#its not quite dying but its not spreading and as big as it used to be

[serifdoesbookarts]

Hello!! I have studied a bit of wood engraving and am currently an assistant with a rare books and graphic art collection. I have done zero woodcutting though, since I jumped straight from softcut and linocut to wood engraving. Definitely not an expert, but I know more than the average person.

Wood engraving and woodcutting are part of the same family of printmaking, but are slightly different. The part of the wood that you carve is different. In woodcutting, you cut on the side of the tree, so basically perpendicular to the grain. In wood engraving, you engrave into the endgrain. It's like if you cut a tree down and made a block, you could see the grains, like the grains are pointing straight up.

You also would use two different types of wood. I can't remember the exact ones off the top of my head as it's been a year or so since I last truly sat down and engraved, but if I'm remembering correctly (and again, I could be misremembering) engraving requires woods like maple, not woods like pine. AKA, engraving uses hard wood, not soft wood like woodcuts. I learned to engrave with small maple blocks that were really high quality.

The way you cut/carve is different too. In engraving, you are literally shaving small bits of the wood away. I sometimes had to vacuum after a long engraving session because I had just tons of tiny shavings all over my desk, chair, and floor. Woodcutting is more similar to linocut and softcut cutting motions. The tools are quite different too. Instead of a U or V shaped tool, engraving tools are pointy, and the handle is round and fits quite nicely in your hand. The ones I used were Japanese. They are a bit hard to sharpen since if youre not perfectly flat when using a stone, it causes the flat of the tool to be rounded and can cause issues. They're very sharp, though, and the only time I ever got hurt was literally my very last engraving on the very last day of class, I poked myself in the thumb and was so mad about it. Not bad, but enough that it hurt, and a bandaid wouldn't stay because it was at the end of my thumb.

Wood engravings are also usually smaller, because it's more intense, more detailed, and way more expensive than woodcutting. There's very few people in the world who still make blocks for engraving, and while they're very skilled, it can get pricey. We had to order ours in a class set and once we ordered, we couldn't get new ones because of price and shipping times. Woodcutting can be done on bigger blocks and is cheaper since you can use softer, more common woods. Wood engraving is easier to do in tandem with letterpress printing, however, as blocks for engraving are type-high (0.918 inches!). I personally have printed my own engravings alongside hand set type on Vandercooks, which allowed for much faster printing since I didn't have to swap everything out and line everything up to print a new layer.

Engraving came later, roughly the 15th century if I've got my dates right, while woodcutting is from China. I've seen dates ranging from the 200s BCE to the 200s CE to the 700s CE, so basically it's really old. Just like printing presses! East and Southeast Asia has had them for centuries before Germany brought them to the rest of the world.

I probably missed some stuff, but that's the basics from someone who at least studied one of the two things you're asking about. If you'd like to see more, there are a bunch of presses and blogs online actively engraving or cutting, and they usually each have a small blurb or a post explaining the differences or basics. If you're looking to collect prints, the Wood Engravers Network is a wonderful resource, and you get basically random prints from very very incredibly skilled engravers if you become a member, plus a newsletter.

Also: Agnes Miller Parker was who I did a research project on for my engraving studies! My favorite is the Siamese cat, I can't remember if it's a reduction print or what it's called but the one with multiple colors.

Can any printmaking folks out there help me understand the difference between woodcut and wood engraving? The prev posts w Agness Miller Parker led me down a hole of trying to wrap my head around what wood engraving was, but I found conflicting info :(

[zynnth]

The Wild Life finale is making me so insane I can't NOT talk about it

(My AU of the Eyes and Ears AU)

I kept thinking about how an ending like Joel's could be tied to the whole Watcher Lore cause of how happy he was at the end and how that's exactly the opposite of what the Watchers would want, since they feed off of the emotions of the players, especially negative ones. But like. That's EXACTLY IT

Wild Life is, well, WILD. It's almost like the Watchers made this game SPECIFICALLY for Joel, someone who thrives in the chaos and is as unpredictable, as WILD as him.

And unsurprisingly, this works very well. Despite the previous games having their own twists and turns, Wild Life turned that up to a hundred. The Watchers wanted to see the chaos, with Joel in the middle of it. They wanted him to once again reach the level of insanity he displayed in several of the previous games, to spread the panic across the server which would generate all the emotions they could feed on.

But it didn't quite work as they intended. And that's because they underestimated him.

At this point to me it's undeniable that Joel had one of the most prominent arcs throughout the series.

It started in Third Life, where he was quite literally a lone wolf, only having a loose alliance with Scar and Grian at the end which was more for convenience rather than his own will. Then in Last Life, he was once again alone most of the time other than some quick team ups with other red names. Later on in Double Life, he had to team up with Etho because he was soulbound to him. Despite being somewhat reluctant at first, they managed to make it work. Then in Limited Life, he had his first taste of a genuine alliance with the Bad Boys, going as far as to want to sacrifice himself just so Jimmy wouldn't go out first. Then in Secret Life he had the Mounders, so far his biggest team in the games. Throughout the entire series he found more and more people he could rely on, an arc which finally had its climax in Wild Life with his (extended) family. He had their backs and they had his.

It was this support that not only protected him from other teams, but helped him outplay the Wildcards thrown at them. In the middle of all the chaos and death, Joel, the one who was known for being reckless, dying to his own mistakes and just being generally chaotic, was the one who remained rational and not only managed to COMPLETELY avoid dying to these lethal Wildcards, he used them to his advantage.

His finale was no tragedy like all the others were. It was a genuine victory, one he savored until his final moments. The Watchers didn't get the insane Joel from the previous games. Instead they got an ecstatic champion who wasn't going to give them any negative emotions to feed on. This victory was HIS and he's proud of it. In this world of chaos, it wasn't the unpredictable Wildcards that defeated him. HE was the Wildcard that the Watchers could never expect. HE was the one who defied all expectations and won the game with his family cheering him on. HE was the one who wasn't going to give in to what the Watchers wanted.

And it was HIM who managed to win with a big smile on his face at the end of it all.

[lovebugism]

If you’re taking requests could I ask for one from the fall prompts with Steve and punchy?

“When she wears YOUR flannel shirt”

ty for requesting! steve x punchy nation rise! — you spend an autumn morning with steve which results in misplaced jealousy and spilled coffee (established relationship, fluff, v v brief miscommunication, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve, still wearing last night’s pajamas, stands barefoot on the patio and basks in the early morning orange. 

Fall seemed to arrive in Hawkins overnight. It’s cooler than usual outside, and everything is weirdly more yellow. Every tree has seemingly shed its leaves, too, and somehow ended up right in his pool. He uses the net to fish the dying things from the rippling blue.

You watch him from the doorway. His golden arms tense with every scoop, and his sleep shirt is so tight you can see the muscles in his back flexing, too. Your bare legs are cold and prickly with it, but the sight of him makes you feel all warm — like the mug of hot coffee burning your palm.

“You have to stop being so productive so early in the morning,” you chastise, voice still heavy with sleep. “It’s getting weird.”

“It’s gotta get done, babe,” Steve retorts with a soft laugh, his back still facing you.

You take it as an opportunity to press yourself against him. You wrap your free hand around his waist and spread your palm along the faint pudge of his covered tummy. Your cheek melts between his shoulder blades as you mumble, “Not while normal people are still sleeping. Think about it— we could be spooning right now and not freezing our asses off—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve interjects with a boyish vibrato. Still gripping the metal handle of the pool skimmer, he turns around to face you. His honey eyes are wide as they dart up and down your form. “No way you’re wearing Eddie’s shirt right now.”

Your brows pinch together just like his bushy ones. You look down at yourself, at the deep green and navy blue flannel swallowing you whole, then back at him. “No?” you answer, though it comes out as more of a question. “This is your shirt.”

Steve shakes his head, puts a hand on his hip, and clicks his lips against his teeth. 

“No… I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing it the other day— he said he was gonna cut the sleeves off and wear it over his jacket like a freak.”

“And I told him he couldn’t, remember?” you lilt with raised brows. “‘Cause he stole it from me after I stole it from you.”

Steve winces when you shove your pointer finger into his chest.

“So, it’s mine?” he questions, confused all over again.

You nod all slow. “Yeah.”

“Oh…” he hums, less jealous and more content than he was a moment ago. 

His chest starts to warm now that he can see you more clearly, without the haze of misplaced envy clouding his vision. 

Your hair’s a mess, and you’re still in yesterday’s makeup, and your legs are unshaven. The buttons on the flannel don’t quite line up, either, and the lapel droops off one shoulder to reveal the lovebite he left on your collarbone the night before.

If home was a place, he’s pretty sure it’d look an awful lot like you.

“…Oh,” he repeats, with a more profound inflection this time. ‘Cause he’s a boy, and you’re wearing his shirt, and it’s doing irreversible damage to his brain.

“I just got, like, ten times hotter, huh?” you tease with a knowing squint.

“Try a thousand,” Steve scoffs with a pink grin.

“A million?”

“A billion,” he argues, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders to pull you into him again. His other stays firmly gripping the pool net because he’s not diving in to rescue this thing if it sinks. “A kajillion, even,” he jokes with sparkling eyes that dance between both of yours.

You laugh before you mean to. “Wow. That’s a real big number, Harrington. Sure you know what it means?”

“If it means I wanna kiss the life outta you, then, yeah,” he murmurs lowly, already leaning in to kiss your smile.

You taste like coffee, where he tastes like minty mouthwash. It’s an unearthly concoction that feels like heaven on your tongue. 

It’s perhaps too early to be kissed so ardently, with your head tilted back against the crook of Steve’s elbow while he steals the breath from your lungs. You get so effortlessly drunk on him — quickly forgetting the crisp cold and the fresh coffee in your hand.

Steve hisses when he pulls back from you, features contorted in discomfort. “Hot coffee,” he winces through gritted teeth. “Hot coffee on my foot.”

Only then do you recognize your limp hand and the subtle splashing of your drink against the patio.

“Oh, shit!” you blurt into the quiet, early morning. “Fuck, Steve— I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head and swipes a hand through his hair. He scrunches his nose and tries to smile. “It’s okay. Didn’t even hurt.”

Your eyes flit down to his splotchy red foot, then back at him. You look more pained by it than he does. “Yes, it did!” you agonize, wrapping your arms around his waist and smushing your cheek into his chest. 

Thankfully, there’s not much coffee left in the mug to spill this time. 

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” you mumble into his t-shirt. “Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so clumsy all the time— it’s annoying.”

Steve laughs into your hair and abandons the pool skimmer to wrap both arms around you. One hand squeezes your shoulder while the other smooths up and down your back. “I don’t think so. I think it’s sweet.”

“…Even when I give you third-degree burns from my coffee?”

He exhales a faint chuckle. “Yeah, even when you give me third-degree burns from your coffee.”

Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his t-shirt when you turn to look up at him. Your chin tilts against his chest and bobs as you ask him, “Do you still wanna kiss me?”

A crooked smile tugs slow at his pink mouth. His honey eyes twinkle when they look down at you. He quickly forgets the tingling pain fading at the top of his foot because you’re so damn pretty wrapped up in his arms.

“I’d kiss you forever, baby,” he murmurs so fondly it makes your stomach whirl. “You know that.”

[pamicakery]

₊✩‧₊˚Manifesting and the Bible - Part 1 /2˚₊✩‧₊

(Neville Goddard inspired)

Disclaimer :This is my personal thought about religion, Christianity in general. It's my point of view that I wanted to share. If it can hurt your personal belief or you feel uncomfortable with it don't read. But please don't spread hate in comments or rebblog.

I grew up in a Christian family, practicing Baptism, going to church, listening to gospels etc from an atheist family (we believe in resurrection and life after death so it's not really atheism but I don't know how to say it in English)

We no more talk about god, Jesus or the angels. And my mom threw away our Bible.

I always had an interest in the Bible or the Christian mythology in general. And to know that Neville goddard had another way to see the Bible was interesting to me.

WE ARE GOD :

To make it short, the Bible is a story about us for us. What I want to say is that we are God. Not the big man sitting on his throne above the clouds throwing tantrums. We are God, omnipotent and omnipresent.

Omnipotent : we are powerful. We can manifest what we want, we can imagine every possibilities, every outcomes.

Omnipresent :with our minds we can do revisions and living in the end.

WE ARE JÉSUS :

Jesus is our imagination. Create miracles. When he died on the cross it was a metaphor. It's you dying from your old self. You let your old self die to a new self, a new you with new beliefs, assumptions and self concept.

no one cometh unto the Father, but by me.

We have to cross our imagination to come into our real self. Our god state.

SATAN :

Satan is the doubts, the bad circumstances. When Jesus was in the desert he was tempted by the devil. He wanted to seduced him with bread, food etc. To an extent, keeping him away from God.

At the same time, the 3d or the bad circumstances want us to believe that indeed we do not have our desires. And make us doubts.. Doubt in who? Our real self. '' Am I good enough? '' '' Can I manifest that? ''

You know who you are and what you want. When we say that the 3d is an illusion is true. It's an illusion caused by doubts.

Don't let your fear or doubts make you believe that you can't have your desire. You have to keep it strong and have faith. Have faith in yourself. Because the imagination trusts your Godself by showing you what you want in your mind.

