#God I miss it when it had the blender tool.

[mechazushi]

Here, have a shittily made Atlantis reference... [Spoilers? For chapter 117.]

"You do swim, do you not?"

I swim pretty guy-

PRETTY GOOD! I mean pretty good. I swim pretty good...

When I tell you that Ancestor Hoshina has a grip on my psyche, it does not even begin to scratch the surface of how feral I have become.

I am not even a Hoshina main, but I just keep coming up with ideas for Ancestor Hoshina x Modern Kafka. I have a whole ass SKIT in mind if Kafka ever got isekied and traveled back to before the Meraki Era or some shit and met Vice Captain's uncle. (In my head, he's the uncle.)

Kafka: (Drops out of a portal three months after disappearing into one) Holy shit guys, you are never going to believe what just happened. Scientist: We actually have a pretty good idea. Everything you did managed to end up in history books. It's how we found out what happened and pinpointed your location. Kafka:[Nervous] What... ended up in the history books? Scientist: That you ended up as a cryptid for a while, then met Hoshina's many great grand uncle and somehow roped him into an insurance scheme- Kafka: Okay, first off, the insurance fraud was his idea, and second, it was a very shitty insurance scam. We donated back every penny to the people we got it from! Scientist: Was it also his idea for you to be his closeted concubine? Kafka: . . . Kafka:Please tell me Vice Cap doesn't know. Scientist: He was the one that flagged it. Kafka: [sweating bullets] Scientist: He's currently being restrained in the other room. {One room over} Hoshina: [currently wearing the n.10 suit] I JUST WANT TO TALK. Okonogi:[physically holding him back] Not like this, you're not!

@iceclew Just making sure you see this so you can laugh at how bad it is. 🫶

[allegra-writes]

“Nibbles”

Armand x Daniel Molloy

General Audiences

Warnings: None. This is pure fluff.

Disclaimer: I don't own the vampire Armand or Daniel Molloy, nor will I be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Jackie and Boss the cat however, are all mine.

MY MASTERLIST

"No, Armand is not some barely legal gold-digging twink. First of all he has way more money than me, trust me. Second, he is older than he looks. And third, he is… very mature for his age. I'm honestly appalled your sister used that kind of language to refer to him" Yeah, Daniel Molloy was perfectly aware he was the pot calling the kettle back. But this wasn't him, this was his daughter, she was supposed to be better. Then again, before last Saturday when she had showed up unannounced following the news he had a terminal disease, Ashley and he hadn't spoken in, well, years, so maybe he was not familiar with her vocabulary anymore.

"Don't take it to heart, you know how she gets" through the speaker, his younger daughter's voice sounded almost apologetic, "she just worries, it's not her fault she lacks the emotional tools to express it in any other way than being a bitch about it"

Daniel snorted, almost dropping the cell phone he was precariously holding between his shoulder and ear, as he tried to hold all his groceries with one hand while feeling around in his pockets for his key, frowning a little.

That was weird. Normally, Armand would open the door for him before he even arrived, with all the excitement and impatience of a kid that just couldn't wait anymore. Maybe he had gone out to hunt for a bit? But no, he could hear the blender going off inside. Oh, no, what was his little monster doing now? It certainly couldn't be anything good if he were so concentrated as not to notice Daniel's arrival.

"Jackie? Let me just put you on hold for a bit" He fumbled a little but managed to fit the key into the lock without letting anything fall.

"Dad, I think you just put me on speaker, I can hear-"

But Daniel was not listening to his daughter anymore. No, he was too busy gawking at the image of his five-hundred-year-old demonic lover standing in the middle of his messy kitchen, face the perfect huge-eyed, mask of innocence, holding a glass with some green concoction in one hand and on the other…

"Armand… what the hell is that??"

“Your kale smoothie” he deadpanned. To Daniel's surprise, at the other side of the line, Jackie snorted loudly.

“Oh my god! Dad, does he have an ostrich? Tell me he doesn't have an ostrich!”

“What? No! Why would he have an- You know what, let me just call you back”

Daniel didn't wait for a reply but judging by the way Jackie was still laughing as he ended the call, he didn't think she minded it too much.

“She didn't. She actually finds the situation quite funny.” Armand replied out loud to the thoughts in his head in that insufferably yet endearing way of his. Daniel hated to admit he had missed it. “Apparently, I inadvertently emulated a famous internet meme”

Nice try at changing the subject.

“Armand, why are you holding a kitten?" His eyes flickered briefly to the microwave, the idea discarded almost as soon as it took form. Armand had gotten over microwave ovens in the 80s.

Armand scoffed,

"Of course I'm not going to microwave this cat. Cats are not vermin, cats are intelligent creatures with inner lives more complex than some humans. And this one is mine now"

"Yours" Daniel's tone and mind were blank, in shock.

"Well, ours" Armand corrected himself. And that small four-letter word should not have had that effect on him, making his old, weary heart skip a beat. He wasn't a lovestruck teenager for fucks sake, and Armand and him had owned things together before -a whole fucking island came to mind- but this felt different, so normal, so fucking domestic , Daniel had no idea what to do with it.

Especially when Armands carefully blank expression betrayed how important this was to him. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to tell, but Daniel was an expert on all things Armand, and knew the tighter the lid the vampire kept on his expressions, the more significant the issue was to him.

And hell only knew why, but the scruffy little thing on Armands hand was important .

Daniel bit back a sigh. He almost wished he hadn't hung up on his daughter, Jackie used to pull that kind of shit a lot when she was a child, always bringing home strays to foster with the hope that maybe one day, she would be allowed to keep one. Maybe if he got her and Armand to bond, the broken pieces that remained of what had once been his family would get out of his case over dating someone -apparently- over forty years his junior. At the very least, he would get another person in his corner. Two against two was a lot fairer than three against one.

“Where did you even get the thing?” he asked, his mind already going over the familiar steps of the dance he never thought he would be doing again, of vets appointments and vaccination and kittens formula and round-the-clock bottle feedings.

“In an alley downtown, he was cold and alone. He is old enough to eat meat, just too young to hunt on his own”

Was that what Armand had been doing in that alley? Hunting? Daniel quickly decided he didn't actually want to know. Choosing to focus on the kitten instead, he gestured for Armand to hand it over.

Christ . The poor thing felt practically weightless, all skin and bones, so fragile even in his old, unsteady hands. Exactly how long had he been out there, cold and alone as Armand had put it, searching in vain for food, for shelter, for warmth? And what strange whim had impulsed Armand to bring him home with him instead of simply breaking his tiny neck, put him out of his misery right then and there?

But it was right there, wasn't it? Right on his dirty little face, striking against the creature's black fur. The cat's eyes were the bluest of blues. Almost violet .

Daniel's own stunned eyes met Armands normally stoic, inscrutable ones. What was what had flickered in them just now? That quick flash of emotion there and gone in less than a second. Affection? Guilt? Had he really spared that pitiful kitten just because it had Daniel's eyes?

Armand’s throat bobbed, an all too unnecessary thing for a vampire’s throat to do. Particularly one’s as uninterested in performing humanity as Armand’s.

“I didn't want him to die” He conceded, as if it pained him to do so. Daniel stifled the smile threatening to form at the half a century serial killer’s petulant tone.

“Alright then” for once, he would refrain to pry further and leave it alone, “Have you named him yet?”

Armand’s whole stance seemed to relax, all the defensiveness there leaving at once.

“I was hoping you would want to do the honors” It wasn’t a question but it came out as one. Daniel didn’t fight the impulse to smile, or to place a kiss on that pouty mouth then. He didn’t want to. Armand, the little shit, bit into his lower lip, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to sting just the way Daniel secretly enjoyed.

