#also will ABSOLUTELY be making them important in my rewrite

[pikolswonderland]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 6!!

I HAVE NO CLUE WHO THEY ARE BUT I LOVE THEM 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[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.

[adviceformefromme]

YOUR RE-SET PART 2

Part one is here for reference.

Once you start removing all the shit from your life, they’ll be an empty space. You might not like this, but it really is an opportunity to start planting the seeds of your dreams, creating your dream life. Part 1 was clearing your garden, preparing the soil. Part 2, is actually planting the seeds. You've removed the weeds in your life, you’ve distanced yourself from the friends who bitch and moan, you also decided to create some space from the toxic relatives that remind you of the shame, and traumas from childhood. You started a little meditation and journalling practise, eating a little better, thinking kinder thoughts… but this is where you really start creating a magical life. This is your moment, no distractions, you are truly re-rewriting the script of your life. 

See it as a cross roads. Do you choose to go back to what you know, or do you spend the next four months of this year taking serious actions to become who you were destined to be? 

So how do you bring the vision boards to life? How do you truly re-set so that you finally shed the old skin of your past and become who you were designed to be?

1 - You need a vision. This needs to inspire and motivate you, so trade in one of your Netflix shows, or social media binges to create your vision. Screenshot images from Pinterest or wherever, add them into a keynote on your laptop, or use Canva, however you make your vision board let it be your absolute wildest dreams. If it's living in one of those houses from Architect Digest magazine in the middle of Norway, go find those images. If its being a badass CEO who makes eight figures, find an image that represents that. Add activities what your day is like, fashion inspo, locations, events, whatever you want your life to look like go create the vision. And make sure it inspires you. You want to feel that little fire in your belly when you look at it, if it’s not giving that energy, keep working on it till it does. Its really important you remind your self of this vision with affirmations as you look at it, ‘I am’, ‘I feel’, ‘I love’ use these power statements as you speak life as you go through each image e.g ‘I am living in my beautiful home on the coast of Spain, it feels so peaceful to wake up to the sunrise and hear the crashing waves as I look out from my balcony, I am so in love with my home, its represents who I truly am, I love my coffee table books (list them out).' Go on a rampage as you speak life into your vision board (do this as a consistent practise daily or weekly).

2 - Part of your re-set is looking the part. You will have a vision completely unique to you of what the dream version for you looks like, smells like, walks like, dresses like. Your goal is to get crystal clear on this and BRING HER TO LIFE. This will be done in steps, but literally start figuring out what you need to do in order to look the part. This might involve a different hair style. If you always dreamed of long hair but your hair is textured - go get a weave or hair extensions, if you are obsessed with those lamination brows and lashes, go figure out how you can look and feel as your dream girl. Stop using money as an excuse, if your hair is too expensive, find someone more affordable, or do it at home. If you can’t afford designers but see yourself living that life go buy a replica and FEEL the part until you can get there. This is about you looking and feeling like your best self, and it might seem unimportant but how you look affects how you feel and that physical glow up adds LEVELS of confidence to a woman. So start moving away from what you know, have known and step into your truth. Let go of the shame from family, friends. Stop living in their shadows, hiding from their opinions and judgements. This is your moment. 

3 - Create a routine of greatness. What does your day need to involve for you to show up as your best self? As you reflect you’ll see there are things that work and things that absolutely don’t work in your life and now is your moment is to start adjusting. This is for food, exercise, keeping your home clean, keeping organised. This is also about knowing yourself. For example, if you usually walk your dog in the morning but by the time you come home, you don’t have enough time to do your hair and make-up or eat a healthy breakfast - SHUFFLE your morning. This is about making life work for you. Not you working for life, working to survive, rushing everywhere. No, this is about your life, working to suit you best. So take inventory of what is not working and what is and start adapting. Another example. If you want to whiten your teeth and those strips are not working out for you because they feel horrible and you always forget. Go get a whitening powder you can brush on your teeth after you clean them, plus you brush your teeth everyday, so adding an extra step of brushing with the whitening powder at the sink is a much more effective routine that works for you. Do you get the message? Start re-adjusting your routine so there is more flow, and structure aligned with how you want to live.

4 - You need to fucking exercise. It doesn’t matter how you do it. Just make sure you do it. And exercise that is actually consistent and motivates you. This is your confidence booster, your discipline trainer, your toned body enabler, your energy replenisher, your anti-depressants, your anti-anxiety medication, your meditation, your self love. It’s all that and so much more. If you’re new to exercise start small, and progress. Keep those little promises to yourself and if your annoying friends want to see you, only meet them if they join you on a class which allows you to kill two birds with one stone. 

5 - Your passions. Remember those things. The things as a a child that used to bring you joy. Now you have all this free time since you stopped scrolling you can actually remember life before 4 hour binges on tiktok and Netflix. Go grab your skates, your paint brushes, your boombox, your knitting kit, your colouring pencils, your baking materials, your swimming goggles, your library card - whatever the fuck is your passion. GO POUR INTO THAT. Just once a week, even for an hour if that’s all you can manage, but focus on that. This is how you attract more of that positive energy into your life, you connect with your inner child, you soothe her and make her feel so wholesome. 

6 - KEEP REFLECTING, as you continue on this journey to becoming your best self, things will work, you’ll trip up a few times, you’ll learn so much about yourself but it's SO important to keep moving forward. For example if you realised you don’t like your social circle, but noticed you keep judging your friends - you are still swirling in low vibration, because that judgmental inner voice is still keeping you in the gutter. Your daily meditation practise, and reflecting would reveal this to you, and without noticing you are still staying stuck. The purpose of this whole re-set is to elevate yourself, your life and start living your dreams. So daily, weekly, as often as you can. Reflect. This worked, this didn’t, this is what I can do better next time, become your own fucking guru. Know thy self. Keep moving forward. Keep checking yourself.

...And remember know one gives a fuck about this journey you’re on, no one is rooting for you, no one cares if you literally remain the same person you’ve always been. This is truly on you. This is your opportunity to take major leap. To quit being the person who feels like she deserves a better life, who wants more. Now you get to actually BE more, live more. This is a transition. You’re moving out of the old shadows and into the light. This is your moment for change, so embrace it. Live it and keep pushing forward. 

[yandere-sins]

Ivyyyyyyyy >.< you're the worsttttt(read: BEST) oh my god the thoughts im having abt dilic with a period kink rn. Gawd and he doesn't even know it's a period kink, he thinks it's absolutely normal to do nasty things with his girl while she's bleeding out and feels proud about it that HE can take her pain away

OMG continuing the diluc saga but yan dilic thinks darling's period is the perfect opportunity to finally put his hands on darling. He knows you're in pain so he promises, he's doing this for YOU not him (lies) he'll ease it in gently and make it feel good! Soon darling will forget all about those cramps bc of him him him! He doesnt need to feel as guilty bc he's helping you out.....right? OMG PLS write something abt thissss, it can be any yandere or oc but im going crazy after what u saiddd

Hehe, you're welcome! I began writing this as just a talk, but decided mid-way through to make it a scenario!

a/n: I wrote this before my hiatus and coming back to correct it, I found so many mistakes, it doesn't even feel like I wrote this smh... I did my best to polish it a bit since I can't see myself rewriting it in the future but if you find anything oddly worded just ignore it lol I wasn't myself back then :')

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

I can just see the cock cogs turning in this idiot's head as he racks his brain about how he can help you. Clearly, you're in pain, but no matter how many more times he calls a physician to have a look, they just keep waving off his concerns. It's normal, they say. You're healthy. That's what everyone has to go through.

And yet he sees you writhing and crying in pain—it's breaking his heart!

Pillow pressed to your stomach, tears in your eyes that you can't blink away fast enough before they fall. You're especially irritable, but it hurts him more when you whine and complain; Diluc wanting to help you now more than ever. He's already gone through the usual stuff, the imported water bottles from Snezhnaya and the chocolate from Fontaine. If you utter so much as a craving, he has the servants scramble to get it to you. Nothing is too expensive or too hard to get. You could have asked for the heads of your enemies, and Diluc would have brought them to you with ribbons and glitter if that had helped with your pains.

But alas, it doesn't.

It's been three days, and his nerves are raw, the bags under his eyes dark, and the burden of your health weighs heavily on Diluc. He can't see how things will ever get better. The other times you were on your period were conveniently skipped by business trips, so this is hitting him full force.

"Exercising might help," one of the maids suggests as he forces himself to consult someone more knowledgeable than him.

"Sometimes, my wife likes a little stimulation to alleviate the pain," a vintner chuckles, winking at Diluc as the word of his helplessness spreads. And suddenly, inappropriate ideas get stuck in his head, making him blush like a young lad in love.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Taking a deep breath, Diluc raised his hand to knock on your bedroom door. It was terribly late, the servants asleep and only the eery flickering of his candle guiding him through the night. Most likely, you were tugged in and fighting for your well-deserved sleep, so he hesitated, fist hanging in the air before slowly dropping it to his side.

What he was about to do was not only foolish but also filled him with the same burning in his body as using his vision did. He could feel the warmth sweep over him from his head to his toes, the latter curling in his shoes while most of the heat was throbbing between his legs, aching to connect with your warmth in a less-than-innocent way.

However, these feelings were nothing compared to the agony of the last few days.

If this was what he had to do to help you alleviate the pain, he would. If it was for you, Diluc would do anything in his power, whether to protect or help you. If he had to become a mere plaything so you'd be freed of the pain, then his concerns were a small sacrifice for all the good he was going to do.

Brushing his hair back, Diluc took a deep breath, reminding himself there was nothing wrong with wanting to help. If the method the vintner suggested worked, everyone would be happy. And if not, he'd keep searching for ways to free you of the pain. Turning the key in the door lock, he pulled it out before slowly entering your room, ensuring he could give you two the privacy needed in this situation.

To his surprise, you were still awake.

You made a half-hearted attempt at a greeting, but when you noticed it was him, you only scoffed, turning away. It hurt when you gave him the cold shoulder so callously, but Diluc knew you were the one suffering at that moment, not him. He could forgive you for being dismissive of him. Your bedside lamp was still on, and he could see you clutching a pillow to your belly, his own stomach cramping up with remorse, even though, logically, he knew it wasn't his fault. He loved you as you were, the good and bad days, your misery becoming his own much too easily these days.

Setting down the candle on your table, he walked over to you. But not before locking the door from the inside, just so he could give himself a few more seconds before his approach. Every step cost him a lot of discipline, being near you never having been this hard. Even when he looked confident around you, Diluc only ever felt weak. You made him vulnerable. Desperate. Longing for your love and affection was all he was allowed to do, so even just watching your chest rise and fall set him ablaze.

Pushing off his shoes, Diluc focused on the little space you left at the edge of the bed. It was the only space he could see that was reserved for him, as he didn't deserve to share your bed, in your opinion. Yet, when he climbed in, pulling the cover over himself and snaking his arm around your waist, he was enveloped in your scent, your hair tickling his skin as he breathed in deeply. Had he known that heaven was hiding so closely to him, he might not have waited so long to come and see you.

"What are you--" you complained, pushing yourself away from him. But Diluc's hand had already wandered beneath the pillow, feeling the hot water bottle you kept secured there, only to replace it with his palm. He was just as, if not hotter than anything the servants could procure for you; his body temperature naturally elevated from his vision. It wouldn't burn you, but with his hand hugging your lower belly, it was much more effective and fitting than any appliance might be.

And you fell for it, even if just for a split second.

For a moment, you leaned into the comfort of his palm, the pain vanishing in the blink of an eye. Diluc even caught you sighing briefly before you came to your senses, jolting and pushing away from him, only to get stuck inside the blanket and pressed up against him. Diluc couldn't help but grin, having read your actions before they even occurred to you, but of course, this was a serious matter, so he quickly composed himself.

"H-Hey!" you yelled as his hand drifted lower, his face burying into the nape of your neck. He wasn't there to dilly-dally but to be of service. To help you in your time of need. By the time Diluc pressed his lips to your skin and his fingers between your legs, you understood his intentions as well, perhaps misinterpreted, but clear as day.

He was going to fuck the pain away. 

If exercise and stimulation helped others, maybe it would do the same for you. His fingers were met with warm slick, your body flinching when he moved over your clit. Perhaps his calloused hands weren't made for caressing and soft touches but for teasing and stimulating. Judging by how puffy your lower lips were, worked up from days of rubbing your legs together and your panties aggravating them mercilessly, you were in dire need of his help.

"Don't fight it. You're not alone in this," Diluc reassured you as you squirmed in his hold, biting back the salacious sounds of pleasure you were keeping from his ears. You were so mean, keeping every little taste of appreciation from Diluc, knowing how much it meant to him. But he'd endure. Even when your ass ground back against his cock, making it incredibly hard to not focus on his needs as well, he'd put you first in all of this.

When he slipped his pointer and middle finger towards your entrance, a tremor went through your body, a gasp slipping out from between your lips. Diluc never knew how easy it was to get inside another person, greeted warmly and happily by your hole clenching around his fingers.

His kisses became more fervent against your neck, teeth snapping out as he felt like he was losing himself in your scent and warmth. The pushes of his hips against your ass became faster, your cheeks fitting so well around his shaft. You yelled at him to stop, but he barely heard you through the sounds of your sloppy, wet cunt, blood mingling with eager juices to allow him more reach inside you. It was almost as if he could hear them beg for him to go deeper, which just wasn't possible with his knuckles in the way, no matter how much he tried.

Forgotten was the pain as pleasure raked its claws through both of you, and yet, Diluc still heard you whine and sob as he scissored his fingers through your inside. It wasn't enough. He opened his eyes he didn't know he had closed, staring at your expression curiously. All he saw was anger and disgust, your teeth bared and ready to snap, while he could feel your nails digging into his arm. And yet, when he found your eyes, he saw a very different version of events. Lust, desire, longing. You wanted more, and Diluc wouldn't refuse such a request.

Slipping a leg between yours, he pried them apart, spreading you open wide. You gasped, squirming and trying to cut off his access, but Diluc only had to lean back to steal your balance, your body reliant on his while he gained more space on your bed. The hardest part was freeing his cock from the restraint of his pants, the fabric soggy with both your juices as well as his own pre-cum pearling off the tip of his engorged cock.

Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your wet cunt greeting his eager cock. No imagining of this situation could have come close to the throbbing heat, your walls convulsing around his fingers in eager expectation. Diluc placed his tip against his fingers, planning to slip them out and take the opening to sink into you, but with how wet the combination of blood and juices was, he felt himself slipping away, kissing your clit instead.

And for the first time, you moaned.

It was the sound of angels and everything nice, and he drew his hips back, trying again to fill you with his cock, missing it just an inch. All good things are three, and when he finally plunged it deep inside your pussy, you weren't the only one yowling in pleasure. No matter what he had imagined his first time with you to be, nothing would ever top the mess he caused between your legs, his cock ready to burst as it pulsated violently inside your equally as ready cunt.

He could feel the waves of pleasure going through you, the shudders in your limbs as he began to slowly press forward, kissing the last few inches of his reach. You remained stiff as a plank, but when he pulled out halfway before sinking in deep again, you were unable to keep your mouth shut, an elongated moan making its way to Diluc's ears, letting him know it was the right thing after all.

Immediately, any hesitation fell off him as he dragged his cock out and sunk it back into you. Fingers retreated to your clit, continuing to slip off and assault the little knob over and over while your walls clenched around his shaft, making you feel every one of his throbs and ridges, the heat between you two almost scorching.

Part of him couldn't believe it worked. That he actually managed to help you with this trick. But he'd have been a liar if he said it wasn't a pleasure for him, too. Diluc could never have dreamed about your proficiency in driving him wild, from your hot, puffy pussy wrapping around him to the improper sounds he had never heard coming from your lips before. The blood kept you so wet and loud down there; it was like you were synching your moans with your pussy, sloppy as they were.

It couldn't have been better, a shudder going through you from head to toe, your feet curling as you gurgled. Diluc wrapped his free arm around your throat, pulling you against him and burying his face in your shoulder as you came hard, juices leaking out, red dripping on the clean sheets with the blanket long discarded.

