#not a trigger but just. hard to describe but weird for me.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

if i have fcs for characters, i always match age and gender. or match age as closely as possible. so if i am using trans fc, that character is trans; just a if i hc a character a tran, their fc will be an out trans actor

i know that i do have this on my muse list. pepper potts is a trans woman, i write her as a trans woman, thats why her fc is a trans woman. this was the hc and how i wrote pepper when she had her independent blog years ago. and pepper is 45 like her fc.

just as johnny doesn't have an fc, or well scott turner schofield is since he is a trans man but i could not find his age but google mostly thinks scott is 30 to 40, as i typically write johnny as 38, because i also write him and has been written as a trans man since his original blog as well.

i don't write transphobia or focus on these characters experiencing it; you can assume that they have through the nature of the real world; but in marvel setting they are out and mostly focus on these characters for their characters and plot and write trans joy instead; nor do i get too much into their medical history or any of that; i mostly focus on these characters for their stories we knew in the comics; but always saw pepper's insistence on having her rt node in her chest and being her own woman, as story that could be related to by those who are trans and nonbinary, and than when i started writing johnny, which i had picked up for with a friend (not on tumblr) when i brought him to tumblr, i kept their hc for trans johnny storm; and now i am trying to find trans man actors to cast as johnny as opposed to cis actors

anyways. that's why clint's fc is ryan gosling now; which clint's had a lot of fcs; but i like ryan now for him; and while i put clint at 44, ryan's at 42.

greer's aging/physical age is around 30; due her superhuman serum/human enhancements as well as her transformation/mutation. adira her fc i 31. and i place greers age around 37 ish. looking younger than she is cause mystic stuff, serum stuff.

look when you write characters, whose canons date WAY back. age is a really hard number to figure out with 616 comic canon.

[dennisboobs]

.

[alchemiclee]

I think doing shipping through and aroace lens makes things complicated but also interesting. I think one reason I don't enjoy straight ships as much is because it's very rare for people write/talk about them with a queerplatonic dynamic. straight romance is so "normalized" in society, it's hard to get any other dynamic out of those ships from other people in conversation or writing. it's mostly always romantic. (especially when "guys and girls can't be *just* friends" is extremely common and has ruined mamy of my own friendships) but I enjoy a handful of a straight ship with that dynamic. it's just way more rare to see talked about than gay ones from my observation. anyway point is, more queerplatonic type ships and stuff please! those aren't explored enough!

[smudgefawn]

i know that mollymauk’s scars aren’t self harm scars (that would be a fun and very fucked flavor for a blood hunter tho) but seeing art of him covered in scars still makes me so infinitely fond

[sickgraymeat]

Why do I have like I feel like I have rapid cycling cyclothymia but it’s REALLY rapid and my lows are too severe? Or like bipolar ii breaking out of its lithium shell but REALLY REALLY REALLY rapid cycling like too rapid??? Tag consensus (me talking to myself) it’s probably the (C & regular) PTSD lol

[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.

[voonroo]

Hell? [01]

⌐‣Hazbin Hotel + Bat-Like Teen Reader

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

Want to chat? Check out my discord server↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: YOOOOO SHOUT OUT TO @blueberrymuffin-6 FOR BEING THE FIRST PERSON TO GUESS THAT READER WOULD BE LIKE A BAT!!! I'm so happy someone picked up on my hints. I'm really excited to post this chapter considering how much love the first one got😭 THANK YOU GUYS SM FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT THE HAZBIN FANDOM HAS SHOWN FOR MY TEEN READER WRITINGS💝

Also I can't guarantee that there won't be triggering subjects in the future chapters!! There's nothing of that here yet and I will put warning when needed but you’ll only find something this chapter if you REALLY look.

I'd love to hear from you guys your speculations as well!! Send them through my inbox or contact me in discord!! I love interacting with you guys!!

My head hurts…

Am I lying down?

Is it raining?

Opening your eyes, you were met with a dull light to your right, everything else was dark. Rubbing your eyes, you groggily sat up.

You could see, but the light to your right was actually making it hard… You felt a light weight on your head and slight pain in your back. You looked down, you had… fur?

Taking deep breaths, you closed your eyes. You could hear everything so well. From the sound of your heart, to the rain outside.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

Considering that you couldn't remember anything, you felt strangely calm. Like a blanket was over your head and you were blocking out the world around you.

The rain was nice… soft blankets, a plushie? What was it...? It was dark? I had a flashlight, a book? And whatever the plushie was…

A sudden knock interrupted your thoughts. The noise caught you so off guard you physically jumped, you tried to look at the door as you heard the knob turning.

“Oh! You're awake!” You heard a quick patter of footsteps coming in your direction, before a blob entered your vision- or what little vision you had anyway. You couldn't make out the shape in front of you, even with your eyes wide open. There was… red? Or maybe pink? You couldn't tell. Your eyes darted around, and your breathing picked up.

“Hey now- You're all tense! What are you anyways?” The blog had a cheery voice, rather high-pitched. It hurt your ears. You could feel a small hand grab at your arm- rubbing the fur.

“Nifty!” Another sudden noise made you jump. Your body tensing up in a panic. You couldn't hear the rain anymore even if it was so close… You could only hear your heart beating quickly and your uneven breathing.

Then, there were hands cupping your face, a calm, quiet voice accompanying it.

“Hey, calm down.” On instinct, you took a deep breath. Were you holding your breath before? Or were you breathing too rapidly? Where were you again? Sitting up right? Wait- it's raining… that's right… it's raining.

“Are you okay?” The voice to the hands cupping your cheeks spoke again. You could barely focus your eyes enough to see more than just gray. Did the voice have a… wait- the voice asked me a question-

“I-I can't see…” You almost didn't recognize your own voice. It came out so quietly, hardly audible.

You could have sworn you saw the gray blob furrow their eyebrows.

“What's your name?”

“I don't… I don't know?”

The calm the voice was deemed Vaggie.

Vaggie described herself as having long grey hair, grey skin- which you initially found weird- and a pink X over her left eye.

Vaggie told you that the loud, almost squeaky voice that you first heard was Nifty. She also told you where you were and what had happened for you to be here.

You had previously run into one of their friends named… Angel Dust? And apparently, passed out? Then he brought you here, and… here is… I don't remember…

You do remember Vaggie telling you that there were other people here and they were made aware of your existence as well.

