitedly traced his horns, allowing himself to relax under your care.

[saphig-iawn]

Milking Her Mind Away

Since playing with her body and entwining it in my ribbons, a doll wanted to explore hypnosis with me further.

She was so inspired by so many things that we ended up having quite a list of things to possibly do, and that list is continuing to grow.

But she did decide on something, inspired by another session I did with a doll of mine, cow girl transformation.

She prepared a little outfit, a cow girl bikini stop with cow print armlets, and a cute black skirt. She had cute little cow ears and horns, and a beautiful cow print collar complete with bell.

That was when inspiration struck.

My spells are things that are woven, and they can find purchase in more places than someone's mind.

I said to the doll that I was going to weave this spell into the collar.

That the moment she feels the clasp on the buckle close-

THRUM

A deep arousal will bloom inside her, and an inescapable pressure begins to build within her chest.

Then she realises that this arousal is unlike anything else, its deep, its primal, its animalistic.

Its an arousal that has no real word to describe it because the animals that feel this deep need have no words to use.

It is just there and hungry and needing and wanting

And there it was again.

The look on the doll's face that I've come to adore.

The look of realising the power of my spell and that the point of no return is rapidly diminishing in the rearview mirror of her mind.

Perhaps when I turn her into a statue or a portrait I'll have her face held in this expression.

But the dam of self restraint within her is creaking, its groans felt deep in her bones. It can't be ignored, and it won't be. Animals operate in impulse after all. A stimulus causing an unstoppable domino run.

Her eyes darted about in the middle distance, unfocused. She's not animal, she's a person, she shouldn't be feeling this in such a raw way, but the mental gymnastics did precious little to answer why she had these basest urges ravaging her mind and her body.

Her breath was quicking, her hands were grasping and pawing needily.

She felt a precipice approaching but her words were beginning to melt in her mind. She would try to snatch something, anything to say but the words crumbled into letters and the letters into sand that fell between her fingers.

But my spell gave her something to say, something succinct, something perfect as the precipice was at her doorstep.

I could see what needed to happen dawning in her eyes, but her mind wouldn't have said it so eloquently, nor using any words because her mind only offered one thing...

To moo...

Her mind became a passanger as the cow within her began to take control, the performance of her humanity falling off her skin like satin.

Gripping her at her chest she finally mooed.

She bucked and arched in the beauty of its simple power.

She clawed at her skirt and top to start milking.

There was no mistaking that was what she was doing. All of those pesky words were now dripping out of her udders, so she couldn't even know the words for getting off.

Every stroke extracted a moo from her heart. Every moo made the arousal deeper and ravenous.

What was so beautiful was seeing her as she was on all fours milking herself.

You could see those little moments where her personality would try and shine through, like she'd spot the camera and pull a sexy face, but then her eyes would glaze over and the tongue she held out in cheekiness would hang loose as she milked just that little bit harder.

Slowly, those flashes of her would soften and wane until she was just a mindless cow, mooing and milking.

She made such a sweet batch of milk for me, and the poor thing was so spent she was barely able to hold herself up afterward.

We wound down our session with a little dollification, helping her roiling mind calm into stillness as I tended to her body.

While I adored her mindless cow girl face, seeing her so poised and focused, like a freshly sharpened blade was exquisite.

Yes-

I think I know what I'm going to do with her next.

She will look so pretty in porcelain.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)

[lovers-rck]

fic rec where someone from the club hosts a party and reader and hazel go and they get a little drunk and pj locks them in a room together until they admit their feeling to each other and things get a little hot n heavy :)

intentional lowercase ;) thank you!

also i did a very vague correction so forgive me if there are any mistakes! english is not my first language.

☆

"seven minutes in heaven!" you hear pj yell and run away, except that you and hazel weren't playing that game.

hazel chukled and went to open the door, almost tripping over a ball of dirty cloth. She grabbed the door handle and tried to open.

the first time doesn't work, but she knows she is a little bit drunk and maybe she was opening the wrong way. the second time doesn't work either, and that's when she starts to worry.

"it's locked" she says "pj locked the door"

"what? " you say "let me try" the room is dimly lit, highlighting the worried features that took over hazel's face.

you grab and try to open the door. one, two, three times later you realized that, in fact, is locked. pj locked the door and ran away for who knows how much time.

"im sure this is one of her pranks" hazel looks at you, her eyes a little sleepy from the alcohol "she will come back in a few minutes"

but you are impacient. three minutes has passed. you look at the posters in Annie's walls, all with a inspirational quote about women and printed pictures of Simone de Beauvoir. five minutes. hazel groans in protest, looking at her dirty shoes and thinking why she didn't clean them before going out, she's embarrassed now. seven minutes pass. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelv...