I think I will make a part 2 because it's quite long.

But what you need to understand is that the Bible is not a historical book with people who truly existed.

'' When man sees the Bible as a great psychological drama, with all of its character and actors as the personified quality and attributes of his own consciousness, then and then only will the Bible reveal to him the light of its symbology ''

Neville goddard -

Part two here : 🩷

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 18

Good Luck Charm

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Endgame

Word Count: 9,856

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Your slippers shuffled against the ground as you stepped outside onto the porch. With a big blanket around your shoulders and a warm mug in each hand, you walked up to Steve who had been sitting on the love seat all by himself for about half an hour now.

His eyes were fixed on the wooden deck railing, but fondly found your face as you approached in all your comfortable glory.

"A hot latte for the hottie?" You said, handing him a mug of foamy, vanilla goodness.

His smile spread as fast as his cheeks blushed. "Thank you, baby doll."

"Anything for you."

After his gentle hands grabbed the mug from yours, you set your own coffee down for a moment sit next to him and wrap the blanket around both of your shoulders. He was quick to eat up your company, and shuffle closer to you for warmth.

It was that weird time of year where mornings and nights were cold, but midday was blazing. You were well equipped with leggings and a hoodie with thick warm socks that Steve was quite jealous of, while he was in a T-shirt and joggers. But your blanket, body heat, and the hot coffee warmed his body and his heart.

It had been a few days since half of humanity returned, and you were trying to find a good balance of giving him the space he needed to process the events and grieve his friends, time to reconnect with Bucky, all while trying to make sure you were there for him.

As of now it looked like cuddles and long conversations before bed, you sneaking off and working from 4 in the morning to around 2 in the afternoon, then coming home usually to an empty house since the two boys were out doing whatever Steve's and Bucky's do, then the three of you would have dinner together and you'd be back off to bed.

But today was different. You decided not to work at the bakery today because you knew Bucky was going to go tour apartments near by to see if maybe there was a place worth staying near his best friend for, and Steve would be on his own otherwise. Though he was perfectly capable of getting through a hard time on his own, it was always easier when the two of you were together.

With you settled next to him, his eyes fixed right back to where they were before. You thought he was looking out into the neighborhood, until your eyes caught glimpse of a tiny little creature. A spider spinning a web. Not just any spider, but an all black spider with a small red shape on its back.

A black widow.

You immediately understood where his brain was and what it was thinking about, you didn't even have to exchange words when he knew you saw it too. Together you just sat, sipped, and thought about your dear friend. But the more you thought, the more your heart hurt for Steve, so your mug was sat on the floor once again so you could wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him closer.

Your actions made him grin, and his hand found your thigh. It squeezed in appreciation.

"Way back when we fought Ultron, we all thought for a brief moment that all of us would die in Sokovia. When I brought up that possibility, all she said was that she would never find a prettier view anywhere else than being that high up in the sky." He finally broke the silence. "I was admittedly a little scared, and she was calm as could be. Using her skills to make a positive difference in the world was all she thought she had. She was okay with dying as long as it was at the hands of the greater good."

You nodded, acknowledging that you were listening but understanding he probably wasn't looking for a response yet.

"Clint told us she seemed completely at peace with her decision, like there was no second question. She knew that's what she wanted. She died for the greater good. I've always been scared of dying in battle for any reason. I made peace with it, I accepted that it could happen, but I was always scared that it would. I know that's not what I want."

Now, you knew what this conversation was about. This is what's been looming over his head for months, the moment you knew was coming.

He finally said it.

"That's how I know I can't do this anymore." His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

Usually, those words coming from a lovers mouth were the worst words anyone could hear. But in this context, you were happy for him.

"I know you can't." You nodded with a sympathetic tone.

"You're not even going to ask me to clarify?" Steve questioned.

"I already know. I've always known." Your small, delicate smile brought him comfort. "Since the moment I found out that you were Captain America I've known two things to be true. The first one being that there was nothing you could do to scare me away, and the second being that your time in the suit was coming to an end."

"Seems like that came easier to you than it did to me." Steve noted, feeling lighter now that he's told you. "It's been looming over me for years, and it wasn't a choice I made lightly."

"Of course it wasn't." You agreed. "I've watched you quietly struggle with this since the day we met. All I've ever wanted for you was to find happiness."

"I had a sense of guilt giving it up, like people would die if I didn't keep doing this, but I know now that the truth is there was a time before me and there will be a time after me in which everyone manages just fine." He continued. "I've been at this for far longer than I think anyone expected, and I know it's time to pass the shield."

"I'm happy for you." You stated, your hand now playing with the hair on the back of his head. "I genuinely am. And I'm proud of you. I can't imagine any of your life has been easy, and choosing to try a new path that leads to an easier, more peaceful life is exactly what you've always deserved."

"I just want you to know I wouldn't have made this choice of it stopped me from taking care of us at any point." Steve stressed. "Our life together is now number one with no set backs. Please take this in the most humble and sincere way I could possibly say this, but a lack of income going forward is not anything we need to be concerned about. We're set, and any future kids we could possibly want are set."

You smiled at his words. "Honey, even if you had less than a dollar to your name, I'd still want you to make this choice. I also mean this very sincerely and humbly, but the bakery is doing really well. I would've been happy to make you a stay at home Dad."

"So this is it." Steve shrugged. "I'll go on one more mission to put the stones back exactly where they need to be, pass the shield over to Sam and be done. The last few days of being Captain America, then it'll be the first days of the rest of our lives."

"I've always thought Steve was cooler than Cap, by the way." You grinned, head landing on his shoulder.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." Steve giggled, snuggling further next to you. "Thank you for all of your support. It means a lot to me. You've put up with a lot to accommodate what I do. None of it when by without appreciation."

"You do a lot to support me too, at this point, I think the bakery would fall apart without you and all the little things you do for us. They add up, and it makes a massive impact on the way everyone functions and business flows." You reminded him. "We're a team, Love. I'll always have your back and I know you always have mine. I can't wait to see what this next chapter looks like for us."

"I don't think I could properly express how excited I am about it right now amidst all of this chaos, but if I think about it for too long I'll cry." Steve giggled.

"It's okay, I believe you." You smiled.

"And now that the ball is rolling on the bakery in New York, I just feel really hopeful that I'll be busy regardless of the fact that I'm unemployed now."

You laughed as you moved your arm down to hold his hand instead. "I think a life with me is a life with the bakeries. I don't think that's considered unemployment."

"Can I apply for a job at Nice to be Kneaded?" Steve joked. "It'll keep me busy."

"Sure thing, I'll forward you the email you can send in your resume and fill out an application."

"Ugh I'm never gonna get the job." Steve pouted.

"Why not?"

"I haven't updated my resume since 1942, and there's a 66 year gap." He explained. "And the owner of the bakery is so beautiful, I'm going to be fumbling over my words the entire interview!"

Your smile widened, as did the swell of your heart. "I actually know her, I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you, Sunflower, that would be great." He smiled and squeezed your hand.

"...Stevie?" You questioned softly.

"Hmm?"

"We don't have to kill it, but that spider can't stay there."

Steve chuckled at your words. "It is pretty terrifying, isn't it?"

"Does Captain America protect people against scary venomous spiders?"

"Oh... did you not just hear the whole 'I'm retiring' part of the conversation?" Steve joked.

"Okay... will my big, strong boyfriend protect me against the scary venomous spider?"

"...but.... I'm scared of spiders" his voice jumped up an octave or two, and lowered in volume earning your giggles.

"Maybe we can just burn the house down?" You suggested.

"Yeah, let's do that." Steve agreed with a big smile. "Or we can relocate it together"

"Awwww!" You cooed unenthusiastically. "How about we wait for Bucky to get back and he can help us?"

"That's the best idea yet"

"At least you have a big, strong boyfriend that'll relocate scary spiders for you!" You jokingly enthused.

Steve's jaw dropped, but his smile and giggles prevailed through his feigned display of betrayal. "You know what?! That spider is gonna come bite you!"

"Not under Bucky's watch, it won't" You laughed.

"It's gonna come all the way over here and crawl aaaalllllllllll the way up your arm" With his middle and index fingers, they climbed up your arm with a feathery light touch as to tickle you on purpose. Your laugh was music to his ears as his hand made it to your neck, then he started tickling right at the base of your shoulder on purpose. "And it's gonna bite you right here for being so mean to me!"

As if it was the most contagious disease known to man, your happiness and laughter seeped into his heart and soul, and just being near you had him feeling the same way. Faster than he could process, you were both laughing as he one-handedly tried to fight off your attempts at giving him spider bites through the tiniest, gentlest pinches he's ever felt in his life.

The two of you were too occupied in each others chaos to notice Georgia walking across the street for a chat. Admittedly, she also got lost in the scene happening in front of her.

Your arms flying at Steve as uncontrollable laughter and smiles flew past each other, Steve trying to block your swift hands with only one of his arms. Then, his mug slipped out of his other hand and splashed coffee all over his lap, onto the blanket, and the mug shattered onto the deck.

For a moment, Georgia recoiled, fully prepared to walk away when Steve inevitably got angry at you for the the loss of a mug and a perfectly good cup of coffee.

But instead, she was pleasantly surprised when there was a pause in all movement and laughter, both of you looked down at the mess all over Steve and the porch, then your eyes met each others again, and the two of you bursted out in even more laughter.

"Oh no! Was that hot? Are you okay?" Your hand grabbed into his upper arm, questioning between laughter. "I'm sorry!"

"Not hot, I'm fine." He chuckled, patting the top of your thigh twice. "Don't be sorry! Let me get rid of this broken glass real quick so you don't cut yoursel- oh. Hi, Georgia."

"Hi, sorry to interrupt." She slowly walked up the steps.

"Oh my goodness, how are you feeling?!" You questioned, feeling indifferent about her approaching you and Steve.

"A lot better. I just uh, I just wanted to come over and thank you guys for your help. I don't remember much of what happened but Adeline from two doors down told me about it. You had no reason to help, let alone bring flowers and check on on me multiple times. So, again, thank you."

"We had reason to help," Steve cut in, remembering your sad years over your strained relationship with your once dear friend. He was committed to making this work for you. "whether you believe it or not, we care about you."

"I certainly understand that now." Georgia nodded her head.

"How has Michael been since he's been back? Is he adjusting okay?" You asked, having felt worried about him since the snap.

"He's been alright, it's been a bit of a shock to him but that's to be expected. He was focused on taking care of me but now that I'm better I think he's really processing the events that took place." She explained. "Steve, I also heard you got injured pretty badly in battle. Are you alright?"

Her concern had over his well-being had him admittedly surprised. "I did get bit roughed up but I'm a lot better now, thank you."

"I owe you an overdue apology." Georgia sincerely stated. "All the years you've been here, I wildly misinterpreted your character. It's clear to me now that I let the media, and Michael's opinion of you get into my head at the time you found your way to Greenwood. You're a good man, and I can tell you're an even better guy for the sweetest little lady in the whole town. I can tell you two love each other very much, and I hope you understand I only ever wanted what was best for her."

"I appreciate your apology." Steve nodded. "I think we both agree and see eye to eye on a lot of things, especially only ever wanting what's best for this sweet girl. But I'm not the only one you owe an apology to."

"I agree." Georgia nodded. She approached you with small apprehensive steps, then squatted down in front of your seat and placed her hand over yours. "Baby girl, I'm sorry."

You nodded, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I am. Really, really sorry." She squeezed your hand. "You are and always have been one smart, tough cookie and I should've trusted you to make good choices for yourself. I was wrong. I'm happy you have him, and I'm proud of the life you've created for yourself. It makes me happy to see you doing well. It's obvious that you two love each other very much, and I'm sorry for not seeing that until now."

"Thank you" You accepted. Though you would love nothing more than to have things go back to the way it used to be, Steve has taught you a lot about only accepting what's of value to you. Though him, you learned that the bare minimum wasn't the only treatment you should accept in life. He picked your standards up off the floor and held them above the ground. If Georgia wanted a place back in your life, she would have to fight for it. "I love you, and care about you so much. I always have, and I always will. I think this is a good start to reestablishing our friendship, but you know it's gonna take some time?"

Though this challenge was one for her to face, Georgia was proud to see you finally setting healthy boundaries for yourself. The version of you that she was friends with many years ago was a chronic people pleaser who couldn't get any words to leave her mouth that could possibly be taken badly. This version of you was much different, and far more healed and healthy.

“Of course.” She nodded in understanding

Standing up and letting your hand go, she turned to Steve once more. "And Steve, thank you for your service. I really appreciate and respect what you put on the line to save everyone we lost."

"No problem." He nodded before Georgia walked off right back into her own house.

Silence fell between you two for a few moments after her front door closed, until you broke it. "I never thought that would happen."

“Neither did I.” Steve stared blankly across the street.

More silence.

"Do you think she still would've apologized if she knew we were housing Bucky for the time being?" You questioned.

"Some things are better left unsaid." Steve shrugged.

More silence.

"I've been sitting in a puddle of vanilla latte for 5 minutes." Steve stated.

Then your eyes met his, looked down at his lap that was drenched in coffee, then back up at his face.

Once again, you two bursted out into laughter.

After some scrubbing, googling how to get coffee stains out of clothes, a shower, and a load of laundry later, it was like the coffee incident never happened.