A different, sharper sting on his thumb informed him their new roommate didn’t appreciate being crushed between their bodies, his little huff sounding a lot like Armand’s annoyed sigh at the loss of Daniel’s lip.

“Ow! You are just as much of a tyrant as your owner, aren’t you?” A tiny but very sharp set of fangs sunk into his finger as reply “And just as bitey. I have the perfect name for you…”

Armand rolled his eyes, no doubt having plucked the admittedly silly name from Daniel's mind, but the way the corner of his lips curved up told him he approved it. Or maybe, he was filled by the same giddiness as him. And maybe it was unbecoming of a man his age, like his oldest had told him. And maybe there was nothing normal about them or their relationship, and maybe nobody, vampire or human, would ever understand it, but at that moment, Daniel Molloy realized this time, maybe they could do domestic. Maybe this time it could be different.

Maybe this time, they wouldn't crash and burn.

[miasfoxxden]

I tried to quit when you went to shit, when you proved to the world that you only cared about yourselves and not the people who needed you most. But here I am coming back for more like a god damn junkie. I kinda hate this, not gonna lie, but there's really nothing else like VRchat.

VRchat is a weird and amazing thing when you're queer. The aging 2019 Unity Engine LTS build it uses, although held together by duct tape and super glue, provides near infinite capabilities for self expression to those who have the time and patience to understand how to use it's SDK toolkit alongside other community tools like various Blender Plugins. It goes without saying, for those such as myself who have struggled with their own identity for a long time, this shit will crack eggs. And it shattered what remained of mine in the beginning of 2020. This is why this badly written and mismanaged clusterfuck of a Unity game holds a special place in my heart.

To make a very fucking long story short, I've been on VRchat since basically the beginning. My earliest memories of VRC were in late 2017, early 2018 where everything was far more raw, simple, and experimental. VRchat itself was a blank canvas, and on that canvas was a tight knit community that spawned an iconic culture all to its own. And yes, before anyone asks I do know de wae. But for those early years, mainly because of my lack of budget and stable income, I was tied down to just keyboard and mouse controls from a desktop PC. It's a sub ideal way to play VRC but you make do with what you have in that kind of situation and make the best of it. So when I had the means to get my own headset in the beginning of 2020, an Oculus Rift S, you can bet your ass the first thing I loaded into was VRchat.

Before we continue, I need to introduce the concept of phantom touch or phantom sense. Phantom touch is a term that was originally for amputees who could feel their missing limbs when given certain stimuli, typically some form of mirror therapy or sometimes via ones prosthetics. Phantom senses in VR are along the same lines. For all intents and purposes, your avatar in VR is the same as your body to your brain. Now, not everyone gets this, and those who do get it in varying amounts in just different ways. I'm admittedly on the more extreme end of this, as far as my brain gives a shit my avatar is my body and that ends up causing some interesting sensations. Most importantly, it pretty much drives my own choice of avatar since a lot of options out there just don't feel right. Yeah an avatar may be super cute or super funny but with that level of immersion for someone like myself it becomes very apparent that a lot of things will give full on dysphoria. This isn't really limited to anything either, I've noped off of cute looking avatars for a variety of reasons, sometimes even just small things like clothing, hair style, body proportions, height, etc. On the flip side of that, the right avatar can relieve a lot of dysphoria for someone like me who does experience gender dysphoria regularly in their day to day lives. So what were my options then?

Wade through a lot of public avatars until you find something anywhere between just right to perfect. The world of public avatars available is almost limitless, as games driven by user generated content tend to be so there's plenty of options.

Make your own avatar, either from scratch or a prefab base. This is again where the limitlessness of the engine comes into play, where the only limitation is your own technical abilities with Unity SDK, and tools like Blender or Maya.

I got lucky and took option one. I found one that felt just right, a Tda based red haired fox girl in a cute hoodie, crop top, and jeans, and only needed a few minor tweaks. While there was a bit of a language barrier, the creator of this avatar and I got something worked out and the image above is the result. This is me. This was when what remained of my egg, so to speak, was completely fucking shattered into oblivion. This was where I realized that "Nah yeah I'm not fucking cis," after years of going back and forth and being on the fence about my own sense of self. Ultimately, VRchat ended up a coping mechanism for my dysphoria. I was free. I was me. I ended up parting ways with the guy who made the model posted above for reasons I won't get into. I was never given the source files to update the model to SDK3 so where it is now is where it will be forever until SDK2 gets dropped entirely. So, in mid 2021 when I found a prefab base that was relatively well support and easy to work with on booth.pm called Imeris, I jumped on that. I re-made me.

Maybe to a bit of an extreme, but whatever. Bouncy squishy boobs on my chest makes girly gender euphoria go brrrr in a way I can't get over. But this is how I stayed for about a year without any major changes save for some new outfits every now and then.

In August, 2022, VRchat implemented EasyAntiCheat into the game. The reasoning for it is all over the place and while I have some insider information as to why it's not been stated publicly and I don't feel like getting sued into oblivion. But regardless of their reasoning, no matter how much public backlash they got, no matter how many members of the community who relied on third party client mods for accessibility for various disabilities and basic usability and quality of life functions not present in the base game, they pushed the patch out live anyways. They pushed out a patch knowing it broke compatibility with some Oculus headsets and software, this even was noted in the patch notes. They didn't care about us. That much was clear.

I swore off VRchat then and there, but the reality is the other options all sucked. NeosVR had NFT integration which is something I despise on principle. ChilloutVR, while promising, still lacks a lot of the functionality for their dev tools that makes a lot of my shit work. It was on par with early VRchat SDK1 and SDK2 tools, which compared to SDK3 with Udon were beyond archaic. I tried to give that some love, but it's so far from ready to take the place of VRchat that I couldn't switch over. Maybe some day, though, CVR will be in a position where it's a suitable place to call my home in the metaverse.

So after dealing with VRC being broken for months on my machine, I finally figured out a workaround. Turns out my main issue where VRchat was crashing to desktop was because of some sandboxing options I had enabled way back when I was still running Windows 10. Disabling these settings fixed the crashing to desktop, but Oculus overlay still crashes any time the virtual desktops are used. This, however and unfortunately, is a documented issue because of how EAC works, and there's no real fix for it. In any case though, I can be me again. And while unfortunately a lot of my friends have left VRC entirely post EAC update, there's still enough to justify sticking around.

At the time of writing this, I'm a month out from hopefully receiving hormone replacement treatment and beginning my transition proper. It's a bit overdue, admittedly, but I know some day soon I'll feel comfortable in my own shell. For now, this will continue to be my escapism from the dysphoria that's plagued me for years.

Stay floofy~ 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈❤️

[murfeelee]

Hi there, just a question for you if you have the time ♡ I know that you allow people to convert your Cyberpunk items from TS3 to TS4 freely (you are amazing, you know that?). However since I have the game, do you have or know of a tutorial for exporting from my files? The one I found was very general, very not 'beginner friendly'. Else I will just bring some of your stuff over if it's not been done yet, miss having them in my game (and base game TS4 only is limited). Love you ♡

Hi! Yeah, feel free to convert whatever; I think CC TOU/policies are ridiculous, and perversely counterproductive to uploading content publicly on the internet anyway.

Just be warned that a lot of my CC's not that great, cuz C2077 uniquely does not use or include typical diffuse textures, so I had to make many of the textures myself (and that's never a good idea, LOL). Not to mention, I had to shave off 1/2 - 3/4 of the polys on most of the meshes, cuz they're just excessively high. Even after decimating the polys they're still too dang high. It's been a pain in the neck to do anything with this effing game, even when not actually playing it! (－‸ლ)

☽✶•.¸(✶•.¸★¸.•✶´)¸.•✶´☾ ☆«´¨`•°°•´¨`»☆    ☽.¸.•✶(¸.•✶´★`✶•.¸)`✶•.☾

Welcome to Murf’s School of Crap and Crap-Making!