"pj!" hazel screams "pj let us out please! i already apologized to you when i said that you only created the club to fuck cheerleaders! please!"

for the next ten seconds the only things you hear is hazel's voice, she's loud and desperate, her hands hitting the wooden door for so long that you almost find a rhythm.

eventually hazel gives up, and in a matter of seconds all the loud noises that she made earlier end up causing her a big headache. she feels less drunk than before, but the after feeling isn't so much better. then she looks at you, sitting in the floor, your legs crossed like a kid and your eyes resting. you were a chill drunk, hazel was a chaotic one.

she find a very strange feeling looking at you, something growing in her stomach. hazel never saw you the way she was seeing you now, always admiring you in secret, always playing the fool when you catch her eye in between classes or practice. she knew that this wasn't product of the alcohol, and that scared her.

so she tried and is currently trying to ignore that little feeling growing inside of her, that little tiny and obviously-not-romantic feeling that became stronger everyday.

okay yes. she was in love with you. so what?

it was not a big deal. it's not like at the very sight of you she becomes dumb and slow and words come out of her mouth like vomit without thinking. it's not like she freeze everytime you touch her or grab her hand. it's not like she is completely, hopelessly, in love with you.

okay it was bad.

"we have to get out of here" hazel says "I'll become anxious and you know i left therapy last week!"

so you get up and grabs hazel's hand. you guide her to sit in Annie's bed, standing in front of her and demand her to breath with you.

inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

you don't let go of her hand at any time, and neither does hazel. you look at her, her eyes are closed and her lips swell as she exhales the air as you taught her. you look at her and the sudden impulse to scream what you feel for her invades you.

but you two are friends, and friends don't do that. friends help each other without expecting anything in return. but you realized that you didn't want to be hazel's friend when after every shared moment you expected something in return, something to give you a hint, something to answer the doubt that has been in your heart for a long time.

¿did she look at you with those eyes in purpose? ¿did she caressed your cheek in accident that one time? ¿did she makes jokes about couples with you just for the laughs? ¿did she likes you?

the last question is the worst, you consider.

"thank you" hazel says, and you smile slightly in return. always waiting for something else.

and you think she gaves you something in return when you feel her thumb caressing your hand. she stares at your intertwined hands, and so do you.

shyness takes over your bodie, and the giggly and playful hazel disappears. it was always easier to pretend that nothing happened, that all the touches were accidents and all the looks meant nothing. to pretend that they were just meaningless feelings.

but neither of you can do that anymore when you feel hazel pull your hand slowly, bringing your body closer to hers but leaving a space, leaving open the door of regret. you close that door the moment your free hand caresses her face and she smiles at you.

"can i..."

"yes" you say "please"

she obey and guide your bodie to bend down slightly for her to kiss you. you inhale sharply when her lips makes contact with yours for the first time, and suddenly a scared feeling takes over your body

but hazel grabs your face and you understand that there is nothing to fear when you are with her.

her kiss is delicate and slow, but hungry. she grabs your legs and sits you in her lap, not getting enough of you. her mind cannot comprend what is happening, but is unable to stop it. her fingertips swim across your skin, trying to memorize every feeling, every texture that is so new to her.

she fears that she might be a little rough or fast with you, that maybe she crossed the invisible line. she freeze and for a moment she just stay there, her forehead against yours, breathing and trying to process the last five minutes.

"did i do something wrong?" you murmured

"no, no, you did nothing wrong"

"what's wrong?"

she swallows and hold your hand "nothing is wrong"

"don't be scared"

"im not scared" hazel replies, hating how you read her so easily. you raise you eyebrow "okay maybe i am a little scared"

"of what?"

you heard how the girls are laughing at something downstairs.

"i don't know" she exhales "im afraid you won't be my friend anymore after this"

"we were kissing and you were all worried about our friendship?

"yes!" she replies "your friendship is very important to me"

"i know" you gently put a strand of hair behind her ear "your friendship is important to me too. im not gonna ignore you after this if that's what you fear hazel"

"okay" she nodds "okay"

you laugh slightly "okay"

and you kiss her again, more desperate than before. hazel quickly responds to your body and grabs your waist, pushing you towards her.

you move slightly in her lap and she gasp. the strap of your shirt falls off your shoulder and hazel leaves your lips to find a home on the skin of your neck and shoulder. she kiss and bite the flesh, your breathing becoming a little louder.

in a bold act, you grab hazel's hands and place them in your breasts, hoping that she would catch the sign.

and she does, so she moves you shirt up and start massaging your flesh, you nipples alrrady hard to receive hazel's hands. you whimper lightly when you feel hazel's tongue, leaving a trail of kisses all over your tits.

her hand starts going down when you both heard the lock of the door and a scream

"oh my god!" pj screams and hazel cover your breast with her hands in panic "oh my god! guys! guys! oh my god"

pj jumps and start running away, her screams invading the house

"it worked! guys it worked!" pj screams downstairs "the were sucking each other's titties!"

and all the girls scream with her.

[watarfallar]

Hello? Yes, I'm gonna have to put you on hold. Enjoy these while you are on hold!

Etho: Tango, I am questioning your sanity... Scott: I never questioned it, I knew their sanity was missing from the start.

Martyn: Your smug self-assuredness is revolting. Pearl: I think we need to validate self confidence more, lest you end up angry at others for having even a sliver of it. I've done nothing wrong and I have a heart of gold. Joel: I think this message is extremely valid, but also Pearl has implied wanting to set off the Yellowstone supervolcano, so what's the truth? Pearl: I want to set it off.

