#this is a post I've been editing for a week or so rip

[mickandmusings]

you’re losing me

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

word count: 5.2k

summary:

when tyler, yet again, forgets an important date while he's caught up in chasing, y/n is at her wits end. their relationship feels like it's dying, and he just might have dealt the final blow. after a series of rather unfortunate happenings, it's up to the rest of the wranglers to set them free from the disaster they created.

warnings: ANGST with a capital a; tyler is kind of an ass; halfway edited (sorry); forced proximity; not my most favorite thing i've ever written; sort of suggestive but not explicit

-

The ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall taunts her, reminding her that time was continuing to pass by. She taps her fingers against the table, her patience fleeting.

Y/N picks up her phone to check it for nearly the twentieth time in the past half hour. She had hoped to look down and see a missed call or an apologetic message from her boyfriend, who, at present, is an hour and a half late for their anniversary dinner. She had the table set for two some time ago: a home cooked meal in the oven, a bottle of white wine to split, and a candle lit in the center of the table. She sported a flowy sundress that tapered off mid-calf-Tyler's favorite dress on her-one that she just knew was going to end up on the floor of their bedroom by now.

Clearly, she'd been mistaken.

She presses the button on the side and the screen illuminates the dimly-lit room. The only thing that greets her is an empty lockscreen- a picture of Tyler smiling down at her as she looks up at him, taken over a year ago. She sighs in annoyance, putting the phone back down as the tear in her heart only grows bigger and bigger. She'd known this would happen, and despite all her efforts to avoid it, he had still forgotten.

She'd started two weeks beforehand, by telling him that she wanted to spend the night of their anniversary with him, alone. He'd agreed, claiming it was a great idea. That night, she put the reminder in his phone calendar and wrote it into the paper one that lived on his fridge. A week before, she'd mentioned it a thousand times: over dinner, during grocery shopping, and even during post-bliss pillow talk. He'd pull her into his arms and kiss her head, assuring her every time that he'd be there with bells on. Naively, she had believed him. Now, she was sitting alone at his dinner table in her prettiest sundress, feeling like a complete fool.

Her phone dings, and she feels the rip in her heart stitch itself back together for a slight moment. When she notices it's not Tyler, her shoulders slump.

The Tornado Wranglers are LIVE! Click here to watch now!

She's quick to click it, watching as it loads before she sees Boone's face in the frame, the top of Tyler's hat visible. Her heart shatters, watching as her boyfriend smiles and hollers for the camera, chasing a storm. She'd known there was a big storm forming for the past few days: when Tyler went out on a chase, she watched the weather as if it were a nail-biting thriller. Hearing him on the livestream had been the first time she'd seen or heard from him all day, despite his promises to be next to her this very moment.

She exits the live and stands from the dinner table, already knowing her boyfriend wouldn't be home any time soon. She blows out the candle and puts the unopened wine back in the kitchen, wrapping the dinner she'd made in tin foil and tossing it into the fridge. Despite her simmering anger, she knew Tyler would come home drenched, so she set out a dry change of clothes and a towel on the washing machine for him to see. Shaking her head, she bit her lip and swallowed thickly as she moved to the en suite bathroom and changed out of the dress, her perfectly curled hair wasted. She throws on her pajamas and her (intentionally not Tyler's) hoodie, climbing into her side of their shared bed. She plugs her phone into the charger and switches on the silent function, not wanting to be bothered as she wallows. Finally, she plops down onto her pillow and curls under the blankets, her annoyance slowly fading into disappointment. She tries to push the tears back, feeling stupid for crying over something so trivial, but it had hurt that he'd forgotten something that was supposed to be important to both of them. She feels asinine, like a dog with a bird at his door, only to be shut out. A choked sob slips past her lips, and she's done for. She curls in on herself, legs to her chest as she cries until her body could no longer take it, and lets her eyes shut for sleep.

-

Hours later, Tyler stumbles into his house, plopping off his soaking wet boots on the rug at the garage door. He's slightly dry from his ride home, but his clothes still cling to his skin, making him shiver when he walks into the house. He turns to lock the door behind him, shuffling into the laundry room that connected the garage and the house. He puts his wet hat on the hook, peeling out of his sopping shirt and jeans, finding a change of clothes and towel set out for him. He smiled, knowing he'd likely find his girlfriend passed out on the couch with the weather forecast still playing on the screen. He changed quickly, hands itching to pull her into his hold and fall into a deep sleep. As he leaves the laundry room and heads to the kitchen, he notes the dinner table set with placemats and silverware next to them. He gives the set up a confused look before shrugging, tossing back a glass of water before walking towards the living room.

The empty room stops him in his tracks completely. The TV had been shut off, only a black screen staring back at him. There had been no indication that Y/N had been here at all-the blankets were folded neatly into the basket, pillows still upright and straight. He looked for anything-a charger plugged into the wall, her current read on the coffee table, an empty mug-but found no signs of the girl he loved. 'Maybe she had an early night,' his mind tried to grasp an explanation of why she wasn't where she always was when he was out on a chase.

Tyler's hand wipes his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he stomps up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The hallway is cloaked in darkness, and he has to use his phone's flashlight just to make his way to the door. He turns it off when he turns the knob and pushes the door open, not wanting the blinding light to disturb her. He makes out her figure curled into her side of the bed, looking small. He frowns again, it was always guaranteed she'd be curled into his pillow if he was gone, often wrapped in some article of his clothing, if not completely dressed in only his clothes.

Wordlessly, he comes to her side of the bed to kiss her head, checking in to make sure she was okay. Moonlight from the window illuminates her face, and he finds his chest tightening as he looks at her. Tears had dried to her skin, and a frown was etched onto her face, even in her slumber. He pushes hair from her face, finding the strand curled, and kisses her forehead lightly. He pulls the covers over her more, making sure she was entirely tucked in. With a worried frown now marking his own face, he shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He opens the door and flicks on the light, the sight in front of him bringing his confusion to new heights.

A white sundress stares back at him, sitting crumpled on the counter. The puffy sleeves are deflated, and the slit on the leg had flopped over, exposing the other side of the fabric. This dress only made an appearance for special occasions, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands off of her when she wore it. She'd talked about it for weeks, she was going to wear it on their anniver-he stills-no. Tyler's heart sinks to his feet, hammering against his chest so loudly it rattles his eardrums. There is no way he'd forgotten. The unusual things in his home began to add up, and, with shaking hands, he reaches for his phone and stares down at the photo of her smiling back at him. She's standing in a poncho, drenched, but smiling as she uses her hand to point towards a barreling storm in the distance. Sure enough, in the slew of notifications he'd ignored, sits a calendar reminder:

'Our anniversary date ;) <3'

He plops down on the side of the tub and scrolls through the messages and calls Y/N had left, clicking on the voicemail she'd left, her sweet voice filling his ears:

'Hey Ty, it's almost nine, I just...um, just checking on you. I-I don't know if you're just running late or you forgot, but...I love you, see you soon. Be careful, please. Call me when you get this.'

He pieces it together quickly-the table set up for two, his favorite dress she'd been wearing, her hair curled just to look nice for him-the realization guts him. He had been stupid, so caught up in the thrill of the chase he completely forgot about the one thing that always brought him home. His brain recalls her excitement over the dinner she would cook, and he had planned on bringing flowers and her favorite sweets from that bakery downtown, hoping to charm that dress right off of her. He pushes his damp hair back with his hands, he had fucked up, and royally. The reason she hadn't done the things she normally did when he was gone was because he wasn't supposed to be gone at all.

He breaths deeply before brushing his teeth, sliding into the bed next to her and pulling her close. He'd hold her while he could, because he'd spend the next few days groveling for her forgiveness. He'd wake up early-clean up the dishes from last night, cook her breakfast, do the laundry, pick up groceries for the week. Hell, he'd kiss her fucking feet if it meant she'd forgive him. His eyes shut closed with sleep, and night quickly fades into morning.

-

Y/N is the first to wake, her skin burning under Tyler's touch. She immediately rolls away from his grasp, and the content look on his sleeping face makes her flame with anger. She rolls her eyes and stomps out of the room, purposefully slamming the door to the bedroom enough to rattle the frames on the walls. The noise jostles Tyler from his sleep, and he sits up in his bed, allowing himself only a minute of solitude before he realizes he's under the dog house.

Quietly, he stomps down the stairs, finding Y/N already standing at the sink, sleeves pushed up as she scrubs at a pot hastily. Her face is drawn into an angry frown, and the air is thick with tension. There's none of her music filtering through the tiny speaker in the window, none of her humming as she works. She's angry, she's hurt, and all she really wants is an apology.

"Mornin'," his voice is raspy, and he awkwardly hovers behind her, watching from a distance as she ignores him. He comes over and lightly grabs her arm, attempting to take over the task. "I can do that, darlin', you go sit at the bar and I'll cook you breakfast, yeah?"

She snatches her arm from his grasp and gives him an unpleasant look, only returning to the dishes in front of her as she shakes her head. He gives a deep sigh, stepping away from her to give her space.

Her silent treatment was always the worst.

"Baby, please, I-I know I fucked up, I'm just trying to make it up to you, let me-"

She lets out an angry laugh, dropping the pot back into the soapy sink with a shake of her head. Her veins fill with a fury she can't control, and she's almost blinded by her rage.

"Fucked up is an understatement, Tyler."

Her angry words were piercing, but at least she was talking.

"Y/N/N, I know, I'm going to make this up to you. I'll-"

"I don't want to hear your lies that I hear every time you mess up, Tyler. You're not going to take time away from chasing, so you can stop feeding me that same lie."

Her honesty stops him in his tracks. He starts to feel defensive, his own anger rising to the surface.

"Just listen-"

The bowl she's cleaning clamors against the other dishes in a loud fashion, making him jump slightly as she turns to face him. Fury is written across her face completely.

"No! You listen! I planned this for weeks, Tyler, weeks! I did everything, the cooking, the cleaning, the waiting around for four fucking hours! All you had to do was show up, and you couldn't even do that."

She swallows thickly, the anger beginning to fester into the sadness she'd been shoving down. Her chest moves in short breaths, and she tries to control her breathing as she looks up at him. He notes her teary eyes-she's not really angry, she's hurting.

"It would've been fine if this was a one off thing, but it isn't. You and I both know that." Her voice is lacking the fire it once had, replaced with a wave of vulnerability she rarely lets show. She pauses and wipes her hands with the kitchen towel in her hands. Her eyes dart across the room in thought, never meeting his. "First it was my birthday, and then not just one, but two dates, and now this. Every other time I just let it go, not wanting to start anything, but I can't anymore, because it just keeps happening. Tyler, I love you, but you're breaking my heart."

Her bottom lip wobbles as she takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to have a conversation with the man she was begging to love her the way she loved him.

"I'm not asking you to give it up, I'm just asking for one day, maybe every couple weeks? I feel like I sleep next to you but I never see you, and-," her eyebrows furrow before she takes a defensive step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just don't want to have to beg you to want to spend time with me."

Tyler's heart shatters. He fumbles to come up with the right words, knowing the wrong ones could ruin everything. He loved her immeasurably, and he'd been so goddamn blind. His mind raced with the dozens of things she does for him without being asked-making sure he had dry clothes after chasing, ensuring he had a decent meal every time he came home, tens upon hundreds of tiny actions that he had taken for granted. When was the last time he'd done something like that for her? The one time she had asked him, weeks in advance, to save a day for her, he had neglected it completely, unintentionally or not.

She looks down at her feet, feeling so incredibly small, invisible, like the man in front of her can't see her at all. She was tired of trying to keep their relationship alive all on her own. She wasn't in denial that Tyler loved her, she knew he did, but the last few months had felt as if he hardly remembered she was there. Her anxiety spirals-did he really love her, or was she just convenient for him?

"I know that chasing is important to you, and I love seeing you do it, but it always comes before me. I just want to know, will I ever come first?" Her voice is so, so hurt, and the girl he knows has withered away. The only thing that remains is the shell of her in front of him, pleading for him to just notice her. "It's okay if not, I-I just need to know. Because I can't keep having this fight, just tell me the truth so if the answer is no, I can move on."

Tyler's heart hammers, his own insecurity flaring.

"W-What? No, no, chasin' doesn't come before you, ever. Y-You know that."

She gives him a doubtful look.

"You do know that right?"

"Tyler, name one time that you've dropped everything from chasing a storm to do something for me?"

She stands leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. His mind cannot conjure one situation, and he knows she's right, he'd never put her first. Not once. He had missed her birthday party just last month for a big storm over in Kansas, on his own. The rest of the Wranglers had even cancelled to be there for her. Both Boone and Lilly both had called him from the party to reprimand him, and he'd stayed anyways. Then he'd done it again, twice, just two weeks later. Each time, she'd forgiven him with open arms, never fighting him on it, simply accepting his lie that he'd never do it again.

She simply nods, waiting to see how long it would take Tyler to realize just how miserable this had been for her. He grows defensive, trying to make excuses for his actions.

"That storm in Kansas, w-we haven't seen a storm that scale since-"

"Tyler, save it," she starts, her voice growing an edge. "You answered my question, that's all I needed to know."

He watches as she literally and metaphorically throws in the towel, a somber look written across her face.

“I-I need some air.”

She says nothing else, only sliding on her shoes and slipping out the garage door. He expects to hear the jangling of her keys and then the roar of her car’s engine, but neither come-she’d taken out on foot.

Tyler ignores the rush of tears that threatened to spill from behind his eyes, his chest so full of guilt it feels like he might combust from one single sob. He stews in his emotions as he resumes the task she'd started-at least when she got back, the dishes would be one less thing for her to worry about. As his hands scrubbed at various pots and pans, he thought about the thousands of things he wanted to do to show her that he was serious. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back into his house, but he knew she needed her space, time away from him to think. Tyler wrestles with his emotions, knowing this could very well be the end of them, and it'd be his fault entirely. He'd let the best thing in his life slip entirely out of his grasp, all because he'd had his head in the clouds. It had been obvious to everyone around him, except him. How had he been so blind to her anguish?