School Motto: Prepare to be tortured! For Science!

Lesson #6B: MORE ON GAME EXTRACTING (PT2)

☽✶•.¸(✶•.¸★¸.•✶´)¸.•✶´☾ ☆«´¨`•°°•´¨`»☆    ☽.¸.•✶(¸.•✶´★`✶•.¸)`✶•.☾

Trust me: extracting from C2077 in general is not very beginner friendly--this is the hardest game I've ever converted from, next to all the Koei Warriors games. Because not only did I have to use EFFING COMMAND LINES again, but the way CDPR arranged the game files (particularly the textures--or lack thereof)--were just saturated in demonic energy.

Mind you, I extracted C2077 back in the EARLY days, within the first weeks of the game's release, way before the Toolkit updated and got a GUI and CDPR released its dev toolkits for modders, so it’s possible I’m giving you outdated information, as the process nowadays might be pretty different from how it was back when I did it.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I used the CP2077 Toolkit here, and followed the steps here.

To be fair, the steps themselves are actually very straightforward. I'm just a lazy, spoiled little ingrate who likes nice clean and simple GUI tools so i can click a button and see all the meshes & textures and go about my frikkin day. But no, instead i have to sit here with EFFING COMMAND LINES and try to figure out WTF these lines of code & text frikkin mean, with zero mesh preview tool to speak of. So I literally have no frikkin idea what anything looks like until I import it into Milkshape/Blender/3DS Max. GRAND. 🤬

(My horoscope told me I needed to get more sleep, and boy they weren't kidding, cuz I'm ornery AF today. 😩 )

But yeah, basically all you have to do is open the CP2077 toolkit .exe, and use the format the steps provide you with whatever the directory is where you installed the game.

As I've explained before in Pt1, all games bundle their files differently, so the trick with extracting is just to figure out what kind of bundle it is, what's in it, how to open it, and how to convert the mesh files into .obj format and the textures into .dds format.

For C2077, most of the files are in typical .bin files, with the meshes (.mesh files) & textures (.xbm files) in content\basegame_4_gamedata.archive | content\basegame_3_nightcity.archive |

So all you have to do is follow the steps and the formats they give you: copy/paste their extraction format code, and the "path to archive" is your installation directory: (e.g.: "archive -e -p "F:\Games\Cyberpunk2077\archive\pc\content\basegame_4_gamedata.archive" -w *.bin" to extract the .mesh files; or "archive -u --uext dds -p F:\Games\Cyberpunk2077\archive\pc\content\basegame_4_gamedata.archive -w *.bin" to extract the .dds files from the Gamedata bin archive).

Then just wait several HOURS (no exaggeration) for each archive to extract. I let mine run overnight for a a day or two--it took bloody frikkin forever.

Once you have all the meshes extracted, the good news is that converting them to .obj files The Sims can read is very easy, cuz all you have to do is use good ole NOESIS, THANK GOD~! ^0^ (Noesis can also open the .xbm texture files, BTW--it’s that clutch; I keep telling y’all.)

The issue with the textures is that C2077 just legit doesn't have many. 💀 It's a feature, not a bug--instead of using diffuse textures (like The Sims' overlay/multiplier diffuse), games like C2077 and Call of Duty instead use materials--kind of like the sample fabric swatches in a textiles shop or tailor, with dozens upon dozens of simple materials & microblends & patterns (a leather print, a metallic sheen, a paisley pattern, etc) shared between all meshes. It’s awful.

So you the extractor/porter/converter are now left with the sad task of patching all these materials together to make a lick of sense on a mesh that might very well use 100 different material files (no joke!) rather than 1 or 2 diffuse textures. And WOE BE UPON YOU if you’re trying to convert it for The Sims 3, where meshes can only use textures on ONE UV Map. The saving grace of TS3′s UV Mapping is that we have CASt, so often we can get away with having plain multipliers, so long as the RGBY Mask allows us to have recolorable channels that do a lot of that heavy lifting for us with patterns & color wheels. For TS2/TS4, however, I imagine more work would need to be done providing swatches, as nothing’s recolorable in those games.

So REJOICE at the pithy handful of actual diffuse textures (mostly decals & posters, etc) that CDPR bothered to grace us with in C2077--they're acts of mercy, I promise you. 🙏

And speaking of UV Maps--C2077′s are upside down. Which is absolutely frikkin lovely; who doesn’t love extra work, seriously. 😒

But yeah, that’s it for extracting, really.

Again, the method I used might be outdated by now, since I did all of mine in December 2020/January 2021, and I haven’t needed to stay up to date with the tools or anything since i already got what I needed out of them. :\

[say-duhnelle]

some quick tips to avoiding the nailed-it look

note: obviously professional-level work usually requires professional-level training or experience. these are just a few suggestions to keep things from looking like a melty disaster; they’re not going to turn you into a royal pastry chef overnight. (and, full disclosure - while I have had a few Wilton courses, I am by no means a professional myself.) nonetheless, you might be surprised how much they help. below a cut because it’s long:

1. use pans designed for what you’re cooking - eg. cookie sheets for cookies, cake pans for cakes, etc. rather than cheap foil pans or glass casseroles. obviously this isn’t feasible for everyone financially but the purpose-designed equipment heats a lot more evenly and (wrt. cake pans) gives a better basic shape to work with. other semi-specialized tools such as pastry blenders and straight spatulas for icing can make a big difference as well.

2. baking tips: make sure you actually do preheat your oven all the way before you put anything in it. for more even baking with less scorch risk, turn the oven temperature down about 25°F from what’s stated in the recipe and bake for 5-10 min longer. bake things on the middle rack and make sure that rack is level. try to avoid opening the oven frequently to check doneness - every time the oven is opened it loses about 20° which can harm your cake/cookies.

3. turn your cakes out and level them. this means instead of leaving the cake in the pan you cooked it in, you (carefully) dump it out onto a flat surface - anything from cardboard to a large plate to a specially designed tray works - and cut off the hump that forms as the cake rises while baking. note that this does waste a fairly significant amount of cake - you can use it to make something like cake pops, though. if you’re disappointed by the lower height of leveled cakes, you can make two or three of the same size cake and stack them to make a layer cake - just spread a little icing between each layer (see tips 4-6)

3.a) grease and flour your pans before you put batter in them so you can turn them out, even if you are using nonstick - the cake will turn out much easier, cleaning them will be easier, and the flouring helps the cake “climb” while baking leading to a taller, fluffier final product. I prefer to use Crisco rather than spray grease - put a little on a paper towel and rub it all over the inside of the pan, paying special attention to corners, then sprinkle in a little flour at a time and turn/gently shake the pan until it all sticks to grease.

4. less is often more. this applies in a wide range of situations, from fondant figurines to cookie thickness to adding food coloring/icing tint to the amount of icing you put on something - using carefully controlled amounts rather than globs leads to your final product looking less globby. if you decide you need more, it’s usually easy enough to add it anyway - way easier than undoing the damage of using too much.

5. LET THINGS COOL BEFORE YOU ICE THEM!!! icing melts when you put it on hot cake or cookies straight out of the oven. then your colors start running together, anything with shape starts to melt and glob, and you end up with an eldritch horror. however, avoid cooling things in the refrigerator or freezer when possible, as this can lead to condensation which will also cause color bleed.