Waiter: What would you like? Joel: Bring a milkshake with two straws. Etho: *blushes* Joel: *puts both straws in their mouth* Watch how fast I can drink this!!

Joel: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Mumbo: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

Gem: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

Scott, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it- Joel, whispering: Should we call the exorcist? Pearl, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick. Mumbo, appalled: Call the exorcist.

Scar: I type how I think. Martyn: Odd that you type at all then.

Tango: Scar, my old friend! Scar: I think you tried to kill me at some point. Tango: That was obviously just my way of getting to know you.

Scott: You’re jealous. Grian: Jealous? Scott: That’s why you were being so negative about this. Grian: That’s absurd. I’m always negative.

Bdubs: Firstly, how dare you use mathematics to make me look stupid! Bdubs: I’m actually very good at mathematics. Bdubs: Thirdly, I think you might be right.

Skizz: Why should I make my bed, when I'm just gonna unmake it to sleep in it anyways? Impulse: Why should I feed you if your just gonna die anyways? Skizz: Skizz: I'll go make my bed-

Joel: I warned you. Joel: I'm perfect.

Skizz: While I'm gone, you're in charge Ren. Ren: Yes! Skizz, whispering to Etho: You're secretly in charge, but I don't want them to feel bad. Etho: Obviously.

Jimmy, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. Lizzie: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? Jimmy: I have depression, what do you think?

Pearl: Gem gave me a get better soon card. Lizzie: That's sweet! Pearl: I wasn't sick, they just think I can do better.

BigB, making coffee: This is going to fix everything.

Pearl: Scar, say aluminum again. It's the entire source of my serotonin during these trying times. Scar: *sigh* Only for you, buddy. Alyoouminnieeum.

Grian: Yum, thanks! Kidnapper: *puts more tape over their mouth* I said stop eating it.

Cleo: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life. Jimmy: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? Cleo: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. Pearl: Edible.

Tango: Am I right, Etho? Etho: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

Pearl: Oh and for your information, I don't have an ego. Pearl: My facebook photo is a landscape.

Mumbo: I printed up a bunch of fake safety inspection certificates. Go slap one on anything that looks like a lawsuit. Scar: Mumbo, is that legal? Mumbo: When the cops aren’t around, anything’s legal!

Gem: What makes a bigger memory than a passionate kiss? Gem: A stab wound.

[purplealmonds]

I watched the Mononoke Zashikiwarashi stage play!!

I watched the performances on 03/29 and 03/30, and I have so many Thoughts. But I’m on vacation and haven’t the spoons to draft them up coherently until I return home in a few days.

For now, I'll do a photo/art dump of my experience.

I arrived a few hours early to the theater (I had to take the train from Kyoto to Osaka, and built in time for potential navigational incompetence). While I waited for the theater to open up, cracked open my iPad and started painting in Procreate.

This is the exterior of Cool Japan Park Osaka's WW Hall. Shaking off a lot of rust from painting from observation, but I'm happy with how the colors came out.

Photo for reference, though I painted it live. Shadows moved quite a bit while I worked because I am slow.

This is the interior of the theater. I was forbidden from taking photo and video of this space, so I painted it it, albeit messily because of the short time I had before the performance began.

Winding back time a bit, here's the cardboard cutout stand the theater staff set out right before they started admitting people into the lobby:

It was a bit windy that day, so it actually snapped in half mere minutes after its installation lmao. Not pictured is the flustered staff tying Mr. Medicine Seller to the railing with some twine.

Selfie taken after the disaster:

Keeping an eye on Mr. Medicine Seller to ensure he doesn't misbehave agains, prints in hand to be gifted to unsuspecting theater-goers:

When I was seated, some of the giftees stopped by to gift me with an acrylic standee and a cookie! The standee is given exclusively to audience members who preordered their tickets super early, so it's amazing I got my hands on one! After the performance, someone also posted my art on their instagram story! O:

The performance visual, gift shop, and posters were also deployed around this time.

Also was pleasantly surprised to see a huge Mononoke Karakusa poster displayed. Unlike typical movie posters, this one was printed on a rather thick matte rather than thin translucent gloss paper.

And here's the merch and goodies I acquired at the lobby:

I was originally buying just the pamphlet, but as you can see I did a few more impulse purchases! I ended up getting:

📖 Zashikiwarashi Pamphlet - Hoping if productions of other episodes are a thing this can become a collection. The Bakeneko pamphlet was also sold here. If there's interest I can do a flip-through video of both the Bakeneko and Zashikiwarashi pamphlets!

🎟️Mononoke Karakasa Bonus Gifts: I thought it was just the clear file and a neat lil trading card but it seems like the trading card is actually a movie ticket??? I’m not gonna be in Japan when the movie comes out though but it’s a nice souvenir nonetheless!

🌇 Mononoke Karakasa flyer - The theatre had massive stacks of them to be taken freely. The first one got a bit wrinkled on my ride back to the hotel, so I grabbed 2 more after watching the 2nd performance!