Vaggie was also kind enough to explain that you were in hell… she also took the creative liberties in describing to you what you looked like.

“Well… You did take on the appearance of a bat- which is normal, it's normal for people to take on animal-like appearances in hell. For instance, we have someone here who takes on deer antlers and someone who has fur like you but looks like a cat… But you have these ears above your head, small wing protruding from your back, and… foggy eyes-”

The two of you spent time making the connections. The big bat-like ears atop your head gave you really good hearing, and the wings on your back were the cause of your back pain, (and the fact that you had been lying on them) and your foggy eyes contributed to your lack of sight. You took on the appearance of a bat.

The two of you tried to answer Vaggie’s earlier question from before about your name, but to no avail. She had to force you to stop trying to figure it out when you started getting worked up. You did come to the conclusion that you were very young- at least very young to be in hell. Guessing that you were around 15 years of age. Maybe a little younger or maybe a little older, but it felt right enough.

Or maybe you guys had settled on that answer as you dozed back off. The rain hadn't let up and with all this new information to really process, Vaggie let you rest. The clock was growing near to striking morning anyways.

Word Count: 817

A/N: I've also made the tag #voonroo’s bat-like reader for you guys to use as well if you make any posts on it!!

[romaritimeharbor]

a platonic writer? thats so awesome!!! for the open kny slots, would it be okay to ask for a reader & giyuu found family troupe? would be nice if reader was in their teens♪ mainly about the dynamic and perhaps post final battle

ELUSIVE CARE. — In which the Water Hashira unwittingly attains a younger sibling.

— trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. tomioka giyuu & teen!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). 1.1k words.

— author's thoughts. giyuu's so silly. such a guy. very older brother coded tbh <3

✧ FIRST MEETING

giyuu, though a quiet and reserved soul that often believes himself to be inadequate, is certainly not a heartless man nor is he one who cares too little (perhaps it could even be argued that he cares too much). he wouldn't ever let someone die if there was something he could do to prevent it, and maybe it is killing a demon that first leads him to the little teenager that he will one day grow fond of, [name].

his first instinct is, of course, to reunite them with their family if they have any living relatives. if that is not an option, his next instinct is to send them off somewhere he knows they'll be safe—maybe urokodaki needs someone to stay with him, a companion. he's always been a good caretaker even when not training a demon slayer to-be, and surely he gets lonely in his older age..? or maybe those girls at the butterfly estate would take them—shinobu's... nice enough. to young kids, that is. not him, of course, but he doesn't dare deny her kindness towards younger ones. she would probably be more than happy to take them in, or she would be pissed that he would have the audacity to ask something like that of her... but he still believes that she would do it.

ultimately, wherever he does leave them, it's almost guaranteed that he'll encounter them again. teenagers are rarely known for being obedient; as such, he would probably find them actively seeking him out at his estate. to thank him, to simply visit and stay for a while, to bring him gifts... they aren't annoying per se, but giyuu does wonder for how long he will have to endure it before their visits lessen in number.

he did save their life, so maybe he should just accept it.

and perhaps, once the final battle has passed and the greatest threat to the world has been eliminated, he will not be so opposed to having a regular guest. maybe he'll even ask them to stay.

✧ GENERAL DYNAMIC

giyuu is not known for being open and friendly. that said, i do think he would have some kind of a soft spot for a young kid who has suffered the effects of demons roaming the earth.

maybe he sees a little of himself in them. he wasn't always this way, you know? there was a time where he was softer, more open, and had a more positive outlook about the world. so maybe, just maybe, he sees some of that in the little teenager he saved from death.

his kindness shows in weird and hard to understand ways, and he would rarely make it obvious that he was checking up on them; he probably wouldn't visit often. that said, if [name] were to ask around, maybe they would hear about a recent influx of letters from a certain water hashira concerning a certain victim he recently saved.

as he grows closer to them, he would begin to buy them little trinkets. if he sees something he thinks they would like, he would totally pick it up for them and leave it by their room's door at wherever they're staying. he never signs the gifts, but it is nonetheless very clear who is buying them.

he also does what he can to ensure that they're well-cared for—contributing to the cost of caring for them, mainly.

giyuu, to me, seems like a very attentive person. he's a type i would describe as having a quiet love language—someone who does things subtly (more or less). so, while he does not verbally connect with them often, he can offer a listening ear and will always pick up on the small things.

headpats. giyuu is a headpat man. it's a fond gesture that he uses to communicate a number of things—'i'm proud of you,' 'good job,' 'you're alright now,' 'i'm here for you.' it's one way he communicates nonverbally. he's not great at expressing his care with words, but there are plenty of ways such as this one that are more than sufficient without the use of any words at all.

given that his haori is made up of two halves, each from someone he deeply cared for, i think it's safe to say that he has a certain sentimentality about him. any gifts they give to him will be treasured (and if they happen to give him something he can wear without getting in the way of his job, he'll find a way to incorporate it into his uniform).

he's quite fiercely protective of them. if someone is bothering them, giyuu is more than happy to simply stand behind them and give the one annoying them a simple stare, which is more than enough to solve the issue permanently. as a hashira, the lower ranked corps members are already rather scared of him, so he doesn't really have to do much at all to deter anyone from harassing them...

on a similar note, he will put extra care and attention into killing off any demons lingering around the area that they reside in. he's failed so many people before and is not keen on doing so again.

he would very much prefer if they didn't become a demon slayer, especially after his relationship with them has developed a little more. any attempts to ask him about joining would be cut off with a short, firm 'no.' though, with enough insistence... that answer could change.

ultimately, what they do is up to them, but giyuu would prefer that they stay as far out of harm's way as possible. not every victim is meant to, nor do they have to, become a demon slayer—he hopes they know and understand that above all else.

✧ POST-FINAL BATTLE

following the end of the final battle, giyuu would be a little more open with them in quite a few ways.

for one, he's more expressive, offering them something other than his usual stoicism every now and then—a smile. his expression in general softens significantly in their presence once everything is over.

he also grows a little more comfortable expressing himself verbally with them. he's still not exactly... articulate when it comes to expressing his care with words, but it's the thought and effort that counts.

he would also move them into his home at that point!! since he doesn't have to be away constantly now, he feels more comfortable having them stay with him. before, if a demon had showed up to his secluded estate while he was gone, it may have very well ended poorly, had they been staying there. given that this is no longer a concern (and he's also home far more often now), he doesn't mind the company whatsoever.

post-final battle, he would also spend more time around them. it would be then that they would really get to know him. his hobbies, his interests, maybe his past. eventually.

things take time. opening up takes time... and once muzan has been defeated, there is plenty of time for them to get closer with their elusive older brother-like figure.