6. icing tips: homemade or wilton kit icing usually results in a nicer product than premade icing from pillsbury or betty crocker or whoever - the consistency is nicer and it tends to have a matte sheen rather than the kind of sickly shiny look seen in the store-bought stuff. for a standard cylindrical cake, cover the top first working from the inside towards the edges, then cover the side working in one direction going around the cake. use a straight spatula to get a nice, even finish. buttercream icing is for covering the whole cake; royal or buttercream can be used for fine details depending on what taste and consistency you prefer. cream cheese icing is for specific cake recipes (eg. carrot, red velvet). gel icing, regardless of whether it is sold as “writing gel” or not, should really only be used as food coloring - it does not result in good looking writing, hair, etc. because of the lack of opacity and the runny texture. to write or do other details with buttercream or royal you can use a bag - either a professional icing bag with a tip, or just take a Ziploc bag and cut off one corner to make a very small hole (~2-5mm diameter depending on desired “font size”).

6.a) icing tips, particularly regarding color: add color a little bit at a time, and stir thoroughly. if you are using icing tint (comes in a jar rather than a dropper) the correct technique is to take a toothpick, poke it into the jar, then poke it into the icing. reds, browns, blacks and some dark blues can be fiendishly difficult to actually get to a dark/rich color - adding some cocoa or carob powder can be a good alternative to using a full jar of tint, if you are okay with a chocolate taste. keeping black icing out of light for a few hours after mixing the dye in can also help it turn blacker.

6.b) icing tips, particularly regarding character cakes: The cake on the left has been covered by taking an icing bag with a star tip and applying hundreds of stars side by side by side. this is the commonly suggested method of applying icing for a lot of character cakes and shape pans. applying the icing directly to the cake with a spatula, especially on oddly shaped cakes like this, generally results in the sloppy look seen on the right.

7. fondant tips: ideally you want to avoid directly handling fondant as much as possible, as the sweat from your hands can make it very dingy looking. wear gloves to mix in colors, roll it out with a pin and drape it over the cake holding only the edges and underside, cut shapes out with cookie cutters, and wear gloves to apply them or make figurines. if you are doing a lot of work with fondant it’s also a good idea to only work with the smallest necessary amount at a time and keep the rest of it in an airtight container. btw, before draping a cake in fondant you need to add what is called a “crumb layer” - a nearly see-through thin coating of buttercream or cream cheese icing that evens out inconsistencies in the cake so they don’t show through and the fondant looks smooth

8. writing tips: again, use buttercream or royal icing in a bag, not gel tubes, for better consistency and overall look; keep in mind the size of your tip/hole drastically affects the size of your writing. use a toothpick to lightly draw your message into the icing before writing, to make sure the spacing and centering are correct. if you are new to writing with icing, practice a few letters on a napkin or a plate before you write on your cake, just to get the hang of it. and for the love of god PLEASE check your spelling.

9. use a reference. returning to the elmo cake above, looking at the two beside each other it’s not difficult to tell that the “fail” one should have the nose higher and the eyes closer together. however, if you were building this cake from memory, it might be difficult to recall exact details like that. when you’re trying to build something to be extremely on-model, such as a character or copying something from Pinterest/a magazine, it’s always a good idea to have that example easily viewable so you don’t miss the little stuff.

10. work carefully and wash your hands or change gloves frequently. to take one more pass at el(dritch)mo up there, you can see his eyes and nose have some red smears on them. it’s unclear how exactly the smears got there, but each possibility can teach us something about precautions we should take:

possibility 1, the icing was smeared on by poor handling when attaching the eyes and nose to the cake - do things like this slowly and carefully, and use (multiple) toothpicks/skewers stuck into the back to support large masses rather than just trying to mash them onto the cake. (be gentle when handling the cake body, so it remains strong enough to support the skewers as well.)

possibility 2, the icing was smeared on by poor aim when applying it to Elmo’s body - be careful about the order you work in. generally speaking additional bits (body parts like this, icing flowers, fondant figures, etc.) are made separately from the cake and then applied after the rest of the cake is complete and decorated. 

possibility 3, the icing was smeared on from stains or icing remaining on the decorator’s hands after icing elmo’s body: check your hands frequently, and either wash them when they are dirty or (especially if you are working in dark icing colors that don’t always wash off super easily) wear disposable gloves that you can change whenever they get stained. (a box of these can easily be found in stores or online for less than $10.)

[klimtandbencbatch]

For an IronStrange prompt: Steve is making Tony feel like crap(cause mcu Steve dosent care about feelings) and Tony' s day is just getting worse and worse until strange makes him feel better. [Insert lenny face]

this is gonna be a two-parter!!! also I took some liberties w/ the prompt, I hope you don’t mind!!! next part is the fuckin’ and a wrap up of the divorce lmao

Other Words For “Splitting Up” Part 1

Tony Stark was hard at work in his lab, bobbing his head to Def Leppard as he worked on his suit’s thrusters, tweaking a few things here and there. It was a typical day for him, so far - wake up, have breakfast (coffee), read the paper, check stocks, head downstairs and get to work for God knew how many hours. He was just getting ready for the next step, lunch (coffee) when his music suddenly went quiet, and the doors slid open.

“Hey, what did I say about - “

He fell silent as a stack of papers fell to the nearby work table with a heavy, thick thud. A thud of finality, Tony reflected, as he looked up at none other than Steve Rogers standing before him, hands on his muscle-y, muscle-y hips.

“Uh, hey, Steve. Did you - ?”

“Just read the papers, Tony.”

Tony paused, blinking rapidly for a moment before nodding. “Uh, yeah. Okay.” He set his wrench aside, wiping his hands clean of grease before picking up the top paper off the stack. His eyes immediately snapped back to Steve, his jaw dropping.

“You’re - serving me?”

“Let’s just face facts, Tony. We haven’t been together in a long time. Hell, we haven’t slept in the same bed in years.”

“Uh, yeah, and whose fault is - “

“Stop,” Steve said at once, raising a hand. “This is why I - brought a lawyer into it.  Because I’m sick of having these arguments with you.”

Tony scoffed, standing, fuming slightly as he still had to look up at Steve. “Yknow, you wanted to get married in the first place.”

“And now I wanna get divorced,” Steve answered tiredly. “Alright? Just - read the papers, Tony. Please.”

Tony deflated slightly, looking over at the stack on his desk. “I… um. Yeah. I will. Just - leave. Okay? Just get out.”

Steve hesitated for just a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something else. With those damn - puppy dog eyes of his. Tony shook his head firmly, turning away.

“I’m serious, Rogers. Bye.”

He closed his eyes as he heard the doors slide shut, pressing his fists firmly against his forehead. He aimed a kick at his tool box, sending wrenches and screwdrivers flying every which way all over his workshop.

“Fuck!”

He’d known he and Steve were over. He’d known it for a long time. But lawyers meant meetings, and meetings meant going places together, and doing that when they hadn’t been seen publicly together in so long meant press. Press meant stories, stories meant attention, and attention meant Tony being the villain. He could see the headlines already.

Stark Tosses Out All-American Hero!

Marriage Bed Gone Icier than Cap?

Star-Spangled Couple Calls it Quits! Stark’s Riches to Blame?

“Fuck,” he muttered again, folding his arms over his chest with a long sigh. He saw Dum-E and U starting to move towards the tools, and he snapped his fingers to get their attention.

“No, no. Stop. I’ll clean it up, you two - you two take a break. Okay? We’ve all earned a break.”

He bit his lip as he turned back to the papers. “Time for some light reading,“ he mumbled, hefting the stack and heading upstairs, leaving his workshop a dismantled mess.

They’d tried to be discreet.