You were gasping for air as he plunged right back into you, waiting but a mere few seconds of yours before pursuing his own orgasm. Selfishly, but unable to stop. Diluc was already too deep in it, quite literally, your orgasm making your inside tight around him, but it posed no challenge with how drenched you both were.

A strained groan escaped Diluc as he buckled, feeling the first squirts of cum shoot out of him before he drew back, popping out of your cunt and covering it in his cum. His tip got stuck on your clit, as his jizz ejected under the pressure of his orgasm, making you mewl as you were once again stimulated. It would be a mess to clean, but it had been worth it.

You two collapsed, spent and dirty, but Diluc slipped his palm back over your lower stomach, rubbing the collection of juices over your soft skin, leaving a red trail. Kissing the side of your head, he was trying to collect his breath and thoughts, barely able to think straight as the feelings of happiness and his relief kept him in a chokehold.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a blissful rumble as he pulled you firmer against him.

But all he was met with was a cold glare and tears in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered instinctively, immediately feeling bad. What had he done to upset you again? Your teeth were biting into your lip as if you were holding back a tirade of screaming, ready to explode.

His cock twitched between your legs, bloody and so, so wet.

"I'll make it better! I promise! I will definitely make it better," he tried to reassure you, dazed with pleasure as he was, unable to see the actual problem with all of this. Your body convulsed in shock as he pressed his tip upwards again, and you gasped loudly as he sunk his inches inside you. This time, he wouldn't fail to make you feel better. And until then, he'd keep going.

All night long, if he had to.

[we-stan-cale]

Since I've talked about almost all the other important parts during my reread, I didn't want to forget the sealed god's test.

It's just... So good I'm not even sure where to start. Like, this is a moment where Cale really shines.

Cale. Rok Soo, which we're told means 'to always grow green, even in winter'.

And we see that in this test.

The sealed god throws him into one of the worst moments of his life, expressly to make him despair.

Instead, Cale takes that moment and uses it to rewrite the past, and erase all his regrets.

This is where we really get to see what post-apocalyptic Korea was like. And over and over again we learn how badly things went then, even as Cale makes sure it doesn't happen like that again.

We also see some of his years of experience, and maturity. Especially with how he handles Park Jin Tae, who was a bully and a tyrant - and also died in Cale's first life, fighting to save everyone in the shelter.

You can see what we've seen all along. Cale doesn't judge leaders by the petty stuff. He judges them on how well they take care of their people.

This is also where Cale, Choi Han, and Alberu really become an amazing trio.

Choi Han, who bargains a large chunk of his life away (just the time he'd be alone, as he ties the length of his life to Raons) in order to join Cale in his test.

And Alberu, who the Sun God helps possess a monster called the Dark Tiger when his real body is sleeping.

Those three are so tight knit now, it's beautiful. Real ride or die friends.

Especially when you remember where they all started.

It's also, as always, a time where you have to pay attention to the subtleties. This is Cale's past, and he's focused on making sure everyone survives... But Choi Han and especially Alberu can see the desperation, the struggle, and the near starvation of all the survivors. Alberu has a couple of moments when he's out of the test and giving updates to their friends, and you see him struggling. Because Cale asked him not to overly stress them (the kids especially) and basically say it's fine... And Alberu's like 'how can I tell them that?!?'

And then, naturally, there's Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk.

Younger versions, and not the ones Cale knew. But still, we get to learn more about his earlier found family.

We also see things going on back at home. Since his physical body is still there, his friends have to rescue him.

And we see how they're able to perform, even without Cale to call the shots.

We especially see how well Raon has grown, as he makes important decisions on how to find the monster statues.

Even more importantly, we have this at the end.

– Do you really think that this moment is the end of despair? Cale looked down at the rose gold lights burning in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak. ‘Is this moment the end of despair? No. Absolutely not.’ “This is just the beginning of the despair in this world.” It was just the beginning. Despair would reveal itself in many different forms in this world from now on. “But people have hope now.” After about a year since the world had turned into a mess… The people who had always lost, struggled, and barely managed to survive will be victorious for the first time. They would destroy this despair known as an unranked monster. The sealed god who had been silent for a moment asked as if he was sneering at Cale. – Do you have hope as well? It seemed to be implying that Cale was someone who could not have hope. That was how it sounded to Cale. Cale slowly shook his head. “No.” He did not have hope. However… “I have certainty.” Cale needed something more certain than hope. Finally, he had gotten it. “This place will draw a different future than my past. I’m certain of it.” He was certain that more people would survive than in his past. He was certain that they would have better lives. That was not speculation. Although it was a future that was yet to come, Cale believed it to be the truth. In fact, Cale wanted to be the one to finish the first step toward that certainty. The burning rose gold thunderbolts moved away from Cale’s hands. He started to speak again. “This is the first time I’m saying this to a god.” Toward the silent sealed god… To the god who had tried to give him despair… Cale said the following. “Thanks.” He really meant it. “My memories didn’t end in despair thanks to you.”

It's not that he defeated despair. That despair will no longer exist.

But there's hope, and he is certain that the future will be better.

And even more so - he is grateful that he had this chance to change his memories.

He took this thing that was supposed to break him, and used it to fix himself instead.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

Or

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Past child abuse, and of course, excessive alcohol and substance abuse.

A/N: More specific warnings will be added for certain chapters when required. I also just wanted to add in a quick disclaimer and say that through my research, Vince Neil's parents sounded like nice, decent people. However, this is a fanfic and for the purpose of this story and the plot, I am changing that.

Chapter 1- My Kinda Lover

Growing up, you always knew your big brother Vince had what it took to become a rockstar.

As kids, his favourite place other than the beach was the roller-skating rink where they held lip-synching contests. Vince would drag you there with his surfer buddy John and sign up every time. He'd dress up in flared pants, loud open button polyester shirts, wigs and other accessories he thought rockstars were supposed to wear and you'd help him.

It was during those lip-synching contests where Vince discovered his love for performing. He'd jump around on stage, goofed off, played air guitar and threw the microphone around. The crowd ate it up, and he always won. Always.

It wasn't long before the lip-synching turned into actual singing and your brother had a damn good voice even as a teenager. And not long after that he joined a band. Rock Candy.

It was during one of his performances with the cover band that his path to becoming a rockstar kicked off.

Vince was in the middle of singing his cover for My Kinda Lover on the small stage with his band. You'd sing as a backup singer for Rock Candy occasionally, but this song didn't require it, so you hung by the drinks table swirling your Jack and coke around in a solo cup and listened.

The drink was an important necessity every time Rock Candy performed because you weren't sure how you'd get through watching all those girls fawn over your big brother without it. They were practically throwing themselves on him whenever he performed and although you hated it, Vince absolutely lapped up all the attention from them.

There had been a few incidences where drunk girls got too handsy with him. Pulling at his clothes or jumping on stage just to touch him. One time a woman grabbed his scarf and literally pulled him down into the crowd of crazy females. By the time he managed to get back on stage, half his clothes had been torn off and that was when you stepped in and started ordering people out or breaking noses... usually the latter.

Most women treated your brother like a piece of meat. Like he was nothing more than a toy for them to play with and admire. And Vince, although he would never admit it, he didn't enjoy it all the time.

So, even when not on stage with him, you kept an eye on everything and that was when you spotted the three men.

They stood out amongst the crowd of young people dressed in the bare minimum while they wore leather and dark pants with their jet-black hair. You clocked them the second they walked through the crowd as people who shouldn't be here.

No way guys dressed like that would be interest in listening to Vince's cover band. So, what did they want? Trouble, probably.

You hung back eyeing the men cautiously before they began to make their way over to the drinks stand where you still were. None of them paid you any attention while you leant against the side of the table sipping your drink.

It wasn't like you blended in with the crowd here either, so you couldn't judge the strangers too harshly. Your own tight jeans and leather jacket might as well be a full body suit compared to the other girls crop tops and tiny shorts.

"His voice ain't bad." One of the men suddenly said speaking up for the first time since they got to the drinks stand.

"I don't care if he can sing or not. Look what he's doing to those chicks." The other responded.

The three guys continued to watch your brother sing on stage while pointing and commenting quiet words that you couldn't quite catch.

Downing the last of your Jack and coke, you pushed yourself away from the drinks table and took a step to the side until you were blocking their view to the stage and folded your arms across your chest defensively.

"What do you guys want from Vince?"

The man in the middle holding a bottle of Jack Daniels instantly stood up straight sizing you up.

The older man to his right remained silent and looked over your shoulder back towards the stage seemingly bored by your presence, so you kept your attention focused on the middle guy whose gaze hadn't left yours, but he didn't seem like he was going to answer your question either.

"Don't make me repeat myself." You said bluntly.

His brows furrowed into a frown, the blankness on his expression twisting into annoyance but before he could say anything, the younger guy to his left spoke up.

"Holy fucking shit. Y/N?"

That had your head snapping away from the middle guy instantly and the second you saw that goofy smile and long hair, realisation hit you like a truck.

Tommy Lee.

Well, shit. You weren't expecting to see him here.

You didn't recognise him earlier. His hair used to be lighter, but now it was black. It suited him though.

The last time you saw him was when you and Vince were living in his van about a year ago. So much had happened since then.

A smile broke out across your face which made Tommy's smile brighten further before he held his arms out a little hesitantly like he wasn't sure if a hug would be an acceptable greeting. If it was anyone else, no, a hug wouldn't be acceptable, maybe a handshake at the most, but this wasn't anyone, this was Tommy.

"Good to see you, Tommy." You said accepting the hug.

His long lanky arms instantly wrapped around your body tightly and you hugged him back, tucking your head against his chest and closing your eyes thinking back to the last time you had seen him.

Your father was a mechanic who worked for L.A. County repairing sheriff's cars. He had so many friends within the law enforcement department, he thought he could get away with anything... and he was right.

When he wasn't at work fixing cars or buddying up to the local cops, he was at home getting high and drinking. And the combination of drugs and alcohol made him mad. It made him angry. It made him abusive.

Your stepmother, Vince's real mother, wouldn't stand for your father's crap and they'd end up in screaming matches against each other. They'd yell, scream, cry and break things from the living room nearly every night.

Vince could always tell when the fighting was about to start, and once you got older, you saw the warning signs too before World War III erupted in the house. When you were little Vince would take you to his bedroom and lock the door while blasting music through his stereo so you couldn't hear the screaming and fighting. He'd make it fun and would use his hairbrush as a makeshift microphone and the two of you would sing and dance on top of his bed trying to forget about what was happening across the house.

When you got older and the fighting would start up, you'd both slip out his bedroom window and get away for a few hours until your father calmed down or passed out from drinking. But sometimes you weren't quick enough to get away.

Those nights were the worst because his anger would turn onto you and Vince.

Vince always took the blunt of his anger. He always tried to protect you from your father's rage and violence, but sometimes he couldn't.

You were eight years old the first time your father ever hit you. He was mad about something -staying up too late, not doing homework, playing music too loud, you couldn't remember - it didn't matter anyway.

Your father was always in a terrible mood, the alcohol and drugs made him worse and at the slightest provocation he would take out his frustration on the nearest thing or person which was usually you, despite Vince trying his best to not let that happen.

Your father never outright said it, but you reminded him of the affair he had with another woman -your mother- the woman who dumped a baby at his perfect white picket fence home door with a single note.

'Your daughter, Y/N. I'm sorry'

Vince's mother had taken you in and raised you like her own without hesitation, despite your father wanting nothing to do with you.

You were 16 years old the last time he ever beat you... and the first time he nearly killed you.

"Just stay awake, okay? Keep your eyes on me." Vince practically begged while he sped down the road away from the hell you called home. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Stay awake."

You leant heavily against the passenger side door of the car while holding his scarf against the side of your head. The scarf had started off white but was now stained a bright crimson along with the collar of your shirt.

Blood was trickling down the side of your face from the deep gash on your forehead. The warm liquid sticking and matting in your hair as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"N-no hospital. We can't afford it." You winced, tilting your head to the side to look at your brother, but even that slight movement felt like agony against your pounding head.

Vince clenched his jaw at your words, his hands tightening and untightening around the steering wheel as he drove, but he didn't argue because you were right. You had no money. And if you went to the hospital, they'd call your father, the very same man you were running from.

"We should go back." You whispered closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the seat behind you. "We have nowhere else to go."

"Hey, no, open your eyes. And we are not going back." Vince stated sternly while he reached over and shook your shoulder until you reluctantly opened your eyes despite wanting nothing more than to just sleep the pain away. "I'm not letting him anywhere near you again. Got it?"

"You can't protect me from everything, big brother."

"I can try."

Before you knew it, Vince was pulling up into the driveway in front of a decent looking house that you couldn't recognise.

"I'll be back. Don't fall asleep."

He was out the car before you could respond, and you watched through the windshield as he ran up to the house and knocked on the front door until a guy you recognised from high school answered.

"Vinnie, what up, dude?" Tommy greeted with a bright smile.

"I... we need a place to stay. Can we..." Vince trailed off while pointing towards a van parked along the side of the house.

"Who's we?"

Vince nodded over his shoulder to where you were sitting in the car holding the bloodied scarf to your forehead.

Tommy's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and panic, "holy shit. Is she okay?"

"No. Not really." Vince admitted, emotion thick in his voice. "Can we crash in your van for a few days?"

"Of course." Tommy answered without hesitation.

-

"I've missed you, dude." Tommy's voice said, snapping you out of your thoughts as the two of you pulled apart.

His eyes shifted to your forehead searching for the scar that he knew was hidden behind your hair. It seemed you weren't the only one who had been thinking back to the last time you saw each other.

"I'm in a band with these dudes." Tommy explained after a few beats of silence. "Guys, this is Y/N. She's Vince's sister. I was in the same grade as her in high school."

Both men nodded but didn't say anything. Instead, they turned their attention over your shoulder to where your brother was still performing in front of the crowd.

Seriously, what did they want from Vince?

"Yeah, Vinnie!!" Tommy cheered enthusiastically as the song came to an end.

"Thank you! We're Rock Candy!" Your brother shouted into the microphone.

"Shitty name."

You turned to glare at the older and very serious-looking man. Sure, you kind of agreed with him. Rock Candy wasn't a great name, but only you were allowed to insult your brother.

"Okay, seriously, why are you guys here and what do you want with my brother?" You questioned, the smile from seeing Tommy vanishing from your face as you got down to business.

"We're looking for a singer for the band." The one drinking Jack Daniels straight finally said.

"And who the fuck are you?"

His sea green eyes shifted back to you, looking you up and down briefly before meeting your gaze.

"Nikki Sixx."

You stared at him for a moment before nodding, "okay, Sixx. Why do you want my brother?"

Vince looked nothing like these guys. Your brother loved white. He'd wear that white t-shirt you had ripped up the sides of and sewn together with lace everywhere because it was his favourite. He had his hair dyed as white as he could get it and fluffed it until it added half a foot to his height. It was his style, and it was the opposite to these guys.

"He's fucking perfect, man." Tommy responded.

"He's pretty good. Got moves." Nikki admitted without answering your question.

Tommy suddenly darted off, pushing his way through the crowd to where Vince was now walking after finishing the last song. Nikki and the older guy didn't say anything else to you, so you didn't speak to them either while you watched Tommy and Vince embrace in a hug and chat for a few minutes before Tommy returned with his signature smile.

"He's in. I think."

You glanced back over to your brother across the crowd as he tucked the tape that Tommy had given him into his pocket without much thought because he was too focused on the blonde-haired woman chatting him up.

Nah, Vince wasn't in.

-

Later that night, you found yourself sitting in the bed of your old Ford F150 truck parked on the beach away from humanity because it was quietest spot and best place to sleep.

Between your shifts at the diner downtown and Vince working as an electrician apprentice plus his small gigs with Rock Candy, it still wasn't enough to afford a house or apartment. Vince usually crashed in the bedrooms of which ever girl he was seeing that week while you slept in a sleeping bag in the back of your truck.