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags.

[everlasting-rainfall]

AU called Yandere Society where basically it’s a world where our definition of normal love like bringing roses and being romantic and junk like that is seen as weird while things like murder, stalking, and creepy love notes are seen as the norm

Murder and a lot of crimes are legal in this world under specific circumstances like “Did you kill your darling? Jail” “Did you kill that man who was staring too long at your darling? Understandable, you’re innocent”. There probably is a better way to describe it but for now, I feel that works the best. Oh yeah! Also sex in public is legal as long as there are no minors around

There are also these people called Abnormals who find Yandere Love to be repulsive and creepy despite it being the societal norm, Abnormals only want to experience the type of normalized love from our world and are in constant danger as if they’re discovered then they get hit with a slew of things like “You can’t have these types of jobs” or “Mandated therapy” plus they tend to get harassed a lot and oddly seem to attract Yandere’s quite a lot

Abnormals can actually be “cured” though as if you give them enough therapy or even manage to pair them with just the right person, they’ll either develop Stockholm Syndrome or become a Yandere themselves

I NEED MORE !!! I’m already interested in this au , I wonder how will yandere strawhats react that there darling is a abnormal 👀🤔🙏

please if your not busy 💗

So flower friend, I actually am working on something like that at the moment. I currently have three of the Straw Hats done for it and I’m going to include Jinbei with it as well but not Chopper as he’s baby and underage

It’s not going to be done for a long time though as I’m working hard on it and Yandere Society can be hard for me to write at times especially if I’m having problems getting motivated

In the meantime, allow me to explain some things about the Yandere Society a bit better than I did last time…

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Murder, Crime, Violence, Implied Blood and Gore, Abuse Mention, Harassment, Potential Similarities to Homophobia (?), Public Sex, Noncon

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-!

So as I said a lot of crimes in Yandere Society are perfectly legal under certain circumstances like you can kill someone but unless you had a “good” reason for doing so then you’re going to jail

Like the following things are innocent crimes in the eyes of the law in Yandere Society

A Yandere killed someone who was actively trying to harm their relationship with their Darling like seducing and trying to get them to cheat, it’s also innocent if the victim was trying to help the Darling escape their Yandere unless the Yandere was actively putting the Darlings life in danger

A Yandere killed someone who hurt their Darling, the Yandere will also be seen as innocent if they helped another Yandere kill someone that hurt their Darling or if the Yandere was saving the Darling from an abusive situation by killing the Abused Darling’s Yandere

I feel like that’s a good example and I hope it was easy to follow now here are examples of some of the things that will get you locked up in Yandere Society

So if a Yandere kills their Darling whether their S/O was a Yandere or Abnormal, that will get the guilty Yandere locked up tight and cause them to never see the light of day again, the only exception to this is if the Guilty Yandere had no other choice or it was an accident

If the Yandere goes on to kill everyone in their Darling’s life like friends and family, that’s seen as ridiculous in the eyes of the law in Yandere Society as most people are Yandere’s too and would approve of the relationship, the only exception to this is if it were to protect their Darling

I hope that these were good examples and that they were easy to follow

As for Abnormals, Abnormals aren’t allowed to do a lot of things as I said and it’s by law mandated that they have to attend therapy in order to turn them into Yandere’s like everyone else and this therapy isn’t too bad as it’s just sitting down and having a conversation like there’s no electroshock or anything like that, maybe a few exercises but nothing too intense

Abnormals typically hide the fact that they’re Abnormals as they don’t want anyone to find out as if they do, there’s that mandated therapy thing but they also get a ton of restrictions like they can’t have certain jobs

If you are a known Abnormal in Yandere Society, you are not allowed to be the following. Teacher of Any Kind, Any Sort of Government Job, Any Sort of Job involving Mental Health. Also you can’t attend college but Abnormals have been known to sneak in and attend

The harassment that an Abnormal can face is usually based on Yandere’s stalking them and being after them as they attract Yandere’s more easily than other Yandere’s do but it’s also from the government as well as you’re likely to get way more mail to encourage you to just accept a Yandere into your life or become one

But this will all change the second that an Abnormal either develops Stockholm Syndrome for a Yandere or becomes a Yandere themselves

Also Two Abnormals are not allowed to be in a relationship, if they wish to do so then they will need to hide it from the public as it’s illegal like I don’t think you’ll straight up be sent to prison over it but you will be forcefully separated

As for how someone can tell if someone is a Yandere, typically these Yandere tendencies make themselves known in early childhood and it can be tested by trying to take their toys or watching how they interact with friends but the best way is to have them take a test which depending on how they did can tell you if they’re a Yandere or an Abnormal

There are late bloomers in Yandere Society who don’t show any Yandere Tendencies until they’re older but the test can distinct between a full Abnormal or a Late Bloomer

There’s also this thing that me and a friend came up with called Yvette Newgate Syndorme and it’s where someone has experienced something or a string of events that led to them not being able to process their Yandere feelings properly and it leads to things like this

“Hey, do you like this thing?” “Yes” “Do you want this thing?” “Yes” “Ok then take it” “Nevermind” “Ok then I’m taking it” “No, give it to me… It’s mine and you can’t have it…” “Ok, here” “Nevermind”

There is therapy for it but so far, it hasn’t really been successful like it’s helped but there’s been no real breakthroughs like there have been for Abnormals

Also for the sex in public thing, that’s perfectly acceptable and seen as completely legal like no one bats an eye if they see people having sex in public

No one even gives too much of a shit if it’s a Yandere with an Abnormal unless the Abnormal belongs to a different Yandere as if that’s the case then people are stepping in and law enforcement will be called

Besides that, it’s very illegal if its done where minors can see you as well

As for other things, it’s actually not uncommon for someone to just be sitting in on a business call with a bunch of other people meanwhile they’re being ruthlessly fucked by their partner like they’re naked with private parts potentially on full display and no one bats an eye

Just remember to mute your microphone as it’s seen as very rude to not do so and if you’re asked a question then you’re allowed to unmute to answer it probably while moaning but afterwards you have to mute again

Plus if you’re being fucked in a video call then it might encourage other people to start getting it on with their partners and will potentially weed out the Abnormals in the workplace as they’ll be the only ones who look uncomfortable with it

Anyways I think that’s all! I’ll attempt to put out the Yandere Straw Hat thing soon but no promises! Have a good day and I hope that I was able to explain things well!