With the whole - Infinity War thing getting in the way, they’d had to postpone their divorce proceedings for a bit. Tony saved the world - maybe the headlines wouldn’t be so harsh - and Steve helped, providing ground support and a somewhat-trusted ally and go-between for the Wakandans.

They’d tried to be discreet.

Everyone picked up on it. Bruce and Thor, freshly returned, immediately noticed Tony’s wedding band missing, once they’d all joined back together after the mess on Titan. Peter had it figured out minute one, smart kid. Tony wasn’t sure he’d be able to forget the looks of pity on everyone’s faces.

And all of that Thanos shit, on top of getting divorced?

When Happy pulled up to their “secret meeting place” and Tony could already see cameras flashing, he nearly punched his window out. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, peering out to try to see who was there.

“Captain Rogers must be here already,” Happy groused, equally as displeased.

“Fuck this,” Tony sighed, shoving himself out of the car. He ignored the questions hurled at him by the press, heading inside and meeting up with his lawyer in the lobby of the building.

“I was told there wouldn’t be press coverage? That this was just a - strategy meeting?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, it would appear - “

“Forget it,” Tony said, waving his hand. “Just - show me where the big guy is.”

————————————

“…and he’s suing me for alimony. Steve fuckin’ Rogers wants my money. What lifestyle did I get him used to? 2018 instead of 1942?”

Bruce offered a tight smile, not sure what to say. “I - dunno, Tones,” he tried, ducking behind the screen he was currently engrossed with. “Maybe he’s just - trying to rile you up.”

“He wants money for his fuckin’ Soviet boy toy is what it is,” Tony growled, swearing as he accidentally caught his finger in a tiny piece of machinery. “No, yknow what? Fuck these blasters. They’re fine the way they are. Fuck me, Brucey, I… What am I gonna do?“

Bruce poked his head back up, shrugging. “I… You’re gonna get through it, Tony. You’re - Tony Stark. You’ve been through worse than a divorce.”

Tony smiled a bit, getting up to stretch. “I’m gonna make a smoothie, and you just earned yourself one. Want one?”

“Sure. The - strawberry one you do. S’really good.”

Tony let his smile grow a bit more, heading over to the little bullet blender he kept in the workshop now.

“So,” Bruce started once the noise had died down and the requisite smoothies had been distributed, “what about that doctor?”

“Hm?”

“Strange. Stephen.”

“Oh. Oh, him,” Tony said, setting his cup aside. “I mean, well, yknow. We - hooked up. Once or twice.”

“Yeah?”

Tony nodded. “Uh huh.”

“And what’s he like, then?” Bruce asked.

“Are you a middle school girl?”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s taking your mind off of Divorcee in Chief.”

Tony sighed, fiddling with his smoothie straw. “He’s… really smart. Like, wickedly smart. And he’s funny! He makes me laugh every time I’m with him, like when we get coffee or whatever. And he’s a monster in bed. Present company excluded.”

“Har, har.”

“I dunno if this is TMI, but - Bruce, I nearly wept. That is how insanely good the sex was. It’s like he was in my head, but I wasn’t - afraid, yknow? He just paid attention to everything I wanted.”

“It’s a little TMI.”

Tony snorted, giving Bruce a look. “I had to hear about it from Thor the first time you guys slept together. I’ve earned this.”

Bruce flushed. “Sorry about that. Again.”

“Hey, yknow what? It’s all good. We’re just a couple of friends, shootin’ the shit.” He turned back to his blasters, poking at the metal a bit before sighing. “I just… I’m trying not to get too involved in anything, yknow? Until me and Steve are done, and - for a while after that. So I don’t fuck anything up.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, reaching out to pat Tony’s arm. “I get it. And I’m here. For - when you need to talk. Unless it’s about wizard sex, then I’ll have to pass…”

“Alright, Banner. I get it,” Tony laughed, getting back to work. “Thanks, pal.”

“Always, Tones.”

————————————

It all went downhill from there.

Meeting after meeting after meeting. And every time, Tony seemed to get there last, and the press was waiting to pounce. He refused to give Steve any kind of money - after the little stunt in Siberia? He was lucky that Tony hadn’t filed, that Tony had wanted to avoid publicity. And to what end did he owe Steve money? Sure, he’d had Stark Tower back then, sure, but he hadn’t spoiled Steve. By any stretch of the imagination.

And that’s why Steve was dragging this out. Tony just knew that it had to be the reason.

And it was starting to work. Tony was getting tired of fighting, and tired of being hounded by paparazzi and cameras everywhere he went.

He was having trouble sleeping, and he kept reading over the documents again and again, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. He was currently locked up in his workshop again, bent over his workbench with his fingers tangled tightly in his hair, his eyes scanning over sentences he’d read a thousand times already. How much longer could this go on for?

“Tony?”

He jumped up, scattering the papers over the floor. He turned quickly, sagging with relief when he saw who it was.

“Stephen. Thank God for you.”

He marched over to the sorcerer, planting his face in the middle of the other man’s chest. Stephen’s warm hands came to rest gently on the back of Tony’s neck, kneading at the muscles there.

“You’re so tense,” Stephen murmured.

“It’s my soon-to-be-ex husband,” Tony explained, nuzzling against Stephen’s robes. “Mm, you smell so good… Like a spice market…"

“Was in Nepal this morning,” Stephen said, smiling a bit. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Tony answered bluntly. “I get voicemails from Steve every twenty fucking seconds asking if I confirmed for the next meeting or not. He’s got this huge sum of money he wants hanging over my head, and - on top of all of that - he’s out parading around with that - monster, and no one seems to be risking their journalistic integrity to print the truth! At least I’m keeping us somewhat quiet.”

Stephen let Tony vent, settling down on a nearby work stool. He nodded as he listened, watching Tony pace back and forth, pushing down thoughts of how cute he was. So little.

“Sorry,” Tony sighed, noticing Stephen listening. “I just… I’m really strung out over this. Yknow?”

“Need a bit of… Stress relief?”

Tony stopped talking mid-sentence, turning to face Stephen. His pupils dilated almost instantly, and he was on the sorcerer in a second. “Please. God, please.”

“My place,” Stephen urged. “Quieter. Further away from the cameras.”

“Take me away, magic man.”

Stephen smiled, opening a portal and pushing Tony through, immediately pinning him to his bed.

“Oh, I intend to, Mr. Stark.”

[amassingeffect]

Ficlet Prompt Friday - Molecular Gastronomy - Suvi Anwar, Kallo Jath

@ramblingandpie: Suvi discovers some DELICIOUS science

“Do you know what I miss?” at Kallo’s questioning sound, Suvi followed up with, “Ice cream. Honest to goodness ice cream.”

“… Isn’t that the foodstuff made from the lactation secretions of an earth mammal all churned up?” Kallo wrinkled his nose.

“See, when you put it like that, it does sound fairly revolting.” Suvi sighed. “I really miss chocolate ice cream.”

Now Kallo looked aghast. “You take perfectly good chocolate and put it in that?!”

“No, not the super dark chocolate you like Kallo. Though how you eat that…” Suvi shook her head. “No, it’s the sweeter stuff.”

“Well, we sort of have milk. Couldn’t you just freeze that?”

Suvi shook her head again. “It’s all in how you freeze it. The longer and slower it is, the bigger the ice crystals will be when it does freeze. No one likes grainy ice cream. The trick is to freeze it quickly enough to get small ice crystals but not to snap freeze it.”

For a few minutes Kallo as silent. Then he mused, “I bet Vetra would know what to do.”

“We need something to churn it and we don’t have a blender…” Suvi pursed her lips in thought. “Do you think Gil has any liquid nitrogen floating around.”