Before you knew it, you and Steve were back in New York for a handful of different reasons. The first being location scouting for the new bakery. You dragged Steve around the city for 3 full days with a contractor and a financial advisor, touring empty business slots. Steve kept joking that you were the Prince Charming of bakery owners, you had a theoretical glass slipper and if one of the buildings didn't perfectly fit, it was an automatic no.

But eventually you found the perfect new home for the bakery. And wildly enough, it was in Brooklyn. The entirety of your search, Steve would make a little half-joke half-serious remark that everything good in the city was in Brooklyn. Sure enough, the moment you stepped foot into building, it was an automatic yes. You signed the lease right then and there, and the contractor started taking measurements as you sat in a pretty office with floor to ceiling windows signing paper after paper.

The only person happier than you about this decision was Steve, who had pointed out that the apartment he used to live in with his mom was just down the block. He also told you about how in building the bakery would now be in, used to be a little bodega where him and his Mom would walk to just to buy marshmallow sandwich cookies.

It made you incredibly happy knowing that such a special place to Steve, where he already had fond memories of getting sweet treats would now turn into a whole new place full of even sweeter treats. You'd like to believe that somewhere out there, Sarah Rogers led you to this corner location just to make his boy happy.

That same day, after all the paperwork was done and your wrist hurt from signing the lease agreement, you and Steve walked hand and hand through the streets of Brooklyn. The two of you had done this together many times before, but each time unlocked a special memory for him, and it always made you happy to learn more about who he was before the war.

This time he walked you along the route he used to take on his bike when he worked as a paper boy to put himself through art school. You passed by the apartment he lived in immediately after his Mom died, and surprisingly enough, it looked exactly the same on the outside. Then, you did what had to be done.

Hand in hand, you walked into a bodega and found the marshmallow cookies. You'd never had them before, but apparently they were one of the most popular treats in the 30's and Sarah adored them. After buying a pack of them, ripping them open and doing a little cheers, you each took and bite of the two crunchy vanilla cookies with marshmallow fluff in the center.

You could see the nostalgia flooding his brain, and all you could do was smile. It was the sweetest celebration you could've ever wanted for such a momentous occasion.

Then, you two went upstate for Tony's funeral.

Steve told you over and over again that you didn't have to go. He knew it would be difficult for the Avengers, and even worse for Pepper and Morgan who you'd never met. You were here for work, and already taking time to support him on his last mission as Captain America, and he felt guilty taking even more of your time.

But as he zipped up the back of your black dress, and you straighten out his tie, you reassured him that you wouldn't miss it for the world. He needed you there even though he wouldn't admit it, and you wanted a chance to see the Avengers again, even under such a terrible circumstance.

The two of you stated the night near the cabin after the funeral. The lake was gorgeous, and the cabin you rented was beautiful. It was quiet, quaint, and Sam and Bucky stayed the night with you guys as well.

You could tell the day had taken an emotional toll on them, where the boys used to bounce off the walls when they were all together, they just sat and held conversation instead. One by one the boys knocked out. Steve was first, he fell asleep sitting next to you on the couch. His head fell lnto your shoulder and his face nuzzled into his neck. Then Bucky lost the battle on the arm chair, leaving just you and Sam chatting for hours.

Conversation came easy between you, and you really enjoyed talking to him. You even got a little sad knowing that it was getting late, and Steve had a big day in the morning so you had to cut the conversation off and get him to bed.

Then, the monumental day came.

Steve's last mission.

He expected to have a lot of sadness letting go of such a monumental part of his life, but as he suited up for the very last time he looked in the mirror and felt like he barely even recognized the reflection anymore.

Your arms snaked around his stomach from behind and you rocked forward onto your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before looking at him through the mirror. Only then did he feel like himself again.

"Lookin' good, Baby." Your cheeky smile made an appearance. "Feelin' good?"

"Surprisingly, yes." He responded with a grin, his half gloved hands held onto your arms. "I'm excited to get it over with, so ready to turn a new page."

"I think Sam is going to be honored. You're making a really good choice passing him the mantle." You reassured.

"I think so too." He grinned.

"One last picture before you go?" You asked.

"Whatever you want." He agreed.

Like a proud Mom, you took a few pictures of the two of you through the mirror, and a few of just him. Then, you, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bruce all met up at the smaller time travel machine that Bruce put together and got ready for Steve's last run.

You waited patiently as they briefed, powered up the Time Machine, and got all of their odds and ends in place.

Once it was good to go, everyone got a hug just in case, except for you that got a hug and a kiss. What could he say? You were just special like that.

"Still got it?" You asked, as always before sending him off.

"Always!" Out of his pocket, he pulled the $20 between his fingers to show you before putting it back in. "Got a little something extra this time too"

Steve grinned as he picked up mjolnir, knowing it was the first time you ever saw him wield the hammer. Then, the cheeky little shit winked at you, earning a laugh and a shake of your head.

"Good luck, baby. It's only the weight entire timeline as we know it on your shoulders, so, no pressure." You smiled.

"No pressure at all, easy peasy." He agreed, stepping onto the platform.

"Go get 'em Cap. Love you!"

"Love you more."

Then you had the greatest privilege of all, saluting the captain for the very last time.

He smiled, nodded, Bruce counted down, then he was gone.

Of course time worked differently for the person time traveling, so even though he was only gone for about a minute or two for you, for him it was hours.

You and Bucky both knew what was about to happen, so the two of you took a physical and mental step back as you waited for his arrival home.

Bruce counted down once more before bringing him back, and you saw him immediately. He purposefully arrived away from the machine, wanting to have a special moment alone with Sam.

He sat alone on a bench looking out onto the lake, no longer in his suit, but in some of his old clothes he got from his place a few years ago. Shield in hand, but in a leather case.

"Where is he? I don't see him?" Bruce questioned.

"Well bring him back!" Sam panicked.

"I did, I thought I-"

"Then where is he?"

"Guys." You cut in. They both stopped and looked at you. Then you pointed at the bench. "Over there."

Both of them looked at you with a confused expression on their face, until Bucky elaborated. "That's for you, Sam."

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You" you confirmed with a prideful grin.

He hesitantly made his way towards Steve, and watched the conversation from a distance. There wasn't very many words that needed to be exchanged, but even just thinking about how Steve was taking his life into his own hands and making such a big change for the happiness of his own self for once had you choked up.

Just a few weeks ago, he couldn't even fathom fighting for himself. Now, he had moved an entire mountain for his own future.

While this was happening, Bucky filled Bruce in on what was going on. You could hear their conversation, but your eyes never left Sam and Steve as you leaned against a tree.

A few moments went by before the two boys shared a nice hug, Steve stood up without his shield and made his way over to you.

Without a word and a big smile on his face, he reached his hand out to hold yours. Your connected arms swung as you made the shirt walk back into the cabin.

It wasn't until you both stepped inside and closed the door behind you that your arms flew around his neck and his lips pressed against yours.

"Congratulations, Baby!" You said enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Sunflower!" His smile was so uncontrollable he couldn't even get his lips to close enough to kiss you again even if he tried. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"I brought something to celebrate" You noted with a smile just as big as his.

"Champagne?" He questioned.

"Even better," you denied, walking away into the kitchen before pulling something out of the cabinet. You hid it behind your back before approaching him again. "Hold out your hands!"

"Okay" he giggled.

Swiftly, you placed a package of marshmallow cookies in his hands and his smile widened.

"I've been thinking about your Mom a lot since I got the place in Brooklyn, and I was thinking about how happy she would probably be if she knew you were taking a step down from fighting literal wars, going to space, and time traveling." You explained.

"Oh, if she knew anything about what I've been up to since she's passed, I think I would've given her a heart attack." Steve agreed, feeling a bit emotional knowing someone has been thinking of her just as often as he does.

"She deserves to be included in this celebration, considering she made you, and you've been worrying her from her peaceful rest since the moment you lied on your enlistment form."

"That, she does." Steve agreed and handed you a cookie before grabbing his own.

You held it up a bit as you presented a toast. "To the Rogers finding peace."

He giggled at your words before tapping his cookie against yours and eating it. Amused that this was the second time this week the two of you had cheered and celebrated with marshmallow cookies.

Steve finished chewing, swallowed, then an expression you didn't quite recognize spread across his face. It was like he wanted to tell you something, but hesitated and was now internally analyzing the words before they left his lips.

"What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Did you notice I was a few seconds late?" He asked.

You knew there was a statement beneath the question he asked. The wheels started turning as you wondered what he was getting on about. "I did. A few seconds for us was a few hours for you... what did you do?" You raised a curious bow.

"You know, that essay you wrote about Peggy really stuck with me." He started, you immediately smiled. "Had me thinking a lot about how I found a lot of peace over the lack of control while being in the ice because I got to know what happened to her. She got married to a man I rescued in the war, had kids, lived a full life."

"I already knew that, because I wrote that essay!" You joked, earning a good laugh from Steve.

"Very smart! Remind me to give you a gold star later!" He chuckled. "But she never got that for me, so I took your advice and paid her a visit."

"You just saw Peggy?!" You questioned with wide, sparkly eyes.

"I did." He told you, still a little cautious in not wanting to offend you. "Obviously she was a little shocked because she thought I was dead, but we sat down and had a nice conversation about what had happened and what was gonna happen. But most importantly I met her kids, and told her about you and that essay you wrote."

"No way!" Your smile widened, and your hands found his shoulders.

"Yes way! She was genuinely delighted to hear about us, and gave her best wishes. She also wanted me to pass along a hello to you, and let you know that she thinks you're beautiful. Oh, and she’s that I get all the cookies I want whenever I want them.”

“Stop it, that’s so cute!” You squeaked. “This is like the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me! And you got more closure, which is incredible! What a great day. I’m so happy for you, but I’m also just so happy in general. What an honor”

“I love you, Baby." Steve stated with a big smile, hands pulling you close again when they found their favorite spot on your hips. "I'm so thankful every single day that I found you. You've been a beacon of light in my life, I wouldn't have ever made it here without you to guide me."

"I love you too." You sighed contently, as his arms wrapped around you. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. We deserve this life together."

"We've been through so much to get to this moment. Thanks for sticking with me no matter what. I know it was hard and painful, and definitely illegal at one point, but I hope now I can prove to you that it was worth it."

"You don't have to prove it. You already did. It's been worth it the entire time, and I'll always choose you no matter how illegal it becomes." You smiled and squeezed him tight. "You're the bestest, coolest, loveliest human I've ever met."

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." He kissed the top of your head.

"You've gotta propose for that one, Love." You poked.

"I'm working on it!" He said defensively, causing you to laugh.

And working on it he was. Because even though life proceeded as normal when you made it back to Greenwood, there was still a lot happening.

Bucky found a cute little apartment that was perfect for him not even two blocks away from the new bakery in Brooklyn. It felt like the perfect middle ground of still being close to you and Steve, all while still being able to live where he wanted geographically.

Shortly after Bucky moved out, you and Steve headed out on a trip to California to visit your Mom. This was a tricky one for Steve, because your relationship with you Mom was a tricky one for you.

Although your relationship with her was something you were actively improving since she came back from the snap, Steve still knew that her approval of him didn't mean much to you. But he was still old fashioned in the sense that he still at least wanted to meet her, and ask her for permission to propose to you before he popped the question.

Whether he felt like her permission or lack there of would actually make a difference for him taking what he wanted was a wash, but he wanted to do it anyways just to be able to know that he tried at the very least.

This was his second time visiting California with you, and he loved it just as much this time around. You guys stayed in your childhood bedroom at your Mom's house that resided in a lazy town on the bay.

He learned a lot about you from the charm of the house alone. The pictures on the walls of baby you, teenage you, and early adulthood you. Conversations exchanged with your mom over breakfast where she never missed an opportunity to share her favorite stories of your antics growing up. He also learned a lot about your Dad because of how frequently he came up in almost every conversation, and he desperately wished he could've met him. Just from what he's heard, he could tell a lot of who you were came from him.

Every night, you and Steve would go out onto the dock to watch the sunset and listen to music together.

You shared stories with him about what felt like endless hours of you sitting on the dock with your dad. Back then, the hours felt long and gruesome. As if sitting and watching the little creatures in the water beneath you was some sort of torture, but as you grew up and towards the end of his life, it became a sanctuary. It was the only place he seemed to be truly calm and relaxed as his memories and executive function left him. By that point, you wished the hours were endless rather than having a metaphorical clock ticking over his head.

Then, when the moon was out and the sky was dark it would somehow evolve into you and Steve slow dancing under the stars.

During the day you'd take him out and show him all of your favorite old spots. Hole in the wall food joints, family owned ice cream shops, the tide pools, and even long drives up the coast to the same music you would dance with him.

It was relaxed, easy, and Steve passed your Mom's unspoken test with flying colors. He sneakily got her approval two days before you guys left California while you were in the shower.

She was so happy about it that Steve almost had to keep you away from her as much as he could so she didn't ruin the surprise.

Then, on your last night in town, you guys walked over to the dock just like every other night since you've been here. Only this time, it was a little later. Dinner ran late so by the time you made it out for one last night, the sun was already setting.

But it was okay, because when the two of you approached hand in hand, and he watched your face twist up with a billion different emotions when you realized that the dock was covered in flowers and lit up with the soft golden glow of dozens of candles, it was all worth it.