[avpdpossum]

avoidance is so weird because it’s so temptingly easy to pretend it’s not there when it’s not at its absolute worst.

when i’m at my lowest, my avoidance becomes volatile and dangerous — it means almost daily mental breakdowns, it means probably wanting to hurt myself or worse, it’s means things are bad bad. but times like now? where i’m in a better place and i don’t have to interact with people often enough to trigger it too badly? it’s easy to pretend i’m fine.

and that’s not because i don’t have symptoms — there’s a big glaring reason i don’t have a job yet, that i stay in the house pretty much every day and (aside from the family i live with) only ever see my safe person, that there’s a million important doctor calls i haven’t made yet, that i have my name change papers all ready to go but haven’t changed any of my documents yet. the avoidance is obviously still there and still causing problems, and i know my life doesn’t look how it should.

but because it’s not destroying my default mental state right now, it feels like i’m lying to myself and i’m totally mentally healthy and i have nothing to worry about. and when i see my therapist, the way i describe things sounds like there’s nothing going wrong in my life because there’s no active bad shit, just a lot of things that aren’t happening. and how do you quantify the absence of something?

how do i explain that the problem isn’t that i’m unhappy, it’s not that there’s bad things to fix, it’s just that most of the time, there’s nothing at all? that i’m mostly happy because i don’t have much of a life right now, and if i were to get my life to a better place from a practical standpoint i would almost definitely be thrown back into a worse mental state?

i’m trying to find a balance that allows me to have a decent life and decent mental health, but god, it’s hard to do when it would be so much easier and less exhausting to just stay stagnant forever and hold onto the relative peace that comes with that.

[e-claire]

Misophonia sucks so fucking hard and no one anywhere ever wants to talk about it. Literally the only people I've ever had listen to me about my Misophonia are other people with Misophonia. So fuck it, Misophonia Awareness Post or something, I want to vent.

Allow me to describe what it is first for all the lucky people who aren't fucked over. Misophonia is likely an Audio-Processing Disorder (Potentially some form of Synesthesia) in which certain sounds trigger a fight or flight reaction. Trigger sounds can vary and sometimes after long term exposure it can create a reaction to the visuals associated with those sounds. It is possibly genetic, there is no known cause, there is no known treatment, there is only suffering and ways of generally kind of reducing that suffering. When I hear people chewing I am filled with a rage that can only be described as "Bordering on a primal desire to Kill." and there's nothing I can do about that. A family member or friend takes a bite of something crunchy and I have to sit there and exist with thoughts of pounding their fucking skull into paste with my bare god damn hands and then afterwards I have to go back to "being normal". I have to just pretend that didn't happen, I can't do anything with those emotions, I can't put them anywhere, I can't talk about them with anyone or gain any understanding or sympathy from others for having them.

When I see someone chewing food anymore it's borderline impossible for me to remain in the room with them for any more than a few seconds because the mere sight of them chewing makes me physically ill and inspires in me a sense of deep disgust and panic that I could never ever hope to describe.

I tell people about what it's like and I get one of four reactions :

"Oh I think I have that too" With a weird amount of curious excitement at the concept of having a fun new quirky thing to mention in conversations. This means that they don't have it, and they'll then proceed to list off a couple different things that literally no human being likes to hear and how much that thing "annoys them". This makes me want to kill myself.

"Wow, Yikes." Through a grimace. This means I was too open about how it makes me feel and they now think i'm a either a freak, liability, time bomb, or over-dramatic, and will do everything they can to avoid the subject in the future so that I can't make them uncomfortable. This makes me want to kill them AND myself.

Immediately eats something really loudly to set me off as a "joke". This means that they're an obnoxious piece of shit that I have to try my absolute hardest not to beat to death with my bare hands. This makes me want to kill them, if that wasn't already obvious.

"Oh. So that's what this is called." This means they have it, and we can both engage in a brief period of mutual trauma sharing that helps us know we're not alone, and that our curse is unfortunately shared with others. This makes us both somewhat melancholy, and kinda ruins the vibes until something fun happens.

And then we get into the "How do you make the pain stop", and good news! You can't. There is no way to make it stop. But you can make it hurt less with ✨Spending Unbearable Amounts of Cash✨

You can buy a billion different types of earplugs that will all do great at muting the world but always leave you incredibly unaware of the world around you and leave you fucked in-terms of listening to media.

You can buy normal headphones that will kind of work but never mute the world around you anywhere near enough and vaguely frustrate you constantly, but hey at least you're a bit more accessible! Try combining these with a combination of rain and static noise playing at all times in the background for an extra layer of silence :)

You can buy ANC headphones that cost infinitely too much money and are almost always built to break so that they can farm cash from you in repairs, but the ANC is so useful despite not working perfectly that you can't really exist without it so you're gonna spend 200+ dollars every couple years because you don't have a choice, and spend every single day 24/7 wearing hot heavy over-ear headphones! Use the Rain and Static Noise combo with this as well for the best ANC effect.

And inevitably, all of these options will give you hearing problems, potentially make you aware of new trigger sounds, and always leave you a step behind everyone else when a conversation happens. Pro-Tip : For when the sounds are really intrusive and you're on the verge of a breakdown, Combine ANC with Ear Plugs and the R&SN background audio to basically kill noise in it's entirety for a little while :)

AND NOW WE GET TO THE PART WHERE I SAY WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU NORMIES DO TO MAKE OUR SUFFERING LESS FUCKING CONSTANT.

Listen to us. Don't ostracize us for experiencing emotions we can't control and don't mean or want to act on. If you can, try your best to do the trigger noises quietly, and try your best not to do the trigger visuals in-front of us. We know it's not something you can control entirely, but if you can make the effort to make our lives suck less, we'll really fucking appreciate it.

And if you try to get back at us during a fight by eating something really crunchy to abuse our disorder for your benefit, I swear to god I will hunt you down personally and subject you to the most violent and painful torture I can manage before killing you and hiding your body somewhere no one will ever find it so that your loved ones never have the closure of knowing if you died or if you're still somewhere out there. Thanks for reading even though I know you didn't because the length of this post is frankly unhinged and i'll probably only get like 2 likes at best.