Kallo shook his head with a sound of disapproval. “If you want some juryrigged container that’s liable to leak on you,” his face lit up with realization. “Solidified carbon dioxide, same low temperatures that would give much more stable results that liquid nitrogen. Plus it sublimates so less to worry about when you go to freeze it.”

“So... dry ice then. How soon until we’re back at the Nexus?” Suvi couldn’t help but feel excitement.

“Mm, about three hours,” Kallo slid her a knowing look, his grin growing. “Did you want to conduct a science experiment?”

“You have no idea how much!” Suvi exclaimed before she added on, “I’ll message Vetra.”

_________________________________________________________

Six hours later, Suvi grinned as she caught Kallo peering at sweetened, flavoured milk with mild revulsion. Vetra had delivered on the dry ice and where Kallo found a stand mixer was a mystery to to her. But here they were standing in the galley and Kallo was eyeing the empty carton as she crushed the dry ice.

“Is that less than pea sized now?” Kallo looked into her bowl, putting down the carton.

“Almost there.” Suvi smashed the end of the rolling pin in the bowl a few more times. “That ice cream base ready?”

“Sugar, vanilla and the…milk,” Kallo made a face as he held up the bowl. “The directions say that you add the dry ice to this base…,” he looked at the written directions again. “A spoonful at a time.”

“Can’t we just add it all at once?” Suvi kept pounding at the dry ice. The smaller the ice, the better.

“On no, the last time you did that in an experiment there was that explosion—”

“Okay, okay, spoonful at a time. But next time —”

“You assume there’s going to be a next time?!”

“It’s ice cream, of course there’s going to be a next time!”

“If there is a next time, let’s make that fruit flavour ice slush, those are wonderful.”

“We can try. Isn’t it called something like granary?”

“Granita.”

Suvi shook her head, fighting down her smile as Kallo set the bowl in the mixer and set it to a low speed. She slowly added in the dry ice, spoonful by spoonful.It felt like it took forever, even though Kallo said it was only about six minutes. It took all her willpower to not dig out a spoon and try it right that moment. If Kallo hadn’t given her a stern look as he put it in the small freezer, she probably would have shattered a tooth on a small chunk of dry ice and wouldn’t that have fun to explain to Lexi.

The next thirty minutes that passed were some of the longest of Suvi Anwar’s life. The ice cream was done, they had followed the recipe guidelines to the letter and it was Kallo’s insistence that they give it enough time to let all the dry ice sublimate. By his calculations, it would take 25 minutes, with an extra 5 minute buffer window.

Honestly, she was starting to think it would be worth the shattered tooth. Lexi could fix those, right?

“I can feel you dying over there,” Kallo chuckled as he hit some buttons on his omni-tool. He pulled out a spoon from somewhere and handed it to her with a small flourish. “If you may do the honours.”

“Kallo… are you saying…” Suvi didn’t even try to fight the grin coming to her face.

“This may be one of the rare few times I saw this, so savour it: you may lick the experiment.”

“Ahahaha, yes!”

Suvi grabbed the spoon and had the bowl out of the freezer and digging in before she even sat back down.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled around her mouthful. “Oh my god, Kallo, you have to try this.”

“Oh, no.” Kallo shook his head. “But it’s good to know the experiment is clearly a success. Can you describe the results better than that?”

“Oh my God,” Suvi drawled out before eating another spoonful. “Totally worth it if I break a tooth. Just tell Lexi I did something else like… walk into a wall. Again.”

“You really need to pay more attention in the mornings.”

“Anything before caffeine and all bets are off.” Suvi paused, looking at the creamy concoction on her spoon. “What time is it?”

“Ship time is 21:10.”

“Ice cream for dinner, even better. Best experiment ever!”

“Granita next time!”

[gryphonvendetta-blog]

Running a blog and also a designing poses for Poseidon is, at times, very taxing. Right now for example, I’m learning how to use Blender more effectively so I can create Bento poses quicker, but even at my slow learning pace I would estimate I’ve made some 100+ Bento poses since the end of September. Add on top 70 or so non Bento poses in the same time and how each requires its own picture and you begin to see why doing all that and blogging drains you quickly. It’s no real secret I also suffer from extreme levels of anxiety at times too, so even more stress and exhaustion. Poseidon is there to supplement my disability allowance. It just so happens I really love making stuff too! This isn’t a call for the world’s smallest violin to be played, but instead to frame the reason why I love the above picture so much. Much like the joy of creating the Halloween pics last month, this one too means something to me. Despite being a picture using my sponsor’s latest works, it is a piece of art I wanted to do entirely for me. When time is stretched thin I’m forced to create pictures that are all about the items, because these creators deserve to have their hard work shown off, but the picture revolves around how best I can show you those items. The pic above is different. I had this image in my head for the past week, then watching Blade Runner 2049 on Monday only kicked my desire into hyperdrive. Visually the movie is a spectacular piece, using simple colour pallets to create immersion. The cinematography possesses the same kind of attention as those of Christophe Gans, my favourite movie director. Watching the film I felt the inspiration grow even more intense; I knew I needed to recreate the cyberscapes I had loved since I was a kid. And then I saw the latest blog packs and smiled. They didn’t contain things I needed to advertise’ the contained the tools I needed to realise the image in my head. Simply put, the above picture was 100% created for me. The fact these products lent so perfectly to it was secondary, but my gods were they the perfect gift for a person who has struggled to find his artistic passion lately. This is why I keep the sponsors I do. Welcome to my happy place! Featuring: From Fantasy Gacha Carnival: Fumetsu no Gacha Robe, Red Lantern Sakkat and Kimono by EgosumAii Vega-6TC Collar and Legs ruby by Stargazer From 6 Republic: Midnight Alley by Naberius Best Weather Box Rain by Dwelling Quay Mist Cloud [sungold] by {anc} Pistol 18 Pose by Poseidon. And if you’ve not seen Blade Runner 2049 at the cinema, do! It’s an experience all cyberpunk fans wont want to miss out on.

[katbishop-blog1]

A Fire in Winter (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

title: a fire in winter

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: language, mentions of injuries, slow burn

a/n: i haven’t written anything in goddamn forever but my inspiration finally hit so hopefully y’all like it omg

Bucky Barnes has never been good at relationships.

Really. Not even back in the day. Sure, he could show a girl a good time. Come in, sweep her off her feet in a whirlwind of sweet talk and stereotypical romance…for a month or two, until they both got bored, until they both realized they were nothing more to the other than a pretty face, until their affair quietly faded into a barely remembered footnote in their lives’ stories. Hell, it wasn’t even just with his girlfriends. Outside of his family, the only person he’d ever kept around very long was Steve (and the Howling Commandos, he supposed, but the intensity of the brotherhood forged in the fires of war never made giving up on them on option).

Bucky Barnes used to be good at romance, yeah, but he’s never been good at relationships. And that was before they threw his brain in a blender.

If his skill with relationships before was nothing more than a match, quickly lit and quickly burned out, now, he’s gotta be…fuck, he doesn’t know. Something invisible. No, not invisible. He wishes he was invisible. People notice him, alright. He’s cold and unapproachable, intimidating and mean looking. The kind of guy you’d cross the street so you wouldn’t have to walk past him. If he was a match before, he’s a pile of ashes now: dark and grey and cold and ugly and all in all, pretty goddamn useless.

It bothers him less than it should. He’s not James Buchanan Barnes anymore, the handsome and witty Sergeant. He has nothing to offer the ladies — or anyone — anymore except bloodstained hands. If he’s unapproachable, good. If no one wants to get involved with him, then no one will get hurt because of him.