He moves around the kitchen in complete silence, only the rattle of the dishes he's putting away filling his ears. He ponders over the dark hue forming across the sky, wishing Y/N had taken a jacket or an umbrella with her. He wonders if he should call her, just to tell her that he could leave while she stayed here, he didn't want her in the rain. He doesn't overthink it and pulls up her contact, letting it ring before he hears vibrating. His eyes turn to the direction of the noise.

Shit.

She'd left her phone here.

He turns his attention to the slew of missed messages on his own phone. Just twenty minutes ago, Dexter had texted him about a storm forming just miles from his home. The messages after were from Dani, Boone, and Lilly, all asking if he and Y/N were okay. His eyebrows pinched and he frowned, about to respond with a question mark before he heard the shrill ring of the tornado siren outside his window. His eyes glance up to see a darkening sky, heavy clouds sitting low in the sky.

He tosses his phone into his pocket before he's pulling on his still-wet boots and bolting out his garage door. A tornado was minutes from hitting here, and his girlfriend was wandering around aimlessly. She couldn't have gone far, his house sat miles from town, the only neighbors being a relatively empty home the next street over-the family only visited during the winter months, they paid him handsomely to keep their grass cut when they weren't in town-so he knew that she wouldn't have anyone to look out for her. His boots clicked on asphalt, his voice hoarse as he yelled after her, her name falling desperately from his lips as the wind whipped around his face.

With no signs of her appearing, his heart began to hammer against his chest. Rain began to pelt his clothes and it only urged his aching legs to move faster. His mind conjures images he fears-her stuck under a collapsed tree or shed, left for dead because he'd been stupid. They urged him to the neighbor's house, chest searing with anxiety as he heaved, still not seeing anything-no flashes of the simple dress she'd been wearing, or the cardigan she'd wore over it tossed somewhere. Before his brain could stop him, he was pulling the spare key from under the mat, all but trespassing into his neighbor's home, shouting her name. Nothing.

He slams the door, running a hand through his hair as he begins to panic. His chest feels tight, his mind growing fuzzy with the thought of her being out in this storm alone. The air only grows more thick, and a crack of lightning startles him. It sends him into taking off on foot in their backyard, even slinging open the door of the storm shelter to see if she'd hid there. It was empty, making him let out a string of curses to the sky.

Then, he hears her voice. He almost thinks he's imagining it, her tone is sweet and gentle, and he thinks he's losing his mind.

"Hey, it's okay little guy."

It's the voice he knows well-the voice she uses for animals and babies. His jade eyes turn to see her hair blowing in the wind, her dress wet from the weather. She's crouched down and attempting to move a stack of firewood from the neighbors yard, her eyes on alert she hears Tyler's footsteps crunch the ground behind her. She whips around, looking at him.

"Tyler, help me, there's a rabbit, he's stuck."

Tyler looks at her with wide eyes. His voice is loud over the sirens blaring in the air and the wind whipping.

"Darlin', there's a big ass storm coming right for us! Leave it! We gotta get down, now!"

Her eyes are fiery when she turns back to look at him.

"Then leave, but I'm not leaving him here!"

Her hands hastily moved large pieces of firewood, getting more and more drenched. She lifts a particularly heavy one and throws it across the grass.

"If you're just going to stand there and not help, then go! I don't need you hovering because you care all of a sudden!"

Tyler's heart shatters, she thought he didn't care? Of course he cared, but he was more concerned with keeping her safe. He sighs at her stubbornness, moving to help lift the firewood at a faster pace. She lifts a particularly stubborn piece, drawing her hand back quickly with a soft 'fuck!' He tosses her a concerned look but moves on working to get the firewood moved. His muscle flexes as Tyler throws the piece caging the animal in and watches as it bolts towards the treeline. He slings an arm around her shoulder as the roar of the storm grows closer, all but manhandling her into the storm shelter he'd just looked in. It wasn't shabby by any means, well stocked and clean, but small. He shuts the door with a grunt, turning to face her and watching as she digs through a first aid kit.

"What're you doin'?"

She says nothing, only sticking out her right hand for him to see. It's bleeding from a cut, tiny pieces of wood protruding from around it.

"Shit, baby," he moves to grab the kit from her. "Stop, just stop tryin' to do it on your own, it's only going to get worse."

She stills, looking up at him with dagger-like eyes.

"Look, you did your job. I'm safe here, you can go."

Go? Where the hell did she think he was going?

"I know you're itching to go chase it, it's probably going to be a big one."

Oh.

"You think I'm going to leave you here alone to go chase this thing?"

She shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

It's his turn to look offended, even though he shouldn't be. She was only speaking the truth. He knows he would be quick to defend himself, but he doesn't, knowing the hurt he'd bestowed upon her just hours beforehand. He lightly tugs the kit away from her, giving the soft, sympathetic eyes that had her hardened heart melting. He makes quiet work of removing the shards of wood, and moves to clean it with the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. She winces when it makes contact with the open wound, but a sweet kiss to her temple has her distracted as he finishes bandaging it. When he looks down at her, he finds her eyes already looking up at him. The look she gives him begs him to say something, to just apologize and say he'd do better, and actually mean it this time. He opens his mouth to speak, but it's cut off by a boisterous slam to the shelter door, one that startles Y/N, and she slides into his hold without thinking.

"What the hell was that?!" Her voice trembles.

"I don't know." He doesn't want to move her from his arms, but he needs to see what's going on. He kisses her temple again, setting her on the twin sized mattress that sat on the ground. He makes his way up the stairs of the shelter, moving to push the door open. He knows it's a stupid, risky move, but he does it anyway.

He pushes it forward, the door not even budging. He frowns, moving positions to put his entire body weight on the door, and the door remains shut. He pushes with his entire strength multiple times, before his mind draws a conclusion.

"It's probably a tree or somethin'," He sighs as he steps away from the door. "Probably got knocked down by the wind, fell over on top of the door."

"So we're trapped here?"

"For the time being, yes," He starts, coming to sit down next to her, her head resting on his shoulder. "But I'll get in touch with Dexter and Dani, maybe Boone too. See if one of them can get a truck out here and move it. We'll have to wait for this storm to pass though."

He fishes out his phone and begins to type, his eyes darting across the screen before Dexter's typing bubble finally forms into a message.

'We'll be there as soon as this storm settles!'

Y/N nods when he shows her the message, moving to rest her head on his chest, her heart racing. Without a word, he pulls her into his lap, his eyes now focused on her bandaged hand. She notes his concern quickly.

"It's fine, doesn't even really hurt. Just stings."

He shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter. You got hurt, again, because I did somethin' dumb as hell. Seems like all I've done for the past few months is hurt you. M'sorry, I really am. I fucked up, and I'm prepared to grovel for it."

She nods, biting her lip as she pushes a section of wet hair out of his face.

"You did, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it. Just, this time, promise you'll actually do what you say you will. Don't let it be empty words."

He makes an 'X' motion over the center of his chest-cross my heart-and watches as a small smile forms across her face. He notes it's genuine nature and it forms a smile of his own across his face.

He pulls her head softly under his chin, moving his face to where he's whispering directly into her ear. She leans into his warmth, still shivering from her damp clothes.

"I love you," his voice is a sincere whisper, laced with every ounce of emotion he can muster. She kisses the underside of his jaw, making him close his eyes and sigh.

"I know. I love you too, even when you really piss me off."

He lets out a chuckle, kissing behind her ear, a spot that makes her entire frame stiffen in his hold. He places another one just under it, making her pull away for a moment.

"You're playing with fire, Owens. What are you gonna do, take me on this twin mattress on the floor?"

Her voice is laced with sarcasm and humor, completely joking. One look in his now emerald green irises tells her he wasn't joking, not one ounce of him thought it was a joke.

"Well, might as well start my grovelin' as quickly as possible, got a lot to catch up on." He kisses the spot again, making her hand fly to his damp hair. "And I haven't done this in far too long."

His hands come to her hips, pulling her in even closer in his lap. His calloused hands land on her ass, and she yelps.

“Ty, you can’t be serious.”

He sends her a raised eyebrow. His hand squeezes the supple skin of her bottom.

“Baby,” his voice is just above a whisper, deathly serious, his gaze darkening. “When have I ever joked about taking you any time, any place?"

Y/N shudders. "Never."

"That's what I thought."

His lips connect with hers in a rough manner, effectively shutting her up.

-

A few hours later, as Y/N lies across Tyler's chest, her dress tossed somewhere, she's awoken by a sharp knock at the shelter door.

"T? Y/N/N? Hey, we're here. We're gonna get this tree off of y'all!" Boone's voice fills her ears and she all but scrambles up, face flushed red with embarrassment at the thought of them walking into the shelter to see her and Tyler both bare. Tyler only snoozes and turns over, and she rolls her eyes, he'd sleep through a hurricane-literally. She grabs his shirt and lightly pops him with it.

"Tyler!" She whispers-shouts, quickly buttoning up the front of her dress she'd found on the floor. His jade eyes pop open, shuffling off the blanket that had been draped across him for his modesty.

"Hm, what?" His voice comes out groggy.

"Get up, get dressed, they're here!" She throws her cardigan back on her shoulders as she tosses his jeans over to him, his belt buckle just missing his head. Tyler rubs his eyes tiredly, not quite awake enough for him to care about being completely naked.

Y/N turns to him to fuss, but she's cut off at the creaking of the storm shelter's door opening. She stills, face burning from a hot blush. From above ground, Boone, Dani and Dexter look down at them, the latter two jaws dropping and darting their eyes away. Boone clocks Tyler and swallows thickly.

"Ty, man, I am seein' entirely way too much of you right now."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@rebel-ezra

@fanboysfangirl

@mbioooo0000

[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.

[sacrilegesummer]

Wet, Hot, American Nights - Part 1

Heat of the Moment

summary: Steve thinks summer camp is terrible until a conversation that sparks a new found appreciation for all that camp can do for a person, and maybe he'll even make a friend out of it. warnings: underage drinking, future smut (maybe idk monkey covering eyes emoji), bad writing :p a/n: I am VERY nervous pls be kind this is the first time I have ever posted ANYTHING i've written (at my big age). I am really trying to not describe the reader in any way besides age and gender, but if there's something written that feels like projecting a certain look, pls lmk and I will edit/fix it for the future:)

word count: 4.5k

Camp Elk Heart was your home. You knew the layout of Elk Heart like it was the back of your hand. Every turn, every dip in the path, every root and stone, your body had grown accustomed to the trails like it was a part of you. It was a beautiful Friday evening, no clouds, hot but not too humid, and a rare silence was set over the camp grounds. After cleaning all of camp, a brutal time consuming task that was always the bane of everyone’s Friday, you took a well deserved shower. Scrubbing for nearly thirty minutes at your scalp to alleviate all the dirt and sand that kicked up throughout the busy day and cleaning your face to wash away the marks from teary eyed goodbyes to your campers. You changed into a tank top and a pair of sweatpants and as you went to put your shoes back on, you realized you left your sandals in the dining hall. Stepping out of the bathhouse and on to the trail, you grimace as you glance down at your once clean and bright pink shower shoes now dirty, with gravel stuck in the holes after only a few steps.You began to walk a little quicker to the dining hall.

As you walked you admired the land camp occupied. The pines that grew as tall as cathedrals, the lagoon that in its stillness reflected the sky in between large patches of water lilies, and the look of the freshly painted cabins settled in the trees. You came to camp a few weeks early to help with that task, and you took pride in your work. Camp had given you so much, you would do anything to keep in good shape, both internally and externally. You saw a head of hair through the window as you approached the dining hall, not giving it much more thought as you ripped the heavy door open. 

The AC was emitting a terrible grinding noise as you walked into the dining hall, but you were still absolutely sweating despite the pitiful movement coming from the machine. You thought of the last few things you needed before heading home for the weekend. Making a list in your head, dirty laundry, sandals, swimsuit, repeating so you wouldn't forget. Nearly every weekend someone hosted the whole camp for a couple nights. And this week, it was your turn to offer up your house to your friends and co-counselors for the weekend. After this week in the heat, everyone could use a break. A fun, alcohol fueled break. 

You walked briskly into the break room collecting your well worn pair of sandals from your cubby. You noticed your coworker, Steve Harrington, sitting on the couch, clearly not packed or ready to go, he might have even been pouting, you couldn’t tell. You were going to just keep walking, but instead you whipped around and smiled at him.

“Hey! Are you coming tonight?” 

Steve looked up from his Game Boy, the sounds of Super Mario playing gently from the small device in his hands. He looked surprised. 

“Oh, uh, is there something going on tonight?” Steve questions, sounding a little irritated. 

“Yeah! I put it on the Staff board a couple days ago,” you said, acting a little too happy and kindly gesturing towards the note that clearly said ‘MY HOUSE, THIS WEEKEND’ with your address listed below. 

“I’m hosting the party this weekend. Bring beer and a sleeping bag. My dad has a tent set up. You can probably ride with Robin if you ask nicely” you grinned at him. 

Steve first tilted his head towards the board and his face grew red, then he nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll be there.”

You give him a nod back and swiftly turn around, continuing the walk back to your cabin. Steve was…odd. He seemed very charming and friendly, but the only person he ever talked with was Robin, to everyone else he was distant and aloof. Despite this being her first summer as a counselor, Robin had been attending Elk Heart almost as long as you have. Coming to camp for the first time at 8 years old, you completely fell in love with the place. Robin had started going several years later but as campers you became fast friends, growing even closer this summer as counselors.