It wasn't so bad, especially this time of year. During winter it was harder, and you were going to figure something else out, but that was a few months away and a problem for later. For now, you were going to enjoy the peaceful beach and sound of waves crashing against the shore like a lullaby every night.

You laid in the bed of your truck staring up at the stars shimmering in the sky above you. The cool breeze was slowly starting to kick in, but not enough for you to grab a blanket out from under the front seat.

Something suddenly slammed against the tailgate of your truck causing you to bolt upright and reach for the pocketknife stashed under your pillow only to find your brother leaning against the side of your truck trying not to laugh.

"One of these days, I'm gonna actually stab you and I'm not even gonna be sorry." You warned pointing at him with the knife.

Vince rolled his eyes, "you shouldn't keep parking in the same spot. Creeps might start to notice."

"Oh, creeps like you?" You shot back causing Vince to glare, but there was no real heat behind it.

"I'm serious though. If some pedo realises a young girl sleeps out here alone, that little knife won't do much to stop him. You need a gun or something."

"I can't afford a gun."

"I can steal you one." He suggested.

"Please don't."

Vince snorted softly before pulling down the tailgate of your truck and sitting on it while overlooking the ocean that was lit up by the full moon shining brightly in the sky above it.

"What happened to your new girl? Her daddy kick you out?" You teased, referring back to a few weeks ago when a girl's father did actually kick him out and he ended up in the back of your truck keeping you awake with his snoring.

"Nah, her dad wasn't home."

You frowned a little at his words because if he hadn't been kicked out of the girl's house then why wasn't he sleeping in her comfy bed or at the very least, her couch?

"Tommy gave me this. Said to listen to it and call him." He pulled a tape out from his pocket and held it out towards you. "It's all I've been thinking about. I couldn't even get it up when I was in bed with her."

"Eww! Too much information, Jesus Christ." You swore taking the tape before jumping out the truck and opening the driver side door turning the key to accessories before inserting the tape into the stereo cranking the volume up.

You sat on the tailgate beside Vince while you listened to the music together on the beach where nobody could see or hear for miles.

It hurt to admit, but fuck, they were pretty good.

"This shits on Rock Candy, no offence." You commented and to your own shock, Vince actually nodded in agreement. "You gonna call Tommy and his sketchy friends to join their even sketchier band?"

"What do you think?" He asked, but it wasn't a question. He was going to call.

-

Next Chapter

Masterlist pinned to profile

If anyone wants to be tagged let me know

A/N:

So, this fanfic came out of nowhere.

I recently saw Mötley Crüe during their last show of the World Tour in Melbourne (I am still pinching myself. It was the best night ever!) and seeing them in person literally kickstarted my obsession for them.

I grew up listening to my dad’s 80s music which obviously included Mötley Crüe. I still remember Girls Girls Girls blasting through the car on the way to school when I was 8. And although I’ve liked their music since I was a kid, I never really knew much about them beyond that.

But when my dad asked if I wanted to go to the Mötley Crüe concert with him, I didn’t even hesitate.

I’ll be honest, I had never watched The Dirt before until Vince said during the concert that Mötley Crüe had made a movie and I googled it as soon as I got home.

After watching the movie and seeing them live in concert, I was hooked.

I bought their book The Dirt and binged it in 2 days (that is one hell of a rollercoaster to read) and now I’m literally typing this while wearing a Mötley shirt.

I won’t try and pretend to have been a Cruehead all my life because that isn’t true, but I am so incredibly glad that I have found this love for Mötley Crüe and I hope you all enjoy this fanfic xx

[tobiasdrake]

FUN FACT: Did you know Frieza had a finite amount of soldiers on Namek? (And he doesn't kill his troops.)

Also Appule is kind of important and there's a clearly marked place where Goku's six-day space journey happens in the timeline?

I have a laundry list of grievances with the Dragon Ball and DBZ animes. We're here to talk about one of those right now! The Z anime gives Frieza infinitely respawning soldiers that just seem to pour out of his ship whenever he needs them.

This interferes with a key plot point of Frieza's portion of the Namekian Dragon Ball hunt: That Frieza, for all his power, is rendered helpless when his attack on Moori's village goes south.

See these guys?

These guys ruin Frieza's entire goddamn week.

Get his ass, my Namekian thembruhs.

A consistent weakness of Frieza's forces is that they fight blind. By this point in the series, characters on Earth have been taught advanced fantasy martial arts involving manipulation of ki or chi. They can concentrate ki into attacks more powerful than the wielder, sense ki in other beings and feel incoming attacks without having to see them, suppress ki to become invisible to ki detection, etc. etc.

The Earthlings are goddamn amazing at ki manipulation, and the Namekians are just as good.

But Frieza's Planet Trade Organization represents the uncaring hand of capitalism. There is no artistry in their methods. There is no true discipline or understanding. They're a bunch of paid thugs with guns, looking to gentrify planets for their boss: a real estate mogul. So they rely on fallible technology that fails time and time again when put up against experienced martial artists.

The battle at Muri's village is no exception, as Frieza's forces get slaughtered by the "harmless" interlopers.

With only the elites vaguely understanding, from second-hand accounts, what they're seeing here.

Which, in turn, gives Muri the opening he needs to cripple Frieza's campaign by destroying the Scouters they're using to track down Namekian villages.

This is Muri's checkmate. Muri destroys the Scouters, the technology Frieza relies on to find Namekian villages on this planet and take their Dragon Balls. Meanwhile, his reinforcements wipe out Frieza's army.

That guy right is the only survivor of the massacre.

This is Appule. If you've ever wondered why Appule was so important that he got to be his own distinct character in Tenkaichi 3, this is why. Appule is the last grunt left standing.

Though Dodoria makes short work of the Namekian warriors, the damage is done. Frieza's lost his Scouters and he's out of manpower. He's going to have to fan his men out to search the planet, a planet larger than Earth, by looking around with their eyes. And the only men he has left to do that are Zarbon, Appule, and Dodo--

...are Zarbon and Appule.

So. Y'know. Frieza is two deaths short at this point of being completely and utterly fucked sideways.

As his two remaining men set out to search, Zarbon takes great care to tell Appule not to do anything that might get him killed.

It is absolutely pivotal for Frieza's campaign that these two live. There is no one else on this planet who can do the job. It's Appule who ultimately succeeds in finding the last Namekian village.

For some reason, in their eagerness to rewrite the story so that there are far more soldiers on Namek for some reason, the anime makes this Appule's vampire cousin?

Uh. Okay, man. Sure. In any case, it's Appule who finds the village and Appule who reports its destruction to Frieza. He's not a significant character by any stretch, but you can see why he warrants a bit more name recognition than Frieza Soldier #72. He has more impact on the plot that Cui does, that's for damn sure.

Too bad about Vegeta though.

It's a lot easier for Vegeta to get away with this gambit in the manga than it is in the anime. In the anime, somehow the infinitely respawning Frieza soldiers (who he regularly kills for funsies) flooding the halls don't give away the fact that Vegeta's still here.

But with Appule dead, Zarbon and Frieza are the only people left alive in the ship. It's a lot easier to distract two people for a minute than a limitless garrison.

In the manga, this is the closest Frieza ever gets to team-killing one of his own soldiers. Once he realizes Vegeta has stolen all five of his Dragon Balls, has a sixth Dragon Ball stashed away, and is now just one Dragon Ball away from immortality while Frieza's blind and understaffed? All because Zarbon fucked up?

He says some shit.

So. Yeah. He's not above killing his men when they fuck up so bad that they cost him immortality and give his most dangerous archnemesis the means to topple his empire and end him.

But that's a much higher bar to clear than shooting down his infinitely respawning dudes because, uh....

*checks notes* With the Ginyu Force on their way, Frieza can afford to kill his own guys because the Ginyus are better than them anyway. So he keeps them all in the ship and murders them for no reason despite the fact that Vegeta is actively making off with his Dragon Balls right this second and he has no idea to where.

Yeah. That's. Uh. That's a pretty significant story difference. In any case, Frieza's campaign grinds to a screeching halt when....

That's it. That is the very last one. Frieza's campaign is sunk. Until the Ginyu Force arrives, Frieza has no forces and no resources left. He is an unbelievably powerful man, the most powerful in the universe, and the only way he could ever hope to catch up to Vegeta is by flying aimlessly around a colossal planet and looking for Vegeta with his eyes.

I've often heard people express confusion about where Goku's six-day transit is supposed to fit into the Namekian timeline. This, right here? This is it. At this moment, it's over for Frieza. For the next five days, he is soundly defeated. He's out of the race for the Dragon Balls entirely.

And the only reason Vegeta hasn't won the race is because of that one Ball Gohan smuggled away from him.

So Frieza, defeated, is forced to sit in his broken ship with his thumb up his ass and wait for reinforcement.

Vegeta, with six Dragon Balls, is forced to sit on his balls with his thumb up his ass hoping the talented martial artist Earthlings currently suppressing their ki signatures get stupid and give him something to detect - knowing that if he leaves for a second, those little shits with the Dragon Radar might scoop 'em up from under him.

While Gohan and Krillin, with ki signatures suppressed, make the five-day trek at minimum power to Saichoro/Guru.

It's here. Right here. Where everything stops for five days to pass, and for Goku to approach the planet. All because Frieza ran dry on resources and manpower to keep up the hunt.

[ganondoodle]

wait i just realized... the mastersword isnt even important enough to warrant zelda doing to such extreme lengths to repair it bc its NOT EVEN REQUIRED FOR DEFEATING GANONDORF

idk about you but the mastersword being not just this weak after all this but also not even required is like ... hurting the whole plot SO bad for all that zelda knew she was basically killing herself by doing the dragon thing ONLY for the mastersword, which isnt even needed to reach the end why do the dragon thing at all??? she could have put it in some other divine place for it to recover (she knew where the springs are, she knew where the krog forest is, heck she even knew where the forgotten temple is BC THEY WERE ALL THERE* and im not going to belive any of them came into existence afterwards), in botw it took 'only' a 100 years to regenerate the damage it took in botws past which, while not as extreme as in totk, was pretty bad! yeah it gets outright broken in totk but like ... really? far over 10 000 years to recover it? through ZELDA? one of the most divine being IN THE FORM of one of the most divine beings aside from the very gods themselves?? whats the use of it being able to regernate if it takes THAT long?? feels easier to forge a new one for that matter?? and the excuse that "it needed to be able to resist miasma" is like .. why tho? yeah ok fine i could do the entire bossfight with JUST the mastersword, but again, its not required! i can do it with anything else!! and its doesnt cleanse miasma either, like the sword did in tp when you could do away the twilight stuff when it got the super glow stuff so its really like ... she did that JUST for the sword? really? the fact that her becoming a dragon is the way to get her back into her time isnt something she could have known and it working out like that makes it feel like a massive fail of the writers bc it makes it feel less like an actual decision she made for good reason and more bc its a decision the writers made bc the writers already knew where it would end, the writers knew shed be turned back in the end no problem so they had her do the dragon thing despite it being pretty senseless from her perspective

(wouldnt it have felt more in character and logical to put the mastersword somwhere safe where it can recover over all those centuries and search for a way to return to her time herself? like in these two games ZELDA feels like the more important thing that the sword, -zeldas prone to sacrifice herself for other- WHY! its better for everyone if you are alive rather than dead! you got to this time by yourself and also somehow not jsut shifted the time but also PLACE bc you sure as hell didnt appear in a cavern in the middle of the land, you have wielded incredible magic before and are a researcher, surely theres some way for you to at least TRY to return on your own?? how cool would it have been to find little markers and spots where clearly she has left you some sort of message, maybe like a way for you to do something that helps her in the past, USE THE WEIRD ASS TIME BUBBLES FROM THE TUTORIAL AGAIN!! send back something she needs to return! go and talk with impa and purah to determine what shes trying to tell you, help her along the way and in the end she makes her triumphant return, having grown and learned with what she did instead of regressing her chaarcter to the big eyed maiden that you get as a reward at the end through unsatisfying bs reasons and hurray she doesnt even remember, perfect little fairytale of no consequences wahoo- im salty about this let me be salty-)

you can absolutely combine a free to explore open world with good story without restricting it by much, like locking the bossfight behind aquiring the mastersword doesnt feel like that big of a change and its not making it a whole lot more linear, most people do it anyway right?

(also a thing im doing in my rewrite of it is locking certain things for some parts, it just makes sense if you are trying to tell a story, but its pretty clear now they werent trying to do that, just throw you into a box of virtual toys, and i think thats just sad)

*yeah actually whats up with the sonau/rauru putting their little nuclear super weapon storage room inTO THE ANCIENT RELICT OF THE FORGOTTEN PAST TEMPLE BEHIND THE BIGGEST STATUE OF HYLIA IN EXISTENCE?? you cant tell me all those ancient ruins (springs, forgotten temple) were made AFTER all of the shitshow that went down in totks past; putting it behind that statue? building it into there feels incredibly disrespectful, maybe it makes more sense if you just see it as the devs wanting to put somethign new there, but if you consider it in universe its just ??? also HOW is any of it in such a good shape??, it looks like they buried sonia there a year ago, the structures look like they just came out of a 3d printer despite supposedly being older than their recorded history??

on that note ... how does the room with the order and location of zeldas tears make sense .. are you telling me someone of the past ran around after dragon zelda recording where her fucking tears went down and what markings it made on the ground and then built a room next to the nuclear weapon storage room with the laughably unceremonial grave of the fucking queen just to put all that into statue form? also none of the geographical things changed in ALL that time?? the castle is drawn on there too so i guess that was super fresh then since it "was built above ganondorf as a symbol of royal blahbla" at least in botw you had the photos on your SHIEKAH stone to recover them once you found the place they were taken in, it felt so organically integrated ..

[annymation]

The Tale of A Witch and A Prince.

"Kingdom of Wishes- Wish Rewrite" Prequel

It's time to FINALLY talk about Amaya's backstory! AND HOW THE EVIL COUPLE WE LOVE TO HATE MET! WOOOO!

So here's how this will work, this will be ONE chapter, summarizing where Amaya came from and what led her to Rosas, how her and young Magnifico met, and how they started dating. If you think that's interesting, then come along! And I'll tell you their twisted fairytale!

IMPORTANT: This is purely based on Magnifico and Amaya from my rewrite, if you're new here and haven't read it yet... Well this might not be for ya, it's just gonna be kinda confusing, but hey, here's the link for my Wish rewrite.

Also, here’s how everyone in this story looks, thank you @uva124 for drawing these amazing designs!

Part 1- A Provincial Life

Once upon a time, in a simple village in Athens, Greece, there lived a beautiful, kind and generous young girl, called Amaya.

Amaya was hard working, always helping her family with chores such as cleaning, cooking and taking care of farm animals and anything else that they needed her help with.

However, she wanted more for herself than that, not necessarily anything grand. She just didn't find enjoyment in these simple activities, specially taking care of the animals. She hated farm animals.

But those responsibilities were expected of her, she had to be useful in the community, and she wanted to, she wanted to help others and make her family proud, she wanted to fit in more than anything, but she wanted to do that her own way.

One day, Amaya went to explore away from her village, and she found an abandoned temple, that used to preach Circe, the Goddess of sorcery. Amaya was curious, so she went inside, and in there she found many scrolls containing potion recipes for all sorts of things: potions for healing, changing one's appearance, improving in a talent, making someone more fortunate… And even make someone fall in love.

She was fascinated, in that temple she found everything there was to know about potion brewing. Amaya was already a very studious girl, she loved to read, and she also loved gardening, and understanding plants is a big part about making potions.

So she decided to give it a try.

And thus, she discovered her calling. Amaya started out secretly practicing potion making, and as her talent grew, she began to share it with the people.

She could finally be useful in her own way, and fulfill her deepest wish... Make others happy.

Everyone loved it, Amaya shared her potions for free, to aid the ill, give better voices to aspiring singers, make elders feel younger, make the food taste better, her people couldn’t be more thankful.

She gained the respect of her town, and many friends too, everything was wonderful... But... She still felt like there was something missing, yes, the people loved her for her talent, but she couldn't help but feel that the people didn’t love her… For who she was... She was surrounded by people, but she felt alone.