[anthroposeen]

tmagp 17 relisten notes!!

as always, tmagp and tma spoilers below the cut! hope you guys enjoy the breakdown :)

celia:

- she's been teleported to another road side, this time very close to a highway in oxford. she missed the play with sam and didnt have a way to contact him about it

- she wants to make up for missing the play by paying for their next date, and seems pretty genuine about her guilt and interest in him

- once the incident ends, she thanks the computer/chester for it. this could have been a sarcastic comment on her part, but it comes across as her acknowledging the case for what it is, and acknowledging that it is somehow curated for her. i think this is evidenced by her telling alice the incident wasnt very useful, implying she tries to find their meaning, and takes them as some form of sentience.

sam:

- he seems a bit peeved that celia didn't call him to tell him she had to cancel, and tells her to not make a habit of this kind of thing. i think its important to keep in mind that we've established he's very sensitive to rejection and people "not having time" for him.

- "im not a big horror fan" who's going to tell him?

alice:

- her computer keeps malfunctioning, showing a jmj error

- shes back to making bad puns and jokes at gwen's expense, a hard shift from her demeanor last episode

- she jokes to gwen about venting their problems as a group exercise, but denies actually having a problem to discuss

gwen:

- she helps alice with the jmj error, and says that colin hasnt been in the office in weeks, though theres no more word in his whereabouts

- she also! denies having anything to talk about! great communication guys!

incident:

- narrated by chester/jon, read at celia's desk.

- incident pulled from the magnus institute oxford outreach center -> important for the obvious reason and because celia woke up in oxford the most recent time she teleported

- darrien is given low viability for agent, subject, and catalyst

- states that "continued incarceration" is the advised method of containing/studying the subject and phenomena, implying that sometime after the statement was given, the magnus institute incarcerated darrien for unknown reasons.

- the statement was given by a man named darrien -> episode 13 also featured a darrien, but it doesn't appear to be the same man to me, i think its most likely that ajn and johhny are just having a good time with recycling names.

- darrien was in a court ordered anger-management program and was transported across dimensions during a therapy session -> intense meditation seemed to be the trigger here

- the receptionist at his therapy office was a "big, soft looking guy" who stumbled over his words, this is followed by the mention of a "bookish looking guy" who darrien says gives him weird pervert vibes. while these are incredibly in character descriptions for them both, i cant say im sure these are alternate-dimension's martin and jon. ide also like to point out that these are characters from darrien's previous universe, not the tmagp one where he finds himself.

- when darrien wakes up from his meditation he has a strong migraine, dry eyes, a stiff neck, and he was dizzy. later, he discovers hes emaciated as he continuously passes out. these symptoms seem to go away as he stays in this dimension

- he woke up in the tmagp universe in a shopping center, coming from a magnus institute outreach post -> seeing as how we know the main building is still active, it could be that the outreach centers also serve as "portals"

- he experienced similar things to anya villette's statement in tma s3. he couldnt contact his employer, had no emergency contact to give the hospital, woke up in a different location, and was taken to the wrong address.

- the tmagp native darrien (who ill call other!darrien for clarity here) was welcoming to his lost doppelgänger, letting him stay in his house and offering him advice on how to keep his anger in check

- darrien describes meeting his other!self as "trying not to fall through the cracks" -> potentially a call back to anya villette's episode "cracked foundation"

- they reasoned the coincidence out by figuring they were half siblings, though they were both named darrien. they discovered a couple of time discrepancies, seeing as their dad died on different days

- the housekeeper, sharon, was wary of them, giving darrien a scared look and looking for opportunities to leave the room when he was around

- when darrien asks how other!darrien manages his anger, hes taken to a heavy door in the basement. there was a single drop of blood on the staircase leading down. ragged breathing and pleading for help rose from below the stairs, and darrien refused to be a part of this anger-vent exercise. he pushed other!darrien into the room, locking it back.

- darrien denies the invitation into the torture chamber, "i couldnt join him down there with my father", later saying he felt guilty for not killing other!darrien and "saving whatever poor soul he had kept". at first, i thought that his other!father was being kept in the basement and tortured, but i think he uses his dad as a metaphor for the anger they both carry. this opens up the scarier realization that other!darrien is just torturing a random person

- once he locked other!darrien in the basement room, he adopted his life.

- sharon didnt return to darrien after her vacation was up, and its thought that she reported him to the institute, where we can assume they began his incarceration

glitches/lies:

- "i'm ok/its ok" spoken by celia as she's trying to reassure herself

- no glitches after gwen and alice say they have nothing to share. its very possible this is because they dont want to share with each other

extra comments:

- the jmj wrror stops popping up after alice proposes talking out their issues as a team, but considering they dont actually do that im chalking it up to a coincidence for now

- this incident follows chester's normal shtick: statement from the magnus institute, directly targeting someones business, and sort of providing a cautionary tale

- this may be my favorite incident so far. it has a very similar vibe to the early tma statements, and an ominous music bit from s1-2 even played briefly as darrien meets his dopplegänger (at least, thats what it sounded like to me). it has a lot of revelation-centered horror that really grabs me, knowing exactly who will be in the house as darrien knocks on the door and following his dopplgänger into the torture room were so vivid for me, its the exact type of horror that always makes me genuinely creeped out!

- this episode raises a lot of questions about the stability of this dimension, and all dimensions in general since there seems to be reoccurring leaks/cracks. this manifests as celia teleporting across space, existing in this universe in general, the giant cavern in the magnus institute ruins, and darrien's adventures in universe-hopping.

- as i mentioned in the incident points, jon and martin have a sort of hinted cameo in darrien's original universe, but a part of me refuses to believe its them just because i enjoy the mystery set up after mag 200. if this is all the content we get of potential jon and martin dopplegängers, ill actually be happy with that. i really do enjoy the notion that they exist in some boring reality somewhere else, and martin still stumbles over his words and jon still needs anger management therapy. i like that theres consistency even in an alternate universe. im certain we wont be seeing these vague background characters again, but i would love to see darrien's reaction to norris's voice.

[gatheredfates]

I vented about this on my bluesky but I also wanted to express it here a) because it's my blog and I can but b) just see if I'm literally not the only one experiencing this emotion. It's a rare negative post? idk. It's under the cut. I'll probably delete it later.

I'm basically just going to post what I wrote on bluesky first and then kind of try to elaborate here.