This was your first summer back since you were 17, and now, at 22, you felt prehistoric compared to the fresh faced 18 and 19 year olds. Steve was the next oldest person after you and Torres, the Northside Director, but Steve was one of the few staff who had never come to camp before. You had sympathy for him, coming to a camp where everyone knew each other and had their friends… that’s a hard barrier to break through. Secretly though, you think the reason Steve only talks to Robin is because he thinks he’s too good for the place, and she just happens to naturally be incredibly cool. You’d heard him complaining about the short breaks despite working 6 days a week, the exhaustion that came with camp life and the lack of ‘babes’ at camp one day. That left a sour taste in your mouth. 

You shook your head from these thoughts, maybe he’s just shy and the shared trauma of being Co’s the first week brought them close. He’s probably not the jerk you’re making him out to be. You entered your cabin and began to stuff your clothes into your duffle bag. Toiletries, towels, dirty laundry, swimsuit… you put your sandals back on your feet and ditched your shower shoes. The one strap sandal was ugly, but functional! You took a second to admire your tan lines, even more obvious now that you’ve scrubbed your feet of all the sand, dirt, and mud that accumulates in a singular day. You completely adored being outside, and the starkness of the tan lines felt like a status symbol. 

A car horn interrupts your thoughts and you hear your friend and fellow counselor, Eddie, scream from his beat up van, “Hurry up Sunshine! Gotta try an’ beat the sunset!” You continued to stuff all the things you needed, triple checking mentally and praying you didn’t leave anything behind. It was only a weekend, but you hated being unprepared. Turning all the lights in the cabin off, you jog out to Eddie’s van.

“I’m here, I’m here!” you shout over the music blasting from the radio. You crack open the door and settle yourself on the worn in passenger seat and chuck your bag into the laps of Torres, Nancy, and Jonathon, all stuffed into the backseat. “Can you toss that in back for me please?” you give the three of them a sweet look and smile. Torres flashes you a sparkling smile and tosses it behind him. 

“You were supposed to meet us at the dining hall! Had to track you down,” he laughed as he grabbed your shoulder playfully. 

“You know how I am,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Had to get some last minute things and thank you for saving me the front seat! Do you know who's all coming?”

Nancy picks up her little pen and paper and begins to read off the list she very generously created to keep track for you, “Robin is driving half of Southside, the other half is driving with Mae, Argyle is bringing all of the people on Northside who are going but Cabin 2, 14, and 4 can’t make it this weekend, so… most of Boys side. I mean Northside.” she rambled.

“Okay, but most of the camp is coming, so that’s great. The tents’ big, but they're not that big!” you laughed and then held your tongue for a moment, “Do you know if Steve is coming?”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t said anything to me. Do you think he got the invite?”

“Yeah, no, I just invited him in when I saw him in the Nor’wester room. Told him to talk to Robin,” I said, trailing off. “I just don’t want him to think I’m like- excluding him or something you know?” I blurted out, looking back at Nancy in the back seat and then at Eddie, sounding a little desperate. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, his ego can take the hit,” Eddie said, passing you his cigarette. As you accept, he asks, “Should I stop at the Junction gas station or wait until we’re closer?”

“Closer, we can get ice at the closer station too”

Eddie smiles and turns the music up even more as you crank his window down, letting the wind whip your hair and cool yourself down, excited for the night but desperately needing a small moment to yourself. 

___

The party is in full swing, bonfire roaring, red solo cups and stomachs full, thanks to your mom’s huge feast. You settled on some light beer and mixed vodka drinks for the night, ‘the full spectrum’, Eddie joked earlier. Filling another cup with a shot or two of cheap vodka and cranberry juice, you walked over to your seat by the bonfire, next to Torres.

“Enjoying the night?” he asked as you sat down, the fire flickering on his smiling face. Torres was one of our international staff members, but you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact he came all the way from Gudalajara to Elkhart, Indiana of ALL places.

“Of course! Are you?” you asked him, leaning close. At the beginning of the summer you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. How could you not! He was handsome and fit and very affectionate, but after a… pretty intense weekend at Mae’s parents house, you both decided to remain friends. Besides, camp relationships hardly ever worked out, it was like incest. Campcest. And you valued his friendship too much to ever ruin that.

“Yeah it’s great, your parents were so kind to do all of this, we’re not an easy crowd to handle you know,” and he wiggled his eyebrows a little and you giggled. 

“I know, Eddie’s already broken one of my mom’s chairs. He begged for forgiveness and promised to repay her but nothing will change the fact that he’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes. 

Torres laughed at that, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. After a distant yell, your friend Patty came over, grabbing on to Torres’s arm, “Torres, you have to be my partner in pong. I will totally suffer without you,” she flirted, looking at him expectantly. Patty was beautiful, tall and thin, with long black hair and the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. You didn’t mind that she liked him, just because you think of it as incest doesn’t mean everyone thinks that way. Besides, they were both close friends of yours, you only wanted them to be happy. 

“Of course pretty girl,” he smiled as he got up, shooting you a wink. You winked back and took another sip of your very strong drink. You stared into the fire for a moment thinking you were alone, appreciating the moment of solitude. You loved hosting but you could only be a social butterfly for so long before you grew exhausted. When you raised your head to look around, Steve was a few plastic chairs away,  already looking at you. He quickly looked away, thankful for the fire to hide his blushing face. You stood up from your chair and walked carefully over to him, being sure not to seem too drunk. Plopping down into the plastic chair next to him you smiled. 

“How are you doing Steve?” you asked him. It was weird. Normally you both were the life of the party. Dancing on table tops, getting kicked out of bars, and trying to beat each other in a shotgun race (your special trick was flashy, but not very effective in a race so he usually won). Tonight though, you were much calmer due to a pretty tiring, hot week with some of your toughest (and most rewarding) campers. 

“I’m good, just a little tired,” he smiled and took a sip out of his water bottle. 

“Me too,” you glanced down at his water bottle, “No drinks tonight? ” you said, faking surprise.

He shook his head and laughed a little, “I promised Robin I would bring her back in the morning and I really don't want to do that hungover. I've had a couple beers though, don’t worry. I’m in a…good spot for now.” He leaned up and to his left, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of Newports. He sat back and lit one, taking a small drag, he offered it to you, raising his eyebrows. You reached out and imitated him, taking the tiniest inhale. 

“Well, that’s good. Just want to make sure you’re having a good time,” I said very earnestly. A beat of silence. I really don’t know anything about him you thought, disappointed in yourself. Sitting here, realizing you’ve never even been this physically close to him, you felt this deep urge to keep talking to him. Get to know him. Maybe make a friend. 

“Is it weird?” you asked a bit abruptly, passing back his cigarette, “Like, this kind of culture? You’ve never worked at camps before, right?”

“Yeah I mean, it's not what I imagined,” he grimaced a little, “but it’s been alright. I like being able to get tan while lifeguarding,” he said, squishing his face in distaste and taking another drag. “Everyone’s nice…really nice! I don’t know, I just kinda feel different from everyone,” he said slowly, his eyes raking over you in a way that you assume was very unintentional. 

Suddenly, one of your favorite outfits became a source of insecurity. It was simple, but maybe a little too colorful for something so casual. Your shorts were second hand, a light purple pair of quick dry shorts and your sweatshirt was an almost headache inducing pattern of pink, yellow, brown, and purple, but it was your favorite, and the only Patagonia thing you’ve ever purchased. It was expensive, but you were just so drawn to it you had to get. Now, you’re wondering if the bright pattern was off putting to others. You loved how you looked, you thought it screamed ‘camp counselor’ but now you’re wondering if it's just screaming ‘i’m weird - look at me I love attention!!!’. You looked around for a moment. 

“What do you mean? You don’t totally love kids wetting the bed, showering only twice a week, and 6 days of straight 100 degree heat or only pouring rain?” I said, wanting to get my mind off my own insecurities, realizing I was probably overreacting. It seemed malicious though, especially considering every single day he wore jean shorts or an expensive pair of brown hiking pants, while rotating the same few, plain shirts. 

“Yeah, not exactly my thing,” he said, taking another sip. “Do you go to school?” he asked, not looking entirely genuine, you thought maybe he felt obligated to talk to the host of the party. 

“Yeah! Should have graduated last May, but I’ll be done next semester,” You said, feeling a bit ashamed but hoping your face didn’t betray you. Suddenly, a loud cheer exploded from the pong table. Looking behind you, the game looked neck and neck, Torres and Patty having two cups and Nancy and Jonathon having three left. It was obvious Jonathon had no idea what he was doing and Nancy was making all the shots, but still, they were quite cute. You hoped they would last, summer romances were hard to translate into the real world. 

“Really? Why?” he asked, looking entirely shocked, drawing your attention back from the game of pong, “You’re literally the smartest person I know. Are you studying a million things at once?”

“Please, I am not the smartest person you know, you hardly know me,” you shook your head vigorously, “just, you know…do you go to school?” you pivoted, desperate to get yourself out of the spotlight. 

Catching the hint, he nods, “Yeah starting my first year at Indiana,” he said, sounding just as ashamed as you did. “I feel like a… like a weirdo, going to college so late but I didn’t have the grades for the longest time and I honestly had no idea what I wanted to do. Still don’t,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

“That’s not weird at all. That’s honestly really smart. I really wish I did that. That’s why I’m taking an extra semester. I was so stuck on keeping everyone happy and wanting to make my parents proud that I studied a totally soulless profession that I don’t even care about,” you rambled, surprising yourself with the vulnerability. You don’t even know him, why are you word vomiting so hard right now?

“I wish I had taken a year or two to figure out what I want to do, not what my family wants, not what's expected of me,” you finished, not making eye contact with Steve. 

“What do you want to do?” Steve asked, sounding genuinely interested. 

“I want to teach,” you grinned just thinking about it, “I just love working with kids so much. Not to sound super mushy but… camp has changed my life, it basically saved my life, and it’s made me realize that these relationships are the ones I will cherish forever. The trust you build with your campers is a connection unlike any other and watching them grow in the short time we have them…it’s more rewarding than anything else. I want to do that forever. Camp is so unlike anything I’ve ever done,” you looked over at Steve as you spoke, his eyes were wide and he had a small smile on his face. 

Steve leaned forward a bit, “What do you mean camp changed your life?”

Now was the moment to decide just how vulnerable you wanted to be with Steve. Maybe you just really needed to talk about your feelings or maybe he was just, really easy to talk to. You took a breath, “I came back to camp because I was really unhappy. My major was totally depressing me because I hated the work so much. Coming here really set me on a good direction for life. I was doing things and hanging around people who were bad for me. Being back here makes me realize I don’t need to do those things for friends. Or to be cool. I’m cool without all that other bullshit. You think I’m cool right?” you said, grinning and attempting to relieve the tension of your admission.

“Oh definitely,” he grinned, “all the coolest people I know wear full monochrome outfits on a random Tuesday, start rap battles with condiment bottles, and wear garbage bag ponchos, just so one of your campers wouldn’t feel embarrassed,” Steve laughed as he thought of you this past week, garbage bag poncho over green socks, green shirt, and green pants. He’s not even sure if you’re aware you do that, “I’ve never seen anyone pull off those things like you do. You’ll be a great teacher,” he said genuinely and then took a shallow breath, “My parents told me they’d kill me if I ever became a teacher, so that’s really admirable.”

“What? Why?” you said, still reeling a little from what Steve said. You didn’t think anyone even noticed those things about you, much less Steve, someone you’ve hardly spoken with this entire time. 

“Because it doesn’t make any money,” he looked away, “My parents…my dad… have these sky high expectations for me. I don’t even really know him. He's been pressuring me for years to go to college, study business or something ‘useful’, meet a girl, get married, and all that bullshit,” he spat out, “But it never felt right. I guess that’s kind of why I’m here. Trying something new, trying to find myself, a little,” he said, getting quieter and then, “I don’t think my parents even like me. They’ve never said it but I’m pretty sure they think I’m a failure. My entire life they’ve pushed this- this agenda on me while being states away, working, constantly. Hard to parent when you’re halfway across the country and forget to call,” he said, staring into the fire and taking an aggressive drink of his water, probably wishing it was something stronger. 

You were quiet for a moment and spared a glance into your parents house. Your parents were wonderful, but you were the first of your family to ever go to college and they had no idea the pressure they were putting on you. Your parents were constantly working while growing up so they could provide you the opportunity to go to college. But still, you feel like you hardly know them, “I get that,” you said slowly, “My parents love me, but they don’t know me. They’re so afraid of me becoming like them they tried to force me to become a- a lawyer,” your face twisted at the thought of it, “because all the best lawyers let kids dye their hair blue with Kool-Aid.” You laughed, looking at Steve from the corner of your eye. You felt so comfortable sharing these things with him, but you’re not too sure why. You’re not even friends. Maybe it was the firelight or his big, brown eyes enticing you to spill your guts. Maybe you were just drunk. 

“You’re not a failure, by the way,” you said gently, Steve was still looking at the fire. “I think you did it the smart way,, the right way, if there's even such a thing. Whatever you decide to do you’ll be great at it, but don’t do what I did. Don’t try to study something your heart is truly not invested in, that’s how you fail classes, flunk out.” you said, knowingly.

He smiled bitterly, “I guess we’re two sides of the same coin huh?” but the bitterness melted into a real smile as he looked at you. 

“Yeah,” you said, reaching out to grab his hand gently, “you know, I go to Indiana too. If you want, when you get there, I can show you the ropes. All the best routes, best places to eat, good professors, all that stuff.” you spoke, hoping to not sound too eager. 

“Really? Would you?” He raised his eyebrows, holding your hand tighter.

“Of course Harrington, I love taking a little freshman under my wings,” I winked at him. 