She wondered if she’d ever meet someone that loved her regardless of what she could give them... And sure enough, she did meet someone.

Adonis was Amaya’s first love. She met the handsome lad when she was an young adult, and he loved her deeply for who she was. He never asked her for a potion, no favors, all he wanted was her company, to listen to her talk, and admire her beauty. Amaya was absolutely smitten, and she didn’t want to ever let go of this feeling. The girl felt like she finally found her happily ever after...

But we all know that’s not how her story ends. For that ever after was taken away from her...

There was another girl in the village who also loved Adonis, her name was Harmona. The girl grew jealous, so one day she asked Amaya for a love potion, and Amaya, so naive, made her one with no reservations, after all Harmona was her friend, so she trusted that the potion would be used wisely.

She couldn't have predicted what her "friend" did next.

One day, when she was picking some flowers to her love... She found him and the girl sharing a tender kiss. Amaya could only watch, frozen in her grief and heartbreak, as the girl smiled maliciously at her and handed to Amaya an empty flask of love potion...

Amaya tried to hold her once lover by his arm, begging him to resist the spell... But Adonis didn't even turn to look at her... She was sobbing and he didn't listen.

He was gone.

Amaya spiraled down into depression. Completely lost in her heartbreak and misery.

Days went by with her making no potions for the people in the village. Some friends tried to give her support... But it didn't take long for some of them to ask her when would she prepare the potions they asked for.

... Amaya realized... Those "friends" didn't care about her, no one in that village ever did... Only he did... And now he's gone.

They all just wanted to use her.

The kind hearted girl was gone, her heart turned into stone. She vowed to never let anyone else take advantage of her ever again, and she would make them all feel the same pain that she was feeling, if not worse.

It was the day of the harvest-festival, a day to celebrate the goddess Demeter and share their plentiful crops and fruits, the people joyfully gathered to feast... And then, it began.

The curses.

Some people started aging rapidly, others became depressed, some lost their sanity, their memories and even their sight, but most were turned into animals.

Any other curse you can imagine was casted upon them.

Amaya had poisoned the crops with the most wicked potions she could find in those scrolls. She couldn't stop laughing watching the chaos unfold around her.

"What's the matter?! I thought you all wanted more of my potions!"

The few villagers that managed to resist the curses tried to capture her, but Amaya had already planned everything for her escape. She prepared a boat and left it ashore with food and water, she'd sail off far away from Athens, leave everything she ever knew behind.

Amaya managed to escape. All she could hear as she sailed away were the screams of the people she once called friends, neighbors and even family, all of them calling her:

A witch.

Part 2- The King and The Prince

After months of travel, only stopping by in a few islands to rest, and then sail off farther and farther away, Amaya eventually got lost at sea, and she was caught by a storm that sent her off her course. She was passed out on the boat when she was found... By a fishing boat, with a flag that had a Rose insignia.

When she woke up, she was laying on the most comfortable bed she ever felt... She looked around and realized she was in a lavish room, that could only be fit for a castle.

"Ah, veo que finalmente te despertaste!" A young and cheerful voice said from next to her, speaking in a language she didn't understand.

The girl got startled, and she quickly turned to the sight of a young man wearing royal attire. His hair was shoulder length and black as ebony, his skin white as snow, and his smile was friendly and innocent. The young man was sitting next to the bed on a comfortable chair while reading a book.

He looked sorry for scaring her and seemed to apologize, but Amaya still couldn't understand him

"No entiendes ni una palabra de lo que digo, ¿verdad? Espera, sé qué hacer" He starts to move his hands, and Amaya's eyes widen in shock as she sees blue magic flowing from his fingertips, he looks at her reassuringly that there's nothing to fear before snapping his fingers, making the magic go straight to Amaya's heart and enchant her.

She doesn't feel anything different, until he speaks again.

"There, that should do it!" The sorcerer said joyfully "Now, let's try this again-"

The young man introduced himself as King Florian of Rosas.

The king explained to Amaya that his men found her adrift at sea, and he requested she'd be brought to the castle immediately so he could be of assistance. He told her he was a sorcerer, a wish granting sorcerer, and it was his sworn duty to make sure all the people in his kingdom had their wish granted... That is, unless they felt like they could grant their wish by themselves, which the young king greatly encouraged too.

Amaya thought it was quite odd for a king to be so... Young.

He was younger than her. He was 19, and she was 24. She asked if he had lost his parents too soon or something. The king explained that no, he just so happens to be the heir that was more... Qualified for the job... Florian realized he accidentally spoke too much and asked her to keep that between them, his older brother wouldn't like other people knowing about that.

"Anyway! Enough about me, I’m sure your story is way more interesting, right? Please, do tell! What got you on that boat? Where do you come from?" The king asks curious, crossing his legs and leaning closer to her, excited to hear all the details.

The girl knows very well that she can't tell this king anything about her past... So, she pulls an innocent girl act, which comes naturally to her as not long ago she was an innocent girl herself

"I... I rather not speak about it, your majesty... It's all far too painful to even put into words" Her voice cracks and she looks at him like she's about to cry.

The king's eyes are full of pity "That's alright, all that matters is that you're safe now, far from whatever you had to run away from. You may tell me what that was when you're ready." He comforts her, talking quite maturely for his age.

Amaya gives him a gentle smile, this king is quite adorable... And gullible. If she plays her cards right, and manages to brew some love potion... She just might become the queen of this land.

"You're so kind, your majesty. How may I ever repay you?" She asked giving him an alluring look that could put a siren to shame.

"Oh perish the thought! You have nothing to repay haha I'm just making sure you feel welcomed here in Rosas!" He says gleefully, completely missing that Amaya tried to flirt with him, to her disappointment "Which reminds me, we must get you settled here in the kingdom at once, I can give you a tour an-"

Then, they heard a voice coming from outside of the room, shouting with rage:

"FLORIAN! Now where's that little- How many times must I tell you to NOT get near my half of the study?! I found one of your books in there! DID YOU LOOK THROUGH MY THINGS?!"

The girl was surprised by the yelling, and ponders who'd dare to speak with the king of the nation like that.

The young king just gave her an embarrassed smile and said

"Heh heh please forgive my brother, he has... Uh... A bit of a temper sometimes."

A tall man with dark brown hair wearing royal clothes just like Florian's barged through the door

"There you are! Now explain wh-" The man stops when he sees Amaya laying on the bed.

... Amaya eyes widen when she sees the handsome man at the door... Her heart skips a beat… She felt something... Something she didn't feel in quite a while... But somehow, it was even more intense this time.

The two stare at each other mouth agape for a moment with Florian sitting between them looking side to side awkwardly, so he breaks the silence:

"... *Ahem* Amaya, this is my older brother, Prince Magnus. Magnus, this is Amaya, the girl found by the fisherman that I told you about this morning... Or did you forget?" Florian asks with an eyebrow raised, already used to his brother not listening to him most of the time.

Magnus blinks a few times like he just snapped out of a trance, his previous anger vanished completely and is replaced by an almost shy smile as he bows respectfully to her "It indeed slipped my mind that we'd be in the company of a guest today, so pleased to make your acquaintance."

Florian looks surprised with how polite his brother was, usually he'd just find an excuse to leave the room whenever there were people visiting the castle... He turns to Amaya and sees how she was blushing, her eyes sparkled while she stared at his brother.

... Oh... Florian smiles widely knowing just what to do.

"SAY! Amaya, I just realized, I haven't asked for your wish yet!" The young king says excitedly

"... My wish?" She turns to the king, also snapping out of her love struck trance "Is- Is giving you my wish a requirement to live here?" she asks concerned, knowing that if the king takes a look into her now tainted heart’s truest desires he might get suspicious of her.

"Oooh no! Hahah of course not, it's your own decision. But I have a gut feeling you know just what it is, so I might as well grant it, right?" Florian discreetly gives his brother a wink like he's doing his big brother a huge favor

Said big brother has no clue what that wink was about, so he just looks very confused.

Amaya thinks... She wants to get this king to fall in love with her... But then again, his brother is way more gorgeous, maybe she cou-NO, nononono no she couldn't! She couldn't let herself fall in love again, besides, marrying his brother wouldn't make her a queen... Unless she killed Florian... WHICH WOULD BE AN UNNECESSARY RISK!- NO she had to listen to her head! She had to think what would be the easiest way to get closer to the king and give him a love potion?... Working in the palace.

"I don't think your magic will be required to grant my wish, your highness. All I wish is to show my gratitude for your hospitality, perhaps if I could... Offer my services here in the castle-"

"Done. What can you do?" Florian accepts in a heartbeat.

Amaya is surprised by how quickly he accepted, she thought she'd have to convince him a bit, but okay, she rolls with it "Oh- well, I can... I can..." She thinks for a moment, she really doesn't want to return to those chores she had in her past life, of cleaning and cooking... Would he grow skeptical if she told him she was a potion maker?... He was naive, so maybe "I can brew potions." She says casually.

The two brothers both raise their eyebrows at that, Florian asks in shock "As in... MAGIC potions?"

Amaya realizes she may just have blown her chances, but she continues "Y-yes, but-"

"THAT'S PERFECT!" Florian jumps from the chair, absolutely ecstatic "Potion making was never one of my strengths! It's decided, you shall be my royal alchemist!" He announces enthusiastically, Amaya smiles at that, successfully getting just what she wanted "Did you hear that broth-" Florian turns to where Magnus was standing, but he's no longer there "... Aaaaand he's gone... *sigh*" Florian looks rather disappointed and then turns to Amaya "He always been more of an introvert, ya know? Hehe"

Amaya smiles at the young king, masking her true intentions with the same kindhearted expression she always had before her heart was broken. Now, all she had to do was bind her time, and soon, she’d go from a witch to a queen.

Part 3- In The Woods

Amaya was welcomed to stay in the palace until a new house was prepared just for her, sure, she could stay lodged at some family's house, but Florian insisted for her to stay in the castle in the mean time, she could sleep in the guest room on the west wing of the castle. How could she refuse? It was like the king wanted to make this easier for her.

Days went by, and she'd do everything to gain even more of Florian's trust... Not like that was hard, all she did was stay hours listening to him blabbering about the history of their kingdom, how important wishes are, how much he cared for his people and other stuff that Amaya had to try her hardest not to roll her eyes over.

... Oh, and his older brother was there too, but he mostly stayed silent in the background, only throwing some sarcastic remarks here and there during Florian's enthusiastic speeches, some that even got a chuckle out of Amaya.

He'd often observe Amaya very closely and attentively while she made her potions... She started to wonder if maybe he was on to her plans, after all, he seemed way less naive than his brother... Well, she could deal with him if he ever got in her way, though it would be such a waste to kill his pretty face she wouldn't let anyone get in her way.

After enough time had passed... Amaya started to put her plan into motion.

All she needed was the ingredients to make her love potion. She went into the woods to gather the last ingredients she required.

Amaya was humming sweetly as she gathered some herbs... But she wasn't alone thought, as she hears a voice coming from behind a tree

"Not that I think someone who traveled such a long distance as you did is helpless but..." The charming voice startled Amaya, she turns to the tree and sees Prince Magnus reveal himself, walking from behind it holding a rose "A maiden such as yourself shouldn't be walking all alone in the woods, care for some company?"

"Oh! Prince Magnus, what a surprise!" Amaya says innocently with a smile, hiding that internally she's wondering why would he follow her? Florian mentioned once how his brother never leaves the palace... He's definitely suspicious of her, so she keeps her little act "Of course! I'd be delighted hihihi" She giggles

"I'm glad to hear that, but please, do me a kindness and cut the act." He says it dryly with a knowing smug.

Amaya eyes widen at that, her face turns worried, but she quickly makes it so it looks like she's hurt by the king's comment and not that she just got caught

"Act? W-what do you mean by that, your majesty?" Her voice is filled with confusion

"Heh heh Oh please, you may have fooled my little brother, but you don't fool me... I know what you are." (🏳️‍🌈?) He keeps a distance from her while walking around the trees with his hands behind his back, his tone is casual like this is just some small talk.

Amaya is calculating her next moves in her head, maybe he's bluffing to get a confession out of her "What do you think I am?" she asks, genuinely curious to hear the answer, as she knows there's no way he knows the whole truth

"Weeeeeell allow me to share some deductions" He leans on a tree while looking at the rose on his hand, and starts to explain his thought process "When you arrived here, I noticed you were wearing a chiton, a garment commonly worn in Greece. Which is faaaar away from Rosas. So you made quite the voyage all on your own, as if you were running away from something." He gives her a look like he's very impressed, then he continues "One may think "Oh the poor thing, she must have been desperate to run far far away from some horrible people"... But I believe that, most often than not, the ones seen as wicked are the ones who run away the farthest."

Amaya feels a sweat run down her forehead "Your highness, do you think I'm a bad person?" She sounds heartbroken and places a hand on her chest

"I didn't say that." He smirks at her, still leaning on a tree "I said "SEEN as wicked" heheh but anyway, you're well versed in potion brewing, a talent that isn't exactly frowned upon there, I mean, followers of Circe and Hecate are all about it." Magnus wasn't as much of a bookworm as his brother, but he knew a thing or two about Greek Mythology, after all a king must know about not only their kingdom's culture but also all cultures that may visit the kingdom... Even though he never got to be king "However, it would be very frowned upon if... Used with ill intentions." He starts walking towards her now.

"I- I would never do such a thing! You got it all wrong!" She exclaims, trying her hardest to think of some sob story she can tell him to explain what made her leave her home "I'm- Uh- I just don't want to talk about-"

"My dear, please, I believe you're the one who got this all wrong" He holds her hand gently and kisses it "I just wish to know the real you." His blue eyes gaze at her passionately.

Amaya finally realizes... He's in love with her as well. And like she has been suspecting for a while now, he's not good intentioned like his brother, no, he wants the crown too...

And he wants to USE her to get it, just like they used her in the past.

Amaya finally does drop the act, her face goes cold and irritated as she pulls her hand away from his hold.

"Was that's really all it took for you to figure it out? My dress and the fact I make potions?" She asks, looking at him with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

Magnus actually looks pleased to see her in a different light.

"Actually, what really gave it away was you not giving your wish to my brother, all you wanted was to "work in the palace", pffft yeah right, once I heard that I knew... You want the crown... And so do I." He smiles devilish with that notion "So, since we both desire the same thing, I thou-"

"You want me to kill your brother so you'll be king, and then we get married, correct?" She interrupts him sharply, her eyes narrowed.

"That's right." He confirms with a grin "Now, I know it sounds sordid, but-"

"No." She cuts him off once again and just walks off into the woods to get her ingredients.

Magnus is surprised by that, quickly walking after her "W-why not? You'd get what you want, and you'd marry someone who actually understands you!"

The woman just laughs at that as she walks away from him "HAH! Understands me? You don't even know me!" She starts walking faster deeper into the forest

Magnus has a harder time to moving around, as he hasn't stepped foot in the forest since he was a boy, his mother used to take him there to have picnics.

(Shocker: Magnifico was a mamas boy)

"But I did just read you like an open book, did I not?" He asks confidently while trying to catch up to her "Come on, you feel it too, don't you? We are meant to be! And doesn't this sound like quite the fairytale? A bitter prince and a spellbinding witch-"

Amaya stops on her tracks when she hears that last word... Oh, she's gonna give this prince something worse than the slap in the face he deserves.

"WELL! Since we're reading each other like open books now, I suppose it's my turn." She turns to him with fire in her eyes, Magnus realizes he might've made the wrong choice of words as he locks his mouth shut "For you see "Your highness" I happen to also know EXACTLY what you are: A fraud." His eyes widen and he scrunches his eyebrows at that comment, Amaya smiles now that she finally got a reaction out of him "That's right, I noticed how your brother's hands always sparkle when he uses magic, while yours don't. And the very few times you did use magic to levitate a book or open a door, King Florian was conveniently hiding away, once even behind the thin curtains, from where I could SEE he was the one using magic, just helping create the illusion that it was YOU!" Magnifico cursed his brother internally for his incompetence, even though that was Florian's idea in the first place. "So once again, my answer is NO, I won't help you with your little regicide, just so you can get the crown that "daddy dearest" promised you when you were a little brat. I know your type, you'll throw me away as soon as the deed is done and I'm no longer of use to you!" She says that furious like she's trying to remind herself that this will happen if she follows her heart again.