💿Bakeneko Blu-Ray - This was something I thought I’d never get my hands as a US resident so I was pleasantly surprised they were selling this. Definitely a pretty penny but now I get to watch it at my leisure when I get home! May do a write up about it eventually. The Zashikiwarashi Blu-Ray actually went on sale today, but it only delivers in Japan. Sighhh. I guess I have no choice but to fly back when the Umi Bozu stageplay goes live. Or if it pops up on Mercari some time in August the price gouging hopefully won't be too horrific.

[mirai-e-jump]

Beautiful Catalog Vol.3 ft. Kamen Rider Ryuki Cast Members Takashi Hagino x Ryohei Interviews & Photoshoot (translations below)

Publication: September 30, 2003

Takashi Hagino (Takeshi Asakura/Kamen Rider Ouja)

-I no longer make impulse purchases, like when it comes to snake print clothing (laughs)-

With a bright smile on his face, Hagino-san entered the studio. His pure white, rough style was perfectly balanced with the grass zori (sandals) on his feet, which was a unique choice! At first glance, it looks loose, with only the innerwear fitting to his body, but, it gives off a masculine feel. Against the natural materials, his silver accessories stand out.

Hagino: Fashion…..I'm not too picky about it~

He mutters to himself. His style is modest, contrary to his seemingly carefully coordinated choices.

"First off is the staff's favorite, here he is wearing a fluffy knit sweater."

Hagino: Uwah, who's that, me? My hair's all curly (laughs).

"We were most interested about this one. The growing reactions from those around you saying, "Cute~!," caused you to look nervous, which in turn made you look even cuter."

Hagino: During the time of that shoot, I was asked, "Please hold this plushie." Do I have to? It seems that stuff like that is becoming pretty common these days (laughs).

"What's your favorite fashion to wear?"

Hagino: Last year, all I wore was black. Black tanktops and such. Right now, I really want to wear whites. It's nice isn't it~? White! The other day, I saw Beckham wearing white on the cover of some magazine. He was also wearing pants like the ones I wore today. I thought, "Let's do this! I have the same fashion sense as Beckham" (laughs). From now on, I want you to call me Beckham (laughs).

"B-Beckham?? You want us to…..? Next, a jacket with fur that gives off an affectionate big brother feel. It's a very refreshing look!"

Hagino: I feel like I've never worn something like this either. It has a natural feel, like when you go out to walk your dog. By the way, the other day, for two days straight, I went to this pet store and was obsessed with this half chihuahua and papillon breed. When I looked at them, they hid in embarrassment. It was so cute! I was really hesitating whether to buy them or not, but the price for such a small and cute dog was 380,000 yen ($2,500)! The store is open until late in the morning, so I spend alot of time there. The shiba inu's and all the other dogs are just so cute to look at.

"Do you ever make impulse purchases?"

Hagino: Not anymore. Due to the "advice" of some store employees, I no longer buy snake print clothing (laughs). At the time, clothing with snake patterns were hard to come by, so when they saw me looking they said, "That'll look good on you~." They said, "We'll lower the price (alot)~." I thought, "Alright then~," and bought it. If you go shopping with friends, you'll have someone to stop you, but if you don't and go alone, you'll end up getting stuff that you can't afford. It's dangerous (laughs). I had to learn that recently.

"I'm not very particular when it comes to brands, but, the ones I like are Jil Sander and Dolce & Gabbana."

Hagino: I can't afford to buy all that because it's expensive, but, I do think it's really cool. Lately, I've been thinking that it would be nice to dress in a more formal way for such occasions. Wouldn't you want to try it? A dinner party on the roof of a building with a swimming pool. I'd even prepare business cards with a alot of lies on them (laughs).

"With fashion, Hagino-san says, "It's fun, it's like playing a game." What do you wear when you go to bed or to just relax?"

Hagino: It's either denim shorts or cargo shorts. I'll wear a T-shirt or tank top on top, which I'll take off when it's hot. The rest of the time I wear tracksuits (laughs). When I go to work, I'll wear either a T-shirt and jeans or tracksuit. I like to be able to change into my costume quickly and then take it easy.

"Finally, this last outfit is a multi striped suit with a strong sense of personality. With his hair up, he's transformed into abit of a bad boy. The manager said he looks like, "A respected elder brother." Hikawa Kiyoshi-kun from our office wore a similar suit for his "Zundoko Bushi" MV, but the vibe is totally different."

Hagino: It's so cool, the look reminds me of Lenny Kravitz! He's fashionable and looks good in fur, T-shirts, and all kinds of strange stuff. Compared to when I was first wearing the knit sweater, I feel like I've relaxed abit. It feels like I'm back (laughs).

"By the way, I hear you're very particular with your eyebrows."

Hagino: If I forget to draw my eyebrows before going out, I feel very uncomfortable (laughs). When I draw it myself, it's like a straight line. I'm not improving at all. I don't check my whole appearance in the mirror before going out, but I always pay attention to my eyebrows (laughs).

-I'll be a prince! But before that, I'd like to play a dirty role-

"He started doing karate about 3 years ago because he was attracted to the civility of the sport after playing many detective roles in the past. He takes time out of his busy schedule to attend karate, which he says helps him maintain his health and improve his voice for stage plays."