I don't tend to express it very often, but trying to 'be the change you want to see in the world' as far as breaking through insular roleplay communities is hard when that's just what they are. Insular. And that's not really the fault of the players as it is decentralisation away from main hubs (forums, tumblr, etc) to secular discords. It's the inherent distrust that other people don't have your best interests at heart, or that they're going to be abusive/predatory/etc, that keeps people from reaching out. It's something I try to unlearn but also find is triggers the moment someone crosses a light boundary, even if it's not an obvious one? Idk. I feel like I used to be able to reach out to people much easier than before. That I could log into a game, go to an RP hub or event, and feel like I can interact with people other than those staffing. I don't know quite how to describe it, other than I feel like I'm sometimes pushing against a wave of people who crave interaction but won't/can't give it back. It's strange in a hobby that's supposed to collaborative.

I've just been finding it so exhausting lately. It feel like so many roleplay communities are tucked away on discords that are not easy to advertise or locate. It feels like, if I go to an event, the only major interactions outside my circle of friends are from staff members at the event and not other players?

Let's not even talk about how much the userbase of tumblr has decreased, as well as this weird social stigma that's two parts 'reblogging this diminishes the aesthetic of my roleplay' or 'what if people think I'm weird if I constantly like/reblog their stuff'. It's not even me. I see things where I'm like 'oh that's so pretty i bet it has a lot of notes!' and it has like... twenty.

idk. I feel like i'm the old man yelling at the cloud. I feel like it was so much easier to find roleplay a few years ago whereas now it's clawing through communities and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. It's weird as hell.

[666writingcafe]

The Adventure Begins

Levi's overacting. Again. The only reason it wasn't obvious during the school play was because Simeon kept him reined in. Levi gets excited quite easily, and it causes him to get lost in whatever role he's playing.

I'll have to ask Simeon, but I don't think he intended the Lord of Shadow to act so...dramatically? badly? I don't know how to describe it, really. It just isn't very good.

Unlike MC. I'm not sure why I like their acting better, especially since they're currently matching Levi's energy. Maybe it's because they're intentionally hamming it up. They did mumble an apology to me before they started talking to him, after all, so they must know that Levi's acting isn't the best.

Satan's isn't much better, either. He's not as over-the-top as Levi, but I don't find him convincing as the "villain" of this story. If anything, he'd make a good anti-hero, but Solomon probably didn't want to make things too complicated.

Solomon's not a very good author.

However, I'm choosing to keep all this to myself, because the point of all this is to help MC get their first star. Lucifer, on the other hand, is having a hard time suspending his disbelief. So, I understand why MC told him to shut up. I just hope they're prepared to get their ass handed to them once Lucifer's back to normal size, because while he has a soft spot for MC, he doesn't like being silenced. Messes with his pride.

Speaking of which...the stars.

They represent the seven virtues, which are direct opposites of our sins. For me, that virtue is temperance. Solomon probably knows this, but he may not realize the full extent of my relationship with temperance.

Once upon a time, I was able to control myself and my urges. Until I wasn't. For my brothers, their sin was triggered by specific events; that wasn't the case for me. It just...happened. And I didn't realize it until it was too late.

Now, it's what most people know me for. They think I'm a meathead that only thinks about food. Even my brothers.

Which isn't fair.

Why are they allowed to have complex personalities, but not me? Why can they participate in mentally stimulating activities, while I'm cast off to the side and dismissed as too dumb to understand any of it? It's never made sense to me.

I think that's part of why I like MC so much. They're the first person in a really, really long time that sees me beyond my sin. They actually listen to what I have to say and seem to value my opinion, even if it's not related to food or sports.

Yet somehow, deep inside, I don't fully trust them. I think it's coming from my subconscious. Somewhere in there lives a hurt angel that feels like everyone he cares about will die and leave him behind. And in a way, it's true.

Lilith may have been the only person in our little family that actually lost their life, but my brothers barely resemble what they were in the Celestial Realm. It's weird. They wear the same faces, but they're completely different people. Sometimes, I feel like they're complete strangers, or perhaps taken over by aliens.

Oddly, the one person I can rely on to stay the same is Satan. Then again, he didn't have his own form until we arrived in the Devildom, so this version of him is all I've ever known.

"Beel?"

Shit.

I missed a lot, didn't I?

"Are you okay? You seem out of it."

"I could say the same to you." Why is that the first thing that comes out of my mouth? I sound like a jerk.

MC merely sighs as they sit next to me on the...bed? I take a proper look at my surroundings and realize that we're in a hotel room of some kind. Lucifer appears to be sleeping on the nightstand, using tissues as both pillow and blanket.

"Wanna go first, or shall I?" Interesting question. They don't seem upset at me.

"Your call." MC rests their head on my shoulder.

"Simeon needs my help making an important decision." Their tone indicates something serious.

"With what?" MC sighs again.

"His future." Huh? Why would an angel need a human's help with that? I know that the two of them are fairly close, but still.

"But that's neither here nor there," they quickly add, sighing. "It's not like I can do anything about it now." They glance up at me. "What's on your mind?"

"My past."

"As an angel?" I nod.

"Back then, the only thing that mattered to people was that I was strong. I wanted to be useful, so I decided to become a soldier and fight for the Celestial Realm. Problem was, I had trouble controlling my powers."

"Like I did before receiving the Ring?"

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it until you said it, but yeah. I suppose we have that in common. In your case, everyone had your back, which is good, because I wouldn't have wanted you to go through that experience the way I did." MC sits up and properly looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I would destroy something--even though most of the time it was a complete accident--Raphael would make some sort of sarcastic remark about it. I think he started calling me the Hulk at one point, but it was meant as an insult." I pause.

"At least he had the decency to do it to my face. Lots of angels would talk shit about me behind my back. They thought I was too stupid to pick up on it, but I knew. They acted overly sweet towards me whenever I would walk in the room. Condescending, even. It was like I was a dumb kid to them." MC places a hand on my thigh and pats it.

"Sounds depressing," they remark.

"It was. Oddly enough, the one person in authority that didn't treat me that way was Lucifer. I initially thought he was too busy with his duties to really care about much else, but then one day he approached me and started talking to me. We had a legitimate conversation."

"About?"