Magnus looks shocked, no one has ever talked with him with such anger before... But he senses there's something more than anger in there. There is pain.

She was hurt before.

Amaya turns around, thinking maybe now the prince will get the message, but she's stopped by his voice

"Amaya, wait." He didn't call her by her name before... And hearing it come from him made her heart skip a beat for a moment, she's not facing him but she can hear his voice approaching "... Was your heart broken?" His voice is of genuine worry, no hint of malice or second intentions, because for once there are none.

Amaya feels her heart tighten with the question, she looks down as memories of what she once had start flooding back. "... That's none of your business" she says harshly, trying to mask her sadness.

"Alright... But I just need you to know, I would NEVER make you suffer. When I look at you, I don't see a peon to be used, I see the queen I've always dreamed of having by my side, to protect forever." He speaks gently and tries to hold her hand... And Amaya lets him, feeling her heart flutter with every word "... I understand what I propose is a great risk, for both of us... But I have a plan, and if- WHEN we succeed and rule over this land, I promise you, I'll give you the whole world and more!" He declares to her, probably the most honest words he has spoken in years.

Amaya takes in what he just said... There's more passion in his words than anything Adonis ever said to her... And most importantly, he makes her feel loved, for who she is.

Magnus sees her sad expression change into a comfortable smile, he looks at her in the eyes and offers her the rose he had brought with him "So, what do you say, my queen?"

Amaya looks at the rose... She does raise her hand to hold it but she stops herself... Who's to say he's being honest?

She looks at him intrigued "And why should I trust you?... Or rather, why should you trust me?" She inverts the question with a malicious smile now, and threatens him, just to see his reaction "Perhaps, once you're my little husband I might just put some poison in your tea.”

Magnus actually finds the threat quite enticing, and just tries to use it as a way to flirt... Somewhat. "Well, if you were my wife, I'd drink it." He says with a seductive voice.

Amaya's smile drops into a dumbfounded stare, as she doesn't understand what he means by that.

... Magnus realizes what he just said, his confidence vanishes and he awkwardly tries to explain what he meant by that "W-wait no!- I- I don't mean I'd want to DIE if we were married! Hahah- I uh I meant to say that IF you wanted me dead I'd gladly die for you! You know??? Is that cheesy???" He kept trampling over his words trying to explain himself.

Amaya looks at him nervously stutter away, blabbering about how he'd devotedly die for her... She smiles, and even giggles a little, amused by his sudden flustered state. Her eyes sparkle with fondness for the prince as she sighs. She knows now that she can trust him, he's not pretending to love her... And she's done pretending that she doesn't feel the same.

She grabs him by the collar of his royal vest "Shut up and kiss me, you fool."

She kissed him. The man's eyes widen for a moment in surprise but then he melts into her kiss like his bones are now made of jelly.

Once they break the kiss, Amaya looks at him wickedly and grabs the rose from his hand, feeling it's sent before she asks "So... You mentioned you had a plan?"

Magnus recovers from the kiss, and begins to smile just as deviously as they both gaze upon eachother’s eyes.

And 1 year later, they put their plan into motion...

But that's a story for another time.

(And that story is here, here’s how they killed him)

Final Thoughts

MAN! THIS TOOK LONGER THAN I THOUGHT!

Okayyyy so that was Amaya's long awaited backstory! And boy did it go through changes over time, I'm actually glad I took this long to share it because I had time to perfect it.

See, for a long time, Amaya's tale began in a typical fairytale setting, a provincial village like the one Belle lived, however, as I developed her design with @uva124 I realized it made a lot of sense to make her greek, because her story reflects Megara's, a young girl that wants to have nothing to do with love because her heart has been broken before. And her cursing a whole village after her boyfriend broke up with her? That's some vengeful greek goddess attitude, she actually reminds me a lot of Medea, look it up.

But speaking figures from greek mythology, the name Adonis for her ex wasn't random, see, initially I was just gonna make it a disney reference, so I looked up "Megara's ex" to see if he had a name, and sure enough, he does! He appeared in the Hercules TV show, and his name was Adonis. I decided to look up who is Adonis in greek mythology... And what I found could not have been more perfect:

"In Greek mythology, Adonis was the mortal lover of the goddesses Aphrodite and Persephone. Later, the two goddesses began to compete for the boy's company, and had to submit to Zeus' sentence. He stipulated that he would spend a third of the year with each of them, but Adonis, who preferred Aphrodite, also spent the remaining third with her. This myth gives rise to the idea of ​​the annual vegetation cycle, with the seed remaining underground for four months."

... Do you see it??? Adonis got them girls FIGHTING!!! Zeus had to intervene!

Anyway, this mirrors my story so perfectly its hilarious. With Amaya being Persephone, who later married Hades, who happens to be a big inspiration on Magnifico's character (The Disney Hades I mean) it's like it was written in the stars.

Then there's Harmona, the girl who stole Adonis, her name is to reference "Harmony", the daughter of Aphrodite and Ares. And Harmona just sounds like a evil name to me, so it fits.

About Amaya herself though, I love this woman so much, girl really cursed a whole population and then dipped out into the ocean like freakin Moana. Then as soon as she got rescued by a king she was like "Oh I can pull a gold digger scheme here" Like girl is not playing, she's done being a disney princess she wants power, I respect that.

And Florian, this lil OC that I love so much. Poor guy was Magnifico x Amaya (Magaya?) first shipper, all he wanted was to be a good wing man for his big bro, and that got him killed. Tragic.

But in all seriousness, Florian is such an interesting character for me to write, cause in a way, he's a mix of Asha and Aster. He has Asha's ideals of people being allowed to grant their own wishes, which was something that he encouraged people to do, and also Aster's cheerfulness and innocence.

Also he's straight up male Snow White, not just in how he looks but also personality wise... And cause of death wise.

Now, I mentioned a LOOOONG time ago how Asha kinda mirrors Amaya, and how Magnifico kinda mirrors Aster.

Well, now I can finally show what I meant. Asha and Amaya wished for the same thing, to fit in, and to make other's happy.

Amaya in chapter 5 is the one who suggests how they should change Asha's wish, almost like she's eager to destroy it, because it reminds her of herself, she sees a younger version of herself in Asha. She wants Asha to go through the same pain she went through, of facing the reality that in the end, trying to please others in order to fit in is pointless, no matter how many people are around you, you're still all alone.

The word "Alone" is kind of a theme with Amaya in the rewrite

When Amaya confronts Asha in the plaza, she says "But you miscalculated, my dear, for we are mighty, and you? You are all alo-"

Then right before she says the word Aster pushes her away from Asha.

Then near the finale, Amaya is about to strike Asha withe a sword, and she says

"I'm afraid this is where your story ends, with you... All alone"

Then Dahlia kicks her like "SHUT UP WITCH!"

So point is, Asha was never alone, even if Amaya really wanted to make her feel that way, the same way she felt alone all those years ago.

Thing is that maybe Amaya wasn't even alone for real, she's an un-reliable narrator there, not because she's lying but because her mind was so distressed that she THOUGHT her friends didn't care about her, but that was paranoia. Asha did have a whole kingdom thinking she was a weirdo, but she still kept her head high and cherished her friends, that's what makes her different from Amaya.

About Aster and Magnifico though, it's way more simple, as they're both more simple characters when it comes to their backstories honestly.

Aster wanted to prove himself to be just as good as the other stars, but wanted to do things his way, he did, and he got his happy ending because of that

Magnifico wanted to prove himself to be just as good as the kings that came before him, but he wanted to do things his way, by not granting wishes and not learning magic because it was too hard for him... And he didn't get his happy ending because of that, he got replaced by his little brother.

So basically, what differentiates Aster and Magnifico, how the world around them reacted to their actions, and how they reacted to the world.

How a character deals with trauma is what differentiates them from a hero to a villain.

Let's see... Anything elseeee... Oh yeah, the way that Amaya held Adonis arm and cried for him to look at her is a parallel to Amaya and Magnifico's pose when they're turning into statues, she re-lived that exact moment again, with the man that promised to "Never make her suffer". And Aster makes a comment to Magnifico about how "Then you don't love her, all you want is to use her" and that REALLY stings on Mag exactly because he promised to never use her.

So you see, this whole story re-contextualizes a whole lot of stuff in the rewrite... Or not, maybe I'm just losing my mind, anyway, see you guys next time, my job is far from over with these characters! But I'll try to do something Asha x Aster related now because this was A LOT of villain couple for my system.

Thank You For Reading!

[mysteryanimator]

I love your animations, but I'm still struggling to view them without thinking about their last canon interaction. Can you tell me what you envision their makeup would be like?

(Lol I’m so sorry to all the ppl who work on Nocturne reading this 💀 and just generally everyone)

Thank you so much that means a lot! But now, you’ve unveiled my trap card and given me an excuse to write my thoughts on Mizrak and Olrox, so this will get pretty long. Also, this may end up being very subjective/personal taste in some parts so I hope everyone doesn’t mind (and hope you don't mind the funky grammar!) This is an open discussion too, I’d like to hear everyone’s thoughts! 

Now with that out of the way here we go!

(This is old unfinished storyboards for a previous iteration of their makeup scene I did back in jan, never finished them due to uni/another project, I'd like to someday tho because guh the themes.)

Now first of all, I’d like to think that a proper makeup/conversation wouldn’t happen for a bit and would be drawn out because they’re both still hurt, angry, sad, and confused at not only each other but themselves. They’re not the type to get into loud verbal arguments for this, definitely some verbal jabs at each other though. Mean petty comments, oh absolutely. I’d like to personally believe they’d still yearn for each other, perhaps even more so after Olrox indirectly confessed and Mizrak practically turned it down. 

Now, there are soooo many different ways that they’d even see each other again, many different ways it could come to that initial point where they’ve made up. Though I’ll go with one of my personal idea (which people keep egging me on to animate WHICH… I dunno I don’t have free time rn so I’m just blurting it out into written format while I can 😭 I want to though, maybe later in the year for fun if season 2 doesn’t beat me to it). 

Have to establish my vision, but I’d think that Richter, Maria, Annette, Alucard and Mizrak are hopping from abandoned town to abandoned town due to the inability to return to Macheoul for the time being. While Olrox has been on his own (doing what, I’m not even sure my personal headcanon for this.) I think Alucard and Mizrak have a conversation about Alucard’s past in a group setting and it strikes a chord with the monk- since after all, Alucard’s dad is THE Dracula, and his mother (bless her, I miss her) is human. You know how that whole backstory goes, and it parallels Olrox a lot. Also Mizrak and Annette will absolutely have a deep conversation too. Just solely from the comment that was made: 

“We’re all descended from gods, we just have to learn how to draw their power.” Nocturne s1 ep 2

Annette clearly having powers from Haitian gods, absolutely challenging how Mizrak was only certain of one God. Yes, Mizrak is extremely stubborn and it will take him a bit, but he’s different from the Abott in the sense that he will not let religion blind his path to good. He ‘uses his head’ as said before, not god, not the church- his head. Mizrak’s idea of the church and his faith is now a mess and it’s up to him on how he interprets it and rewrites it knowing what he knows now (this is important I swear when it comes to the makeup scene).

Now we’re at the actual scene at hand: Olrox and Mizrak making up.

Side note: oh god I’m practically writing this whole thing as if its going to be played out for an episode, but that’s how it works in my brain LOL but you asked so you shall receive. I am so sorry HAHA

There’s been a lot of build up from this point where they have been meeting up here and there by themselves, but you can clearly tell whenever they do they both hurt and yearn- which would lead to their proper makeup scene. I’m just inserting this for fun, but I’d imagine this would take place in an abandoned church in the town they’re camping in for the night. For a lot of symbolic reasons; devotion, sacrifice, forgiveness, gathering. This along with the simple fact, Mizrak’s relationship to the church has changed completely from here. I’d like to think that even when he’s trying to rekindle that connection with God, it leaves that icky overcoat on his skin. 

“Faith is a company in the hardest of times, when the world abandons you.” Nocturne ep 3

The church indeed had saved him from whatever terrible horrific thing happened to him in the past, however whatever saved him can still be horrible and terrible too. It is infallible.  It is cruel in an attempt to gather community and peace. So, yes- faith can be company when the world abandoned him, but his faith is no longer with the church. He’s taking it back and finding some place else to rest it. (Olrox, it’s Olrox, probably ooc but I’m making it Olrox). 

In this church, the conversation between them will initially start as a discussion about religion, faith and that whole sort of deal. It’ll open up about Mizrak exact struggles from his mouth and how he particularly feels about it, then we get more insight onto Olrox’s thoughts, his perception of the church and perhaps even a deep dive into Aztec history again. Maybe even talk about Olrox’s Quetzalcoatl form, though really this is self indulgent. It’s an aspect I’d absolutely love to be explored and I think it being discussed in revere in a Catholic Church,  with Mizrak actually being open to it due to his new perspective? Oh my god, sign me up. Regardless, it would hold similar energy to episode 6: Gulity Men to be Judged. There’s a weight to it. 

Then it gets heavier when the conversation pivots.  

Mizrak’s attachment in the church was due to him caring about people and, hypothetically, to save him from whatever detriment came for him in the past. The last canon interaction, their falling out they had in season 1 was because he cared about others. To a fault. Now, here he is, standing in front of someone he cares about. It’s going to open a conversation between what’s happening between them and finally properly discuss what happened from their last canon interaction in nocturne season 1. 

A lot of finger and hand brushing from Olrox, which at first I’d think gets no reaction as an attempt for restraint before Mizrak warms up to it and even reciprocates by doing the same thing. All of this is very gentle in my opinion. It’s slow, tender, and most importantly vulnerable. It has the physical contact reminiscent of their first fast rough and tug in the courtyard and piggybacks off the vulnerability they both have when they both stand next to the window in episode 6. They probably also just physically get closer to each other at the moment. Just gradually though. The distance gets closer and closer until their foreheads are practically touching without them realizing it. They’re comfortable though, they don’t want to leave. 

They absolutely get to a point where they both admit to saying “I love you” without straight up saying “I love you” because that’s just a very them thing. Or maybe they do straight up state because Olrox does admit he was in love (with his partner) and doesn’t shy from that fact. It’s a nice conversion of the trope and great to hear from a mlm couple to say I love you… but man do I do love when characters get all poetic-y when their profess their devotion to each other by literally talking in prose, so maybe with good writing both can be done and still be quite powerful but still be gentle. 

In my interpretation YEAH I’LL MAKE THEM KISS AFTER THIS, this is my vision after all. Also, yeah they’re gonna fuck. In the church? Perhaps. Is it a tad OOC, maybe. HOWEVER, consider imagery and symbolism. I just think the image of it would be great, even if it was censored to hell and back, it can be so artistically done. Just imagine the implication alone with me for a second. I think the whole concept of doing it in a church is an interesting build upon the quotes from the show;

“God is not here. This church is an empty box.” From the first Castlevania series.

“House of God? This place is just a heap of bricks and stone.” From Nocturne said by Maria. 

The church is a husk, especially having it abandoned- it’s rather what you do with that box that makes all the difference. The people inside are the driving force, so I think it’s both poetic and funny to have Mizrak and Olrox fucking in an abandoned church. Surface level: fuck you god I’m fucking my hot vampire boyfriend in your house. Deeper level: I could write a whole thing on this but I’ll refrain. You can get the gist of breaking free of restraint, and devotion and letting himself be human, rather than a soldier (which he already slowly does). 

Though also this sex scene isn’t necessary, I just like exploring explicit content in artistic ways, especially if I can throw in religious symbols and heighten that hunger/devotion to a person- but the “I love you” in the church is pretty powerful already.  