Hagino: I'm currently a yellow belt (6 kyu). I hope to be green this year, and brown within the next two years. Even before shooting for the photobook, I ran a marathon, went to karate, and did push ups when I'd wake up in the morning……that all I keep doing (laughs). Surprisingly, I don't mind doing these things.

His photobook, "Actor, Takashi Hagino," is filled with emotional and sensitive words that resonate with the heart.

"You say so many wonderful words."

Hagino: I wondered, "What can I do with this photobook?" I thought maybe I could include some words or afew sentences. But, it felt like, "As soon as you add color to a painting, it's ruined." I thought it'd be more interesting to write down what I was currently thinking, like a time capsule, so that later on I can say, "This is who I was!" I personally really like the poem "Confirmation."

"What's your favorite outfit in the photobook?"

Hagino: I liked the denim jacket~. That guy near the swingset, he may have been more offended by the unlikely setting of swings, rather than the fashion I was wearing (laughs).

"How was the stage play, "Yokosuka Dobuita Story," in which you played the leading role?"

Hagino: I really enjoy the stage experience. I also like the live feel of it. Since the foundation of a play is the stage…..I fully felt the determination of everyone around me, and while it was fun, I also fully enjoyed the live conflict that only a stage play can bring. I thought that as the rehearsals continued, I could feel so much of the warmth, cheerfulness, and sadness coming out of them.

"What do you think of Joji, the role you played?"

Hagino: In the beginning, he wasn't a nice guy…..but, he was a good guy. I think I was able to show him having fun and being sincere, so I'd like to add more variety if I ever play a role like that again.

"What scene was most memorable?"

Hagino: In the proposal scene with Kaori, played by Junko Mihara-san, she changed the way she spoke each time we performed it, and did so with different tricks, such as sulking or teasing. Gradually, our rhythm and breathing become the same, and my lines came out without being conscious of it. The scenes with Mihara-san were alot of fun to do.

"It's been announced that you'll play the role of the prince in the Cinderella musical. A bad prince…what's that about?"

Hagino: Quiet! (laughs). I don't think that's it, I think it's just a regular prince, but the script hasn't come in yet, so I don't know all the details. I am looking forward to the dancing in the musical. Although, I'm worried about singing. You know how the dialogue suddenly flows into a ballad like song with, "Why~"? I become nervous the moment, "Why~," comes up (laughs). But. I'll keep practicing and show you the fairy tale prince in all his glory.

"Will the prince's costume be……white tights?"

Hagino: My manager told me that if I wore white tights, right here (his crotch), would look really cool (laughs). No, rather, it's a wonderful fairy tale like costume. The show will be held in more than 20 locations across the country, so please look forward to it!

"What kind of roles do you want to play in the future?"

Hagino: Since I've already decided to play a prince, I'd like to play a serious and grim role before that. Something like a dirty role.

In his photobook, Hagino-san affirms that he loves humans, as he wrote, "Are you a human being? If you're a human, then you must be a wonderful one." This love for people is what makes his acting so refined, as he focuses on the essence of humans. We're really looking forward to seeing him as a fairy tale prince and in serious roles.

Ryohei (Shuichi Kitaoka/Kamen Rider Zolda)

-Is this too subtle? When it comes to this coordination, I think I should do my best.-

In a quiet studio located in a certain part of Tokyo, the sound of a camera shutter clicking resonates. The sounds are followed by rhythmical changes in facial expressions, poses, and overall atmosphere, creating the rich and colorful, "Ryohei World," almost like a perfectly beautiful picture were being painted.

Within the light, he strikes perfectly balanced poses that'll take your breath away, while occasionally trying to make us laugh by crossing his eyes and saying, "This is what real coordination looks like!"

While casually flapping his white coat, he says:

Ryohei: About 2-3 years ago, I used to wear clothes like these all the time during the Fall and Winter, but now, I don't wear them anymore. It's exhausting to wear them all day, don't you think? These days, I think it's better to dress comfortably. I wonder, have my shoulders become more relaxed as I've gotten older? Well, it's nice doing something like this once in awhile! It makes me feel motivated to strike the perfect poses.

"You picked out that coat."

Ryohei: The length is perfect! This half coat actually is a half coat. For some reason, usually, a half coat is a short coat, and a long coat is a half coat (laughs).

"Were there any problems with the size?"

Ryohei: No matter how big the clothes are, when I wear them, I always think, "These are way too small!" I do adore more loose fitting clothes. I can't pull off the look though (laughs).

"While not being particular about brands, Ryohei-san says, "I don't think something being expensive makes it better." He enjoys buying secondhand clothes, with sneakers making up half of his collection. He also claims to have about 50 pairs of unopened shoes. Today, he's wearing stylish leather sneakers."

Ryohei: I love sneakers. I sometimes think, "Even if they last a lifetime, I wonder, do I have enough?" I'll also put them in their box and stack them, it's really cool to look at (laughs). I don't really do it anymore, but there was a time when I used to pick out clothes that matched my shoes.

"Do you check your whole appearance in the mirror before going out?"

Ryohei: That's essential. Sometimes I'll dress in a way that makes me think, "Is this too subtle?," Although, I'm usually pretty ok with it. Fashion is like an extension of my hobby, so I think I should be doing my best at it. During the times I go on a date with a girlfriend, I think I should only make decisions when I really have too.