“I am not little,” Steve said leaning in a little more, he looked like he wanted to stay more but then-

“Come on Sunshine, can’t sit by the fire all night! You’re my pong partner!” Eddie yelled from the table, “We play winners,” he gestured to Nancy and Jonathon, who were looking between you and Steve, and your hands held together. 

You abruptly pulled your hand out from his and practically jumped out of your seat. “Don’t have to ask me twice!” and quickly walked over to Eddie’s side. He tossed his arm over your shoulder and you snuck a glance at Steve. Steve was looking at the ground and gave a curt nod to no one in particular, and spun back around to stare into the fire. You felt sick to your stomach for a moment, regretting leaving the warmth of the fire, the warmth of his… 

You blinked hard and looked up at Eddie, who was holding out the other pong ball, “You ready to play?”

___

The sun shone through the windows of the tent you and your coworkers slept in that night, sleeping bags squished together, head to toe and stuffed like sardines. The room was hot with the morning sun beating down, the down in your sleeping bag doing its job, and the heat of a dozen young adults in one room combined with your own hangover was making you nauseous. As quietly as you could manage, you stumbled out of the tent. Immediately, you notice in your driveway that Robin’s car is gone. You glance back in the tent and see most of Southside is gone including Steve. You ignored the slight drop in your heart when you realized he was gone. It wasn’t even 8 am, Robin really needed to get back I guess. You wished you could have spoken to Steve a little more. It was so…refreshing to speak to someone so freely, without judgement. Or was that all in your head, spurred on by the drinks in your hand? You couldn’t be sure anymore, the memory of last night becoming a bit hazy after leaving Steve by the fire. 

You padded across your front lawn barefoot (where were your sandals?) into your parents house. Expecting a morning full of cleaning, you were shocked at the site of your parents home. The destruction of last night was stuffed into garbage bags, plates were in the dishwasher, and your couch, with a million different pillows and blankets, was straightened up. You gasped, seeing how clean it was, and making a mental note to thank whoever did this. You double checked that everything was clean and started up the dishwasher. You walked into your childhood bedroom and coat room to organize everyone’s things to make their departure a little easier and reduce the chances of someone leaving their things. As you entered you saw a note on your bed, scrawled quickly in the glitter pen that sat on your desk. It read:

Thanks for the party. I’m really glad we talked. It meant a lot. Hope I put everything away in the right spot -Steve

You put your hand flew to cover your mouth. How… kind of him. You figured maybe Robin or Patty had cleaned up, but Steve? You’ve seen him clean on Fridays; your first week you had to show him how to hold a broom and mop properly. There was no way he did this on his own. 

You thought back on your conversation last night, forcing your brain to conjure back up the moment, regardless of the headache that was forming. You thought of the warmth of the bonfire and the callous feel of his finger tips, and the genuine look in his eyes when he called you ‘the coolest’. A giddy feeling entered your body, a new friend! Especially to make a friend with someone as standoffish as Steve, this felt like quite the accomplishment. You vowed to seek him out this weekend before camp starts and thank him. Your excitement grew over the prospect of being able to build and share memories with another person, your chest beating quickly just thinking about it. You wondered what traditions he knew of and which ones he didn't. Like, has he ever stargazed on the roof of the Nature Center? Swam to the water trampoline and spend the night? You put the note in your pajama pocket, your face growing warm at the thought of hanging out with Steve. You practically skipped out of your house and began to count down the hours until you were back at camp again. 

[siffrins-therapist]

👾censoredmandibiles Follow

OK time to settle something

EDIT: this post WAY ended up breaking containment. GO CLUTCH YOUR PEARLS ELSEWHERE

🦑tentacleovi Follow

YO FREE BLOCKLIST IN THE NOTES HOLY SHIT

#RIP OP's notifs #i don't go here but i suggest making popcorn before diving into those notes #some of it is puritan bs you'd expect #some of it is discourse i never even knew existed

41.6K Notes

🕷️friendofcharlotte

I think a painting my friend got at a thrift store was painted by Mr. Italy Veneziano? Is there a way to authenticate it? Google isn't helping.

⭐wishonadeadstar Follow

Try here. Turns out my nan's portrait of her farmhouse was originally painted by Mr. Romano when he was living in NY during the 1920's.

🕷️friendofcharlotte

THANK YOU

8 Notes

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

hey yo so the US rep put like 100 hours into playing that game Spiritfarer just this week... anyone want to go check on the guy??

💿newagepirate Follow

There are literally government workers who's literal job it is to check on him

⛰️lesbianmothernature Follow

how tf do you know he put 100 hours into playing a game anyway????

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

We're friends on Steam. He adds like everyone who asks.

And for everyone in the notes asking what Spiritfarer is it's one of those cozy simulator games here's the trailer.

#isn't the 'deathiversary' of his friend Davie this week? #i'm definitely not the first person to think of that #okay looking at the notes was a mistake #like i'm not one of those ppl who puts #'DNI if your username makes fun of davies death' but #immortal or not #even if it happend centuries ago #you can still be sad your FUCKING FRIEND DIED

12.3k Notes

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

So if I become a citizen of Ladonia can he just... visit me through my computer?

🦝trashypanda Follow

He gets mad when you summon him :(

🦘callmejoeythewayi Follow

"summon him" Like a fucking demon?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

We are NOT rehashing that old discourse.

🎱magic8saveme Follow

Oh god I just revived my blog after escaping x/twitter and last time I saw that disk hoarse, my dash was just post after post of this for DAYS

🪄magictrio-dropout

#was there actual discourse about whether the nation-people were demons? #cuz the discourse i saw on my dash was #whether tales of things like demons vampires and #other immortal or 'came back to life' creatures #were born from when the nation-people resurrecting #or like #doing creepy stuff

IDK about tumblr or the first bit (I've personally never heard that at least not from anyone being serious) but the other stuff has been debated in academia for decades! One of my literature professors is ADAMANT that the vampire myth can be traced to old folklore about the reps and them reviving and possibly the blood-drinking comes from an evolution of the myth when before, old stories talked about blood soaking the earth where vampires rose. If anyone's interested, here's where you can find my professor's paper about it.

🎃warongayxmas

So like. *grabs a bat and slowly approaches a hornet's nest* Then does the Jesus story have the same roots then?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

WE 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 RE 👏 HASHING 👏 THAT 👏 DISCOURSE👏

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

Wtf happened to my post???

#so did OP become a Ladonian citizen or what?

187.4k Notes

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

MY DAD GOT TO SEE MR ENGLAND LIVE BACK WHEN HE WAS IN A PUNK BAND

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

TUMBLR WTF HOW TF DOES THIS VIOLATE GUIDELINES

🏴dinotonugget-deactivated

Finally. Proof that the site runs so shittily bc Mr. Eyebrows works for staff

🫎moosecrossing Follow

Spoke the truth and got fucking killed for it

67.9 Notes

[maudie-duan]

Sneak Peak

Summary: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, they say, but does it really have to be the end if it turns into one of the deepest connections you've made in a while?? Paring: Long Hair Harry x (Fem)Reader (One Shot) Trope: Oblivious To Fame (Reader doesn't know Harry is Famous) Tags: Always Open

Warnings: Angst (will post with story...expect some smut...😘) A/N: I've been working on this story on and off for weeks. Didn't like it at first, but I was really craving a LHH fic where he's just really emotional and in his feelings. So there will be lots of angst.

Sneak Peek

(sneak peek w/c 400)

What was the last thing you remembered? Before the dizzying haze sent the world spinning, a tunnel vision of shadows speeding past you. Maybe there was walking, a stumble, a hand gripping yours, maybe the distant face of a stranger.

What was his name? 

And then there were lights? There were so many lights; was the bar really that bright? There was that last shot when the burn of the alcohol was no longer apparent, the sugary finish the only thing washing over your tongue. Kelsey said to take another, so you did; the scene was already blurring around you, and then she said one more, so you did it without hesitation. 

After that, there was the bathroom, except Kelsey wouldn’t leave Bryan’s side, so you had to go alone. Yes, this is where the world started fading because you remember using the bathroom and seeing yourself reflected in the dim lighting of the mirror, but what happened next? 

“Fuuuuuuck—” is all you can say, squeezing your eyes shut, face planted in the pillow. 

When was the last time you felt this hungover, your ears ringing, the roar of a headache this intense, so painful that it hurt to even move your head? A pang so deep in your temples that there’s pain with every thud of your racing heart, feeling the throbbing pulse with every beat pounding through your skull--a steady reminder of the many drinks you felt the need to indulge in, now churning in the pit of your stomach. 

And then there was the ache in your jaw as you gritted your teeth together, willing yourself not to throw up because you didn’t know if you could even move another muscle. Had you fallen? Was that it? Fallen and hit your head…

“That bad, huh?” a deep voice sounds in your ear. 

At first, you don’t think anything of it; maybe it was a figment of your imagination, the demon on your shoulder from last night whispering in your ear, materializing through the pulsing headache ripping through your brain. 

But there it was again, and this time there was a dip in the bed next to you, “I’ll get water?” it says, and maybe you’re still dreaming because every time you move your head, the world still seems to spin, any movement too fast, and there’s that wave of nausea again and that voice—that smooth voice, and is that an accent? 

Full Story Here!<-

A/N: In the midst of editing, just thought I would give you guys something to look forward to on my end!

Masterlist<-

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Hey this is so random, but I've seen you all over the place on tumblr and only recently clicked on your blog (because of your awesome Lilo and Stitch post lol) and figured out that you're Midas touch of angst?? Are you kidding me???? I was sooo obsessed with every fic you'd ever written back when you were writing the fic about the stranger things kids being superheroes!! Shatter I think!!! And then all of its sequels and then all of the asoue x stranger things fics.

I absolutely loved your writing. It was literally the only thing I thought about for a year. Everyday I'd frantically check if you had updated and if you had i always read the chapter at least twice. I didn't have an ao3 account then so I had all of your fics bookmarked on my home page, and I must have seriously spent every single day of that year reading and rereading everything you wrote. I'm not even exaggerating I loved your fics soooo much.

I loved how you wrote the characters, they all seemed like such great friends and the mysteries were so cool and intriguing. In Shatter I was so obsessed with what the heck was going on with Mike, and then the update at the arcade!!!! I actually lost my mind I think. Also when Nancy figured out that "Mike" had been at the lab. And the way you did the super powers stuck with me so hard, I remember I tried to write a superhero story of my own because of it but I couldn't think of a way to do the powers in a way that wasn't just blatantly ripping off yours lol. You had completely cornered the market in my mind.

A scene that also stuck with me was when El saw Bev cutting her hair and Bev said "my dad liked it long" and then El just said "my dad liked it short" like AUGH ITS SUCH A POIGNANT TWO SENTENCES OF DIALOGUE IT MAKES ME CRAZY. I was literally just thinking about that exchange last week lol. I think I've brought it up in a creative writing class before.

I honestly think your fics are the reason I love stranger things so much. When season four came out I rewatched the whole show for the first time in a while and was really struck by how little everyone seemed to get along, even when they weren't in high stress situations (so like. almost never lol). It still had all my favorite characters and cool scenes and whatnot, but it seemed like it was missing something that was so fundamentally stranger things, which honestly might have just been your characterization of them. Even when everything was horrible you could tell how much everyone loved each other. They felt like real kids!

Also I legitimately need to know how on earth you had such a fast update schedule. Back then I didn't think it was that weird (mostly because I was 100% sure I'd die if updates were too far apart) but now, looking back, the daily updates were insane. How did you do it. Was the story consuming your thoughts as much as it was consuming mine? I know it's been eight years or something (eight years?????) but I still feel so indebted to you for all those awesome chapters so fast.

Also I think I for real screamed out loud when you started doing the asoue fanfics I was that excited lol.

I'm not sure how many comments I left back then, so let me retroactively say thank you so so so much for all the writing you did, and for posting it online. You really made such a huge impact on my life and I can't express how much I appreciate it. You've got some awesome stories in your head and some awesome ways to tell them!! You seriously rule. I hope the past years have been treating you well :)

HI OP I AM KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH I AM THIS KERMIT PICTURE RN

literally means SO MUCH to me as an aspiring professional writer. i pumped out so many fanfics pre-covid lmao. Literally I'm gonna cryyyyyyy

Also to answer the daily updates, here's my secret: I was always scared I'd leave a fic unfinished, so I would pre-write like 25-50% of the fic before deciding to post, so I just had a whole backlog. Gave me plenty of time to edit too lmaooo

I was doing that with my Sonic fanfic but I caught up and right now I'm struggling through actions scenes lol

[brineoffire]

Uuuuuuh hi, hi howdy! I've been super possessed by the need to see more male centered fics with the poly!141 soooo here's a bit. I honestly haven't played the games, but I've been looking into the lore because I'm so hyper fixed on the 141 rn. Bare with me, I haven't posted fics here before and definitely never written army anything. Please please please lemme know if you like it even a lil and I'll type up some more.

Fic notes!

So I saw someone talking about a reader who's in it for the money and I liked that idea- tweaked it a little but the basic jist? Mc loves vidio games so much they went to school for it, can't pay, joins the military to pay it all off. I'm writing this chapter ambiguous on gender so far, but I'm writing with a trans!masc reader here because fuck. I can't find much so better make it myself.

-Edit I forgot to put the title here rip

The Right Price

You can't help but stop to think about how you needed to stop biting off more then you can chew. It's been a few months since your recruiter told you all about the joys, wonder, and honor that comes with serving. You where in the second she told you about the pay. Too many student loans, too much microwave ramen, the list went on, but fuck it yeah? You where the one that said that in the first place when you signed up for your courses. The basics, programming, coding, digital design a bit of physiology because of personal interest. You where over the top when it came to studies. Didn't bother you none when you couldn't have a social life. If you weren't busy studying you where quite literally inhaling any game you could get your hands on. But now when you had to fork over the bill money? You started singing another tune.