At first you were sad because you thought it was for someone else, and the dock was now unusable for you and Steve on your last night. But as he continued walking towards it, and his hand holding yours was shaking and a little clammy, only then did you realize what was happening.

He could barely even get a single word out, let alone present the ring to you and get down on one knee before you were already saying yes. But he was thankful for your enthusiasm, because it instantly took his nerves away.

The ring was perfect, the proposal was perfect, and dancing under the twinkling stars and amongst the burning candles was perfect.

Your fiancé was perfect.

Knowing that he listened to your stories and took them to heart, and incorporating a special place that reminded you of your dad into your love story made you weep happy tears and he held you close and swayed you to the music.

Happy tears seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of you recently, and each little drop was well deserved and worked for.

That night when you got back to your Mom's place, you didn't even have to tell her the news before she flung her arms around you and Steve at the same time in a big bear hug. It was safe to say she was over the moon.

Just to make things even better, that night you and your Mom ended up having a really nice heart to heart. A lot of the issues you've had with her since you were little were addressed, and she apologized for encouraging you to stay with your ex after she realized how bad the relationship actually was. For the first time ever, she told you how proud of you she was, and how amazing you were for the success of the bakery. She promised to visit you out in Greenwood again, and see the bakery and Brooklyn on opening day.

For a little while, your life had felt like an embarrassment of riches, like or was going just a little too well for just a little too long.

Especially when Steve set off on a personal journey of trying to discover who he really was without jumping from battle to battle. It felt like every day the two of you would set off on a little adventure to try out something new.

Between work going so well, and all the fun dates you were going it, it felt like a smile didn't leave your face for months.

Long drives to little towns in the area, pottery and ceramics classes, yoga, pilates, meeting new friends at bars, then getting dragged home and put to bed, hosting dinner parties with you little Greenwood family, then doing the same thing all over again but in Brooklyn with friends you had made over in the big city. It was exciting, new, and you'd never seen Steve quite so radiant before.

Life was easy for a while, but with highs came lows that couldn't be ignored. The closer opening came for the Brooklyn bakery, the harsher the deadlines, and the more stressed you became.

Focusing on one bakery alone was a full time job in itself, but adding in another one had you practically ripping your hair out in the final few months.

All the choices fell on you, all of the paperwork fell on you, and all of the management choices that still needed to be made for the Greenwood bakery were on you as well, and there were no amount of shoulder massages and support Steve could give you to change that.

It was pretty much accepted that the only way out was through, and it would get much much easier once the new team of employees were trained and the doors were opened.

However, the stress took a toll on your body and landed you in the emergency room one fateful night. For the past year, your periods had become more and more painful. The second day of your cycle every since month Steve would try his best to console you through the pain. Hugs, back rubs, heating pads, painkillers, wasn't enough this time around.

You were throwing up, full body chills, goosebumps raised on your skin, and he couldn't get you to uncurl yourself from the tightest little ball unless it was to roll around in discomfort or getting up to vomit again. As much as it hurt his heart to have to bring you somewhere that had such traumatic experiences associated with it, you tapped out. The pain was so bad that you'd rather go to the emergency room than deal with it any more.

Luckily, the worst part was sitting in the waiting room. You sat curled up on his lap, and he held you so snug to him, it's like he was trying to hide you away from all the awful memories. When they finally took you back, they gave you so many pain killers that you were higher than a kite for the rest of it. Lots of exams, two doctors appointments, and a few medical bills later, they decided it was your birth control that needed to be switched.

All was well until a few months later when you woke up nauseous, and ravenously hungry at the same time. Having pushed through it, and gone to work, you called Steve on your lunch break to rant about how grouchy you felt, and how everything was getting on your last nerve.

He decided to stop by and drop off your favorite food to cheer you up since you still had a long day ahead of you. When he gave you a big long hug to try and make you feel better, you started crying because of how nice he was.

That's when it clicked in his head that your period was a whole week late. He brought it up cautiously, and you both agreed that you'd be taking a pregnancy test after work.

Steve picked up a few different kinds from the store, and both of you separately processed what this all meant while waiting for the time to come to have a real answer.

By the time you had gotten off of work and Steve ushered you straight up the stairs, you had gone through all seven stages of grief, and acceptance for whatever the future held for you. Mostly because you knew that no matter what, Steve would be incredible, and you were ready to take on anything life threw your way as long as he was there to hold your hand through it.

That's exactly what he did. You took the test, flipped it face down, and brought it out into the bedroom where you snuggled up together and for three whole minutes, he comforted you and reminded you that it would be okay no matter what.

The timer he set on his phone went off, you asked him to flip the test over.

Both of you read it at the same time, Negative.

Your eyes found each others faces to gauge any sort of reaction. He saw your lip wobbling and tears pooling in your lash line, and you saw him trying his absolute best to hide every drop of disappointment.

"Hey, it's okay." He reminded you with nothing louder than a soft whisper. When his gentle hands tucked your hair out of your face, and he grinned just to bring you some comfort, you fell apart. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry" You apologized, shoving your face into his chest. You didn't know if the apology was for your emotions or the disappointment you were both feeling but left unspoken.

"Don't you dare apologize, my love." He said sweetly, protectively cradling the back of your head. "All I wanted was your health to be a priority, that's why the test was important. As long as you're okay, I'm okay too."

As always, you took his words to heart. You never expected to be so disappointed by the negative result when you weren't actively trying to get pregnant in the first place. You also weren't expecting to be so effected by the tiniest shimmer of sadness in Steve's eyes when he read the test.

Your period showed up the next day, but the thought of having a baby intruded your every waking thought for the next month. It felt like the only time you weren't actively thinking about it was when you were working, but even then, you'd read deadlines printed on papers and wonder if now was a good time.

But then you realized now was a great time. The bakery was set to open in just a few short months, then most of the responsibility would be handed over to staff who was training hard to handle it. Steve was doing better now than ever, and wedding planning hadn't even started yet.

Much like Steve didn't want to propose until he retired, you didn't want to plan a wedding until the bakery was open for business.

With downtime promised in the future, and a sparkly engagement ring on your finger that reminded you of your sweet handsome boy, you decided to just talk to him about the possibility of even just trying.

Just like always, Steve was a thoughtful guy. He choose all of his words carefully through all of your long conversations about the decision to have a kid. You knew he so badly wanted to say yes, in fact, you swore if he was a dog his tail would be wagging every time he even thought about it. But it was a big choice and a huge life change, he wanted to make sure it was really something you wanted and not something you felt pressured into since that one fateful day.

It took 3 more weeks before both of you were wholeheartedly committed to the endeavor with the agreement and the knowledge that it might mot happen right away.

The prospect settled in your mind, and you just enjoyed the journey while you allowed work to be your main priority at the moment. And with so many deadlines approaching, you really didn't have any other choice than to just let the universe work it's magic.

The closer opening day became, it was like the bakery had become your and Steve's child. The two for you spent weeks in the store in Brooklyn painting walls, assembling endless amounts of furniture, directing deliveries, and decorating the lobby to live up to the very high standards of the Greenwood location.

By the time the kitchen was fully stocked, employees were trained, and the whole space was perfect from head to toe, you were both exhausted.

The very last night before opening, you checked every last screw, every bulb in the bake case, every seam in the wallpaper, and quality controlled every last desert on a finalized menu, you and Steve quite literally laid sprawled out on the floor of the lobby.

Steve took a good look around, and was so incredibly proud of all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to make your dreams come true. He knew that if his mom was around to see what this building had turned into if not her beloved bodega, she would be absolutely thrilled to have something like this in the neighborhood.

You laid flat on your back, looking up at the expertly painted ceiling mural and the chandelier, every crystal hung from it by the will of your own two hands.

Then, your rolled over onto your stomach, and your hand pat right in the center of Steve's chest.

"It's midnight, and I have to be back here at 4 in the morning. Maybe I should just have a sleepover." Your exhausted grin took over when you saw his sleepy face.

"You should get a few hours of real sleep before your big day, pretty lady." Steve denied, getting up off the floor and offering his hands to pull you up off the floor. "It looks incredible, you did an amazing job as always."

"It's funny that you think I'll get any sleep at all" You stood, then gave him a kiss. "I really couldn't have done it without your help, so, thank you, Baby."

"Anything for you." He smiled. "I can't wait to see it in the morning, I have butterflies just thinking about this place full of people."

"You and me both." You squeezed his hand. "You don't think the rug clashes with the wallpaper? And the chairs match the wood on the booths?"

"Stop, it's perfect." Steve put your mind to rest. "Just like you!"

"Yeah yeah yeah," you giggled, walking behind the counter. "I guess you're pretty cool too. There's a few cookies left from the test bake. You want some?"

"Wait! Hold on" Steve said dramatically, walking away from you and out of the store.

You stood there confused for a few moments, before he walked back in. Nothing had changed, but he did approach the counter.

"Hello, I'm your first customer!" He enthused.

You giggled, looking at the case that was empty besides 2 chocolate chip cookies. "Hi there, Honey! What can I get'cha?"

"One chocolate chip cookie please" He smiled.

You knew he was recreating the moment the two of you met, though that felt like lifetimes ago, you could never forget the vivid memory of seeing his handsome face for the very first time.

"Okay, but I'm giving you two, because I think anyone who orders one cookie is lying to themselves." You said, putting the cookies in a bag for him.

"Why thank you very much!"

"I don't think I've seen you around here before, are you driving through?" You joked.

"Something like that." He chuckled.

"Well I hope to see you around here again soon, and here are your cookies." You handed him the bag.

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asked.

"They're on the house."

"I couldn't possibly accept that" Steve denied, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Out came the very same $20 bill the two of you have been passing back and forth since the day you met. You smiled and shook your head at him as he handed it to you. "You have a big day tomorrow, I think it's your turn to hold onto the good luck charm."

You accepted the pass off, "this doesn't mean I lost this argument, did it?"

"It totally does" Steve did a little happy dance.

"You're a cheeky little shit, but I love you."

He laughed at your statement, "I love you more!"

"I have a little surprise for you" You noted.

"You do?" His eyebrows raised.

Nodding, you pointed to an empty slot in the bake case. His eyes followed to read the tag, Sarah's Sandwich Cookies.

His big blues met yours again with the happiest puppy dog pout you've ever seen in your life, if that was even possible.

"What you said about your Mom really stuck with me, and I wanted to make sure her and her love for cookies were honored in a place you hold special memories in. So, marshmallow cookies are permanent and exclusive on the menu for this location." You explained.

He didn't have much to say, but he did walk around the counter and wrap you up in a big hug. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"I wish I could've met her." You noted.

"She would've loved you so much, probably more than me." He giggled from above you.

"Impossible" you denied.

He gave you a kiss before letting you go.

"As much as I'd love to stay here forever and ever, I really do want to make sure you get some sleep." Steve noted.

"We can go now." You agreed, heart nervously pounding in your chest. "hey, really quick do you mind checking the oven to make sure it properly cooled down while I lock this register?" You asked.

"Sure thing, sweet thing" he nodded.

As he walked off, you smiled to yourself and your stomach filled with butterflies. You let him get a few paces ahead of you before leaning into the doorway of the kitchen while watching him reach for and open the oven doors.

He checked the temperature of the internal thermometer, which looked normal to him, but then, he stopped.

"Hey, I think someone forgot something in here!" He shouted for you, not quite understanding.

"That's odd, what is it?" You approached from behind.

"A cinnamon roll, but just one, and it's on a... plate?" He looked at it again. "Did you guys even make cinnamon rolls today?"

You smiled and shook your head at his wholesome cluelessness, but all of his attention was directed at getting the cinnamon roll out of the oven.

"No, we didn't." You denied. "But why would that be there in the first place?"

"Maybe someone wanted to warm one up them forgot about it" He pondered before pouting at it. "I don't know if that's more sad for the cinnamon roll or the person who forgo-"

Then he stopped.

His eyes met yours and his mouth fell open.

"Why would there possibly be a bun in the oven?!" You continued questioning with a huge uncontrollable smile, even though you were positive he understood now.

"You're lying." His eyes went wide, smile slowly spreading across his lips as tears welled in his eyes.

"No I'm not." You shook your head again with a chuckle and walked towards him. Out of your back pocket, you pulled out a very positive pregnancy test and showed it to him. "I'm definitely pregnant, like, super pregnant."

"You're pregnant?!" He blinked back his tears, one fell right down his cheek. "Like, right now?!"

You wiped it off with your thumb as you laughed at his question. "Right now."

"Holy shit!" He smiled, his hands landing on your shoulders, gently shaking them very enthusiastically. "You're pregnant! We're having a baby!"

"We are, we really really are!" You shared his enthusiasm, shaking his shoulders right back.

"Oh my gosh! When did you find out?" He questioned, eyes wide and staring at you in disbelief.

"Three days ago, I would've told you sooner but I wanted to surprise you." You explained, wiping another happy tear off his cheek.

"That's crazy, this is so crazy." He chuckled, finding himself unable to stop the tears from dripping down his cheeks. "How are you, are you feeling okay?"

"I've been constantly nauseous and trying so hard to hide it." You giggled at your own confession. "But other than that, so far so good. Are you feeling okay?"