He knows he wasn’t responsible for those killed by the Winter Soldier. Just like he knows that it’s still his responsibility that he was powerless to stop it. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t break free. He sat there, hidden inside his own body, as he killed, and he was powerless to stop it. And he knows if he ever cares about anyone again, and if they get hurt…it’ll be his fault for not being strong enough to stop it. No amount of Steve’s assurances will change that. That it’s his fault.

He’s accepted it all — accepted being a shadow of a ghost of a man long since dead, hidden deep in the shell of a monster. Isn’t much he can do about it but accept it. He keeps fighting, for Steve, for the man Steve seems to think he still is, to try and save more lives than he’s ruined, but he knows atonement is a lost cause. He’s a broken tool of evil. Nothing more. He’s accepted it.

Or he had.

Then you had to show up and ruin it all.

Other than Steve, the Avengers leave him to his own devices. They know he’s not a fan of human interaction, and none of them seem to be that big fans of him, either, and so they pretty much avoid him.

But…but then you show up, and he has a thought he hasn’t had in a long, long time: she’s pretty. You show up, recruited by Maria Hill, a former SHIELD agent, an Inhuman who can control and create fire, and you’re all smiles and laughs and soft curves and messy hair and bright eyes, and Bucky swears his heart stops the moment he sees you. And then you walk over to him, quietly standing in the doorway of the room observing everyone, and introduce yourself. You make small talk. You’re utterly unbothered by his gruffness, his one word responses, his clear nervousness, his coldness, all of it. And he’s utterly confused.

He looks up your file that night, and it blows him away, because you’ve been through so goddamn much. So goddamn much. And yet you’re smiling and laughing and so, so kind. How in the world can so much pain make someone so kind? And you were kind to him. Him. He doesn’t deserve it, he knows he doesn’t.

That night, he has his first nightmare in over a year. It’s about killing you.

He makes up his mind the second he wakes up; he can’t have feelings for you. Feelings are for people, and he’s not really sure what he is anymore, but he doesn’t quite feel like a person. He’s…he’s a hand grenade, with the pin loose enough to be dangerous, ready to explode if anyone pokes or prods it in the least. He can’t expose you to that. He can’t. He makes up his mind to avoid you at all costs. It’s easier that way.

Except it’s not easy at all.

If he’s eating breakfast, you’ll pull up a chair next to him, grabbing your cereal and sleepily telling him good morning, asking how he slept, what his plans for the day are. If he’s in the gym, the second he takes a break, you’re asking him to spot for you or help you stretch out (and by god, does that second one not help his crush). You challenge him to friendly competitions at the shooting range. He can’t avoid you. It’s not even like you’re deliberately seeking him out; you’re just treating him like any of the other team members, and somehow, that makes him feel worse. You’re not being friendly out of pity, or trying to help fix him, or any of that. You’re treating him like he’s a normal person. And that makes him feel fucking awful, because you almost do actually make him feel normal, like he’s not a goddamn hand grenade or pile of ash or what-fucking-ever. Like he’s not a monster.

The night that wrecks him is about three months into your stint as an Avenger. The rest of the team are out on missions or personal business or Avengers business or whatever. He doesn’t know; he doesn’t ask. It’s you, him, and Vision. Vision is almost more awkward than if it were just you and him. Bucky still doesn’t know how to react to a goddamned robot, and Vision isn’t exactly an expert at human interaction, either.

He’s alone in his room, writing — he’s always alone in his room — when you knock on the door. “I’m gonna teach Vis how to play poker, wanna play?” He kinda stares at you for a second, unsure of how to respond, so you continue. “Please? It’ll be way more fun with three of us.”

“I…I don’t know…” This isn’t exactly falling in line with the avoiding you plan.

But then you give him a comically childish pout with your best puppy dog eyes and a “Please, Bucky?” and he crumbles. He laughs and rolls his eyes, telling you alright, fine. You eagerly grab his hand, hauling him up from his seat, pulling him behind you as you lead him to the common room. He hopes you haven’t noticed how sweaty his hands are, and he’s glad you’re leading him, not looking back at his blush.

It’s fun. It’s actually fun, hanging out with the girl of his dreams and an android. He enjoys himself in spite of himself, in spite of his nerves and uncomfortableness and awkwardness. He feels his heart swell when he makes some snarky comment and you laugh. Hell, he feels his heart swell whenever you laugh, whatever the cause. When you finally lose (and that takes all night, because somehow, this cute little girl is damn good at poker), you get mad and incinerate your hand of cards and he’s gone. Head over heels for you.

A week later, he’s alone in his room, and once again, you knock on the door. You trudge in with a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape, a worn paperback in your hands, and a scowl on your face. “Can I read in here? Everywhere else in the fuckin’ compound is so goddamn loud.”

He laughs ’cause you’re just so goddamn cute and tells you sure, that’s fine. He’s expecting you to sit in the armchair, or anywhere not near where he’s laying back on his bed, reading old SHIELD files on a tablet. But you just walk right up to him and plop down on the bed, curling up into a tight ball cocooned in your blanket, pressed against his side. Without missing a beat, you reach up and grab his hand, pulling it down to your head as you open back up your book. “Play with my hair.”

He complies, but he mutters a “someone’s bossy” that makes you anxious that you’ve overstepped your boundaries. You look up, worried what you’ll find in Bucky’s eyes, only to see him smiling down at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

You fall asleep like that, and even though Bucky’s not the most comfortable — still wearing jeans, on top of his blankets, unable to move for fear of disturbing you — sleep catches up to him, too, and it’s the most rest he’s gotten in years.

When he wakes up, you’re gone, and while he’s a little relieved that means avoiding any awkward conversation, he’s kind of sad. As he gets up, though, he hears snippets of conversation floating through the door from the hall. It’s a ways away, but, you know. Super soldier hearing and all that.

“Look, it’s just really great that he’s opening up around you. He looks happier than…happier than I’ve seen him in seventy years. So I just wanted to make sure…just…just be careful, alright? He’s made so much progress since you’ve been here, I…”

“Steve, I get it. I’ve read the files, I know. I’m not going to tiptoe around him, though. But you know…you know what I’ve done. I know what it’s like to be treated like I’m fragile, and I won’t do that to him. I think he seems like a great guy, and that’s what I’m going to treat him like. He deserves to be treated like a person, not a ticking time bomb. I’m not going to go out of my way to hurt him, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not an asshole.”

Him. You and Steve were talking about him. He’s got a weird feeling in his gut, but there’s also a sense of relief flooding over him because you get it. You understand what he craves, what drew him to you in the first place. Normalcy.

“Okay. I’ll…I’ll trust you know what you’re talking about. It’s just…he really, really likes you, okay? So…”

He can almost hear the smirk in your voice. “I know.”

“And how do you feel about him?”

Your response is nonverbal, and the anxiety of wondering what that answer is kills him. Steve must be satisfied with whatever you replied as he moves on to talking about training schedules. Bucky stops listening. He falls back on his bed, trying to think of what to do with what he just heard. It’s not really much information. Steve’s worried, but when is he not? You made some vague comment about something you’d done, but he figures he doesn’t actually know you and your past that well, so it’s probably not a big deal. You know he likes you, but he figured that much because you’ve caught him making heart eyes on more than one occasion. He still doesn’t know if you feels the same.

But…you think he’s a great guy. You said that. And you treat him like any other person. You look at him like a normal person. It takes a moment for that to sink in. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s a goddamn monster and he deserves to be treated as such. But you…you treat him like a person. You’ve been through so goddamn much and you’re so, so kindhearted, so loving and caring and just…just amazing. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

Bucky cries for the first time in years that day.