Then after all of this they take it at their own pace. However, they only live life once and continue together like that- they both know this concept very well because of the very nature of who they are, so they spend it in each other’s company. 

Now you also get the squad’s reactions, well namely because I do not think this would be an easily hidden thing. Like absolutely could get away with it in season 1, but everyone will know something is up for sure in my iteration. The 'hypothetical' Mystery Animator season 2 iteration. As subtle as their longing stares and quiet hand touches may be reserved for just them- those little interactions are loud.

Richter would absolutely be in shambles over Olrox, the killer of his mother, and Mizrak being a thing. Both in a “this is the most horrible thing that’s happened in my life” and also a he’s going to be an absolute shithead to Mizrak and make fun of him, lightheartedly of course. Alucard would absolutely have an interesting perspective because again, his parents. Maria already has disdain for the church plus the “vampires are evil… and evil has to be fought.” However, in the presence of Alucard, I think a lot will change because he’s half-vampire. Annette, I’m unsure of what her reaction would be, because I’m very sure she’d be receptive to Alucard being a vampire and then would appreciate Olrox’s mindset and values. However, gonna keep hammering, Olrox killed Julia Belmont which I feel will be comedically hammered in if Olrox decides to hang around the squad occasionally. 

And with that, we’re done! (I think)

Thank you for reading 🫶 this probably will not happen in cv s2 but it’s fun blurting out my hc. I’m really excited to see what they do, and even perhaps even go in the opposite direction due to episode limitations… maybe a season 3 👀 who knows.

[eiilese]

Love the designs and descriptions you did for the straw hats!! I do want to ask, since they all have different roles and skills do they meet the crew at different points in the story? Like, since Robin is the shipwright would she have met the crew at Water 7 or would it still be Alabasta but under different circumstances? Since she’s not an archeologist she wouldn’t have been raised on O’Hara, right?

Just curious to see what your thoughts are😊 - thanks.

thank you so much for the ask!! sorry this took so long to answer it took awhile to gather my ideas. i’m so happy with how well this au thing was received ;u; TY to people who left tags and replies!! i read everything 🫶

here is the original post for role swap! this post has explanations for backstories! i really did try to have drawings to go with everything but i burned out as this month went on so not every character has doodles :(

—

i kept everything mostly the same in terms of when the strawhats meet each person. i didn’t want to change too much to avoid changing important character moments that happen in canon

this isn’t a super heavy rewrite, there’s a lot of backstory to juggle and i’m not equipped to write such an in-depth au rn 😭 but i might make separate posts for arcs like water 7 or wci!! though i kept a lot of backstory the same theres a lot of rewrite potential for those sagas

i hope these are fun to read about nonetheless ^_^ i included some stuff from @flute-of-pan pan and @onethousandsunnies because they left tags on the original post that were cool ideas

nami, vice capt.

not much changes!! instead of forcing her to chart maps, arlong might just have her around as a servant girl. regardless, the deal to buy back cocoyashi village still stands and nami works hard for it

generally i think her selflessness and loyalty to her village makes her fit to be a vice captain. she looks out for people at her own detriment and was willing to take the fall for such much ahhh

in my opinion she’s good vice captain material!! perhaps a cowardly one but still reliable. also a good treasurer for the crew as always

zoro, cook

zoro grew up training to be a swordsman and competes against kuina, but he also has a knack for cooking as a hobby. he’s mostly the same but sanji’s “stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean with zeff” happens to him instead (flute-of-pan suggested the cook always suffers the fate of starvation)

kuina decides to run away and zoro is roped into her plans. it goes wrong and they get stranded on a rock, eventually arguing and ending up on opposite sides of the rock with the little food they brought

zoro finds out kuina gave him everything they had soon after she stops replying to him. he’s rescued thanks to kuina’s dad, who tracked them down with vivre cards. kuina’s had long since burned up

similar to canon, zoro continues striving to become the world’s strongest after her death. i think this backstory coupled with him eating those stomped riceballs at the very beginning of the story is so….(GESTURE) it’s very reminiscent of sanji’s no-waste-policy which he would absolutely also have

sanji, sniper

germa 66 has a mafia aesthetic now 👍i only have the willpower to draw reiju here she ended up kind of cluttered but i like my vision

sanji’s backstory is mostly the same: he and his siblings are genetically modified to be the perfect soldiers, but he had a kind nature that made him the target of abuse. after reiju helps him escape, he ends up with zeff and worked as a janitor. zeff loses his leg while trying to save sanji in a maritime accident; though they don’t get stranded anywhere, sanji has to be indebted to him somehow

when the baratie is opened, he works as a busser/guard against unruly guests. flute-of-pan mentioned that he could fire the canons of the ship

when the strawhats meet him on the baratie, sanji still gives don krieg’s crew food. i don’t think his kindness around that would disappear just bc he doesn’t have a whole starving incident

usopp, navigator

on top of bluffing about being the leader of a huge pirate army, he would create fake maps and brag to everyone in syrup village (especially kaya) about these places he so evidently visited. kaya loved his drawings even if the places weren’t real

his dream is to create a Real map of the whole world, not a fake map that he makes up out of stories. drafting the real world makes him a brave explorer of the seas, which he also wants to become :)

when the strawhats meet him, they were basically relying on nami’s limited sailing skills to get around. not only do they get the going merry but they have a real, reliable navigator now! AND he’s multitalented B)

chopper, helmsman

from a young age he set his sights on sailing the seas to escape from the isolation he faced on drum island. he would routinely make little boats for himself to escape the island on, failing each time, and hiriluk would always nurse him back to health

instead of studying to be a doctor, chopper has a general desire to be helpful and acted as an assistant to hiriluk’s medical endeavors

both flute-of-pan and onethousandsunnies pitched that chopper studied stuff like ocean currents!! overall he studied the ocean real hard but would never leave the island without hiriluk

hiriluk’s death would glue him to doctor kureha’s side and it isn’t until the strawhats come that he has the courage to embark on a new journey

franky, muscian

bro grew up running around water 7 trying to get people to join his band. tom and iceberg are still his family. his shipbuilding skills don’t go past an amateur level in this au. he would develop a line of dinky guitars (or instruments in general) that also had lasers/canons/confetti in them. his dream is A FRANKY WORLD TOUR 🤞FREE ADMISSION

many of his weaponized instruments littered the shipyard, spandam uses them in his attack

after the whole tom/spandam situation unfolds, iceberg is the one to find and reconstruct franky into a cyborg after getting run over by the sea train. but he won’t implement piano key abs no matter how much franky asks 🙄

the newly formed franky family protect the city and throw unsolicited concerts in the middle of the street B)

robin, shipwright

though she’s not an archeologist, she still grew up on ohara! instead of archeology, she’s a gifted engineer. her devil fruit made her an outcast and her strange, misunderstood inventions did not help her case

when jaguar d saul gets stranded on ohara, robin constructs the raft for him :) the buster call unfolds the same as canon except this time, everyone’s actually not lying when they say robin can’t read poneglyphs! she never learned!! again flute-of-pan had the cool idea that she is wrongly accused. still, she’s pursued and branded as a devil child

she ends up with crocodile, who believes she can read poneglyphs. she takes advantage of this and earns his protection from the government but her ruse is uncovered when she lies to croc about what alabasta’s poneglyph says (girl cannot read that!)

robin dreams of creating a ship that can carry her and the friends she wishes to have. after meeting robin in alabasta she joins the strawhats!!

brook, doctor

he was the doctor of the rumbar pirates. an injured laboon came to like brook after he nursed him back to health!! when yorki became sick from disease brook tried his hardest to cure him, but failed :(

he was doomed to watch his crewmates die to poison that he cannot hope to cure because he himself was also dying. when he came back thru his fruit it was already too late :( the rumbar pirates Do record a song for laboon though this event cannot be edited 🤞

met in thriller bark; ik that’s a long ass time to go without a real doctor on board

by the time they meet brook everyone’s already so battered that he has to go to town on them with gauze and stitches. the company delights him ^_^

jinbei, archeologist

i mentioned this in the first post abt this au but his interest in history sparked thanks to the history of joyboy and fishman island being so intertwined. at some point in his youth, jinbei frequently visited ohara (prior to the buster call) and grew a strong relationship with the scholars there (i’m just assuming they wouldn’t be racists 🤪) he runs into robin a handful of times

he secretly learns how to read poneglyphs here leading up to the buster call. he wasn’t on the island when it happened so he managed to avoid robin’s fate

his story proceeds the same from there with the neptune army, joining fisher tiger, meeting koala, etc…

i enjoy the idea of getting invited to be a warlord by the government while simultaneously being one of the most wanted people in the world for knowing poneglyph secrets

—

also i’m sorry if there are things i forgot about or details that don’t make sense >—>o

the anime’s pacing has ruined my enthusiasm for awhile lol and i’ve consumed a lot of media since catching up!! everyone’s backstories/canon events aren’t too fresh in my memory but i did some researching to remedy it 🫡

[stardewstardropthoughts]

Harvey is my go to bachelor in stardew but I've been thinking...

What if you break up/divorce him and start avoiding him, but one day, you pass out in the mines (literally on the verge of death) and have to be rushed to his clinic. </3

The pure heartbreak

I'm so sorry this is written like absolute garbage because it's been so long and I genuinely might rewrite this one at some point lmao but for now I offer this 💙

Content warnings: this one's not written as well as I would like, angst, No comfort, near death, hospital stuff terribly written also, gender neutral reader, all my hospital knowledge is from grey's anatomy I'm so sorry 😂

When you almost die in the mines and Harvey has to take care of you after you broke up with him

You never gave harvey an explanation as to why you broke up with him, it was something you were dealing with on your own and you thought youd only drag him down with you so you decided to break it off with him

You had been avoiding him around town, opting to avoid your scheduled wellness checks and see a doctor in the next town, which hurt harveys feelings lowkey

He still desperately loves you, hes been blaming himself for the breakup, worried he was too clingy or too overbearing and that you felt suffocated, but you wouldnt talk to him, so he couldnt ask the questions he had

Next thing he knew it was around midnight, someone was pounding on the door to the clinic and harvey almost didnt answer, but decided it was probably important given the time and how loud they were being

Harveys immediately panicking when he sees you, looking rather lifeless in Demetrius's arms. "I found them just inside the mines like this, i dont know what happened but i thought id best bring them to you" he explained to harvey who was immediately thanking him, directing him to place you on a hospital bed

"Come on, your gonna be okay, dont die on me now sweetheart" harvey mumbles to himself as he assesses your injuries, his heart is breaking at the sight, your barely breathing, pulse slow and weak, he has to drain blood from your lungs, after many hours of work your stable, still unconscious but stable

Harvey had a whole panic attack as he sits by your bedside, he wouldnt leave you if his life deoended on it at this moment, "your going to be alright, i cant lose you again my love" he mumbles softly as he holds one of your hands gently, his eyes are puffy and red from crying

When you wake up hours later your confused and disoriented, looking around the room, your eyes land on harvey, whos looking at you nervously "you were badly injured, Demetrius carried you here" he explained softly, gently squeezing your hand "you....i know i have no right to ask you to stay out of the mines, but please, be more careful, you could have died" he manages to say through a tight knot in his throat at the thought

"Im sorry" you manage to say, though your voice is strained, harvey looks like an absolute wreck and you feel horrid "dont apologize, your alive love, thats all i could ask for" he whispers quietly as he squeezes your hand

"I...." You begin trying to explain to him why you broke up with him to begin with, but the words dont seem to want to come out of your mouth, "rest" harvey says, getting up to check your vitals and make sure your improving before leaving the room, he needs a moment to compose himself from his near continuous break down

[likedovesinthewindd]

Heeeyyy I really love your stories!! <3 can I request hobie being a runway model and reader being fashion designer for him. I been thinking about the fact he said he was briefly a runway model and I can’t get it out my head. I dunno what direction you’d want to take the story in if u wrote it but im pretty sure I’d b great! :) (sorry about the vagueness)

hi babes, thank you soo much you're so sweet:')) also so sorry this took so long!!

hobie brown x reader

warning: mention of pins/needles

wc: ±1100

a/n: don't really like how this came out might rewrite it later on. not fully proofread.

You didn't consider yourself any Westwood or McQueen just yet, but even the best had to start somewhere, right? It just so happened that your "somewhere" would be the old community hall in your neighborhood. This would be your very first fashion show, not something you took very lightly. This could make or break your almost nonexistent career, so it was important that everything was absolutely perfect.

Planning this had been an absolute pain; trying to find an affordable venue that wasn't on the verge of complete degradation, finding a way to decorate said venue accordingly, promoting and hunting for possible columnists and other industry players to invite, along with a million other things.

One of the most important aspects were models; the people who ultimately would be representing your brand. The only problem was that you didn't have money to hire any people, much less approach an agency, so you had to get creative. You had held "auditions" in your neighborhood; basically asking your friends and other people if they'd like to model for you.

You were upfront, admitting that you would not be able to pay them properly. People were reluctant at first; the idea of no compensation turning some away, but after a few days you managed to find and recruit a handful of people to help you, most of them being friends and people you knew from scool. Things were looking good, and your project was on the right tracks so far.

You were running around in your apartment-turned-studio, frantically searching for the tracing wheel you had lost once again, when you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to find a tall and lanky young man, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Heard you're looking for models," was all he said in a low deep voice and you raised your brows. "Y'know I can't pay you right?" you said, and he nodded in reply. "Long as the clothes look good I don't care," he said.

After first glance, you already knew he'd be a showstopper. He just looked perfect for a runway; you could already imagine the way your pieces would fit him. That's how you had met Hobie, how you gained a model, a muse, aswell as a friend.

✴︎.˳⁺⁎˚｡⋆

It still shocked you just how much you've managed to pull off in these few months leading up to the big event. The whole thing had been one big family-friend initiative; everyone stepping in to help where they can.

Your old roomate, who worked at a hair salon had asked her colleagues to help with doing every model's hair. She had a friend who worked as a beautician in a salon, who had asked her colleagues to help with everyone's make-up. The choreographer had been your aunt, courtesy of her "certified pageant mom" status. The lighting and sound provided by a friend who worked as a part-time DJ at some dingy club. He had smuggled some equipment to use for the night.

The small closet rooms that served as backstage facilities were packed with people doing make-up, running around in robes and adding all the final touches.

When the time came for everyone to get dressed, you were running around like a headless chicked, hemming a few pieces here and there and filing down slippery shoes, even having to calm one of the girls down due to an anxiety attack.

"How does that feel? Comfortable?" you asked pulling and adjusting at the top of Hobie's outfit, trying not to restrict his airflow. "Good," was all he said. "Are you nervous, superstar?" he asked, as you worked on a piece of stubborn material at the back of his pants. You scoffed quietly at the stupid nickname. "Yes," you answered truthfully, "there's a few important people out there. If they like what they see, they'll be writing articles. Articles mean exposure, and I really need that right now." You laughed nervously.

"But it's gonna be great," you added, moving away from his pants and taking a moment to admire your work, albeit from behind. "because I have my showstopper right here, and he looks incredible," you added with a smile. He turned around, giving you a coy smirk in return. "You outdid yourself love," he said, looking down at his attire, "on your way to becomin' the new Westwood, yeah?"

You scoffed at his comment. "C'mon you have to go line up," you said.

★˚｡⋆.˳⁺⁎˚

The show itself was absolutely perfect. You watched backstage with bated breath as each model disappeared through the dark curtains, then like clockwork returned, some to change into new pieces, then fall back in line.

Hobie had both opened and closed for your show, and by the end of the night when everyone stood in applause, he and your mother had urged you to go on stage to give your final bow. You thought it was corny, but you humored them, walking onto the runway until you were visible and giving everyone a wordless thank you, before making your way backstage once again.

You had thanked every single person who worked with you, giving everyone a warm embrace aswell as thanking them profusely for their hard work. When you finally got to thank Hobie, you wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a fat kiss right on the apple of his cheek. "You," you started, pulling him away from your embrace, but keeping his shoulders in your two hands, "stole the fucking show."