"I didn't even know it was possible to be this happy or this in love but for some reason I'm feeling both at the same time, and I don't know what to do with myself." He confessed.

You smiled at his state of emotion, and smothered his face in kisses as he processed the news you just told him. Then, the news sunk in and his arms wrapped around you, and he took his turn smothering you in kisses.

"I'm so excited to go on this journey with you, this is incredible" he cried happily.

"You're gonna be the best dad ever." You cheesed, squeezing him back.

With two fingers under your chin, he raised your head and pressed a long, loving kiss on your lips. His palm rested on your cheek, and you sleepily sighed at the comfort of being held by your favorite boy.

"God, I love you so much." He confessed once more for the billionth time that day. "This is the most selfless thing anyone could ever do for someone, and I get to spend the rest of my life spoiling you rotten every single day and I'm so happy about it."

"It was so hard for me not to immediately tell you" You giggled. "But it was worth it to see you cute little face."

"Now I really want to make sure you get some sleep!" He enthused. "Oh, also..."

He pulled away from you and reached into his pocket, then pulled out a crisp $10 bill and handed it to you.

"What is this for?" You questioned, unable to hide your smile.

"Extra good luck! 10 for you, 10 for me, 10 for cinnamon roll." He explained.

"Never in my life have I felt quite as lucky as I do right now." You accepted.

$30 worth of good luck or not, the universe sent you Steve Rogers, and that was the day you won the lottery. That made you the luckiest girl I'm the whole world.

"Baby, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you better tell me to get it done for you. Hungry? I'm gonna find you a Michelin star meal. Tired? You better believe you're getting a full body massage. Can't reach the top shelf? Ring a bell and I'll bring a latter." He told you, and you could tell he was being absolutely serious. "I don't want you lifting a single finger, and I mean it!"

You chuckled and shook your head. "Don't say what you don't mean, because I'm going to be needing you a lot of that's the case"

"Being needed is literally all I've ever wanted in life" Steve accepted your statement.

"Well now with our little cinnamon roll on the way, we're both going to need you more than you'll ever know." You kissed him, and wiped the last of the happy tears off of his cheeks.

"You're right, it really is so nice to be needed."

The end 🌟🤍

@patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[szfiction]

@danielitsmebitch replied: Tsukasa always has to pick like the little bones in Senku’s fishes because he can’t do it correctly :p

[Read on AO3]

“For a scientist, you don’t always have the sharpest eyes, do you, Senku?” Tsukasa teases, the amusement on his face enough to have Senku rolling his eyes.

“I’m not some species of bird that can change the shape of its cornea for improved vision,” Senku sneers. “And sorry, Tsukasa, but I never claimed to be an expert in culinary science.”

Tsukasa hums, nodding in a placating way that likely comes across as patronizing. “Is that so? I didn’t know that you considered a job so menial to be a ‘science’.”

Senku grumbles something incomprehensible, resting a hand on his cheek and watching Tsukasa with an irritated expression. Tsukasa chuckles, and it’s surprisingly soft, still feeling foreign coming from his own mouth; at least in such a genuine manner.

This ‘job’ that Tsukasa has undertaken is simple enough: picking out the tiny fishbones of their catches of the day before they are set up to cook in their wood fire oven. With Francois revived as the go-to chef, it is not common that they have to cook alone, but with the growing size of the combined Kingdom of Science and Empire of Might, and the groups spread between their various camps, they are not always available. Thus, someone else has to undertake the responsibility—for Senku’s sake.

“Have your friends from Ishigami village never thought to teach you this?” Tsukasa asks, yanking out another bone between his fingertips. “Surely they’ve had plenty of experience, coming from a community located on an island.”

Senku shrugs. “Not like it’s a big deal. Swallowing fishbones is generally harmless. The gastric acid secreted by the stomach dissolves them within a week. And any steps I can skip in this type of prep work, I skip.”

“Right,” Tsukasa says. “And it’s still harmless when you choke on it?”

“…those incidents are outliers,” Senku mutters.

“Then I must have inconvenient timing, catching it twice now,” Tsukasa points out. It had been quite the scare the previous day, when Senku fell into a coughing fit in the middle of dinner, bending forward and face going a little red. Tsukasa had jumped in quickly, giving him hard pats on the back to assist, and soon, the bone was dislodged from Senku’s throat—much to his embarrassment, considering the little scene he’d caused.

“Twice?” Senku asks, brows furrowing.

“Mhm,” Tsukasa hums. “Twice.”

It takes a moment before comprehension lights up Senku’s expression, and a tiny smirk crosses his lips. “Ah. Right. Back when it was just you, me, and Taiju.”

“Taiju was worried you were dying on us,” Tsukasa recounts.

“Yeah, he was way too dramatic about it. And then he almost choked,” Senku muses. He huffs amusedly. “You had to make sure to pick the bones out for both of us after that. Looks like you’re right back where you started, huh?”

Such an idea settles pleasantly in Tsukasa’s mind. “It looks that way.”

“Kinda delicate work for the ‘Strongest Primate High Schooler’, though,” Senku teases. “And most people use tweezers, so it’s pretty impressive you’re doing it with only your oversized fingers.”

“I had lots of practice growing up.”

“For you and Mirai?”

Tsukasa nods. “Before she was hospitalized, I always cooked for the both of us, and I never wanted to risk her choking.”

“You’re a natural caretaker, huh?”

“I’m not too sure about that,” Tsukasa says. “It’s natural to share the skills and knowledge you have. Back when I was with my own group, I guided several of those recently revived through the steps to properly clean, cut, and fillet their fish before cooking as well.”

“You’re proving my point,” Senku says, amused.

Tsukasa shrugs. “I simply contribute how I can. Though, I still find it difficult to believe there aren’t others who would do this for you, Senku.”

“There might be. But you’re the one who offered, so it’d be illogical to ask someone else now.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m stuck with you?”

“If that’s how you wanna play it,” Senku answers, the smirk on his lips and his playful tone dwelling into territory that sets off alarms in Tsukasa’s mind.

“Careful, Senku,” Tsukasa warns. “If you give me permission, I might push my caretaking privileges further.”

Senku snickers. “Oh yeah, like how? Tucking me in at night and telling me a bedtime story?”

“If you’d prefer to be treated in such a childish way…”

Senku shoves his shoulder. “Shut up, no way in hell.”

Tsukasa laughs, fondness curling in his belly as he wipes his hands clean with a cloth, the fish in front of him now perfectly safe for consumption. He rests a hand on his cheek, turning to stare openly at Senku, who meets his gaze with a curious glint in his eyes.

“Truthfully, I don’t have anything in mind,” Tsukasa admits. “But I don’t mind playing the role of protector when it’s for your sake.”

Senku scoffs, shaking his head and fiddling with the papers in front of him. “Well, you already signed up for fighting duties when you joined the Kingdom of Science, big guy, so I don’t expect you’ll slack off.”

“Of course not,” Tsukasa agrees. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

And perhaps it’s simply the sun beating down on them, or a trick of the light, but Tsukasa swears there is a light dusting of pink adorning Senku’s cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, quit it with the saccharine words and lovestruck looks,” Senku says. “Don’t you have cooking to do?”

Tsukasa chuckles softly. “I’m on it.”

Senku nods, satisfied, and proceeds to make an excuse for himself, declaring he has something or another to work on in the lab. Tsukasa watches him as he goes, unable to shake his smile all the while, and when Senku sneaks one final glance back at him, it’s hardly his fault that it grows even wider.

Yes, Tsukasa thinks, as he turns back to his own task, feeling oddly hopeful in a way he never could have anticipated even a year prior. Perhaps tedious work suits me after all.

[joyfullywizard]

Hi! Really would like to know your opinions about Nosferatu remake considering everything?

Hey! Well, lol, it's all quite funny really in a way. Of course, I'm basing my opinions thus far on promotion materials only like trailers and stuff.

Cause  it seems that surprisingly remake is shaping up to be very tropey. Tropey in a sense that it uses lots of fanfic-ish tropes and  tries to insert some form of shipping  of Ellen  with Orlok. And since Nosferatu brand is very much built on “vampire brings plague which destroys city and woman sacrifices herself to kill him and stop him” mode, and it’s kinda a fixed point of 1922  Nosferatu movie  and its 1979 remake, it  seems the author of the 2024 remake had to work it backwords and make up the reason how Ellen, who still needs to sacrifice herself to Orlok and die, could still be into vampire. So, they gave her some death-wish, death-kink  in the remake or something based on the trailer. Which is quite interesting, because it basically  changes her whole sacrifice and death. Like in 1922 movie her sacrifice was a big act of heroism, and it was spelled in the movie   “A woman pure in heart, who will offer her blood freely to Nosferatu and will keep the vampire by her side until after the cock has crowed”.  Her entire deal  was  that she’s good and pure and sweet. Here Ellen is attracted to Death, dying, so on, it’s mentioned in the trailer that she has a secret and has her condition since childhood – so it’s not Orlok’s influence that made her suddenly into all that stuff, she seems to be like that since forever and Orlok is merely tapping into that. So when Ellen will be giving herself to vampire it will be  less about saving the city from plague and vampire who spreads it, while eating half of city’s population, like in 1922 original and its 1979 remake[though I suspect remake!Ellen must be also sad about all that stuff, cause they can’t make her into full blown psychopath] and more about her getting off and getting what she always actually wanted.   Something, something sexual liberation and fulfillment which she couldn’t get in life otherwise, but getting now   via having sexy times with vampire, even if she dies in the end in the process but it’s all fine, cause she was actually very  happy with Death and bonking vampire anyway, lol .

Speaking of which…another big glaring trope is that remake seems to be shitting on Ellen’s human life partner aka husband – Thomas. The trailer puts down Thomas and spells that he sucks in bedroom or something. Which is definitely a choice, but also kinda a huge cliché for vampire media since…a long time. It didn’t happen in 1922 movie or 1979 movie.  I mean such stuff is obviously done in order to push forward Ellen-Orlok combo, by introducing reasons why it’s actually understandable that Ellen falls for Orlok. Like yeah, he’s walking cadaver, ugly and smells like rotting meat and he brings Black Death and stuff, but hey, he fucks better than Thomas (metaphorically at least) and vibes with Ellen’s uber goth nature and he's basically the embodiment of Death, while Ellen is super into Death.   Extra predictions: while Thomas is supposed to be a good guy overall, based on 1922 movie and its 1979 remake, apart from dunking on Thomas’s sex performance remake probably will be undermining their relationships in other ways, by like showing that Thomas doesn’t  really understand Ellen, she’s too weird for him or  maybe even scares him at times, with her behavior,  so he wouldn’t trust her, etc.….Bonus predictions: at some  point in the remake Ellen-Orlok’s deal will be referred to as “dark romance” or “dark love” or something like that to drive a point across that Thomas not only lost by not killing vampire and not saving his wife’s life, but also by losing his wife emotionally and like sexually, because of  all that stuff.  TDRL: Thomas is getting cucked in more  ways than one by narrative  in the remake, it seems.

Another weird stuff I got  from the trailer is that Ellen seems to be not that smart in the remake actually. Like in 1922 original movie Ellen is the one who takes the lead, does enquiry on her own, reads occult literature and learns  about the way how to kill Orlok. Then she comes up with a plan all on her own and sets it in motion all by herself, inviting vampire in and keeping him occupied  with her blood until sun destroys him. 1979 remake only  built on that  - Ellen (named Lucy in remake) not only researched a way how to kill vampire all by herself, but also went and purified vampire’s coffins on her own, and even tried  to reason with the townspeople, who didn’t believe her  and local blink-and-you-miss-him Van Helsing, who was  absolutely useless,  then she  made up a plan and  invited vampire  in and kept  him with her until the sun destroyed him. Yet in the trailer of the remake we got a scene of local Van Helsing variant  character or someone like that giving Ellen a  lecturing pep talk about how only she could redeem the town. Eh, lol, what? OG Ellen didn’t need any  pep talk and lectures  from anyone, she was smart and capable and brave enough herself, both in original movie and its 1979 remake. If anyone, it would be Ellen who would be giving  lecturing pep talks to people -and she did in 1979 remake actually.  So, like, Ellen in the 2024 remake does not seem to be actually that brave – cause she’s already giddy with concept of Death, plus has some type of hysteria (?) and most likely would be not-so-secretly only happy to die because of her death-kink, her husband doesn’t seem enough for her, Ellen also doesn’t seem to be that smart either – cause she needs another character, a male character specifically, to give her lectures on the issue (???), like is remake giving the whole making up the plan how to kill Orlok to an old dude now (?!),  what was that about?

Again, I’m only speculating and throwing out suspicions- predictions on the wall, but so far the trailers gave me huge  tropey - cliché vibes from a lot of vampire media, but which previously definitely weren’t in Nosferatu movies.

[espresso-lessdepresso]

First Contact || Apocalypse!au Jschlatt

a/n: 1. The Last of Us Universe 2. Sorry to the girls and gays this has no kissing whatsoever, quite lacking in any intimacy really 3. The ravioli is only in here because TLOU had it as well.

t/w: Mention of death. Mention of dying. Stealing. Weapons. Guns. Fire. Zombies. Infected. Blood. Blood wound. Wounded reader. Needles. Stitches. Reader gets stitches. Distrust. Suspicion. 

w/c: 3.6k

Cans of food, empty containers, rope, forgotten ammo and maybe a lone deer if you were lucky.