There aren’t any more noteworthy incidents in the next month, but you’re still…well, you. Kind and funny and smart and beautiful and treating him like a person, and it’s killing him. It’s killing him because he almost feels normal until you’re gone and the guilt starts eating him away again. It’s killing him because fuck, he doesn’t know what love is, he’s never been in love with someone before, but…whatever he feels for you, it’s gotta be pretty goddamn close. It kills him because he knows the longer he lets this go on, the more likely it is that you’ll get hurt because of him, and he can’t live with himself if that happens.

It’s been a month since you fell asleep together and the team’s all together out on a mission. It’s a relatively big operation, breaking into and taking out a whole HYDRA base that’s managed to get a hold of some Chitari weaponry and try to mass produce it. He’s nervous, because it’s HYDRA, and while the trigger words have been removed, it’s still in the back of his head that there might be a failsafe stuck in his brain somewhere, they still might be able to get to him. But he’s more nervous about what could happen to you. He knows he shouldn’t be — you’re an Avenger for a reason — but the thought of anything happening to you churns his stomach.

Turns out neither of those things were worth worrying about because he just gets beat up, takes a bullet to the gut, passes out, and wakes up in goddamn agony back in the Quinjet’s cramped infirmary with you stitching up a cut on his right bicep.

“Wh—what happened?” he grunts out.

You glance up at him with a look he isn’t sure how to interpret. “Mission was a success. All hostiles eliminated and or turned over to the proper authorities, alien ray guns retrieved, no casualties except for you, and you’ll be fine as soon we can get you back to base and in Dr. Cho’s cradle.”

He starts to try and sit up, but you immediately push him back down. With your hands on his pecs, he finally realizes he’s shirtless, and suddenly he feels self-conscious. “Slow down there, soldier,” you tell him. “I said you’ll be fine. Not that you are fine. No moving.”

You go back to tending to his cut arm and he bites his lip, trying to hide the smile he’s wearing because you sound so worried about his wellbeing and if that doesn’t make his heart do a flip, nothing will. “Yes, ma’am.”

You haven’t smiled once since he woke up, and he’s about to ask what’s wrong when you speak. “Goddammit, Bucky,” you say quietly, looking away, “I thought…I just…I just saw you lying there in a pool of blood, completely unresponsive, and I…I thought…” You’re on the brink of tears. He’s never seen you cry before, he’s never seen you this upset. You never finish the thought.

He reaches his left hand over and takes one of your hands. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I’ve survived a hundred years of this shit. It’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

You finally manage a smile as the tears threaten to spill. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, old man.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.”

You’re there when he goes into the Cradle, there when he gets out. The second Dr. Cho walks out of the room, you pounce on him with the biggest hug he’s ever received. Your hands are desperately fisting the back of his shirt as you wrap your arms around him, your face buried in his chest.

“I thought you were gone,” you murmur.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m here. You got nothing to worry about, babygirl.” The pet name slips out before he can stop it and he instantly tenses up. You peel away from him and his thoughts race. Oh god, he just overstepped his boundaries, he just screwed it up, he made it all awkward, he—

Then you grab the front of his shirt in both hands, messy fists of cloth clenched tightly in your grip, and pull him down to you, and before he can even think about what’s happening you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, like there’s no damn tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure his heart rate is somewhere around 200. You kiss him until someone from out in the hall calls out for you, probably because you haven’t debriefed yet, and you slip out of the room with a breathless grin in his direction.

It’s supposed to be the fairy tale ending right now, right? But it’s Bucky. He doesn’t get fairy tale endings. He doesn’t get the girl. He doesn’t deserve it. The second you’re out of his sight, the reality of the situation comes crashing down on him. He doesn’t deserve you, and if he lets this continue, it’ll end in nothing but pain for you. He can’t let that happen. He has to — no, he can’t just avoid you. You deserve more than that. He’ll talk to you, tell you his lame spiel with his lame excuses. You probably won’t understand, but you don’t need to. It’ll hurt, for both of you, but it’ll hurt a lot less than what he’s capable of doing to you.

He doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, but around midnight, he sends you a text, hoping you’re still up.

Can we talk?

Your reply is almost instant. Of course. Want me to come to your room, or?

He pauses, chewing his lip as he debates. No. If he has to reject you, if he has to hurt you like this, he knows it’ll haunt him. His room will reek of the ghost of what could’ve been, and considering his room’s his only safe space, he’d rather not. Can you meet me on the roof?

Sure. Be there in ten.

He almost doesn’t hear you approach, you’re so quiet. He’s sitting on the edge of the roof, legs swinging over the edge, when you sit next to him. You’re barefoot, clad in nothing but sweatpants and a tank top tight enough that he immediately notices you’re not wearing a bra. Well, this is distracting. “What’s up?” you ask.

“Aren’t you cold?”

You snap your fingers, and a small flame appears hovering above the tip of your pointer finger. You juggle the flame across your fingertips for a moment before closing your hand, extinguishing it. “I’m never cold,” you say with a shrug. It still unnerves him that superpowers are a real thing that exist, and he hasn’t even tried to wrap his head around what Inhumans are.

He doesn’t know where to start, so he just launches into it. “Look, we both know…I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry, but I can’t…I can’t be with you. I’m a goddamn monster. You know it. Maybe I didn’t kill all those people, whatever, but I didn’t stop it. I was fucking powerless to stop the people I care about getting hurt. And I can’t…I can’t let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with myself. You deserve so much better. I’m sorry.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “You’ve read my files, right?”

“Yeah.” He glances over at you, confused, but you’re just staring down, playing with a small flame.

“Whole family killed in a freak accident right after I got exposed to the Mists and got my powers. What luck, right? Except…it wasn’t a freak accident. Well,” you say with a sad chuckle, “I mean, it was a freak, and it was an accident, but…” You look him in the eye, and he sees an ocean of sadness deep enough to drown in. “I killed them, Buck. I killed them. I got in a fight with my dad. I hadn’t told any of them about the powers yet. I just…” You look back down, letting the flame consume your entire hand. “I wanted to scare him. I just wanted to scare him. But I couldn’t control it. I exploded. I literally fucking exploded. And bam, there’s the whole house wiped off the map. And my family…gone. Nothing but brittle bones and ash and the metal plate my dad had in his shoulder left.” You extinguish the flame and look back up at him. “You think it’s your fault people got killed, Buck? Think it’s your fault that HYDRA, the world’s most powerful organization, with the most brilliant twisted minds and all the resources they could want at their disposal, could overpower you? It’s not. Even Steve, goodness and strength personified, couldn’t have resisted that. But me…I killed them with my own goddamn hands because I couldn’t even stop myself. You think…you think you break everything you touch, but Bucky…you have no idea.”

He’s speechless. How does he respond to that revelation? The two of you sit there in silence for a long moment before he looks at you and realizes you’re holding back tears, your chin quivering as you blink rapidly. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even hesitate as he pulls you up into his lap, and that’s when your dam breaks. Your whole body is wracked with sobs as you cry into his chest, sitting sideways on his lap, clutching his shirt as tight as possible. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist while the other strokes your hair gently. Neither of you say anything. No words are needed.

You sit like that for a long time, crying into his shirt as he plays with your hair and eventually starts to whisper reassurances. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay, babygirl.

He doesn’t know how long it is before you stop crying, but finally, you pull back. “I think…I know deep down, that it’s not my fault I didn’t know how to control my powers. And I think you know deep down you’re not responsible for anything that was done to you. And I think…I think maybe we can help each other finally believe that.”

Bucky’s never been good at relationships, but maybe that’s because he never really knew what a relationship was. He thinks he gets it now. It’s not all the fancy romance. It’s just two people helping each other be the best person they can be. And maybe, just maybe, he can be good at that.