He laughed lightly, shrugging dismissively. "You're the one that made this possible," he said, and you flashed him a megawatt smile, the adrenaline from the night pumping through your body.

"Y'know, there were a few casting directors scouting here tonight," you said, "you might be getting a few calls soon, they'd definitely want to sign a catch like you." He only scrunched his face his dismissal. "Nah," he said, and you furrowed your brows. "I'm not committing myself to some agency, wouldn't want to leave you," he added.

He continued to work with you several more months; working closely with you when designing and creating your pieces, than modeling those same pieces. Your popularity grew, and with it the demand for him; numerous agencies looking to potentially sign him. When it all became too much, he decided to stop all together. You respected his decision, and still remained close with him. You still called him showstopper, and he still called you superstar.

[carriesthewind]

Hello tumblr! I am here to discuss some drama today! (Oh dear god I can't believe that this is what got me to finally join tumblr.)

As you may know, AO3 recently suspended a writer’s account, and the writer isn’t happy about it. They have made several public posts about it, including a very long post responding to the letter they received from AO3 in response to their appeal to lift the suspension. Now, I’m not particularly familiar with this writer. I’ve heard their name enough to recognize it, I know I have heard some rumors about them – some good, some bad. But I have never read their writing or their tumblr before, and I didn’t have any preconceived opinions about them.

But since this drama has entered my orbit from multiple sources, I decided to do a close read of their post responding to AO3. I do this fairly regularly, as a mental exercise to practice making myself a more careful consumer of media in general, social media in particular. But close-reading this particular post made me angry enough that felt the need to write up my analysis and share it.

A few disclaimers and notes before we begin:

First, I am just going to refer to the person under discussion as the “writer” – I include this person’s user name in a screenshot, so am not hiding their identity, but I’m not doing this to target them. This is an analysis of two of their posts, not of their life or online activity outside of the post.

Second, I am going to be giving the writer every benefit of the doubt I can, and am starting my reading by assuming they are acting in good faith.

Third, I am going to take the text under discussion under its own terms as much as possible, without referring to outside content. I am going to be analyzing two posts by the writer; the long post they made in response to AO3’s reply, and a shorter post that they made that long post in reply to. The exceptions to this will be the TOS of AO3, since they are central to the dispute, and a few other posts by the writer on the same subject. I will be using those other posts only when I need them to understand the writer’s argument in the main post we are looking at.  

Let’s begin.

There’s two things that jump out at me from this paragraph right away. First, if we look at AO3’s TOS, there is a clear path for filing an appeal, and there is no right to a response from being pinged on Tumblr or responding to messages through other venues. There is also no deadline for the team to respond to an appeal. In fact, the TOS repeatedly note that they cannot guarantee a speedy response. Given the size of the archive, five days seems far from unreasonable.

However, this waiting period would absolutely be frustrating, and it is entirely understandable that the writer would be frustrated and angry. Speaking personally, I know that I have angrily tried to contact a company via non-official means when I felt they had wronged me and were refusing to respond to my official messages. The writer isn’t doing anything wrong here by reaching out this way and being upset at the delay – but AO3 isn’t doing anything wrong by not replying to these messages, either.

Second, this sentence, “My legally copyrighted property under the terms of Fair Use is still in kidnapped status, which is not actually legal”? This sentence is nonsense. It is so nonsense that whenever I look away my brain rewrites it. It is so nonsense I am not going to even try to break down the very many ways it is wrong, because that would double the length of this monster of a post. I will instead just state: by agreeing to AO3's TOS, the writer has agreed to allow their account to be suspended under the TOS, and the writer’s work still belongs to the writer and can be removed (more on that later) and reposted (or not removed and reposted) anywhere else.

The important things about this sentence for our close reading are as follows: 1) the writer is using a bunch of legal jargon in a way that is irrelevant and inaccurate (the alternative, which is worse, is they are lying and they know it); 2) as a corollary, the writer is talking confidently and forcefully about the situation in ways that do not accurately describe the situation (either out of ignorance, confusion, or a deliberate desire to mislead); and 3) the writer is using charged and exaggerating language to describe the situation.

Number 1 will be important shortly; for now, just keep it in mind.

Number 2 doesn’t necessarily imply bad faith; as noted, they could be talking out of ignorance or misspeaking, or some combination of both, due to the emotionally charged situation. Even though they haven’t lost their content (because they haven’t), people’s writing is very important to them; it is understandable that someone who has lost some control over the distribution of their writing would feel upset! (Please note that this is true regardless of whether the suspension was appropriate, justified, or correct - punishments hurt, by definition!) Rather, it is important because it makes clear that even if the writer has best of intentions, the way they are writing about this situation is not entirely accurate. It is entirely possible that this is the only thing about their situation that they will be wrong about - especially since legal rights and issues are extremely complicated and most people struggle to fully understand them. However, it is still an early indication to keep our eye on, moving forward. (It is also worth noting that this kind of legal misrepresentation is extremely commonly used by people who are NOT acting in good faith. This alone is not enough to assume bad faith - again, legal issues are complicated - but it is something to keep an eye on when reading posts like this.)

Number 3 is referring mostly to the use of “kidnapped” to describe the status of their works. This is not remotely accurate, for reasons which I will dive into more later. It is, however, highly emotionally charged language that indicates a couple of possibilities, any or all of which may be present. First, it could indicate, like the last point, a writer who is (again, understandably!) upset and is expressing how the situation FEELS to them, even if that feeling doesn’t match reality. Secondly, it could be the writer trying to using metaphorical language to get the reader to understand how serious the situation feels to them. Third, it could indicate a desire (conscious or unconscious) to appeal to the reader’s emotions over their logic, so they will be more likely to go along with the writer’s characterization of the situation.

The overall impression from where we are starting is this: we have a writer who is (again, understandably) extremely upset at a suspension that may or may not be justified and appropriate - so far we have no evidence either way. We have likewise no evidence that either party is acting inappropriately. However, we do have indications that the writer appears to either not correctly understand, or is (accidentally or on purpose), mischaracterizing at least some elements of the situation.

So, let’s move on to the long post.

We start with the knowledge that we do not have AO3’s whole response; there are sections that are left out that may or may not be relevant. This isn’t necessarily bad or wrong - there may be lots of good reasons not to include the full text. However, it is worth keeping in mind when we are assessing the situation.

More important is the description of AO3’s letter as, “full of fun jargon.” We will review the provided text ourselves, but AO3 generally does an admirable job trying to use as little jargon and legalese as reasonable possible, and I would include the provided text of the response in that assessment. Still, given that is a formal response to a TOS violation appeal, it does use a lot of formal language and some legal language.

However, this is an interesting complaint for the writer to make, given Number 1 above (I promised we would come back to that!). It’s a sharp contrast for the writer to use lot of legal jargon to complain about AO3 and then turn around and promptly complain about AO3 using jargon. Again, this isn’t necessarily a sign of bad faith. It is entirely possible that the writer, as described above, is confused and upset and using language they think they understand (but don’t) to express their feelings, and since they don’t understand legal language, they see the AO3 response as including a lot of jargon. However, using charged legalistic language themselves while characterizing their opponent as using “jargon” is another flag to keep an eye on. Again, in the best case scenario, this is someone who is clearly quite (reasonably!) emotional and whose characterization of at least some aspects of the situation is questionable.

This response by the writer is….confusing?

The writer seems to be arguing that punishing them for failing to comply with the TOS makes them unable to comply with the TOS right away so therefore…people shouldn’t ever be suspended for commercial content violations? I don’t think this is what the writer is arguing, because it’s not reasonable (and in some of their posts, they make it clear that they don’t believe that), but I can’t make any other sense of this paragraph.

According to their TOS, if AO3 finds a sufficiently serious violation, it can hide or delete violating content. But based on the previous “kidnapped” comments, the writer would presumable be upset (is upset?) if the works were altered or removed from public view by AO3 unless they specifically asked them to. So I’m not sure what the writer would want AO3 to do in response to a commercial content-based TOS violation.

This first quoted paragraph is being positioned by the writer as indicating some problem with AO3’s process, either in general or in this specific case, but so far, there is no actual evidence of that.

I also want to note here – this paragraph seems to be confirming that the TOS violations were valid, and the writer is just disputing their seriousness, not their existence. But to be fair, I checked some of their other posts on the topic to confirm this reading. Although they dispute the interpretations of some of the reported violations as incorrect, they do admit that at least one of the reported violations was accurate.

We are not provided this mitigating information, but the writer will include some arguments later that would seem to be the mitigating evidence, and I will address it then. I will note here - it is very common for an aggrieved party to say that a system that punished them ignored evidence they presented. While sometimes this is true, often the system reviews the evidence they present, and decides not to rule in their favor anyway. Here, for example, we see that AO3’s response notes that the suspension will not be lifted unless the writer furnishes mitigating information “that would have changed our initial determination.” So AO3 might have ignored the mitigating information, or they might have reviewed it and determined it would not have changed their decision (e.g.: they already knew about it, it wasn’t determined credible, it wasn’t determined relevant, etc.). Also note that we, seeing the mitigating information, could think that AO3 was incorrect if they reviewed the proffered mitigating info and did not rescind the suspension, but that is not the same as AO3 ignoring it. We, as readers of the post, don’t know which of these options occurred - and neither does the writer. While it is understandable that the poster is not giving AO3 the same kind of good faith that we are trying to give them (aggrieved parties don’t have to assign good faith to people they believe have wronged them!), it once again colors our understanding of how the writer is characterizing AO3’s response.

This starts with an interesting claim! That is, that AO3 acknowledged in the letter that the writer has “a history of immediately complying.” This isn’t in the excerpt of the letter that we have. Because this claim is immediately below the above excerpt from AO3's letter, it appears that the writer is misconstruing the statement, “While we appreciate your willingness to remove the violating content immediately, you must first serve your suspension to its completion before you are able to edit your works.” This sentence isn’t claiming the writer has a history of complying, it is clearly responding to the writer’s stated willingness *in this case* to edit their content to comply. If the writer is deliberately misconstruing the letter this way, that’s deeply troubling, because it shows they are both trying to make AO3 look bad (see the rest of the paragraph) and twisting their own bad behavior (note that they here acknowledge past instances of breaking the TOS) in a way that makes them look good, actually (“assist[ing] the Archive in keeping things to their TOS standard”). This is really, really, bad behavior if it is deliberate. It would be a deliberate lie to preempt their audience’s recognition of their misdeeds and frame themself as a victim of a malicious actor.

HOWEVER. That is not the only interpretation of this claim. The writer is not necessarily deliberately misconstruing the letter - again, they are reasonably upset at the situation, they’ve stated they have found the letter to be full of jargon (and thus potentially may be struggling to parse some of it), and it is possible they are responding quickly without carefully reading the letter. Alternatively, they have stated that they are only posting certain sections of the letter - it is entirely possible that AO3 acknowledges “a history of immediately complying” somewhere else in the letter. Now, even in that case, the writer is clearly attempting to reframe evidence of their past violations as evidence of their victimhood (promptly removing TOS violating content is the bare minimum of what should be expected by an AO3 user). Again, that may be a genuine (and natural!) emotional reaction, but we continue to see the thread that the writer’s characterization of (now multiple) aspects of the situation are both inaccurate and biased to see themselves as victimized.

Which leads us to the poster’s response to the next excerpt.

Here the writer acknowledges again that they have at least one previous TOS violation. They include an except from AO3’s letter that clearly shows that they were explicitly told that failing to remove commercial promotion material from their account might result in a temporary suspension. Noticeably, although they have and will continue to frame themselves as the victim of an unfair process: 1) they do not dispute they were previously in violation of the policy, and were let off with just a warning. 2) They do not dispute that since that warning, they continued to have commercial promotion material on their account. 3) They do not dispute the content of the warning. 4) They do not dispute that they received or understood this warning.

Instead, the poster disputes that the warning…wasn’t official enough? They do not indicate how or what AO3 should have done to make it “official” - likely because it is extremely clear that this was a previous warning, and spelling out an alternative would make the absurdity of this complaint clear. It is at this point that we can no longer proceed assuming that the poster is writing solely in good faith. While we cannot assume they are deliberately trying to mislead their audience or that they do not have legitimate complaints, they are at least deeply in denial and stuck in a victimization perspective and that must inform our reading of their post.

Their second complaint with this section is just as ridiculous and telling as their first. AO3’s abuse policy is NOT a 3 strikes policy, as it is explicitly designed for flexibility, so that an account may be let off with multiple warnings, or may be suspended at the first violation, depending on the assessed severity of the violation. Nothing in the quoted section of the letter contradicts this flexibility. In fact, it directly supports the existence of this flexibility, by writing that further TOS violations “might,” not “will,” trigger a suspension. The writer is just wrong, and we can see they are wrong by simply reading the text they are replying to. This can only be read as either a deliberate mischaracterization of both the letter and the TOS, or as someone so far in denial that their characterization of the situation cannot be relied upon and no information they give can be fully trusted without external supporting evidence.

(As a note on my own biases in writing this analysis: this is where I personally ran out of patience with the writer, although I have tried to maintain a more even tone in this analysis.)

The writer may still have legitimate critiques of AO3’s actions and response (for example, they can still argue that such a flexible system is bad in general, or that there were mitigating circumstances that should have caused the suspension to be lifted/not imposed in their particular case), but they are not, in this section at least, making such a legitimate argument.

Their critique of the non time-limited nature of AO3’s response to TOS violations also indicates a fundamental misunderstanding (whether genuine or deliberate) of the *problem* of a TOS violation, especially of a commercial promotion TOS violation. AO3 is an *archive* - it explicitly exists to preserve fan works and provide access to them. It doesn’t matter, from AO3’s perspective, when a commercial promotion is first posted - it matters that it is currently accessible. A commercial promotion violation does not occur solely when a user posts it - it is an ongoing violation that continues to occur for as long as the promotion remains accessible. Furthermore, the structure of AO3 is such that it relies on individual users to maintain their works in compliance with the TOS. We can imagine an archive that works differently. This hypothetical archive could have works reviewed by archive staff before being accepted into entry in the archive, would not allow works to be modified except with the approval of staff, and would allow works to be modified by staff without the users’ knowledge or consent. However, 1) this is not the TOS the writer agreed to when they posted their works on AO3 and 2) given this writer’s expressed desire for control over their own work in this very post, this would not be an archive the writer would want to use.

People can still have legitimate disagreements about whether and how the date that a violation was originally posted on should affect sanctions for that violation, and disagreements over whether the sanctions were appropriately applied in any particular case. It isn't a problem for the author to assert that they think AO3's policy should be different. It is a problem for them to mischaracterize what the policy is and mislead their audience about why a policy exists.

Once again, AO3 is describing a policy that is entirely reasonable. However, in this section the writer finally moves on to the potentially legitimate claim that the policy is being enforced in a draconian way. They advance two arguments to support this claim.

This is actually one of their better responses, because their arguments, while very hostile, are potentially legitimate complaints that support their claim of draconian enforcement in their case! (Please note I am not asserting their complaints are accurate, however - more on that in a moment.)

The first claim is that an official AO3 staff member previously checked every one of their existing fics to try to ensure that they did not violate AO3’s TOS. The writer relied on this assurance going forward, so should not be sanctioned with a suspension. This is a part of the post that, in the interests of good faith, I will discuss with the added context of another post by this writer, since the claim isn't fully or clearly expressed in the above post, and it is their best argument in favor of their mistreatment. I am also going to assume that this was the mitigation that they referred to submitting to AO3 and claim was ignored.

If the poster is characterizing this previous interaction correctly, they have legitimate reasons to be upset, and I would agree with them that this is the sort of mitigating evidence I would expect would cause a suspension to be lifted if I was the person making decisions.