It was meant to only be a small run for some supplies. You would have gotten what you needed and left the rest for some rainy day. The town you frequented was small and it was supposed to be empty, its residents had long since been evacuated. And probably shot down by FEDRA soldiers, from what you had heard, to prevent any more from getting infected and roaming the earth. You were in someone's old house, packing up cans of food, medical supplies and other items when you heard the sound of glass crunching. Before you knew it, an infected emerged from behind a broken-down wall and lunged at you. As you dodged and shot at its head till it dropped dead, more came.

A whole horde. As fucked up as it sounded, they looked fresh. Infected for a few days or weeks. Runners and Stalkers both. Again, the town had been empty since the first few weeks of the outbreak, so you could've only guessed that they somehow migrated to this area. Maybe followed a group of survivors, maybe bit one and infected them before quickly spreading to the others. Runners were bad because if you saw one, there were probably going to be a handful of others nearby. But stalkers? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. They were smart. They moved fast, they knew how to hide from you and would ambush you and straight up hunt you down like you're their little prey. It didn't help that you needed to use a few extra bullets to take them out.

And it was just your luck that the Molotov cocktail you had fashioned got knocked out of your hand when one of the infected jumped at you, pinning you to the ground. Within seconds, the bottle shattered and the floor was set on fire. The whole building was going to be swallowed by the flames.

After kicking the infected off of you and beating your hatchet into its fungi-covered skull, you crawled on the ground in a coughing fit trying to escape the burning house. Wooden beams fell from the ceiling, crushing a few infected underneath them. The wall beside you collapsed, trapping your lower body beneath its rubble. 

The rest- they flinched and screeched and groaned, but they still made their way towards you.

Black smoke surrounded you. Strokes of fire licked your skin. Breathing had started to hurt and your eyes burned red. All you could see was the blur of lights and the shadows that grew closer.

Fire. 

Smoke.

Infected.

Horde.

....Sounds of gunshots came from somewhere.

You woke up to the dull sound of metal clanking against each other. Blinking your eyes open, you were met with the dark blue sky, littered with specks of small stars. You were in the woods, on a worn-out sleeping bag and laying under a jacket that was far too big to be your own. The sweat had dried on your skin making you feel a bit sticky and tacky. Hours must have passed seeing as how the sun was high when you were in the town. Breathing hurt, every slow inhale you took felt like something was scratching the insides of your lungs and your throat was dry.

Tic tic tic tic... Foosh.

When you turned your head to the side towards the sound, you were met with the sight of a gruff-looking man hunched over a portable gas stove. The fire burned low, on top of which he placed what looked to be a pot of water.

The first thing your eyes darted towards was the head of a rifle poking out from behind his shoulders, hung by a makeshift strap across his torso. Your gaze briefly wandered to the shadow behind him, a pickup truck a few metres away from you. Your eyes went back to him, his face illuminated by the orange light. While he was staring at the water, waiting for it to boil, you could make out the tense expression behind his unkempt brown hair; furrowed brows and chewing on one side of his bottom lip. His clothes were battered and a bit dirty, but who the hell had clean clothes in this world? With the sweater, gloves and boots, he looked well-prepared for the coming winter, keeping his fingers from freezing off. Oh, and the fleece jacket that on top of you was also probably his.

With a flick of your wrist, you sat up and from your back pocket, pulled out your pistol, barrel pointed at the stranger's head. 

Sure, he gave you his sleeping bag and he might have saved you from the infected horde, but that did not mean he was some nice guy you could risk trusting. No one is just nice, especially not these days, not unless they want something from you. For all you knew, he could be a part of some raiders or hunters or bandits or any other fucking club. As if the infected weren't enough, you had to watch out and hide from these types of people. Somehow, they were worse than the infected. If an infected gets you, you're dead. But if you get caught by the raiders or hunters... You'd seen enough people get dragged off to their camps- heard enough screams to know all the horrors they could do to you.

So, you don't know the stranger in front of you. And he sure as hell doesn't know you.

He looked up, seeing the gun pointed at him and he shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle. "Guess I should've left you in that burning shit hole." His fingers came up to scratch his beard nonchalantly, watching you with the most uninterested and unimpressed look on his face. He wasn't the least bit worried about the possibility of having a bullet between his brows.

You didn’t reply. You took a shallow breath and were hit with cramping pain that pinched at your chest and sides. All that smoke you inhaled was probably still in your lungs. Maybe he knew that, as much as you did, you were in no condition to fight him. Even with the gun in your hands, anxiety itching your finger on the trigger, you could tell this guy wasn't someone to mess around with. 

"Your things are over there," He nodded his head a little way to your left, "by the tree." Your backpack and duffle bag were sitting at the base of an old mossy tree, along with your hatchet and empty shotgun. "If you're going to keep pointing that little thing at me, then better you grab your shit and leave without making too much noise." He held his glare at you, tired brown eyes almost turning black, a solid warning that if you tried anything-

You contemplated, giving yourself a chance to think things through. Really, if he wanted to kill and rob you of even the clothes on your back, he would have done all that before nightfall. You were most likely knocked out for five or six hours, four minimum. He had more than enough time to leave you for dead.

A sudden rustling of leaves caught both of your attention, your necks snapped towards the bushes. Before you could think of pulling the trigger and before the stranger could pull the rifle in front of him, an orange cat hopped out of the dark. Its big green eyes glistened in the twilight, as well as the silver army name tag that was fashioned to its collar. The cat trotted towards the man and dropped a rat from its mouth, paying no mind to you, much like its owner. The man's posture went back to its slumped state, his shoulders relaxed and he pushed the rifle back. He murmured something as he scratched the cat behind its ears, to which it meowed back at him. The cat then shifted its focus to the rodent, starting to nip and tear through it.

"Name?" You asked, lowering your pistol, though your finger remained on the grip. 

He looked up, somewhat glad that the person he had saved was no longer going to blow his brains out. Or at least not yet. "Jambo." He said, slightly drawing out 'o' of the name. The cat then looked up at him, curling its orange tail around the man's leg. 

A sigh left your lips. "I wasn't asking about the cat.” You were dumbfounded, almost amused seeing someone bring around with them a pet. This was really the last thing you expected in a world of chaos and fear.

"Oh. Right, of course." He nodded before properly answering. "Schlatt. I uh- I go by Schlatt."

You tried to rack your brain because you swore you had heard that name before. But you couldn't recall why or from where you heard it. With a parched mouth, you gave him your name in return, to which he nodded again with a rather tired and solemn expression.

Deciding that that was more than enough chit-chatting, you went to push yourself off of the sleeping bag. You were about to stand up from a kneeling position when searing hot pain shot up your thigh. For a split second, you were back in that old burning building, the fire and smoke suffocating you and the infected closing in on you. Something popped against your skin. Wincing and staggering, you dropped one hand on the ground to balance yourself as the other hand instantly went to place itself on your leg where you felt the warm tearing sensation. Only then did you notice the bandages wrapped around your thigh and the makeshift ankle brace on the same leg. There was already enough crimson on the white bandages but because you had moved so harshly, a darker red dot started to rise to the surface. You pressed your lips into a thin line, seeing the blotch of fresh blood travel further down the leg of your pants.

"Wait, don’t just-!" Schlatt hissed through his clenched teeth, "You're going to tear your damn stitches." As tall and as big as he was, his footsteps were light and almost undetectable, something he had perfected throughout the years of the outbreak. You didn't realise he was behind you until you heard his voice right next to your ear. He hooked an arm under yours and motioned you to sit back down. With his other hand on your back, you were laying down again on the sleeping bag. "Tch." The bandages were almost soaking at this point like a wet sponge. 

Pulling out a switchblade, Schlatt hastily cut open the wrappings and peeled it off of the wound with the tip of the blade. There is a massive torn hole on the leg of your jeans. Your breath hitched at the sight of several messy stitches crossing over a long and deep gash on your thigh. That popping you felt seconds ago was undoubtedly the snapping and breaking of two or three of these stitches. You could see how deep the cut was with the lighter layer of skin peeking through. The area around the gash was blushing red, inflamed and irritated from all the tension and reopening of the stitches. 

“What the hell, you did this?” Your breath was laboured but you tried to inhale and exhale calmly, your eyes unable to look away from your leg. 

"I was trying to help you!" Schlatt snapped back at you. “But all for nothing I guess, great fucking job bleeding again.” He wasn't the best when it came to any sort of medical aid. Everything he knew he had learned on his own when the time called for it. And fuck, You were bleeding profusely when he found you. He had no other option than to hold your skin together and run a needle through you like it was a piece of cloth. Though now the stitches were popped and he was all out of medical supplies. Schlatt took a quick glance at you, seeing the thin sheet of sweat beginning to form on your forehead from the spike of adrenaline. "Used all my gauze on you, shit..." He pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it against your leg. 

Grunting, you pointed towards your bag and no other words needed to be said after that. Schlatt shuffled both your bags closer and began to quickly look through it for anything useful. His hand landed on a tin box which somewhat resembled a first aid kit and opened it to find a small tube of antiseptic cream and a roll of gauze. He first poured water on the wound, doing his best to clean and dry the area before gingerly applying the cream. Not knowing what to do about the torn stitches, he just left them as they were. With a firm hand, he finally wrapped the bandage tightly around your leg. The bleeding would stop soon enough. 

Minutes later, you were lying on your back again, the pain dully pulsing in your leg. It was sure to slowly make its way to your hips and you knew it would give you one hell of a back pain.

"Now you owe me twice," Schlatt quipped. 

Even though you felt like your already small reserve of energy had dried out, you without missing a beat rolled your eyes at Schlatt, earning you another dry breathy laugh.

Schlatt had moved to sit a bit closer to you, still on the opposite side of the fire but two or three feet apart this time. He pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his fingers and picked up the pot of boiling water to set it on the ground. Before turning off the stove, Schlatt used a few dry leaves and sticks to make a small campfire to light up the area. He poured some of the water into a metal cup and pulled out a piece of folded paper. Unwrapping the paper revealed a few sticks of what looked to be dried jerky. "Here." He placed the cup in front of you and after picking a few sticks for himself, he held out the rest.

Wearily accepting the food, you muttered thanks. 

The two of you ate quietly, tugging at the stick of meat and then taking a sip of water so that you could actually chew and swallow it. The jerky was old and lacked any flavour, tasting more like leather than food. Glancing at your bag, you thought for a second.

At the sound of a zipper opening, followed by rustling, Schlatt cocked an eyebrow as he looked at you. Out of your other bag, you pulled out a red coloured can. Within days of the outbreak, people stormed every mall and shop and cleared out all the shelves. If you weren’t growing it yourself or had some inside source from the FERDA, then food was hard to find. And your luck was thin of finding something that was both edible and rotting. You eyed the can once more before tossing it over to Schlatt.

In a swift motion, Schlatt caught the red can with one hand and brought it close to his face to read the label on it. "Chef Boyardee Beef Ravioli" was printed on the front of the can with the picture of, what Schlatt assumed, the said chef and the ravioli. He rotated the can, running his thumb over the metal and checking it for dents or rust.

“It’s in pretty good condition.” You said when he raised his brows at you questioningly “Canned food has a pretty long shelf life... and if that's true, I’m pretty sure we won’t die of food poisoning if we eat it.” "Eh," he shrugged, "it's worth a shot." Schlatt rewrapped the unfinished jerky and slid it into his bag. With the help of his pocket knife, he cut open the can and poured some water into it before setting it on the fire to cook. A few minutes later, you both were eating halves of the steaming ravioli. Granted it was a bit off and you had to water down the sauce a little but it was miles better than the leather you were just eating. You did not miss the way Schlatt took his first bite and had to duck his head into his hand, eyes closed in satisfaction as he chewed. "This is fuckin' good." Finally, food that actually tasted like food.

Even the cat- Jambo came around to you, sniffing at the small piece you let him have before scarfing it. 

You stuffed the spoonful of pasta into your mouth, taking a moment to enjoy the hot meal while staring up at the night sky.

A subtle sense of calm and security cloaked around, warming you like the low ambers of fire as you stole glances at the man. The stranger. You knew better than to place your trust in someone you just met. But he- Schlatt- you leaned back in an attempt to physically recoil from your thoughts- he felt different. He acted different. His eyes didn't glaze over with violence or greed, they didn’t linger on you too long for you to suspect anything nor did they threaten you (unprovoked that is). They just looked tired. Eyes that had seen too much, all the chaos and massacres that plagued the world. Eyes that bore witness to his hands trembling in disbelief as he had done the very things he swore to never do. All the scars on his face and the calloused skin proved that. Tiered tiered eyes.  

You felt inexpressible relief- 

Don’t.

-and a bit of regret. 

You let out a long and heavy sigh, not letting your mind wander to hope for anything more than this. This was good. You would live another day. 

This was good enough.

"Nice truck." You commented. It was a pretty decent rig by the looks of it; a four-seater and cargo bed which was covered with a tarp. With the way it was rusting and had its paint scratched off exposing silver streaks of the body, the poor thing had definitely seen better days. "Headed anywhere in particular?" 