So here you are. On the training grounds with the rest of the folks recruited at the same time as you.Your sargent was barking out orders for you all to start your runs one by one, but some smart ass was holding up the line. You actually agreed with half the shit he barked back at the your troop leader, but damn it, you didn't want the consequences.

"That's it! You wanna run your mouth? You can all run double to catch up with Marco's mouth! Now!" He yelled white fisted. The remaining lot of your groan and grumble, starting the run together now at double time to hopefully finish before lunch call. Seven miles was what you had all gotten used to. Seven miles of uneven terrain, hurdles and dives, inclines and ramps now lengthened to fourteen.

"Oh fuck off Marco!" One of the recruit remarks, smacking said recuit behind the head before taking off on a spint. Several others join in on mocking the guy before bolting trying to get it over with. You shake your head as you catch up to him and clap him on the shoulder.

"They'll chill out later man just gotta grit and bare it more y'know?" Marco yanks was shoulder away from you, giving you a nasty glare before taking off too. You raise your brow at that, curious to what set him off before shrugging, taking the course at your normal pace with a hand full of the others. Better late then fatiged. The little spat dosn't bother you anyway. You'll all be split into your first teams in less then a week. You doubt he'd even be grouped with you anyways.

Oh how wrong you where. How very. Very. Wrong. It was actually laughable at this point, because you where either grouped together because your Sargent knew you got under Marco's skin for some reason or because fate wanted to see the drama unfold. You took that as a personal challenge either way. Snapping back snarky retorts anytime Marco decided to fuck around, until one day he had you cornered with a handful of others, in your face yelling about how "your kind" didn't belong in the military let alone the states. You let him finish his rant. Something, something, something, God damned, something, something, blight all the good christians, something, something, belong in the kitchen like a proper bitch.

Oh. Okay. There it was. You laugh in your head. No. Outloud. You flip the positions, getting uncomfortably close to the fuckers so they back off some and spout of some tibits you learned in your phycology classes about the brain being easy to manipulate. Quiet anger radiating from your low tone, keeping it quiet to force them to listen harder. You throw in some extra bs about how you could probably "turn" the lot of them given enough time. That them speaking more shit would be an agreement for him to test his theory. They back off after that, but report you all at once for "harassment". There being no evidence for anything you're transfered to one of the other split groups. Half made up of people you didn't enlist with. Mabey this crop would yeild better results yeah?

Nah. You jinxed it. You know you did. Oh well. This time it's just one guy though. And all it takes is a bit of reverse phycology to have the guy questioning his own damn identity so bad he's sent to the on duty therapist. You're transfered out this time by a different woman. Laswell. She heard out your full story of your transfers and unlike your last transfer she gave you a garentee that she'd make sure to find a good fit for you. You shrug and thank her. No matter what you had to tough it out anyways, you needed that pay check after all. Had no where else to go.

It goes sour when you head with her to a base near Wales. You where supposed to go talk to her about setting up here overseas for a while. Something about spreading out more newbies anyways. You really don't understand half of it so you just agree and you're off to training on this base. As long as you're here you're expected to keep up with basics and the routine set by the Sargents and that's fine by you, whatever to pass the time at this point. They run a drill with half the team ment to run a faux attack on half the base and the rest made to counter. You're getting prepared to counter the fake attack when alarm bells are ringing. That's definitely a little over the top. Usually they just yell over the loudspeakers and... You kinda blink a few times before you realize your group of rookies is being pressed to the armory. It's not a fucking drill at this point. This is NOT what you came here for but, oh fuck here you go! You've played too many games for sure. Mabey it's time to cut back. Because you're immediately focused. Immediately setting up the scene in your head to get you in a headspace where it's all a game. It helps you focus and damn you really need help with that right now.

There's active rounds being fired a ways away from the base as you all are suited with gear and munitions. You've trained for this but damn if you ever thought you'd ACTUALLY use any of that shit. You always imagined it was for show, like how you never use any of the fucking math they taught you anywhere.

You're moving on a sort of autopilot, moving out to a defensive manuver outside, staying under cover like you're told until your unit arrives halfway out, between the fighting and the base. It's impossible to see much past a thick smoke blanketing half the scene but you all move out, groups of three fanning out for any injuries and more importantly, any hostiles. You and your group are about to get to your second vantage point when you catch something they don't, you call out a group of several hostiles over what looks like a member of the base before realizing there's radio static.

Fuck it. Risking your life might score you some bonus merit, some extra cash somewhere along the line, you don't know. You're just trying to rationalize why the hell you bolt for the man, keeping low, keeping quiet until your almost upon them all. You get close enough to make out the British insignia on the man's arm. You've definitely seen him on the base before, and now here he is, no weapon in sight, surrounded by four hostiles. You slow your approach and aim carefully, making sure to get the kill shot on one of them, the spray of bullets catching another in the arm gives you enough time to aim for one of the other ones. You've definitely played too many vidio games but you're damn sure that's what kept you from being shot on your first unofficial day of active duty. You roll. Fucking barrel roll on the ground, with enough force to get you away from the spray of bullets from the last uninjured hostile as you stop yourself and make the shot on him. Dumb luck is what you chalk it up to as the fourth guy falls, letting you finish off the second man as he scrambles to retrieve his weapon.

"Up! Up! UP!" You yell to the man on the ground. You don't notice the look of utter confusion from the guy as you rush to help him to his feet. You've gotta get him back to base or at least the rest of the team and out of harms way. So you sprint as fast as you can as soon as the man's up, keeping to your side as you keep an eye out for anyone else hostile or otherwise. You try your radio again, but nothing you backtrack enough to find the spot you last saw your little team and find them under fire, one covering a wound on the others arm, panicking. You're quick to take over, playing out the scene in the same mind set you started out with. Mission in mind. Quest line to follow. You snap the other guy out of it enough to instruct him on how to stop the bleeding properly and grab the injured mans weapon from him, shoving it into the man's hands and directing him to cover you. Again, your oblivious to the look of pure confusion from the man and your uninjured teammate as you work to bandage up your fellow recruit.

You all make it out in one peice, the base being cleared of the small force that attempted to overtake the base. What you don't learn, and no one bothers to tell you. Is that the man you "saved", Captain John Price, has been talking with Laswell. Not so much talking with her as TO her. Your in it for money? Perfect you'd definitely agree to join the 141 with the pay difference.

"John you can't fucking do that. This kid is green. Way too fucking green! They weren't even supposed to be pulled into active duty! They should have been benched with the newer recuits, not out with their seniors!"

Price laughs and shakes his head. "No. This one's got potential and I wana see how far it'll take em." He was impressed by how some rookie was able to show enough guts to help him when the odds looked bad. He had everything under control, but damn if your actions weren't something interesting. Rolling out of line of fire and still keeping a steady aim? That's quite the task, he boasts for you. Hell, you didn't even think twice about Price's rank or authority, your focused was on recovery and living while taking out the hostiles. As much as Laswell regrets to say there's not much reason to deny Price. His eye for talent really was spot on. What could go wrong in all actuality? She trusted Price, and hasn't let her down yet.

"Fine. But I'm keeping a close eye on this set up."

Price grins as he looks down at your small folder, thanking her and flipping through the pages again. Tomorrow you'd be flying out with him to your new base. Joining the 141 as a tech specialist.

[sadgirlglimmeringdarling]

in your country do they have higher police order to arrest any person who threatens the president or people like this singer of your country? she is crazy and not arrested yet for saying this???

they said this about your president before donald had attemps on his life

I need to correct you on something. This is not a woman. This is a biological man who is a Transwoman. They use the stage name "Ethel Cain" but their government name is Hayden Silas Anhedonia. They use their government name in real life still to this day, so this isn't any "dead naming" bullshit.

I've spoken about Ethel Cain on my page before. Every time they have something new to release, they say something controversial with zero consequences in return. Their alleged hatred for biological women is disturbing to read as well as their alleged hatred for Lana Del Rey - who they sonically ripped off of from time to time.

The "assassinations" IG story was posted about a week before someone tried to take out Trump at one of his rally's. Trump walked away with his life while one audience member was killed. Ethel didn't get arrested by the FBI (our "higher" police) or even remotely in trouble for that post because she is a Transwoman. Transwomen in the United States, at the moment, are treated for the most part as deities. Untouchable. Coming January 20th, that shit is going to end. Trump is coming back home.

I want to see Ethel pull those type of threats online with Trump in office. The FBI will be on their front door in less than 5 mins, hauling Ethel's ass into a male federal prison.

We have something in America called Freedom Of Speech and Freedom Of The Press.

You can say whatever the hell you want without repercussions unless you threaten someone's life or you slander or defame a person without explicitly stating it's your opinion or explaining that what you're saying is alleged. Then you can be sued for defamation of character or slander. Other then that - you're free to say what you want. However, you can't do that in China, Russia, any Arab Nations or even the UK. You can get arrested for saying the wrong thing in those countries. That's the beauty of The United States.

Ethel's newest post about CEO assassinations is as equally disgusting as when they called for Joe Biden's assassination. You just don't say shit like this online or anywhere. The FBI should have arrested them then as they should arrest them now.

In my opinion, Ethel is going on social media right now inciting violence against CEO's. That is illegal. So far, once again - no consequences. They have 7 more days to get away with saying horrible shit like this without getting arrested.

I'm glad to read comments from people who find Ethel Cain gross for saying such things. It is gross. It shows what a demonic type of person you have to be to say things like this out loud. All for what? Publicity for your new album? For shits and giggles?

I've also been a victim of Health Insurance bureaucracy bullshit. I've had to wait weeks for procedures I needed. I had to wait for some asshole in an office to send or approve a doctor's pre-authorization, and if it's up to them, they approve it or deny it. Despite those headaches, I would never wish any harm to any CEO of a Health Care company.

I don't know what is wrong with this generation but ya'll are fucked up and disgusting. Applauding the death of a man who was murdered on broad daylight is barbaric.

Edit: 1/18 - Fox News rips "Ethel Cain" apart and I love every minute of it.

[ckret2]

All right here's the rundown re: how this affects editing my fic to be TBOB compliant, because after "SWEET, NEW LORE DROP" that's my biggest priority:

It would be a retcon, but I don't think it'd be too hard for me to edit in Ford guiltily thinking that he's lowkey suspected bill could return since last summer, I can tweak a few early chapters without too much difficulty. Maybe have him belatedly confess to Stan that he had a reason to be worried about this; have Stan go "yeah I figured you were worried after you did two hundred brain tests on me to see if Bill was still in my noggin." I don't think he'd confess to Fidds, but he's always kept Fidds partially in the dark about Bill so as not to "burden" him, I can work with that.

But MAN. For the last two weeks I've been posting chapters about Ford worrying that the tiny interdimensional rips are about to rip open again, if I'd known this a LITTLE bit sooner I could've incorporated Ford worrying about "IS IT THE FUCKING BOOK THAT DID IT."

Still, that's 100% something I can include on rewrites EASY, he ALREADY suspects that it's bill's fault the rips are opening, we can just tack on "maybe it's Bill and his book magically trying to reconnect." If he lets that slip to Bill, Bill can go "WAIT YOU SAW MY BOOK, WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT" "threw it into the nightmare realm" "YOU WHAT!!!"

This plotline is just a PARADE of Bill angsting over his own death—I think yesterday's chapter makes that clear lmao—angsting over the loss of the tool that might've helped reversed his death just fits right in perfectly.

But I'm hesitant to make those edits until we see more of the book, in case even that much lore ends up changing when we learn more stuff.

So far, so good!! Easy edits!! Keep it up TBOB, let's go!!!

[supmaww]

the video of my bug becky painting :) unmute for music!

details under the cut 'cause this was a fun piece and I like talking about my work

In case anyone is curious, the song in the background is "A melody better left unknown" from the Blood in The Bayou soundtrack. It's fitting for obvious reasons (RIP Kian ily, you down-bad failed rockstar), but it's also one of my favourite tracks because of how gutted it leaves you!! I'll never forget that feeling of dread when Grizzly started to write the song with Becky. God. My favourite scene of the entire series.

We never truly meet Becky in bitb, but she's my favourite NPC anyways. I could go on and on about her and Kian's relationship (and I have... let me know if you want me to dig up the post) and what could've been. She's the perfect tragic ex-girlfriend for this silly tragic story. She was dead before we ever even meet her.

I struggled a little with the colours of this, mostly trying to get them to show up on my phone. My monitor does not display colours correctly, so it can be tricky trying to make stuff bright and saturated enough while still maintaining the contrast I was looking for. I think I did okay, but ehhh I think it could be improved on. It still looks miles better on desktop. Sorry mobile users.

The flowers, red spider lilies, are an iconic symbol of death. I tried to think of something more unique and less overdone, but fuck it. Straight from google they represent "sad memories, such as last goodbyes or the death of a loved one", plus they're also linked to reincarnation?? Hello??? The fact that they're native to Louisiana and grow in bayous make them all the more perfect. They're Becky's flower, hands down. Plus they're spider lilies. Like the bug (or arachnid). Haha.

It's kinda tricky to see, but the front pieces of her hair floating in the water form little bug mandibles. Probably my favourite part of the piece. I got the idea midway through the sketch and I knew I had to follow through.

Speaking of her hair... it's brown. This is due to the fact I was referencing the very talented @/alkalineleak's becky design and got carried away with my beloved warm colours before remembering that one of the only actual canon descriptors of Becky is that she had black hair. Whoops. I adjusted it a little but alas... It's brown. In a desperate attempt to make her look less like Rachel, I gave her an eyebrow piercing. But it's covered mostly by her bangs. Oh well.