"Do you make snap decisions for a date??"

Ryohei: It depends on how long we've been together, but in the early stages of a relationship, a man wants to make a big impression (laughs). Well, if you've been together for 3-4 years, I think, "Alright, who cares~."

"That's terrible?!" (said by the entire female staff)

Ryohei: I don't think you have to be so cool in front of your partner all the time……I think it's okay to just look natural. So, it's not terrible, it's really not (laughs).

"What if after 3-4 years, she's wearing something she doesn't really care for?"

Ryohei: Well, that's exactly who I am. That's why I think we'd be compatible (laughs). You do your best at first, and once you're familiar with them, it doesn't matter what you look like.

"Do you care about your hairstyle?"

Ryohei: For me, I'm not particular with hair, so everyday my hairstyle is slightly different. When I go for a straight perm, my hair loses all its volume and flattens, regardless of how thick my hair is. A tip I can give, is to only use your hair dryer on areas that are particularly annoying and have strong frizz. It's easier to set up the look that way.

"Your eyebrows have a nice shape to them."

Ryohei: I don't do anything with my eyebrows. I don't want them being thin. It makes me lose the "impact" of my face and causes my appearance to change (laughs).

During the chair sitting shoot, the chair was too low compared to Ryohei's height, so he brought out a stepladder by himself, making it a very interesting shoot. Wearing a knit hat, Ryohei's beautiful face looked even more attractive, and he looked like a European college boy with an unfamiliar expression on his face.

"What is key to dressing well?"

Ryohei: I don't have any particular stances…..but, I don't want to be outdone by clothes. I want to make an effort to wear them, and even if I think they don't look good on me, I'll try and find a way to make them look good.

"You seem to be very good at posing."

Ryohei: During my time staying at motels, I studied my poses by looking in the mirror, so I wouldn't have to do them on set and feel embarrassed. It's like it's already been ingrained in my head. If I don't do them properly, the photographer won't be able to take any photos.

"While at Hagino-san's house, the two of them once practiced posing together while looking in the mirror. During the shoot, Hagino-san laughed and said, "Posing by Ryohei!," and he did the same pose Ryohei did, showing that they seem to get along really well. What advice do you have for for making your appearance look more beautiful?"

Ryohei: Pose standing slightly diagonal…doing so will make you look thinner. Always think of ways to make your appearance more slim (laughs).

"When did you first discover your style?"

Ryohei:…..I still haven't found it (laughs).

"Normally, wouldn't you discover fashion in the same way a girl would?"

Ryohei: Hmmm……It think it's alittle different from that (laughs). Rather than about clothes, I was thinking more about how to make people laugh and how to entertain them. When it comes to the clothes I'm wearing now, I don't think I can say whether they're good or bad. I might say later, "Why did I think this was cool to wear?" Fashion is an indifferent thing for me, but it's like a time capsule that reflects that moment in time……It's something that reminds me of who I was at one point.

-The action was difficult. Since my reach is different, it's difficult to get the timing right.-

"How was it working with veteran actors (Natori Yuko, etc) on "The Woman Prosecutor of Kyoto"?"

Ryohei: There was alot to learn just by listening and watching. The way they said their lines, it was so natural, me on the other hand, I'm still trying to perform well. In my head, I can see it all very well. But, it's hard to actually do it. On set, we called her "Professor Natori," since we had alot to learn from her.

"You made your first attempt as a voice actor in "Mobile Suit Gundam SEED," correct?"

Ryohei: Actors can make facial expressions while speaking, right? It's easy to tell when someone's "angry" because they speaks in an angry tone and has an angry expression on their face. I looked at the voice actors and thought that they're skilled at manipulating their voices. They do whatever they want. The way they react, the way they breath…..as an actor, I've learned alot from them.

"I heard that the shooting for the upcoming film, "Bird's Eye," in which you play the lead role, was difficult due to wire acting."

Ryohei: It was quite difficult. But, it was something of a challenge for myself.

"Please tell us some highlights of the film."

Ryohei: It's an action film. But, I only had 3 days to practice. I couldn't even meet the person I was going to be working with until the day of filming. Being so tall, I had a different reach from my partner, so it was very difficult to find the correct timing. When you punch, you take a step forward, right? But when I step forward, I get too close, so I end up performing a limp punch (laughs). I'm sure there must have been a better way to do it, but unfortunately, I didn't have time to do any research.

"The way you beat them up was impressive though."

Ryohei: I was mostly on the receiving end (laughs). RIKIYA-kun (Kawaguchi Rikiya), who played Tsuyoshi, used to box, so as expected, his punches were excellent.

After the photo shoot, Ryohei-san went to the waiting room. Among the outfits there, he found a pair of yellow pants with purple square patterns on it, and his eyes started to sparkle.

Ryohei: This, it's amazing! I want to wear it right now! Can I try this on?

Just as Ryohei enjoys fashion with a carefree attitude, and takes on challenges with an open mind, while also exploring new areas as an actor one after another, absorbing them naturally and without hesitation. His sincere attitude to cherish every moment and his mischievous spirit of challenge expands "Ryohei's World" endlessly, by giving off a refreshing charm. We won't take our eyes off his future challenges.