"Not really. The last place we-" him and the cat "were staying was ambushed by raiders. Was near the deserted FEDRA hospital down south- y'know the place where they were looking for a cure?" Then it clicked. Since FEDRA abandoned the building and withdrew the general area, quite the ruckus started going down there. Hunters started marking the area as their land. No longer heavily guarded by FEDRA soldiers, raiders slithered their way in. And that was when you first heard his name. Schlatt. He was the only one, who supposedly, gunned down more than half of the raiders before finally escaping. "We made it out just in the nick of time."

"Were... there other? With you?"

"Yeah, but uh, we got separated." Schlatt pulled out a walkie-talkie, flicking it on to only hear the sound of steady static. "It's been months so-" He cleared his throat, "They're as good as dead at this point."

But you're going to put that radio back in your backpack or on the dashboard of your truck. Flicking it on every few days or so, telling yourself that they're dead but unable to take out the batteries that could be used for something better in the future, holding on to that sliver of hope. You won't tell him to lose that hope, since hope is the only thing that keeps most of you going. “I’m sorry.”

"Nah, don't worry about it." Schlatt flicked it back off.

“Hmm...You’re headed east from here?” You asked.

His brows raised as he looked a bit off to the side, “Sure.” He wasn’t. It was as clear as the night sky that he didn’t know where the hell he was going or where he wanted to go.

“Drop me off a few miles from here.” You placed a hand on your thigh. “I’ve got...” A beat passed. Hesitation crawled up behind your neck before somehow letting go. “I’ve got a place. A small farm.”

“A farm? Like with cows and shit?”

“More like Chickens. And a garden. And running water.”

"Chickens?" The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in surprise, for the first time giving you something besides a sneer or dead-eyed glare. The only place he knew that had some sort of functioning farm was at some place called Jackson. “Aha, think you can spare some for this little guy?” He asked, eyes pointing towards Jambo.

“Why not? Drive me there and if you’d like, umm, you can rest there for a while before heading off to wherever you need to go.”

Schlatt squinted at you, "I hope you're not planning to kill me. Like, I drive you to your so-called base and a dozen men show up out of nowhere." It wouldn't be the first time he fell for something like that, but that was years ago and he now knew better than to just walk into a trap like that. A teasing grin played on his face. You shook your head, mirroring the grin and relaxed a bit as you felt a bit of the ice break between you two. “What? You pull a gun on me and think I’d trust you just like that? Geez.” Craning his neck back, his eyes turned towards the sky, looking at the moonless night while tapping his thumb on his hand and the cogs in his brain turning. 

Schlatt turned back to you. "Promise not to kill me?" 

How often did people keep up with those?

"As long as you promise not to kill me... or steal my shit."

Not often these days. 

Schlatt let out a chuckle, showing off the row of his upper teeth. "You've got yourself a deal." 

++++++

Engage and let me know if/how you like the writing. Reblogging/Sharing is much appreciated.

master list

[staruwhite]

One of the perks of the port mafia being such a big organization is the fact that there's space for anything inside that building.

And if you're the Demon prodigy... Well, let's say you can have a bit of a say in what to use some rooms for. Being Mori's golden child meant privilege, even if Dazai didn't use any of them. Living in a container in the middle of nowhere, preferring to use his hard earned executive pay to drown the sorrows in alcohol with Oda and Ango instead of getting some other place to live, not being close with almost anyone. That's the demon prodigy everyone knows. The monster they all feared.

Mori would try to keep him happy. Evil expects evil from others, and he knew what Dazai was capable of. The moment you're in his sights, you can say goodbye to your family. And yet, he seemed sure that Dazai had no emotions. It wasn't humanly possible for that to happen. Then again, he was never considered human in the first place, was he?

In the end, not taking into account Dazai's feelings would be what led Mori to lose him.

But not right now, at least. Not today.

Today, all that happened is that he made a request. For the first time, he decided he wanted something.

Deep inside, Dazai prayed for it to not be destroyed.

Mori would comply. He gave him what he wanted and, as he asked, promised not to tell anyone who was it that asked for it. Not like a mafia leader's promise was to be trusted, but it was all Dazai had.

The piano arrived shortly, finding its place in a mostly empty room. One away from most common places in the building, as Dazai requested. Sooner than later, rumours spread of a piano room that suddenly materialized. Dazai feigned ignorance, keeping up his usual mask in front of everyone. No one should know, after all, that the demon prodigy could have a heart.

Chuuya kept hearing about that "mysterious piano", his curiosity growing. By the time he had an hour to spend by himself and go check it out, it was already 3:30am. Most workers left to go home, and, being honest, the building with this little light seemed almost eerie, like he shouldn't be here. Much less in the part no one ever even goes to.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound. A soft touch of piano keys in the silence of the night. One that Chuuya wasn't ready to hear. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the closed door in front of him.

He was told the piano was in the room behind it, maybe it was true after all, but the sound of the soothing melody behind the door was enough to keep him there.

Who was playing? He took a step back, being as silent as possible, not wanting to disturb whoever was letting their heart out with that music. Instead of going in, he sat beside the door and tried to think.

Not like he knew everyone in the mafia... But he did know quite a few people, and none of them were pianists before joining, or even know how to play the piano as far as he knew. Not Kouyou, or Hirotsu, or...

It couldn't be him.

It was true, no one knew anything about Dazai's past. He could've been a pianist, maybe. Hell, if he's the demon prodigy then maybe he's also a music prodigy?

But it can't be him. Chuuya scratched that thought as he closed his eyes. That Mackerel is too annoying for something as calming as this. And even so...

The music grew louder, Chuuya's eyes widened. Whoever was in that room was pouring their soul into every note, drop by drop. He wondered if they'd ever run out of it. And that was all the reason he needed.

Someone as closed off as Dazai wouldn't just scream their heart out like this. Someone like him shouldn't be able to make Chuuya's heartstrings resonate, or make his breath falter with a mere sound.

Though this was no mere sound in Chuuya's ears. Someone was dying in there, and he felt no right to interrupt.

Just as it grew louder, the music went back to a softer sound. The calm after the storm.

Maybe they weren't dying. Maybe they were coming back alive.

His thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of someone at the end of the hall. His eyes shot towards the noise and he stood up. There was something telling him that, whoever it was, they shouldn't be here. No one was allowed to listen to this.

Was it a wave of protectiveness? Jealousy that others would also be able to listen to a stranger's heart? He didn't know.

What he knew, however, is that other people wouldn't be as gentle as he was with it. They'd go in and find out who it was. And even if Chuuya was dying to know, he was pretty sure the person inside didn't want anyone to interrupt.

He'd have to take the blame and hope they'd understand.

With a deep breath, he knocked on the wall behind him. As if alerting the one inside of something. Maybe he should've learnt morse code or something, but it worked. The person inside stopped playing abruptly, Chuuya mentally apologised and then left in a rush, using his ability to make his steps lighter.

Maybe he'd find out whoever that was some other day. Hopefully.

For the following day, he kept thinking back to that piano. It didn't really distract him, but the thought was constantly there. The feeling too.

He went back. Same place, same time. And to his surprise, the same song was being played. A smile found its way to his lips as the cycle repeated itself. He was pretty sure the person inside must know there was someone else outside, listening in, and in some way he did feel like he was intruding and should leave... But he didn't.

It became routine. A stranger playing the piano and Chuuya sitting outside, letting the music heal his tired soul even if for a few minutes. Then when someone would come, Chuuya would alert them and then leave.

He even started humming the melody by the third time he heard it. "They must like that one," he figured out. And unknown to him, he started humming it while out on a mission with the damn Mackerel.

Dazai on the other hand, was surprised Chuuya seemed so... Quiet. The redhead was usually loud in every sense, flashy and annoying. He found himself almost lost when his attempts to tease him were blocked by some wave of tranquility that the other boy was feeling.

That is, until he heard the humming. He didn't want to react, but he couldn't help it. He glanced at him, eyes slightly widened. And Chuuya noticed, of course.

Damn human emotions.

"What's with your face, mackerel?" Chuuya looked forwards again, focusing on where they were going.

"Didn't think slugs had enough culture to know Chopin," Dazai replied, looking away. "Where did you get that from?"

Chuuya made the connection in his head, but decided not to say anything.

"Chopin, eh...? You know the song?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm obviously-"

"Which one is it then?"

Dazai was slightly surprised at the way Chuuya interrupted him. He was used to him sometimes speaking over him, of course, but those times were shushing him or screaming insults at him when he pissed him off. To be interrupted this calmly felt new, and in a sense, he didn't like it.

"Raindrops."

"Huh? That's the name? You're not messing with me, are ya?"

"Why would I mess with a tiny slug? You already have enough with being so small!"

Dazai kept trying to rebuild the facade. It wasn't completely working, but it covered the most vulnerable parts of him. Chuuya groaned.

A part of Dazai felt relieved. He was still the same Chuuya he knew.

They spent the rest of the mission bickering like they always did. Both of them knew now what the other would be doing late at night, but none wanted to speak of it.

By nighttime, back came Chuuya to the hall next to the piano room. He sat down and waited, a bit surprised that the song wasn't already started when he arrived. Did he mess up?

Now he knew who was in there. And now the one inside knew who was outside. Maybe the knowledge made them a bit more wary of what was going on?

Dazai looked at the keys in front of them, black and white like the world he's used to know, and sighed, making a choice. If he was going to open his heart to someone... At least, let it be Chuuya.

The song sounded... Different. Maybe it was the fact that Dazai's mind was screaming for him to stop before it was too late. Maybe it was the way his fingers trembled with each note.

Maybe it was how his heart ached more than usual today.

Bandaged fingers caressed each key as his bleeding soul was forced to pour it all out. All his hurt, sorrow and fears laid out for anyone to listen.

He knew only one person would, though.

By the end of it, he was looking down at the keys, hot tears falling on his hands. He quickly wiped them away when he heard a familiar knock, though this time was on the door.

Chuuya opened it, taking in the sight of Dazai sitting in front of the piano, the moonlight from the window creating the perfect silhouette. He closed the door behind him.

"I can finally see the piano. Looks expensive."

The silence grew tense, even if Chuuya tried to keep it light. Dazai stared at him and, for the first time, Chuuya saw a scared child instead of that monster everyone seems to know.

The eye that wasn't covered by bandages was wide, looking at Chuuya like a deer in headlights. He pursed his lips and sighed, taking a step forward as Dazai flinched back.

Chuuya stopped. He was used to this behaviour from when he was with the sheep. Sometimes kids with a lot of trauma would freeze like this, scared of everything, when something triggered them. Chuuya cursed himself for being the reason this time.

"Hey, I'm not gonna do anything weird. It's just me, idiot."

That seemed to calm him down, just a bit. Chuuya carefully approached him, step by step and with a soft demeanour, then offered a book. Dazai looked at it, methodically controlling his breathing.

"What's that?"

"Just take it..." Chuuya placed it on his lap and looked away. Dazai held it and caressed the cover. "It's... I keep a diary."

"Chuuya gave me his diary? What for?"

At that, Chuuya glanced at the piano, his gloved hand caressing one of the keys but not pressing it, as if he didn't know how.

"I'm no musician. Or artist of any kind. I've listened to your heart... But there's nothing I can give in return, so there. My diary."

Dazai looked up at him, his brain never thought the chance of an exchange like this with Chuuya of all people was possible, and yet here they were.

He offered the book back to him.

"It's not a fair exchange."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Chuuya retorted, his eyebrows knitted.

"You listened. I can't read it, I should listen too."

"The hell you want me to do? Read it like a bedtime story?"

"Don't read. Just tell me."

Chuuya froze.

From the first moment he heard him play, he had no choice in what to listen to. Everything was out in the open, so that's what he heard. Yeah, this time was different, but Dazai still chose to pour everything into it. And now that he was offered the same in return... He gave Chuuya a choice.

He could choose what to tell and what not to. What to show and what parts of his heart would be kept hidden. Even if he already knew what he'd do.

With a sigh, he sat down on the small bench, shoving Dazai aside to make room for himself.

"Where do I start...?"

During that night, they both gained more understanding of the other. They shared stories, laughs and sorrows. A deeper bond between them, one of unshakable trust.

Deep down... They both prayed for it to never break.

//hi hello hi!! I treated myself to some writing of an idea I had a long time ago, so here we are! I always thought Raindrops would suit Dazai so I had this thought. Hope you enjoyed! <33

[xavigav]

Making My Own Tumblr Year In Review

So tumblr is not doing the individual years in review for 2023 like they did the last couple of years :(

This is the first year I’ve really been active on Tumblr and used it as my primary social media, so I was really sad to hear that. But then I decided…why not do it myself?

I posted 1837 times in 2023. That’s 5 times per day.

1748 (95%) of my posts were reblogs, and 89 (5%) of my posts were original.

Blogs I think I reblogged the most? Not in order.

@yipeewahoo

@hoodie-sys

@94erz

@namchyoon

@heybaetae

These are just based on me cmd-f'ing my blog using the names of blogs I remember reblogging a lot. It's probably wrong.