"He told me to keep in mind that being a Celestial Realm soldier wasn't about attacking--"

"--but protecting." We must have woken Lucifer up. "You had the power to protect everyone--to keep them safe--and that you shouldn't feel bad because you were special. If you learned to control your powers, I'd recommend you to the cherubim and have you serve as a Celestial Realm gatekeeper. You did, and so I kept my promise." Lucifer beckons MC to pick him up and bring him closer to me.

"MC and I may be connected by the Ring of Light, but the two of you have a strong connection as well," he continues. "You're both motivated by the need to protect the ones you love, even if it means sacrificing yourself in the process. Drawing on that similarity is going to be the key to pass Solomon's test."

"Are you saying Solomon knew we had that in common?" MC asks incredulously.

"No. I did. I simply passed the knowledge along to him."

"How long--"

"The rooftop."

"Of Dogi Magi?" I'm glad MC understands what he's referring to, because I'm completely lost. Must have been something I wasn't involved with.

"You knew that Belphie would hurt you if you went against his order to reject me, but you did it anyway."

"I didn't want to lie to you."

"Because that would have meant hurting his feelings." Asmo may have used his powers to pick up on Lucifer's crush on MC early on, but I knew pretty much from the moment they set eyes on each other. Granted, he was more attracted to their soul initially, but who could blame him? It was bright and shiny, even back then. If we weren't under orders to not eat them, then they wouldn't have made it out of the assembly hall alive. Even Diavolo was struggling to contain himself.

Anyway, the point is MC cared enough about Lucifer in that moment to feel the need to protect him.

Just like I felt the need to protect Lucifer after I became a cherub.

MC's going to get their star.

[smytherines]

Overly long staircase scene acting analysis because I'm autistic

Watched the staircase scene again, because this is my life now. But I just cannot get over how incredible Joey Richter is in this scene. Every beat is absolutely heartbreaking. The anger and hurt in his voice as he yells "I'm going to single-handedly dismantle everything you've ever believed in," the way his voice breaks.

During the reprise he does a stunning job of "guy trying to be cold and intimidating but is actually incredibly sad and unbelievably angry." The way Owen says "a world without agencies, a world without spies, a world without secrets" with so much quiet contempt for the thing that ruined his life.

Maybe the best piece of acting in the entire show is when Curt steps up into Owen's gun and says "the feelings we had for each other." And Owen looks pained, he looks wistful for a second. His gun lowers to Curt's heart and his hand repositions like he's really struggling with what he believes he has to do. The thing he's been wanting to do for four years. But he just can't manage to pull the trigger, despite having ample opportunity to do so.

When Curt finally shoots his gun out of his hand and aims the gun at his head, the way Joey Richter plays Owen just feels incredibly sad. To me it reads as Owen, not being able to kill Curt, thinking Curt wouldn't be able to kill him either, and realizing too late that he was wrong about that. There's a kind of incredulous disappointment in his voice as he says "so what are you doing?"

I know I get ridiculous with my Owen Carvour headcanon, but this one scene just gives SO much insight into his character and motivations, without outright telling you pretty much anything. That's partially clever writing, but its also just Joey Richter absolutely killing this role, making Owen feel like a real person with real anguish and doubt and anger. Its spectacular.

And it's wild because Curt Mega is also really fucking good in this scene, but kind of in different ways? His delivery doesn't subvert what we know about Agent Mega, it reinforces it. Curt has been grieving for four years. He fell apart after Owen's "death," his alcohol use turning into a full-on disorder, making him incapable of doing the one thing he loves, the thing he feels he does best. And actor Curt Mega does an incredible job at conveying all of that without even saying a word. Curt's stance, the way he braces against the staircase just kind of numb with the realization that Owen is alive, the anger and resentment that he mourned Owen for so long only for him to be out there doing evil schemes. It's all played perfectly.

As an Owen Carvour defender I have issues with what agent Mega does here that are mostly subtextual, so I'm gonna stick to the acting choices within the actual text of the show:

The thing that stands out the most about Joey Richter's performance to me is the little vocal breaks and how raw the line deliveries are, but what stands out to me about Curt Mega's performance is his body language and facial expressions, which are just pitch perfect from start to finish.

Our guy is speedrunning the five stages of grief on that staircase.

First is denial and anger, kinda wrapped up in one package- denying that Owen has the upper hand, there's something about the stance here that feels like he's planting himself with a false confidence, like he doesn't want Owen to know how scared and overwhelmed and sad he is about this. How angry he is that his life fell apart mourning someone who isn't even dead.

Then bargaining- when Curt is pleading with Owen, telling him that he's sure the agencies can pull some strings and get him pardoned if he agrees to give up Chimera. It's hard to describe the expressions & body language in a way that doesn't sound kinda weird, but there's a flash on Curt's face that reads to me like "if you give up Chimera maybe there's a chance for us," which is of course cut off by Owen's anger. There's a desperation, and even a little hint of optimism- it isn't too late to fix this.

Then depression- the expressions here are just heartbreaking, as Owen pontificates Curt is just slowly unraveling, leaning back into the staircase his face just crumbles. Like every word Owen says is physically hurting him. Like he's realizing slowly that there is no going back, that the time they shared & the feelings they had aren't going to be enough. Actor Curt Mega makes so many interesting acting choices here that say so much more than you could say through dialogue alone. The way Curt steps into the gun very much feels like he is accepting that baring his heart to Owen could get him killed, and that it's worth the risk to try (damn, just gave myself more empathy for agent mega here)

And then- acceptance. After Curt has his big moment of vulnerability, appealing to Owen's memories of their time together, and Owen rejects him by telling him to move on, Curt accepts that he has to kill Owen. It reads to me like he isn't doing it to save the world (or at least not exclusively for that) he's doing it to save himself. To remove the spectre of Owen that has been haunting him for the last four years. That as long as Owen is alive he will be haunting Curt.

(As an Owen Carvour defender I have to point out that Owen is *disarmed* at this point, so I personally have a whole big rant I could make but this shit is too long already)

Again it's weird to describe someone's facial expressions and body language, but all of the emotions you can infer from this scene are down to just great acting. Two really good actors doing a well-written scene spectacularly. As good as the rest of the show is- and its very good- this scene is why there's still an active fanbase for a comedy spy parody musical, still making art and writing fanfiction and doing edits and memes about the relationship between Owen Carvour and Agent Curt Mega nearly eight years later.

[h-didanart]

The time none of you were waiting for has come… it is time for me to dump lore on you all. ‘Who is it today?’ I hear no one ask, why our vengeful pal Agony Ghost Bloodmoon of course!