[proxylynn]

Turbo headcanons based on King Candy

[What I'm working off of for the most part.]

[Now with this as a basic base, time for my headcanons.]

#1. The glasses used for this bit are his real reading glasses. Why else would he even have them? Look how thick those lenses are! I imagine Turbo needing them for fine print like on game manuals or code.

#2. The man loves wordplay and puns.

"Milk my duds! It's Wreck-It Ralph?"

King Candy: Wynnchel, Duncan, get him out of that cupcake, and on the first train back home. And if I ever see you here again, Wreck-It Ralph... *giggles* I'll lock you in my Fungeon! Ralph: Fungeon? King Candy: Fun dungeon. You know, it's a play on words. *chuckles* It's a fu- NEVER MIND! Now I got a glitch to deal with thanks to you.

Duncan: Are you hurt, sire? King Candy: No. He just glazed me. *giggles* GET THEM!

"Stop in the name of the King!! That's ME!!!"

"You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, would you? (gets hit with own glasses) You hit a guy WITH glasses, that's... well played."

"Welcome to the boss level!"

#3. His lisp is due to him having a tongue that's just a bit too big, so it extends out a lot more and frequently pops out of his mouth.

#4. While his kingly goofball persona is a front, I wanna think he honestly is this wacky naturally, but his negative traits overshadow this and make it seem fake. The man giggles, chuckles, and makes silly little noises as if he can't help it. It's like a tic or stim behavior.

#5. He learns from his actions. When he tried to hijack RoadBlasters, he did so impulsively and without a plan. But 10 years is a long time to learn from his foolishness. His takeover of Sugar Rush is far more planned and thought-out, creating a disguise for himself and even altering game mechanics to ensure a reset could never be triggered naturally. He's silly...not stupid. Had he lived and managed to leave Sugar Rush, my god, there's no telling what a virus that can code could do if given freedom.

#6. He loves the spotlight but he does seek some form of companionship/close attention. I believe this is why he's close with Sour Bill. Now the little jawbreaker is programmed to act as Vanellope's assistant, so it's natural for him to work for King Candy when Turbo takes the monarch spot. But Sour Bill knows King Candy isn't the real ruler. He knows Vanellope is meant to be part of the game. Despite this, he diligently worked alongside King Candy to prevent Vanellope from restoring her code and resetting the game, while also hiding the truth from everyone in Sugar Rush. Why though? Why would Turbo run that risk? Well...He's lonely. 10 years of hiding in isolation, the arcade believing him dead. That can do a lot to someone. And Sour Bill fills the role that the blue racing twins did back in his old game, follies he can play off of. That and Bill is harmless, a non-threat, Turbo can use his position to ensure Bill stays in his role as royal assistant and straight man to balance his funnyman shtick.

[cosmicloak]

wolfwood doodle page | more art: cosmicloak.carrd.co boosts appreciated✿

sorry the colors aren't accurate, was limited to some tombow markers/sketch pencil i had on hand while working on this. ps. I'll be at anime impulse this sep 2-3! i'll have some trigun prints & stickers at my booth : >

[landwriter]

1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.

That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.

(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)

Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?

(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)

It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.

I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.

When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?

He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)

I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.

Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.

The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.

Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.

I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!

P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on

[mrsundays]

TADC GANG REDESIGN

I finally finished the redesigns. It took me a long time, but they are done, and that's all that matters. Now I'll proceed to talk about each of them because if I don't, I'll implode.

I approached the designs with the idea of not straying too far from the original designs, although I can't deny that I went a bit overboard with Pomni's design.

AND NO, THEY HAVE NOTHING UNDER THOSE CLOTHES, ZERO, ABSOLUTE VOID, LITERALLY LIKE A BARBIE OR KEN. But who knows, maybe one day I'll wake up feeling crazy, ahem.

POMNI:

She has undergone the most changes compared to her original design, the most noticeable being the hat. The reason is simple; I find it funny that the hat itself is larger than Pomni, making her look even smaller than she already is, which brings me to the other change.

This Pomni is much smaller than the original, reaching only to Ragatha's shoulders compared to the redesign, which barely reaches her waist.

The third change is the suit. The only things I kept were the pattern and colors, along with the bells on her torso. I liked the idea of giving her a design that constantly makes her appear smaller than she is, with only her head and forearms visible. Now she wears a "tunic" that also serves as a small skirt. In addition, her sleeves and pants are now loose, not to mention a more prominent "collar."

Finally, the pupils - one is red, and the other is blue, both accompanied by black. I don't have many reasons for this; I just liked how the black looked in her pupils when I sketched it, so I decided to keep it in the final design.

Now, a few details or ideas I have:

The bells on her suit make little sounds when she moves. They're not very loud, but somewhat annoying.

Pomni remains just as nervous and anxious, but now a bit more aggressive and impulsive. Why? Who knows.

During the first few weeks at the circus, she develops an intense fear of physical contact. Not only because of the strange sensation her own skin gives her but also due to other events that I can't talk about yet.