…here’s the problem, though. While I would agree with them that this would be a draconian application of AO3’s polices…it wouldn’t be a violation of AO3’s stated policies in any way. If the AO3 abuse staff member made assurances that to the writer that all their posted content was clear of TOS violations, that would be counter to AO3's TOS, which makes it clear that it does not do pre-emptive reviews. It would be legitimately frustrating for this writer to find out that the promise it relied on was incorrect and be punished after relying on it. However, it is impossible for me not to see that from AO3’s perspective, if this staff member really did give this assurance, it means that the writer was given an assurance of preferential treatment over other users. There is a good argument that to continue to give them preferential treatment (that is, to rescind the suspension based on the preferential treatment) would only compound the harm. It’s a legitimately tough situation for both parties to be in. I ultimately continue to see no misconduct on the part of AO3, except potentially in allowing an official staff member to give misleading preferential treatment (I say potentially because we have no further information about what actions AO3 took to correct this harm/punish the staff member), and also understand why the writer is reasonably furious at the archive.

…or rather, that would be the problem, if we could continue to read this post solely in good faith. Unfortunately, by the time we reach this explanation, as stated above, we know that the writer is either deliberately lying in this post, or deeply in denial leading to them mischaracterization the situation. Because of what we have already seen, we cannot take their description of the alleged staff member or their actions as accurate without at least some external supporting evidence.

We are given no such evidence, either in this post or in any of the others I have reviewed. Rather, the provided evidence contradicts it, albeit subtly. Remember that we noted how the poster did not dispute the content of the August 2019 warning AO3 sent them? That warning clearly stated that failing to remove all commercial promotion from their account might result in a suspension. That warning, from AO3 (not a single independent staff member), along with the clear TOS statement that it does not do preemptive reviews, puts the responsibility for removing the violating content squarely on the writer. If that warning wasn’t “official” enough for them to take it seriously…why were they willing to rely on the word of a single person who was breaking AO3 official policy by purporting to prescreen content?

While I lost my patience at the previous paragraph, as noted above, this response is why I actually decided to write and post this analysis. Casually reading this post, the writer’s description of events here sound deeply sympathetic and would lead a casual reader to see them a victim and AO3 as a villain. It is natural (and a good instinct!) to trust people when they tell you they are being mistreated. Unfortunately, sometimes people who feel that they have been mistreated are just seeing the consequences of their own actions catch up to them.

The second potential legitimate complaint is the implied assertion that their violation was not really serious, and should not really be considered a TOS violation (“figurative, imaginative caffeine.”) Unfortunately, the writer has already admitted repeatedly, both in this post and outside of it, that they were in violation of the TOS. Thus, instead of this being a legitimate complaint, it is another indication that the poster is inappropriately mischaracterizing themself to their audience as a maligned victim and AO3 as a villain.

Oh hey, AO3’s letter is reiterating everything I just explained about prescreening! I wonder how the poster will respond.

I’m trying not to be too snarky here, but that is a really damming failure to respond.

So instead of talking about the substantive issue at hand, let’s address this wild change of subject, I guess.

This is again an instance of the writer portraying themselves as a victim, either because they are deliberately trying to maliciously mislead their audience or because they truly believe it. Just to be clear - they are claiming that they are being targeted because someone noticed and reported admitted TOS violations on their “two…most well-know fics in two major fandoms.” If they are claiming they are being targeted by someone acting in bad faith, and therefore the (again, admittedly legitimate!) violation reports are a form of targeted harassment, wouldn’t they have a much better claim if the violations were reported on fics with very low hit counts (so that someone would be less likely to randomly find them)?

And a side note - if these TOS violations were on the poster’s “most well-known fics” in “major fandoms,” that goes directly to the relevance of their ‘the violations were posted a long time ago’ mitigation claim. A well-known fic is more likely to be currently receiving continuing views (remember, the harm the violations are causing is based on people seeing them), and an author who is continuing to get hits/kudos/comments on that work would presumably be aware of its continued popularity, and thus should be aware of the need, after receiving a warning, to make sure to personally review it for violations.

Again, we’ve already addressed this issue repeatedly. So I will just note here that the writer is claiming that it is “actually fucking ridiculous” not to grandfather in active TOS violations. Imagine making this argument in any other context. Imagine an author has a book that they wrote 14 years ago but is still selling. Imagine someone notices this year, for the first time, that the author has extensively plagiarized copyrighted material. They alert the victim, who brings a suit, and the publisher stops publishing the author’s book and refuses to publish any of their other book as well. Does the writer think it is “actually fucking ridiculous” for the publisher to cease publishing the author, simply because the author was able to avoid detection for so long?

(Since I’m not doing much analysis here, let’s talk instead about what the purpose of this portion of the poster’s response might be. I’m putting this as an aside, because this isn’t strictly part of the close reading, and it is absolutely not it the spirit of good faith I am still trying to use. We’re going to look at the effect of this section in context. Let’s start by analyzing the use of the term “you” in this post. When the post began, the writer used “you” to refer to themself (“no matter how willing you are to fix it…etc.”). In the same section, the writer switches to using “you” to refer to AO3 (“if you have fans…”). In the third section, they start by using “you” to refer to AO3 (“You guys are the ones…”) and then switches in the next sentence to directly address the readers (“if any of you following me”). This switch isn’t a casual fluid switch like it was previously - instead, it is positioned in a sentence directly warning the readers that AO3 might come after them next. In the following section, they don’t use the second person, but they do imply (nonsensically) that someone is targeting them with these TOS violation reports. We then catch up with the above section - “they can and will go after you.” Note that the post starts directly addressing the reader at the same time that it builds up an escalating threat. This creates a sense of fear and camaraderie with the writer, positioning reader and writer as “us” against a malicious “them” who is not just targeting the writer, but the readers as well. This makes the reader more sympathetic to the writer, and more likely to believe their claims; after all, “you” know you’re not breaking AO3's TOS, and if “you” did, it would be an accident. How ridiculous for AO3 come after someone like “you” - someone who has broken the TOS multiple times in the past in the same way and has explicitly…been…warned…hmmm…how much like “you” is the poster, actually?)

Anyway,

I’m going to reiterate what I said after the writer’s response to the previous warning letter: what should AO3 have written to make this a warning that the writer would accept as legitimate? This is a bit longer and more detailed, but substantially the same as what was reportedly written in the previous letter. In that context, the poster said it didn’t look like an official warning, it wasn’t clear or serious enough. In this context, substantially the same content in substantially the same tone is recontextualized as too serious, a threat that secretly means AO3 already plans on banning them permanently. To borrow a phrase…"this is actually fucking ridiculous."

Again, if we are reading the post in the best possible light, this is someone who is so emotionally distraught that they have descended into paranoia and are unable to correctly characterize the situation. Alternatively, this reads like someone who deliberately characterizing AO3’s responses to best achieve their own ends. They want this suspension to appear unjustified and unjustifiable, which means they can’t have received clear previous warnings for the same TOS violations they are suspended for - so there was only one warning that wasn’t clear or official enough to give them any real notice. Now, they want to appear as a victim who is being targeted by a system that has it out for them, no matter what they do - so substantially the same warning is a threat that indicates an intent to ban them regardless of what they do next.

And we are back to the beginning: not understanding the first thing about the law and using (at this point I feel safe in saying) deliberately charged language to describe the situation.

(And mischaracterizing the text that is LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM – AO3 isn’t saying it will take a week to respond! It is giving you a week to comply once your suspension is lifted! What do you want it to do, impose further sections if you don’t comply within 12 hours?!?! I mean, if that’s what you’re asking for...)

AO3 is not taking control of the writer’s works. It has control how it chooses to display and store works that the writer has granted it permission to display and store. This is all very clearly laid out in the TOS.

We’ve already addressed that the writer does NOT know that AO3 did not investigate their alleged mitigation evidence. The writer is once again positioning a failure to agree with their position that the suspension should be lifted as a failure by AO3 to read or consider their evidence.

I’m not going to address most of the specifics they list, because I would basically just be repeating myself over and over again with more details and this analysis is already long enough. These specifics might be important, except that the poster has already admitted that they did violate the TOS. Even assuming they are characterizing their email, AO3’s full response, and the “Not Actually Violations” correctly, it doesn’t matter for the purpose of whether they violated the TOS (again) and received a legitimate suspension.

The only specific I will address is their blatant lie at the end: the TOS specifically bans all commercial promotion, NOT just self-promotion. The writer is explicitly, obviously lying - not just misunderstanding, not just mischaracterizing, flat out lying.

We have something in common, finally - I’m really offended too.

So I looked at some other posts for more context about this comment on deleting a work, just to make sure I wasn’t mischaracterizing: the writer apparently, fed up with AO3, wants to delete their works prior to the end of their suspension. Their “inability” to do so appears to be a major basis for their “kidnapping” claims above. This, once again, might be a legitimate complaint - AO3’s TOS does confirm that a suspended user retains the rights to remove their work (subject to certain data storage exceptions to meet AO3’s obligations).

Unfortunately, the poster’s next sentence makes it clear this compliant is not legitimate. The TOS are explicit that the way a suspended user can delete their works is through contacting AO3 administrators. If the poster had requested such delegations and been refused, AO3 would have violated their own TOS. Instead, the user states they just asked AO3 to lift the suspension. There is zero evidence that they asked AO3 to delete their works, and instead are mischaracterizing AO3’s refusal to lift their suspension as a refusal to delete their works, both in this post and elsewhere. I feel like a broken record at this point, but once again, they are mischaracterizing a very clear situation to make themselves look like a victim and AO3 a villain.

An appropriate gif of a petulant, spoiled child to match this closing paragraph. I don’t think I need to say anything else.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

What theories do you have with season 2 or what do you think is going to happen hazbin hotel?

None of my theories are super fleshed out but I do have some concerning theories that I really hope do not happen, the biggest is how Vox’s character will be written.

Warning for stuff about Raphielle and their grossass fetishes

Judging by a “fan animatic” they did to that Valentino fansong, I’m worried their portrayal of Vox is going to bleed into the show, aka where he jerks off to Angel Dust being raped. Genuinely if they do this I don’t know what I’m going to do. Vivzie and Raph can’t seem to think of any other way to write a villain rather than make them a rapist or make the character have a rape fetish themself. It’s horrible and lazy writing. If you can’t write an interesting villain, you’re a bad writer. If you can’t keep your fetishes out of your shows, you’re a bad writer. If you can’t handle genuine criticism of your insanely offensive show and characters, you’re a bad writer.

I hardly believe I’ll canonise much of anything from S2 for my rewrite when it comes out. My version of Vox will not ever stoop to the level of whatever the fuck Vivzie does with him. Even the way I write Valentino isn’t absolutely trash. Yeah, he’s still horrid, but I’m not treating him like some silly background character with mildly scary scenes and shock value. Treat him with the severity he brings from the actions he does. End of story.

Somewhat aside from the Vee’s, I hope they do fun things with Sir Pentious. They set up that whole double agent thing for him just to drop it the same episode and yeah I guess to be like “but people can be redeemed guys.. 🥺” okay? Thats a real fuckin mundane thing to focus on for his redemption though? Talk about like. Actual bad shit. Like all the murder. Seems a bit more important? Anyway, I think having Pentious somehow be a double agent in Heaven and provide information to the cast down in hell would be cool. No idea how they’d do that but I’d the idea is fun.

I also have a suspicion that Angel might be the second person to be redeemed although I hope not. For as much “character development” as he’s gotten for some reason, it’s all been incredibly half-assed. He’s hardly fixed himself at all and all of his progress was offscreen. There’s no way he sang a song with Husk on the street and that just suddenly stopped his drug addiction. That’s not how addictions work. Trust me I fuckin wish I could’ve sang a song and been cured from that kinda shit but unfortunately it just is not like that.

Photo I made to express my grievances.

Husk and Angel are also likely gonna date or whatever, personally I’m horrified if this is true because Vivzie is Vivzie and I don’t think she knows what slowburn actually means. I’d wait for like a third season before even starting that stuff but like I guess as long as it isn’t horrifically abusive??? Idk.

Dropped my wallet while writing this and im blaming it on the shows existence

Oh also I think Valentino might die, thats about it

[snuffink]

I doubt I'll ever actually make a MCD rewrite, gods know my fixation will die down long before I'd get anything on paper or even finish rewatching the whole thing, but it's still fun to share what ideas I have come up with, so here we are!

In a hypothetical rewrite, I would change a bunch of dynamics. If I were to write mcd, a large portion of season 1 would be relationship focused. And I DON'T mean romantic necessarily, I mean building relationships, fleshing out the town, making the audience really get to know the characters and how they interact with each other.

My biggest focus is on Aph's closest friends, so here are my current ideas and hcs!

(Note here: I mention aroace dynamics, I am aware that it's a spectrum, I myself am on the spectrum, I just haven't decided how it would work with Aph herself so it's vague.)

Garroth:

Still in love with Aph

Laurance is his best friend, depends on him when he can't depend on Aph

Views Dante as a younger brother or son

Much less jealous and possessive over Aph, accepts that she may never feel the same, though is causes him heartache.

Has a habit of "adopting" people, most likely due to his past and feeling like a failure to his younger brothers. (Zenix, Dante, Levin, Brian etc)

His closest friends are Aph, Laurance and Dante. Unlikely friendship with Dale and Logan along with Cadenza

Laurance:

Likes Aph, though mostly mistakes his loyalty and fondness and genuine friendship for love. Aph is just as important to him as she is in the series, it's just not romantic love

So much less pushy. So so much less pushy.

They play flirt with Aph, as they do in the series. (Example, the table scene in s1)

Puts his feelings for her aside whenever needed. She needs a guard? He's there. She needs a friend? She's there. She needs to gossip? Girl, what'd they do this time?

Tries to gently push Garroth to do something, anything about his feelings. The pushing turns less gentle after the SK business though it's not his fault

Father/Big brother figure to Malachi.

He's closest with Aph and Garroth and Cadenza, very close with Dante as well, though they don't know each other as deeply as the others do.

Probably friends with Katelyn and Nicole as well, they spar together from time to time.

Gossips with Lucinda from time to time, they shit talk over tea

Yip probably really likes him

Dante:

Sibling like relationship with Aph

Ridiculously loyal to her

Definitely closest to her than anyone else

Had a super good relationship with Nicole, would have stayed together had their interest not clashed.

Dante would have wanted to stay in touch but Nicole needed time to herself

Started getting close to Nana after their split

Loves children, father/big brother to Malachi and Levin

An absolute goof, loses braincells with Laurance, Garroth and Aph. (All of them are super capable by themselves, absolute dumbasses together)

Aph:

Not romantically interested in any of them (I haven't decided if she's on the aroace spectrum or just not interested in men, but I just don't imagine her liking any of the guys)

Views Dante as a brother, Laurance as her best friend and Garroth as a close friend

Has always kind of felt like there was a wall between her and Garroth, couldn't explain it

Genuinely unaware of Garroth's infatuation until the ending events of s1 or then the dreams of s2

Confused over Laurance and others teasing Garroth

Made an effort to get to know Emmalyn after their bad blood died down, recognising her own issues with boundaries and respecting people's space

Unlikely friends with Emmalyn, though it gets tainted a lil after the Irene discovery

(In case not aroace: Zoey is her wife, though this could also be interpreted as platonic. In any case, they are wives and share a friendship that could only be seen as soulmates.)

Considers Laurance and Zoey her platonic soulmates, feels as though the two understand her better than anyone could or would.

Bonds with Aaron particularly well, though they have no romantic involvement.

Aaron:

Not in love with Aph

Sees his late wife in Aph along with his son in Levin and Malachi, and they end up helping him heal over time.

Forms a special type of bond with Aph, and finds himself able to rely on her much more than anyone else

Begins bonding with the others first over their shared hatred of Zane

Due to his time as a lone wolf, he struggles greatly with talking to people for a while

'Fast' friends with Dante, the two bond over the loss of their villages and family.

Surprising friends with Logan, along with Brendon and Emmalyn.

Becomes a father figure of sorts to Dante, Levin, Malachi and other youngins in the town.

Enjoys sparring with people, but begins first doing it out of necessity to be stronger, though it overtime becomes something he truly enjoys

Soft spot for kids

Ferociously protective of Aph due to their close relationship and her resemblance to his wife.

Ends up finding peace in Phoenix Drop, willing to do anything to protect it

Helps Levin figure out lord stuff with Aph.