Agony Ghost is a variation of the Quiet Throes au, in which Bloodmoon ends up dying after The Bastard’s murder attempt. They are extremely fucking pissed and will basically do everything in their power to make Ruin’s life as miserable as it can be. Though I haven’t shared more lore than that, and what I just said wasn’t exactly stated out loud mostly just assumed, and I do have some more lore about how the events at the end of October would play out. So without further ado, here is the lore dump:

As always purple = always has been, blue = recently came up with, green = I just made it up

Trigger warnings- referenced and implied torture and sa

They woke up and immediately were in pain. Every single joint in their body ached, moving hurt, they were given no time to even process where they were.

After a few minutes of them getting used to the ache they looked around and were confused by their sudden change in location, they had been in the Daycare hadn’t they? Why were they at this dusty old lab— Solar’s dusty old lab?

They got up, wincing at their unsteady legs and just now realizing their clothes felt different, just as much as their body. They had been freaking out before and they were freaking out now, they had no idea what happened. They tried to make sense of it all, tried to remember anything that could help them.

And then they did remember. The bad day they had, them blowing up at Ruin, Ruin immobilizing them… all the pain

Their reaction was about the same as chapter five’s, ie. they had a really bad panic attack. Only this time no one came to help them.

It then hit them what could possibly be their situation: they were dead, and Ruin had killed them.

They wanted to believe they weren’t and this was all a weird out of body experience or whatever, Harvest did at least, but when Solar walked into the room he didn’t even spare a glance at them, more focused on a table in the back. They followed him in confusion and on the table saw… themselves.

And that is how they knew.

They were dead.

And Ruin had killed them.

They kinda just stayed in that room for the most part. They watched Solar come by and do stuff in the computers, they watched as their unmoving body remained lifeless, they tried to bring one another comfort but for once it didn’t work.

No matter how hard they tried they couldn’t stop the overwhelming distress and sorrow, it was almost like that’s all they could feel. And anger, in small bursts, towards themselves for letting it get to this point.

It would also be good to add at this point, between having the memories from the start and being able to see the damages their body sustained, the twins are able to figure out what exactly Ruin put in them and what he did with it.

Disgust and horror wouldn’t even begin to describe what they felt.

They laid on the ground for hours on end, not having anything else to do, hopelessness eating away at what remained of themselves. After a while Solar walked by, mumbling something about tools or whatever, quieting down as he spotted the twin’s corpse on the table.

They thought he’d finally put it in the trash, or take what was salvageable to use as spare parts.

They did not expect for him to approach slowly, placing a hand on the table, taking a deep sigh and barely whispering, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you”

This was their enemy, someone they’d only made a deal with to deal with an issue for them both.

They killed his family, they tried to kill him, and when they are the ones to die he apologizes?

They think for a bit, remembering Solar’s daily check ups since their deal, how they hadn’t seen him that damned day. They remember their senses slipping away slowly as the oil dripped from them, pain dulling and darkness turning to static. They remember a faint shake, something wrapped around their waist, and a feeling of weightlessness before everything truly went away.

He tried to save them.

He did save them.

He just couldn’t save their lives. He… cared enough to try.

He cared.

There was someone who cared.

They had someone who cared.

They follow him around since then, watching him work, curling up beside him, just being around. He makes their anguish lessen.

Through the confrontation they stick by his side. And after the fact as well.

They eye the “cured” Ruin warily, glad that their Solar wasn’t fool enough to fall for the charade. Who would after knowing the shit he did to them? They glare at the broken bastard, for once their anger not directed towards themselves.

It’s a while later when Solar has some free time, he goes back to the lab for their body.

They follow him to a place they faintly recognize, some sort of place to look at the stars, and watch as he buries it under a leafless tree. They both stand there, staring at what would be their resting place.

It feels bad but is also kinda nice.

He had covered them before they died, he had gotten them a pretty grave.

They sometimes wonder what could’ve been if they had lived, if in death he showed this care.

They keep following Solar for a long while, discovering their ability to float, and how they can move things if they really focus. This second one was tested on Ruin, they pushed him off the balcony. It was very funny.

The twins got ideas from this, and having nothing better to do, decided to act on them. Moving things around, a shove here and there, messing with the environment, they started stalking Ruin and making his life difficult.

It was relatively light punishment for what the bastard did, but it brought them glee nevertheless. And then one day, as they were in the Fazcade, they watched the Bastard sneak around, Solar coming by a few moments later, only for Ruin to knock him out. Bloodmoon stared, and a moment later were by their Solar’s side.

It was the first time they showed themselves to someone, and the real start of the haunting.

They’ve been tormenting The Bastard ever since.

Only he can see them, they only speak to him. His patience has deteriorated, it is harder for him to act. They enjoy watching him struggle to keep the facade, watching as he frustratedly cries over whatever plans he had being delayed.

They’ve inadvertently delayed both the creation of Eclipse III and the multiversal collapse. They didn’t even know Ruin was still scheming, though they did figure out he had a clear mind all through October, his reaction to seeing them was all they needed to know. They felt oddly vindicated by that, that it was actually him and not some easily cured virus.

Their feelings of dread and sorrow have mostly shifted to rage and hate, something they’re more familiar and far more comfortable with.

They’ll keep him alive and suffering for as long as they can.

They’ll make him pay for what he did, it’s really only fair.

AND that’s their lore story wise! I’m cheering them on quite frankly, they deserve to go feral on Ruin, make his life hell. Anyways, I’m gonna go on a ramble about their design now because there are a bunch of little details that are there and I want to point out—

First off, the clothes. They are wearing what they had on when they died, so the hoodie, gloves, scarf(?), and the cape Solar tied around their waist, granted I did make that longer both because of the more ghostly look and because I don’t want to draw their legs. Speaking of, their legs are just as messed up as what’s described, basically mutilated, they will fall over if they fully materialize. Their right wrist is broken, hand always in some uncomfortable looking angle, it’s hard to control but they still can move it. Their left eye’s light fully went out, so it’s just a black socket with the occasional white pupil when they’re extra mad or trying to be scary, y’know, FNaF style. The tear tracks in their face are both because of the FNaF ghost style and because they did have those as they died. And not in their physical design but their voice box is broken, static comes out alongside their voice, and they also cannot speak very loud.

More doodles of them :3

Yes that Moon plushy is meant to be an indirect way of representing how messed up their legs are.

:3