She's quite elusive, like a cartoon mouse. This is the only reason she can land punches on Jax without him expecting them.

RAGATHA:

SHE'S THE SAME, SHE'S THE SAME—There are only a few changes. To be honest, I really like the original design, and I didn't feel the need to change much. So, I decided to add a few more things because I enjoy adding silly details that end up saturating things, haha.

The most noticeable change is the white apron. Now it has certain seams all around her body, from her arms to her face, including her neck. Lastly, a small bag hangs behind her with all the tools a seamstress needs, out of necessity, like herself.

Other than that, there are no other significant changes to her design.

Now, with the little details/ideas:

Originally, she was slimmer, but after a small adventure in the circus, she discovered that firstly, she had polyester fiber filling, and secondly, if she added a bit more filling to her arms, she gained more strength.

Yes, she has the kitchen knife/machete, not just to scare a certain rabbit but also to cook meals sometimes with Bubble, the meals they eat after their adventures, with all the affection a ragdoll can give.

She once tried, along with Gangle, to make clothes for Zooble. It didn't turn out well...

Currently, she is the second-longest-serving person in the circus, only surpassed by Kinger. That's why Jax sometimes calls her grandma.

GANGLE:

Same as with Ragatha, her red ribbons and mask are intact, with the only additions being the French beret befitting an artist of her caliber and a small cape that covers the top part of her ribbons. I don't have much else to say; I didn't have many issues designing her—it was just something I thought fit perfectly with her personality.

Little Ideas :D :

As the entire fandom agrees, she's an artist and probably watched a lot of anime before ending up in the circus. Yes, she has one of those pillows with a character printed on it in her room.

Every now and then, she draws the circus members, including Jax, and gives them as gifts. Although she has currently put this practice aside due to recent abstractions...

She has been in the circus for less time than Jax, and despite everything that has happened, she has been enjoying her time in the circus more than she expected.

She can take any form with her ribbons as long as they remain connected to her mask.

Pomni asked her to teach her how to draw. The reason wasn't given, but Gangle gladly accepted.

JAX:

The purple rabbit, yes, he was a bit more complicated. Originally, I had the idea of giving him a shirt with a vest—a contrast between formal wear and his asshole attitude. However, I ended up discarding that idea and decided to go for a 60s fashion style.

The beret was something I seriously considered almost at the end of his design, and at least in my opinion, I think it works well with the rest of his clothing. I had to keep the jumpsuit; it was too characteristic, so I had to work around that piece, leading to the integration of the turtleneck sweater.

And finally, I made him furrier, and yes, he has a tail—a fluffy tail that he doesn't let anyone touch.

Now, you know what's coming:

See that pocket on his jumpsuit? It serves as a hammer space, so if he wanted to, he could store something comically huge there.

He's the best at carnival shooting games. No one has managed to beat him even once. The only one who used to give him competition was Kaufmo.

Don't tell anyone, but he has Gangle's drawing saved. He thinks it's a cute detail, but no one can find out, okay?

Before Kinger's wife's abstraction, he used to play chess with him or accompany him on bug-hunting missions, mainly with the goal of finding one to bother Ragatha.

Once, Zooble called him a furry. Jax locked himself in his room for three days because of that comment.

ZOOBLE:

Zooble… was the main reason I took so long with this. I spent days trying to think of any changes, anything—giving them clothes, didn't like the idea; maybe changing their form, nope; a total redesign… no. And so, I was stuck for days until I decided to change absolutely nothing. They're perfect as they are.

But, but, but in the end, I made a few small changes. I decided to play with the idea that Zooble is a toy with removable parts, and none of the parts are from the same toy brand; some aren't even made of the same material, with their right arm being the prime example, a ragdoll arm with filling, something similar to Ragatha.

Also, now they have a built-in voice box in their torso. You just have to pull that light blue thing on their chest, and you'll hear a phrase that varies between "I love you," "You're the best," and "Friends forever."

I won't repeat myself with this, huh:

They were the one who had been in the circus for the shortest time before Pomni's arrival.

The limbs they have now are not the original ones; it took some time for them to find a combination that was comfortable to move with.

They strangle Jax at least twice a week; it has become a habit.

They dislike the lake, mainly because they don't have aquatic parts, making swimming very difficult for them. Plus, they have lost some parts at the bottom of the lake. Caine returned them, but something tells them that the ringmaster gave them duplicates.

KINGER:

He's perfect, simply that. His original design, despite being simple, I think is one of the best in the series. But I had to do something, so I decided to add two very small things.

First, a ring. No need to explain; I think it's quite obvious what it refers to.

And second, a belt to highlight the excellent figure he has, even if that belt isn't his…

Don't bug me, you already know what's coming:

Sometimes, he hums a song when lost in his thoughts, but it seems like some parts of the melody are missing.

He has managed to create a small encyclopedia with data on all the bugs he has captured, even with drawings made by Gangle at Kinger's request.

He knows what you are.

He takes long walks around the lake on his days off, perhaps in an attempt to revive memories of a better time, although he says he does it in search of an aquatic specimen to add to his collection.

Sometimes, Caine challenges him to an arm wrestling competition. Oddly enough, he effortlessly manages to beat the AI.