This is probably my first digital painting I've posted since I drew Chip as a werewolf for halloween last year (if I remember correctly). I've improved a ton since then, but I'm still learning. I find with paintings the lack of lines gives you wayyy more freedom but also makes conveying forms much more tricky. Though I like how it turned out!!

My art program crashed a total of four times, two of which seriously set back progress. Consequences of recording a timelapse on a computer that can barely run Clip Studio Paint in the first place. Still not as bad as my goobleck animation... don't talk to me about that

This was all a huge bout of chronic procrastination. I have actual art projects due, figuring that I'm in art school. I'm so screwed. Like a week ago I swore off fanart and yet here I am... didn't last too long did I?

I am no better than Kian and would also die and join the hive for Becky (bug wife! bug wife! bug wife!). I hope they're together in hell.

Okay damn I still have more to say but that's a whole essay and a half, so I'm going to stop myself there. It's also 4am and I gotta head to uni in 3 hours. God. Uhm... Happy halloween go relisten to bitb it's spooky season!! (edit as I am posting this the day after: wow, that was a bad idea)

[opiopal]

just realized I haven't posted in a hot second, so i figured I'd share this thought I've had for like, weeks,

has anyone else noticed the similarities wth obey me and steven universe? or am I just too crazy about both of them, cause just listen to me

Mc and steven are the results of someone inhuman they are related to wanting to mingle with humanity and ended up starting a family with a guy they were willing to throw everything away for, after that they end up dealing with the still grieving family that can't help but bring up lilith/rose at times, whether in comparison or just reminiscing. talking abt how amazing lilith/rose was. as everything goes on steven/mc slowly burn out and looses the parts of themselves that made them so loved,(not mentioned in game ofc but theres no way you can ignore how much meaner mc gets over time.) not to mention how many times other people have attempted to KILL mc/steven in their own grief, and with pretty much one success(I am counting white diamond here cause girl basically ripped stevens heart out.) and also the fact that they always find themselves in magical bs BECAUSE of their family, and the two have also indirectly talked with lilith\rose,(mc getting visions, steven in roses room) AND they were both saved from death by their mom\greatx1000 grandma,(mc dying, steven fusing with his gem) and despite the fact that these people have been together for THOUSANDS of years before steven/mc came along and they haven't even considered talking out their feelings in a calm setting instead of letting emotions sizzle out and explode, Ik some ppl may get annoyed with this post so I wanna clarify that I am NOT comparing the two nor am I saying that they are super allike, this is just me thinking it's silly that two of my favorite media's have a few things in common,

edit: I NEARLY FORGOT ABOUT THE FACT THAT THERE WAS A MASSIVE NONHUMAN WAR ABOUT HUMANS/A HUMAN THAT KILLED THE VERY PERSON EVERYONE LOVED

[7grandmel]

Rip of the week: 25/07/2024

The End of HHGregg

Season 6 Featured on: Transmission Archive ~ The SiIvaGunner All-Star Nuclear Winter Festival Collection

Ripped by The Green Spy, CaptainComedy Visuals by Galacksy

(Note: MP3 embed is trimmed at the beginning as to allow it to be posted within Tumblr's file size limits)

I'm sure some of you were worried about where this week's post had gone. Worry not - I was simply biding my time for the day to arrive. Indeed, we have reached the 25th of July, a Thursday for some, and a national holiday for others. For today, we celebrate, grieve and toast to our dearly beloved, HHGregg. Today, it is Christmas in July, and time to at last cover The End of HHGregg.

For being one of my all-time favorite SiIvaGunner channel memes, I'm shocked at myself in how restrained I've been in covering rips using HHGregg's infamous red-tag-sale commercial. Sure, I spilled my soul out for the joke back with Nostalgic Blood of the Gregg ~ Old Source, and Everything Circus remains an all-time classic, yet there's still so much more to cover. In terms of jokes on the SiIvaGunner channel, I feel like HHGregg is one of the most developed ones, one with a legacy cherished by so many people on the team and off - and even a bit of a story to it that's been captured in full glory with today's rip.

Like sure, there's the obvious quirk that makes HHGregg stand out more than many other channel memes - the guy has an outright day-of-the-year holiday dedicated to him. As the infamous Christmas in July ad was what propelled HHGregg's moderately-annoying mascot into becoming a YTPMV star, July 25th on SiIvaGunner has become a sort of understated annual event for fans like myself, much in the same way that April 30th was with It's Gonna Be Me and guess what​?​?​?​?​?​?​?​?. Yet, of course, there's an underlying sort of sadness to HHGregg rips in particular due to the brand its attached to: the company that the ad's many YTPMVs are riffing on filed for bankrupcy in 2017, midway through Season 2 of SiIvaGunner. The store still exists now, bought by a parental company and turned all-digital, but the franchise as it was once known is all gone, with it's ill-fated mascot going down with it.

Of course, we don't really need to feel much remorse for the fall of an electronics boutique - but given the SiIvaGunner channel's way of personifying and giving life to in-jokes and gags the world over, it informs rips using HHGregg in a pretty different way. HHGregg rips on the channel had their biggest stride during the very same year that the chain went bankrupt, as if to suggest that the mascot was desperate to prove his own worth on the one place that still remembered him fondly. In the years since, we got sporadic shots of the guy here and there - and in my eyes, it at one point felt as if it all culminated with the rip エイチエイチグレッグ ホワイトハウスでチョー大変!, a fully-featured edit of Neon Genesis Evangelion's iconic A Cruel Angel's Thesis opening now starring HHGregg himself.

Yet, of course, as I've harped on about with rips like Shiny Smily TALE, Violet Snow Memories and Our Sweet Parsley, one of the most rewarding parts of following the SiIvaGunner channel lies in how the team never seems to forget about any of its zillions of uploads. No matter how much time passes, rippers love one another, the ideas they come up with, and the potential to build further on one another's ideas - it is a core part of YTP and YTPMV culture that's remained strong on SiIvaGunner since its very inception. The A Cruel Angel's Thesis rip above, by excellent rippers Ashley and GramBam36 of The Legend of Cage: Staff Roll fame, was a joyous celebration - a year later, as Season 6's sombre mood results in the Nuclear Winter Festival rolling around, a trio of rippers sees the perfect opportunity to finally put HHGregg to some form of rest. The meme's far from dead today, of course (check the channel right now) - yet, at last, with The End of HHGregg, it felt as if the funny paper roll man was finally ready to accept his fate.

The End of HHGregg, silly of a concept as it may be, executes that concept to a degree I don't think anyone was expecting. Second only to A Cruel Angel's Thesis, Komm, süsser Tod is an iconic piece that serves as the ending theme to the original NGE anime, one tied to feelings of bittersweet-ness, finality - at once able to reference one of the most classic HHGregg rips on SiIva, acknowledging HHGregg's bankruptcy, whilst tying itself directly to the ongoing Nuclear Winter Festival of Season 6. And that's not even getting into the rip itself!

The YTPMV work done here to sentence-mix and pitch-shift HH's various vocals to fit the melody of Komm, süsser Tod is, for lack of a better way to put it, downright remarkable. Despite a seemingly limited pool of voice lines to work with and a rigid framework of a melody, the guy only ever "sings" in complete sentences, with pitch shifting that manages to sound shockingly natural, still as gratingly chipper as HH tends to sound but still seeped in that vibe of bittersweet-ness that I discussed before. It goes through every beat and phase of Komm, süsser Tod without ever having the vocal samples sound forced, including the deeply inspired use of a layered, choir-like HH performance on several segments. Althewhile never forgetting the classic HH lines, the red-tag sales, the HD-TV and Whirlpool appliances, and of course, the Christmas in July. The cherry on top of it all is the intro to the song, before the main melody truly kicks in, as this little interlude sneakily includes a guitar now playing Deck the Halls just as featured in the most infamous Christmas in July ad - a sombre reminder of where it all began.

That aforementioned vibe is, of course, emphasized greatly by Galacksy's incredible illustration for the rip, the literal End of Evangelion depicted as being the fall of HHGregg as a whole, in absolutely spectacular fashion. Like with i love(d) you and so so many other rips, it's so often these seemingly small touches that end up elevating rips to all-time classics for me, and it's a trait that The End of HHGregg's audio also eventually contributes to, in a way I truly don't wish to spoil for you all. Nevertheless, the key takeaway here is one that's evident right upon first listen: This is a DAMN impressive YTPMV effort that at once celebrates and mourns one of the YTPMV world's most cherished sources, yet pulling it off as if it were effortless. In celebration of YTPMV, of SiIvaGunner, of one of the channel's most immaculate of somewhat-too-hidden gems from Season 5, and of the very state of memes coming to an end - The End of HHGregg is everything one could ask for.

Godspeed, you rolled-up brochure cretin. And happy Christmas in July to you.

[thestorieswesay]

Hi hi! For the writer's game:

4, 5, 7, 12, 19, 29! (If someone hit any of those before me, pick ones you want to answer instead!)

a story idea you haven’t written yet

I've been working since January on an idea I have, based on a dream I had in... September? I think? Of last year. The fic is called 'Aubade' and is a post-apocalyptic Sanctuary fic set 300 years after a nuclear war between humans and Afina's Court, featuring Nikola taking care of Helen, who has contracted a deadly disease. The story takes place at their home in what used to be the London Sanctuary and also in the wilds of what once was Avignon, where he hopes to find Helen a cure. (However, nothing is that easy or that simple). I have copious amounts of notes and a playlist just for this fic. Last week, while driving to my doctor's appointment in another city, I broke through the writer's block I've had towards starting the fic for the first time in five months. I wrote the first and last sentence of two scenes and played with some ideas for the first section as I drove. I solved the problem I had about info-dumping and I think it's going to work!

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

I started this Sanctuary fic during Whumptober last year and the document is titled 'priest kink' but the story is actually named 'Your Ecclesiastic Skin'. It is about wicked!Helen and her Boys plotting to corrupt Nikola at Oxford, except in this universe, Nikola is a young Eastern Orthodox priest:

"And yet, it is not nearly enough for Helen Magnus."

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

I answered the question about fonts here, so I'm choosing #11!

I started a Stargate Universe fic called 'something we left' back in April of 2021, and it's so close to being finished. It is about Telford and Rush, before Icarus, offworld on an unnamed planet for some training exercises where they are kidnapped by aliens in order to observe human 'mating habits'. The aliens thought Rush was a female and Telford a male, but being half-right isn't going to stop them from getting their show!

2,800+ words and I just need to finish the sex scene and write the aftermath, rip. Does anyone care about this? Probably not, lol. But the dream persists.

share a fic you’re especially proud of

I answered the question about tropes here, so I'm choosing #30!

Edit: It helps if I actually answer the question tho!

My personal favorite from last year is 'never found the answer (but we knew one thing)', aka the 'Nikola is trapped in Carentan instead of Will: the Fic'... (And thank you so much again for the moodboard you made for the story! No one has ever made me a moodboard before!) It's a story about blood, bread, and love that's shown with both.

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

For my Stargate Universe fic, 'Humane', I had to write Rush solving a complex mathematical equation called The Ninth Chevron. Now, in canon, Rush fails at this, solving Chevrons 1-8, because the solution to 9 is actually really stupid (so stupid the idiot savant everyman character is the only one who can do it, using logic that's been part of the franchise since the 1994 movie, but no one in the third television series of the franchise thinks to do it so whatever). But in 'Humane', I needed Rush to be able to solve the entire equation, Chevrons 1-9, on his own. But I the problem is, 1-8 are never explained or shown, so we don't even know how that's supposed to work. Plus, Rush is said to have solved them using cryptography, and I have dyscalculia.

I spent probably three or four days alone, just reading about cryptography, about how the chevron system of Gate-dialing works in the Stargate franchise, and what each of the chevrons does and what they're for. The Science Fiction and Fantasy Stack Exchange was unbelievably valuable in this quest. I discovered eventually that the 9th Chevron is special in terms of the Gate-dialing network, because, unlike Chevrons 1-7, which represent locations in a certain galaxy and the 8th is 'distance', equaling an extra jump to something beyond our galaxy, the 9th Chevron is 'velocity' because what it leads to is not a stationary object. I found it fascinating.

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

I love making titles for things. Like I said in another one of these answers, I have been using miniscule titles and 'title of the fic (secondary title)' since my very first published fic back when I was 13 in 1998. (The fic was a Highlander: The Series fic called 'fire in the sky (lightening in the blood)'). Most of my titles come from song lyrics, and that song is usually whatever I've used for pull-quotes and have been listening to on loop while writing. Since I'm always listening to music, there's always something I can pull from.

The problem comes when I write a series, like with my series the secret language, where there are three stories (and one is multi-chaptered) and each title comes from the same song (in this case, Taylor Swift's "Illicit Affairs"). I still don't know what to call the final, bonus chapter that will be the last section of the last fic. Maybe just 'illicit affairs', rip.

[plusultraetc]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you so much @starlightbelle for tagging me!! If there are any One Piece fans following this blog, I highly recommend Belle's fics!

-- How many works do you have on AO3?

Officially I have 18, but it's 19 if you include the Star Wars au (my beloved). I haven't taken it out of the anonymous collection yet because I promised myself I would only do so when I posted the second chapter, but I still count it in my head!

-- What's your total AO3 word count?

95,613 :') I know that's nothing compared to some writers, but I am unreasonably pleased with it. I'm wondering if I should do something fun when I break 100k, which should hopefully be soon with chapter 2 of 'now i'm glad i get forever' 🤞

-- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

there's no good tricks but old ones

i'll take what i can get, i'll take what i am given

you've got no fear of the underdog

write me a list of how it is

every battle, every day

-- Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! I'm a smidge behind on literally everything this month, but I eventually respond to them all <3 I really do appreciate every single comment, they literally make my entire week and sometimes it takes me so long to reply because I am editing my response four hundred times to take out all of the !!!s.

(I also love getting to talk to others in the fandom, even if it's just for a single exchange--MHA is actually the Most Involved I've ever been in a fandom, and I've met so many really cool people by commenting and replying to comments on fics!! Thank you ao3 comments section, I love you ao3 comments section.)

-- What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm this is tough bc I don't write a lot of angsty endings, and most of my fics are canon compliant anyway so the angst is relative? With this in mind, it's probably 'there's no good tricks but old ones'--it's one of my only fics where there isn't some kind of emotional breakthrough or connection reached (or even the start of one) and it's pre-Paranormal Liberation War arc so we all know Hawks is headed for A Really Bad Time 😬

-- What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

All of them,, but I did write about Shinsou finding out he'd been accepted into the hero course in 'every battle, every day' which might take the cake (Brian from TAZ voice I'm so proud of them etc)

-- Do you write crossovers?

Do crossovers have to include characters from another media? Bc I've written aus set in other universes, but none of the characters from them appear 🤔

-- Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no! I did once receive a comment that was just like. A Statement with no tonal indicators, In All Caps, but I'm 99% sure it was meant to be taken positively. okay 98% sure.

-- Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! (I also don't read E-rated fics even though I get so many interesting looking recommendations with that rating 😭 If you've ever recommended me an E-rated fic and I just never brought it up again I'M SORRY)

-- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of?

-- Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also no!

-- Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think it would be fun :D

-- What's your all-time favorite ship?

It feels like cheating to say erasermic on the MHA blog, but like. I'm going to say erasermic on the MHA blog. I don't think I'd ever written anything for a ship in my life before them. To be loved is to be changed but to have a ship is also to be changed.

-- What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Never say never but rip time travel fic lol.

-- What are your writing strengths?

IF I SAY SOMETHING YOU DISAGREE WITH LOOK AWAY. But. I think I write good dialogue, especially banter, and that I am occasionally funny. I also think I'm pretty good at describing places, but only if I have a clear mental image of them, so I feel like you can always tell when I'm not sure what a room looks like (which is most of the time).

-- What are your writing weaknesses?

Second-guessing and self-doubting myself into genuine writing paralysis. Also internal monologue/narration, like a character thinking about and articulating their feelings :')

-- What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a little confused about this question?? But I also only speak one language fluently so I can't do this anyway 😭

-- What was the first fandom you wrote for?

When my sister and I were kids we used to pick our favorite characters from a bunch of different movies/books/shows and tell stories about them all going on some kind of gigantic crossover adventure, so it was probably something along the lines of 'Scooby-Doo, Batman, and Jedidiah from Night at the Museum vs Firelord Ozai'

-- What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have a few Demon Slayer WIPs I'd love to figure out one day!

-- What's your favorite fic you've written?

This question is so hard bc like. Does it mean my favorite fic while I was working on it, or my favorite result? The fic that was easiest to write, or most difficult but most worth it?? The fic I've reread the most, or the fic I'm afraid to reread in case it doesn't live up to the memory I have of it??? Can I do a top 3????

This was so much fun!! (even though it did give me several small crises staring at my stats page--run 'i'll take what i can get, i'll take what i am given,' 'there's no good tricks but old ones' is right behind you!!) No-pressure tagging @machiroads @blinkeasy @kyurilin @karliahs @poppy5991 @ifyougoillfollow and anyone else who sees this & wants to participate!! I was scrolling through my following tab but omg it's a long list so I def missed some writers 😭

[gamebunny-advance]

Let's Just Rip Off This Band-Aid (Kliff Doll Repaint)

I still haven't finished adding the fringe to his scarf, but at this point, I don't think y'all will actually care that much. It's a personal project anyway, so I'll just finish it on my own time. Right now, I want to be released from the shackles of this project.

Once again, my poor camera and lack of editing do him no favors (he's got a real bad case of jaundice in that first pic. I PROMISE he's not that yellow-orange IRL ;o;), but he is (mostly) done.

Well, he was (mostly) done like a week ago, but just yesterday I decided to redo a few things to try and "fix" what was really bothering me about him, so I really made recursive progress. That said, I do like him more now than I did a week ago, so I'm not mad about it.

A little backstory: Alongside Kun3h0, I've been working on him for the past month, so I've been pretty occupied with this project for a while. Now, I do wonder to myself why exactly I thought making this would be a good idea. All I can really say is that my impulsive tendencies drive me to do things against my better judgement.

But, I will still give y'all my documentation and thoughts on the process + more pictures.

(I'll talk a little more about it later, but for those of you that aren't going to go through the long-ass readmore, the Neon J. mask is a reference to an old comic I drew.)

(It's so old, I was still writing everything by hand~)

So, the "real" answer to "why" I made this is really as simple as "because I could." As I said in the Kun3h0 post, I've been wanting to repaint dolls for a long time, years even, so in the back of my mind, I'm always thinking of ways I could finally start one.

Well, recently I just finally put together the ideas and motivation I needed to start. And of course, that was with Kliff.

I don't remember *exactly* how I stumbled across everything, but I do recall looking at doll clothes online and stumbling across this trench coat (pictured with the other clothes for this project).

(I took this pic mostly because I thought I was going to take pics of every major step of the process, but that didn't end up happening).

I thought it was pretty darn close to Kliff's coat, and I got the horrible idea that, "I could def make a Kliff doll to go with this coat as long as I can repaint it."

I feel like usually people would think the other way around, but that is basically the truth of this project: I didn't find clothes to fit the doll, I made the doll to fit into the clothes. Because for me, customizing the doll wasn't really the intimidating part: it's making the clothes. I don't know how to use a sewing machine, and currently lack the patience to learn (and due to some personal trauma that I don't really want to get into), but I can hand-sew, so starting any project that involves it requires me to be willing to set aside a lot of energy for me to do it, which I don't often have.

But, if I could find ways to cut down on the sewing, then I'd be more willing to start. And somehow, I was able to find just about everything I would need for a potential Kliff doll without having to sew anything. In the end, I only sewed together one thing, and it's the one thing that isn't actually finished: the scarf.

So, I blame the trench coat for the entirety of this project: if I'd never seen it, I would have never made a Kliff doll. In fact, I got the clothes before I even had the doll.

Since I was brainstorming this project, one of the most important parts is of course the base doll, which was tricky. Male doll repaints are fairly uncommon, especially of older men, so there weren't a lot of resources or places to get inspiration for this project.

From what I found, most male (fashion) dolls were very youthful, and the ones that weren't usually took heavy modifications to achieve, which was out of the question. Kliff was supposed to be an "easy" project, so on top of not wanting to sew any clothes for him, I also didn't want to have to alter the doll that much to make it look like him. This was a lot to ask for without putting in any personal work, but in a way, this goal was supposed to keep me from actually starting this project: really this whole thing was supposed to just live in my head as a fantasy as most things do, but then I just stumbled into the right set of things, so I couldn't stop myself from going through with it.

The doll I landed on was a BTS Mattel doll. Now I've said before that I know basically nothing about BTS, and that is still true, but that's beside the point. In my research for finding a suitable doll to work with, I found out that a popular base were these BTS dolls. At first, I wasn't into it because I was still running into the "youthful face" problem that I was with other brands: most of them had pillowy lips and nice soft faces, but I did eventually find one that I thought was close enough: J-Hope.

(It's not the worst match up.)

I don't have pics of my doll before I started working on him, but it was pretty close to the stock photo. He has much thinner lips than the others, and a taller, more angular head shape that I thought would work best for Kliff. I did worry a bit that the nose wasn't "strong" enough to really be Kliff (and IMO, it wasn't XP), but it was the closest I found yet, so I decided to bite the bullet and get one, and if I had one, that meant I needed to start gathering everything I would need for this project.

So, no backing out now.

Now, actually acquiring this doll was a whole other song and dance, but here's the part that's important for how the process went:

Due to a miscommunication with the seller I eventually got him from, there was a delay with shipping, so I didn't actually get him until weeks after "officially" starting this project. In the meantime, the clothes and things for Kun3h0 (who I started as an impulse project within the impulse project) had already been gathered.

The original plan was that I was going to work on and subsequently post about Kliff first since he was a comparatively simpler project. All the things I was avoiding for Kliff: sewing clothes and making modifications to the doll, were all going to be incorporated into Kun3h0, so she was theorhetically going to take longer and be posted later, thus telling a small story of "starting simple, ending complex." But since I didn't have his doll, but didn't want to delay working on Kun3h0 just to wait on him, I started on her and repainting his clothes anyway.

So, I don't have any pics of the doll or his clothes from when I was working on them, unlike the sparse ones I had for Kun3h0, I only have pics from after he was finished.

But I'll still tell y'all what I can to at least preserve the story.

For starters, repainting this coat was probably the most time-consuming part of this process.

I really thought that it would take one or two days maximum to turn this coat bright yellow, but I think it actually took over a week. And I really should have known; the coat was a medium tone, and I know that yellow takes a while to build up on anything that isn't light. I lost count at some point, but I swear that thing has over 20 coats of paint on it. Mind you, the first 10 or so coats were watered down with the textile medium, which also contributed to how long it was taking for the coat to take color, but at some point I just got so frustrated that I stopped mixing in the medium and painting directly onto the coat to get the color to layer faster. This is a huge no-no for painting acrylics onto fabric, lest the paint crack from creasing the fabric, but I just couldn't be bothered anymore. I needed this thing to be dandelion yellow NOW or I was gonna lose it.

There were consequences for taking that shortcut, such as the paint cracking in high motion areas and the coat getting stiff, but it's not terrible. In the end, I accepted the trade-offs or else I might still be painting the coat. Perhaps one day I'll reverse engineer the pattern for the coat and make him a new one, but I wouldn't count on it. In retrospect, I wonder if I would have had an easier time if I had thought to bleach the coat first?

As you might notice, I contoured/shaded part of the coat in orange. That's something that I actually *just* added yesterday and added another couple of hours to the work time. It was just bothering me that the doll was essentially a giant slab of yellow, and was part of the reason I didn't like it very much. But I got inspired by this repaint to try contouring the coat to give it more depth.

(I also used this person's videos to modify the hands. He has one deidcated to just reshaping the BTS hands.)

In the end, I'm pretty happy with the results.

The rest of the clothes weren't as difficult to deal with.

The pants took the paint a lot better, likely due to being dark paint on a light surface. Since I used less paint, it's not as stiff as the coat and still go on very easily. Though, they are VERY high waisted, and I'm not sure if that's normal XP

The shoes are also painted (and slightly modified), though I had to paint them twice because the first time, the paint got stretched off when I tried to put them on the doll's feet: the shoes were just *slightly* too small for the feet of the doll, so they really get stretched to fit his feet, and his heels don't actually go in all the way XP.

He's still capable of standing on his own, but I try not to remove the shoes, so I can avoid having them crack again.

In my "initial clothes" pic, I put down a different shirt than the one he's wearing. The original plan was to repaint the shirt black, but my work space is very limited, so I couldn't really repaint three pieces of clothes at once without significantly risking that I would stain other things. In the end, after getting scarred by how long it was taking for the coat to take color, I decided to just give him one of the black shirts that came with the coat. This does make him somewhat inaccurate since the current shirt has flowers/plants on it, but I'm gonna say that they make up for the lack of flowers on his scarf. Maybe someday I'll make him a new shirt from an old sock or something, but for now, I don't think it's a bad look.

Other clothing of note is the scarf, but since it's not technically finished I didn't take any close pics of it. It's actually made of an old headband of mine that I just cut and painted to look like his scarf.

Originally, I had actually glued on ribbon to it for the stripes, which took a couple days for the drying, but because I couldn't flatten out the scarf to easily glue the ribbon, it turned into a mess and bulked it out too much: since the scale of the doll is already small, I really needed to keep the fabrics thin. This was especially important for the scarf since it was going to wrap around his neck: if it were any thicker, it was going to practically eat up his face, which it still does, just less so.

Speaking of face...

When I finally got the doll in the mail, I started working on him right away, so I don't have any "before" pics of the doll.

After I did the usual "wiping off the face and pulling out his hair," I started with repainting the entire body and head.

Despite Kliff being ambigously "WHITE 🫵," Kliff isn't as pale as the original doll. I'd say even the stock picture I posted above has more warmth than the actual doll did. So, I got the base to be "coral" all over, dusted him in light orange chalk pastels for contouring, and most of his details are outlined in shades of burgandy. I didn't take any nude pics of this doll, but he is countoured all over his body and you can rest easy knowing I gave him some nips XP. But maybe someday I'll show y'all doll!Kliff's washboard abs XP.

TBH, I did want to detail some tattoos and some body hair too, but I just didn't trust myself to do either of those well with the tools I have (my brushes aren't thin enough, and my hand not steady enough for those kind of intricate details). Maybe someday I'll at least get his tattoos in (and after I've actually designed them XP), but we'll see. I don't plan on having the doll in short sleeved clothes very often, so details like that are the least of my concerns.

TBH, I was pretty proud of how the face paint originally went on. I really took my time to make sure it went down flat. It really was beautifully smooth~

But disaster struck.

I had painted the head while it was still separated from the body, and when it finally came time to reunite them, the paint on the head cracked and peeled when I shoved it back on. And, foolish fool that I am, instead of accepting my losses and starting over from a perfectly clean head, I just peeled the lose ends and repainted the exposed parts, which of course made the paint uneven. I somewhat justified this with the idea that most of it would be covered by other details, but in retrospect, I really should have just started over properly.

But, after that ordeal was over with, it was time to actually work on the face.

I can't clearly remember if I worked on Kun3h0 or Kliff's face first. I think I worked on them simultaneously because it took me a LONG time to actually get the courage to work on Kun3h0's face.

I thought I did a decent job on Kun3h0 since I really only had the 1 eye to repaint (the hidden eye is painted, but it's basically just a void with no details), and it was a bigger "canvas", so it was easier to paint. Besides having 2 eyes that I would need to make nearly identical, they were also a lot smaller, so it took a lot longer to paint them in a way that satisfied me (and since it's not easy to "redo" acrylic paint, his eyes lost a lot of smoothness too).

Again, I don't have any "before" pics, so it won't be easy for me to convey my troubles about it, but I do want to say that I think Kliff with a closed mouth is very cursed.

:I

He just looks like he's itching to say something heinous and that is no different for the doll.

It was so difficult for me both match his expression on a face that wasn't *completely* his and still look like him. Although I chose this doll because he most resembled Kliff, he was never gonna be a perfect likeness of him, but despite knowing this, it still bothered me that the face was still just very "young" looking.

Granted, I don't think the original Kliff looks *that* old either (if I didn't know any better, I would assume he was in his 30s, not his 50s, especially compared to other characters around the same age), but still not as *smooth* as the doll is (even with my paint mishaps).

If you can believe it, the face actually used be worse. I don't have pics of it, but like the coat, I actually repainted his face yesterday to again try and fix what was making me dislike it before. I think the problem is that I didn't outline the eyes as much as the final one (like, I don't think I lined his undereye at all), so he was lacking depth. The mouth was also a little more off. Instead of being like "<--->" it was more like "|-|"

(A rough illustration of what I'm trying to describe.)

So, while it's still not perfect, I do like him more today than I did a week ago.

I think the only things left to talk about are his accessories, starting with his wig:

I'm not actually a big fan of the color. When I started this project, I wanted to try and make him as accurate as possible, and the original Kliff design has a very "cherry jolly rancher" hair color.

However, how I draw him and how he appears in Encore Edition gives his hair a more red-orange tone which isn't as intense. In the end, I opted for accuracy towards his first design since that's the one I was technically most familiar with and wanted to replicate, but in retrospect, I should have realized that I was never gonna be able to seperate my personal quirks from this personal project, so I should have gone with a color that was more accurate to how I interpret him. (I dunno if I would have gone as far as to give him triangular eyes, but one of my biggest takeaways from this project has been that I should have just allowed this to be "my take" on the character instead of trying to be "accurate," meeting in the middle, and satisfying neither condition.)

I don't think I really got across how much I HATED brushing out yarn for the wigs when I posted Kun3h0. It was just such a tedidus process, from brushing it out, to straightening it, to gluing it down. It was such a mess. I'm still finding loose wisps of yarn hair floating around my home since I made them.

Since I had more than had my fill from making Kun3h0's wig, I once again started taking shortcuts when it came to Kliff: I really should have made more wefts for him. I figured since his hair was (compartively) shorter, that I wouldn't need to make as many, but in the end his wig turned out both too thin and too thick.

Since his hair is so messy, I didn't follow any kind of guide for his hair like I did Kun3h0. I basically just glued around the perimeter of the cap, horizontally on the inside, and made sure it would fold over in the front.

Part of the problem is that I made the wefts too thick: instead of just gluing down what could actually touch the surface of the work area, I wound up gluing layers on top of each other, so the wefts would be like a mm thick when they should have been less than half of that. So, I barely got enough coverage for the scalp, and the parts that I did get down are very thick. I think it makes his head look bigger than it should which kinda adds to the uncanniness of him.

I did try to style it as close to canon as possible, but there are some things that just aren't (easily) possible in certain mediums, and Kliff's wild hair is one of them.

In retrospect, I probably should have just sculpted his hair with clay or something: it probably would have been more accurate, but I don't have much confidence in my sculpting ability, and again, I didn't want to modify the doll that much, so I stuck with the yarn.

I might suck it up and try and make him a new wig, I still have a LOT of red yarn left over, so maybe I can make him some new styles too. But the tedium of going through with it makes it very unlikely that I'll follow through~

(The wig from other angles.)

Since the beard is made from the same yarn, I'll lightly talk about that. There aren't too many resources about bearded dolls, but I've seen people root it, glue it, and even just paint it if they weren't supposed to be thick. In the end I used this repaint for reference (suggestive content warning) and glued it on.

The scarf covers most of it, but I think it turned out okay. I need to add just a *little* more to his left cheek, but otherwise I feel like I was successful.

Next, it's usually hidden due to all the crap that's on his head, but I did give him an earring.

I didn't think about it until way too late in the process, and I tried to poke a hole through his ear so he could actually wear it. However, when I tried to do so, I almost ruined his head paint a second time. Saying, "fuck that," I decided to just glue it on.

If I had been more brave with modifying this doll, I might have just resculpted his ears entirely, because, being based on a real life human being, the doll's ears don't flare out that much, so they're easily covered by other things.

His glasses are just a piece of painted plastic that hold to his face using some plastic cord. They fit well while his wig is off, but putting them on with everything else is a goddamn nightmare.

Since his ears are so small, and his hair is so short, there's nothing for the glasses to "grab" onto without the cord, but the cord is too short to fit around the wig once it's on, but I can't make the cord longer to sit over the wig, because the glasses need to go over the headband, and it's a pain in the ass trying to layer everything like that.

So, I have to put the glasses in place first, TAPE the cord to his scalp so they don't move, put on the wig, then put on the headband. It's really such a hassle, but I don't think I can truly convey the annoyance of having to do it all without showing you. So, unless I absolutely have to, I'm never taking any of those things off him again.

I think the last things are the headband, mask, and tablet.

The headband is just a spare scrunchy that I have. I don't have one in the *exact* same color as the real one, so I went with the closest one I had, which was this teal color.

I didn't feel comfortable repainting one since it's essentially an elastic band, I don't think the paint, even with the textitle medium, would be able to hold up to all the stretching I have to do to even get it on his head.

If I happen to find a white one somewhere in my stash, then I might try dyeing it using water and acrylic paints to see if I can get it green, but for now, I think this works. A little thick, but it works.

The tablet is just a piece of foam painted with paint markers and the mask is a piece of cardboard. I wasn't planning on really recreating any scenes with this doll, but since I remembered that comic, and thought it would be easy enough to make, I went ahead and made it as an in-joke to myself.

Honestly, I think it's the most charming piece of the entire ensemble. Plus, he can wear it without me having undo/redo any of his other head accessories, so it's easy to make him wear it whenever.

My final comments about the doll itself are that he's fucking huge. I should have taken a pic of him next to Kun3h0, but he is too tall to even fit on my display shelf without sitting.

(Please ignore any mess you might see in the reflection. This is just one of the only flat pieces of furniture he can stand on without me standing on something to take a pic.)

Despite my interests, I don't actually collect dolls (I'm more into figures and plushies), so I wasn't expecting him to be so big. In fact, Kun3h0, who would be considered a small to medium doll in collector's spaces, was also bigger than I thought she'd be, so you can imagine my surprise when I got my hands on him.

So... I don't really know where I can put him. He obviously can't live in front of my TV, but beyond being too big for my shelf, he also doesn't fit in with any of my other collectibles. And I'll be honest, the contrast of him "clearly not belonging" among my more "kawaii" items was a motivator in starting this project, I live for the gap moe after all, but in practice he really just sticks out like a sore thumb. (This is also why his first pics are in a slightly different location without many props. I just couldn't put together anything from my collection or find a spot among my things to take a good thematic pic with. The magazines/CDs he's with are from my dad's collection.)

I do have space at higher elevations in my room, but it's kinda off putting to have him staring down my room, looking like he's plotting something (my space is too small to ignore it). So I dunno what I'm gonna do with him. I did have plans to make him some... cuter outfits so he wouldn't stick out as much, but that requires sewing, and I'm kinda worn out from this project.

In conclusion, despite my troubles with this project, I'm not entirely displeased with the results. At the very least, it was an experience, and one that I might even be willing to do a third time 👀...?

But for now, I'd like to rest and maybe go back to drawing again. I feel like I haven't drawn anything "real" for a while now. We're inching closer and closer to the next follower milestone (4 digit number BA-BY!), so I'd like to at least get back to being good enough to sketch some stuff for y'all soon~

[pensbridge]

This is a thought I had before that I'm rethinking a bit since they decided to drop the trailer yesterday (bless! Oops buried this in my drafts and never got around to finishing til now)

Warning: Long post! (I'm sorry or you're welcome)

I've been trying to stay away from spoilers, so I could be totally off base here, but

Thinking about how Colin will react to Whistledown

I've already talked about Colin having to be needed, but surely there will be layers...

Colin has that line in ep. 1, where he talks about ruining LW and how she ruined his family, yeah after she rips him a new one in the paper - it's a clear deflection. This was never going to be about Marina, or his family. This is about Penelope seeing through the very real facade of Colin, and the fact that he'll believe she thinks those things of him. Because he's insecure if he'll be good enough for her. He needs to be needed, but also I assume Colin will be hurt at the deceit and mindblown at what it means when he puts the pieces together. Replaying certain moments/events, as well as oh, that's why that was so weird. moments that make him feel pain about the sincerity of their romantic relationship right ahead of their nuptials. Because up until the carriage, Colin thought Penelope couldn't see through him. That him trying to be someone else was working. That he was concealing his obvious feelings well. (And he was right; when Penelope "is this a ploy for attention" Whistledown couldn't see him foaming at the mouth and about to pass out on dance floors to know that something had changed.) The carriage was his moment of admission to everything he's been hiding from himself. And she's Whistledown! She's the one who first pointed out those things about him. She even said "does Mr. Bridgerton even know, himself?". He is going to be hurt for what he perceives is her looking down on him. He is going to feel betrayed, because it will seem like a joke he wasn't in on about himself. He's probably going to cry from that, because it will all feel unreal (maybe even like their relationship is fake and she was playing him; he's still insecure about how he's perceived and fearful of getting hurt, especially with Penelope). And the carriage will probably feel meaningless to what he believes her to view it as. like: "what do you mean you saw me pretending all this time for weeks?" Colin was on a different timeline in his feelings and when they sprung into action, they really sprung to all feel like it happened all at once for him. For Colin, it was like they spent all this time together now, he saw her for who she really is - to be less concerned for how she appears to him - and it was like something had really changed between them. And then, to know that Penelope's got an inside edition to how exactly he is maybe feeling, before he fully knows himself.. It's like he gave a full speech on that part of himself (how he portrays himself), and she already had an idea!

It's a complicated scenario, because on one hand there's this conflict between them of the secrecy and certain level of deception (Penelope having this information he's unaware to when they're supposed to be getting married), but on the other side of it Penelope sees him and knows him better than he knows himself (and I don't even think she's aware of it) - it's really the soulmatism aspect of them.

But the carriage won't be ruined. Because Colin and Pen at the core are meant to fall for each other due to seeing the sum of all their parts. Colin now sees Pen, which as I was saying before was not possible without Penelope dropping her crush veil and acting unnaturally around him. Like, right now, he's sure he loves her, because the pieces clicked in the past few weeks. Pieces clicked that he's not even fully aware how or why they come together, and there's a subconscious feeling to the things that can't be explained. I mean, when he goes to see Penelope outside her house and she's like "Whistledown did not want to seem suspicious;" (girl, wtf ), that's a piece to Penelope that he doesn't have the answers to, but he senses. It's all going to make sense once he has time to process and be privy to the hidden pieces of why they are compatible. But, sometimes things just fall perfectly into place without the why.

And he still doesn't know about her feelings prior to the carriage. Like, he thinks, "we both got closer over the past few weeks and we fell for each other through that" (he knows Penelope has always been a constant and that his feelings go back far deeper although he can't pinpoint an exact moment, but up until she reveals it, he's not gonna think she feels that (he probably thought they both fell through the kiss); like they were just good friends and somehow those moments in the past weeks have awakened something in them that neither has realized until this moment).

But that obviously won't last for long. Same as a fight (most likely) won't extend into this long drawn out thing of actual opposition.

And back to the Marina vs Pen debate, the answer to the difference is as simple as this: he didn't love her; he loves Pen! There's nothing more complicated about it; it wasn't real and that goes beyond just the willing deceit of Marina. I could talk about the rose- colored glasses romance/love idealization trope and how that's important to the development (*cough how the change to the show makes sense*), but the crowd isn't ready for that. [I love Marina, therefore her slander will not be allowed here]. But I'll just say the illusion of someone vs knowing someone is going to be the biggest difference [and the greatest catalyst (more on that later)] for how this plays out. Despite not knowing the Whistledown secret, Colin knows Penelope.

It's funny how similar they really are. They're both over-romanticizers. They're idealistic and they both idealized someone and had the pedestal knocked down. We already saw Pen's moment for this, the vital poor declaration moment at the ball. Now, I'm thinking Colin is going to have to battle this idea. He loves her, we know this! We also know that Colin can be impulsive for all of it's good and bad qualities. He is going to have to fight this idea where he acts towards his deepest insecurities. He's sitting outside the bedroom, so it looks promising (lol)! He's angry, but he's ruminating and he's internalizing all of that confusion and fear (I know they'll fight ofc, but for the little moments like that..). He thinks love is a thunderbolt in the sky, not that he fell for her like that, but that love is grand, fairytale-ish; he is a true romantic. His proposal shows as much for his his gestures of grandiosity. He's over the moon about the engagement and he's in a happy bubble after the swift timeline of the realization of their feelings. He'll have to break this idea. Because Colin didn't know love before Penelope. In the conflict of the Whistledown reveal, he'll see that love isn't always this gradiose thing. But that it's moments, being fully understanding of one another, wanting the person, seeing them, and (very important for his development) having them see you. Because that's what REAL love is. He'll actually see the real her and the full picture. Thus, we can actually get the real love confession where he says it. His perfect love idea will be shattered, but the end point will be sweet and more worthwhile than actually not knowing someone. They'll have a deep, dork bond, full love connection for life!