My top 15 most used tags (not 5 because i love tagging and want to show more):

#bts - 1045 posts (yeah obviously)

#bts pics - 803 posts (yeah obviously x2)

#queue attack my heart - 691 posts

#memery - 312 posts

#namjoon - 308 posts (i am so mentally ill)

#hoseok - 167 posts

#jungkook - 166 posts

#seokjin - 138 posts

#jimin - 138 posts (i wrote down seokjin's tag first so i put it higher)

#yoongi - 119 posts

#fic & writing - 108 posts

#taehyung - 103 posts

#bts birthdays - 99 posts

#serious posts - 92 posts

#namjoonposting - 59 posts (my favorite tag)

By the way this was so fucking annoying to do. The archive does not show how many posts you have in a certain tag. For every month I counted the amount of rows in a tag, multiplied it by 8, and added in any rows that didn't quite get up to 8. Then I added all those months together. I had to do that for every tag. Tumblr why is there no easy way to see the number of posts in a tag.

My top 5 posts of 2023:

5. Luffy Tab - 20 notes

Still can't believe we just. got a luffy tab. i just woke up and had a luffy tab

4. BTS Post Search - 27 notes

As it turned out. the poster changed their name to something else so that's why i couldn't find the post from tumblr user soupmoths -- they were an entirely different person. oopsie

Also I ended up being able to reblog it! Someone tagged me!

3. 3D Rant - 32 notes

This post got me my first hate reblog <3

In case anyone is wondering. I still agree with everything I said here.

2. Porn - 99 notes

Not doing the big link preview for this one since that on its own is kinda nsfw. Minors don’t click that link.

But yeah. That makes sense.

Even though there’s only 5 reblogs people find it semi-frequently (especially the past few days, no idea why), so I guess it’s spreading somehow? Which makes me happy :)

The Reddit Post - 2.1k notes

Obviously that was going to be it lol, over 20 times the amount of notes than anything else. My notifications were Dying.

Also, this stuff wasn’t in the actual Year in Review(s), but I’m adding them in for fun.

I liked 21k posts in 2023.

I followed 426 blogs in 2023 (not including the accounts I unfollowed).

I gained 69 followers in 2023 (excluding porn bots and regular bots). Nice.

I started 4 blogs on this account, 1 main blog and 3 side blogs.

I gained 15 mutuals in 2023 <3

All this data was as of December 18th, 2023.

[thornsent]

yeah so like not only do I think this website's reaction to the preds situation is bad I think it is actively conspiratorial and harmful. and the more digging I do the more I see that no she quite literally was harassing other people and telling them to kill themselves over discourse. its not hard to find the evidence for yourself.

the CEO made an idiotic decision by posting that looney toons-ass "threat" when there are real TOS violations that happened, but I'm willing to bet he doesn't actually have that much access to everything like people on this website seem to assume, and/or that these things cannot be posted or spoken of directly because of internal/legal reasons

I am literally begging for people to stop spreading conspiracy theories on this website, and I'm incredibly frustrated. I want this site to become better and, frankly, I think it largely kind of has gotten better? There are absolutely still problems with terfs and fascists and other unsavory types but there are nowhere near as many as there were a decade ago and it isn't just because of the natural decay in userbase, it's because of better moderation and us learning to govern ourselves better imo.

I think there is some degree of bias at play, yes, but I don't think it's a secret group of evil transphobes running the site and I think the repeated insistence of that idea spreads a really harmful way of thinking. and I also think it's bad that anyone who presses against this, even gently, is immediately shut down with thought-stopping techniques. it's weird, guys. please stop. please think, and let people challenge you even if you're right, because then you've got an excellent chance to Talk To Another Person about what you think. and that's good. it's good to talk to people who disagree with you.

but then shit like this happens and I don't see anyone doing anything actually useful, I just see a lot of memes and posts that on first glance, make me think someone died rather than had their account on a small, dying blogging platform deleted. and its frustrating. where the fuck is this energy for things that are bigger than this? a nonbinary child was murdered in school but that doesn't get nearly as big as this and it makes me feel a bit sick. do you guys just not talk to queers irl? is this reaction so severe because this is the only community you people have? do you only get news from here? genuinely i'm worried.

[smokeygrayrabbits]

so leg prosthetics au right? I'm a BIG FAN of all the duality in trigun so I feel like it would be really cool for there to be that contrast between different elements of vash's backstory and his injurys. since vash lost his arm to knives protecting plants and humans ,showing his dedication to peace and love and also his self-sacrificing tendencies, I really like the idea of vash loosing his legs in a similar way, but at the hands of humans.

[ok imma give this a quick lil content warning cuz it's kinda body horror/generally kinda messed up? so yeah readers discretion advised keepy yourself safe 💜]

what if plants have a natural instinct to give? we've seen that they're sentient, so it would make sense for them to have some kind of reason to just chill in tanks and let humans take advantage of their abilities. hence, plants naturally want to give. and vash, being a plant, isnt exempt from this. he gives himself away in everything he does. bending over backwards for everyone he meets, even to the point of snapping his own spine. never complaining, never asking for thanks, or even thinking he's deserving of it.

so what does a young vash, tiny and alone and reeling from the crash, from his brothers betrayalmurdersin left me, nai left me alone, I have nothing he took everything Iwannagohome, tiny vash, so alone, so desperate to atone, come across a town. a town that's plant is dead he couldn't save them, not himself, not the ships, not rem, not nai. if he'd been betterfasterstongersmarter . . . their plant is dead they killed it. the last run. he'd seen it. he knows they did. he can't say no, their plant is dead and soon they will be too and it would only be for a little while, just to get by, please we need your help he sees the way their smiles don't quite reach their eyes. sees how they're tears arent quite real. he tells himself it doesn't matter. this is his atonement. his punishment he says yes. he says of course. he says I'll help however I can whatever you need.

it's to late for a mechanic. they need a plant.

he says yes anyway. they wouldn't right? they'll be kind.

theres no room for kindness when people are so thirsty.

he's to tall to fit in the tank. so they make him fit. generators don't need legs.

he's there for so long. vash loses track of how long he's in the tank for. days? weeks? years?

his marking spread. feathers molt off generators don't fly

they clip his wings. generators dont need to run, fly, walk.

they get another plant, eventually. he's still in the tank.

they said they'd let him go. it's fine. it's ok. they must still need him, populations gorow after all. he ignores his sister screaming in his head. he tells her it's fine! they need me here more than I need to be anywhere else (he'd rather be anywhere else. he wants to go home. he doesnt want to do this anymore but he hastohastohastogivegivegivegiveGIVEREPENT)

he learns to breath liquid. he learns to float and provide and it's ok. its not. he's getting weaker and weaker. he can't give what they're asking

his sister is dying. it's his fault if he was betterfasterstonger he could take the burden from her, make more, GIVE more. he doesn't think about how he's already giving everything how they've taken everything

his sister is dying. they don't realize it yet he can help he can save her he knows he can he's done it so many times it's all hes good for all he can do heneexstohelplethimhelplethimhelpherplease.

for the first time since they put him in here, vash cries. he pounds the glass with the only limb he has left weak and atrophied from disuse weak just like the rest of him uselessuselessuseless. when his arm gives out he uses his head. banging the glass, filling the tank with red red like geraniums red like the last run red tanks mean death death deathmurder nai

they don't listen. his bubbling screams in the tank are distracting apparently, so they muzzle him.

he watches as she dies. his sisters last run fuels their holiday light show.

vash cries. his tears lost in the fluid of the tank.||

more time passes. the plant operators get bored. they've never had an independent before. they want to research. they want to open, cut, understand.

more time. floating. creating. being sucked dry, not that vash would think of it that way. he CAN'T. can't think of it that way, it would mean it was all for nothing. it would mean nai was right. it would mean they leftfoughtbleddied for nothing oh god what has he done, what have they done

nai comes to town. vash can feel him, in his mind, in their bond. he tries to tell his brother to run.

nai hears his brother. his twin. his angel. his other half. in a nowhere town in this forsaken desert. he hears vash cry, beg nai to leave. he tracks his angel down, finds the plant operation. he sees the tank. he sees the angel floating.

he sees vash smile.

how dare they how dare they WHAT HAVE THEY DONE HE KNEW THEY WERE GREEDY AND CRUEL AND ABHORRENT BUT WHATHAVETHEYDONE

Millions Knives razes the city to the ground.

vash cries for them. for the monsters that did this to him.

vash begs their forgiveness

nai knows then and there, his brother will never take his revenge on these parasites because that's what they are. they were given the blessing of an angel, and they tore his wings off. like the legends of old, humans would always be Icarus, flying to the sun by any means necessary, clipping others wings to fly themselves that much quicker to their meaningless deaths. they forced nais brother to be their wings, so knives will be the hellfire that melts their wax and throws them to the damned earth they came from. no, vash won't take revenge.

so millions Knives will do it for him.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Yes or no?

Maria and Martin are in the catwalk, arguing.

"All you're doing here is . . . ."

"Alright, fuck it, here's the deal. Listen, guys."

"Cept fuckin' ME, I guess, but you don't need to bawl at us like we're the floor, awright? How'd you like it if you had to be bawled at by the floor for 17 years? An' yer sittin' the fuck there, chillaxin' like it's no big deal, tossin' yer half-finished metaphors around like they mean nothin'."

"It's Maria, Martin. You too, Miranda. Not the floor."

"Maria. Maria. I'm Maria, like always. Who are you? The Floor? Do you want me to call you Bawled-At-By-The-Floor Maria? You know my name is not Miranda, fuckhead. Call me Maria or shut your fucking yap."

Martin's eyes are glowing a bright, sickly green. On his face is an expression that could be called malevolent, but Maria, after all the fuck-awful shit she's gone through, can no longer muster the full force of fear. The man has his pride -- and his pride is his deathwish. Like an unrestrained virus, it must spread out from his body and find a host in the world, in all of its branching, perverse glory. Like a glutton for punishment, Maria feels no particular urge to fight off this virulent thing that threatens her.

"Maria," Martin says, and his voice sounds not quite like hers, and the reverb that she gets, as the sound bounces and bounces in the tight enclosure of his empty metal head, gets on her nerves.

No, she thinks, I'm not a fucking Nietzschean. I am not like fucking Martin or Miranda, or Chester, or the Floor, or any of this shit. This is not what I want, what I am, and I want it known.

"All you're doing here is killing time. Everyone here is dying. It won't be long before you join us. All you're doing is cheating death, cheating life. Life is a sacred thing. You must live your life, not cheat."

"Fuck's sake, Martin. Fuck's fucking sake. The roof's comin' down, as fucking usual, Miranda's pissed, nothin' new -- are you lookin' for a fuckin' Q&A here, or what? What's with all the speeches? Is it . . . the REVIVAL FESTIVAL TONIGHT?"

Martin grimaces, as though Maria has made a cruel and pointed remark.

"Why are you doing it?" Maria says. "Why are you doing any of it? If you're so sure this will work, if you're sure it'll give us a new chance at life, at a life where you and Miranda and I can be happy together, why are you yelling at us?"

"Because you are not being good to each other," Martin says. "Do you not see that your hatred for one another is as foul as the floor's? You are swallowing the hatred, taking it into your bodies, letting it infect you. Hatred makes you sick, Maria. It kills you."

"How would you know what hatred does, asshole? You never fucking left us, did you?"

"It's Maria," Martin says.

"It's Maria," Miranda says.

Martin makes a sour face. The glow vanishes from his eyes. He is about to go off on Maria again, but Miranda stops him with an instinctive gesture -- a flick of the wrist, and her whole arm swings down hard into the side of her brother's head. There is a loud crack. Martin sways on his feet. He seems drunk.

"Well, don't just leave us hangin' like a fuckin' moose here, ok, we're here, we got a few questions, before we croak, it's good to know what the fuck's going on, y'know, y'want us to croak in peace, sorry, shit, forget it, sorry, forget I said anythin' --"

Martin grabs Miranda's wrist and squeezes. A thin line of blood trickles from her wrist down to her hand. Miranda punches Martin in the face.

[iamgrowingstronger-blog]

Cloning Clyde

Hours played: Around 10

Completion: 100%'d

I believe this was among the first wave of games for the Xbox 360 marketplace, and man, I remember playing the shit out of the trial version of this game as a kid. I don't think I even knew what the concept of trial version meant, but that didn't stop me from replaying the game again and again. Recently, I saw it was cheap on Steam and decided to buy it and finally see once and for all what was in the full version of the game.

The biggest thing I love about the game is its graphics, honest. Everybody has some old video game artstyle they really love, be it the beautiful pixel art on some of the titles on the PC-98, or the early uncanny stages of 3D on the PS1. For me, it's gotta be the specific kind of 3D in this game that I can't find the words to describe (maybe when I get better at writing). Combined with the surprisingly animated Clydes you control, and the game has this style that, while old, does not feel very dated. I absolutely adore how this game looks.

Anyway. You control the Clydes in individual levels, defeating security robots and exploding chickens to reach the goal while using various switch mechanisms, using animals to get further, and combining your Clyde WITH an animal to gain new abilities. The game only really has a handful of assets: just four or five level types, the aforementioned enemies are the only enemies, and the number of different puzzle-related objects are probably in the single-digits. Despite that, I never really got tired of the game's small handful of assets. I always enjoyed kicking the crap out of the security robots or jumping around the map riding a sheep, or pulling a random lever to see what happens. What the game has is charm.

However, the game does have a big weak point: the level design. Aside from the occasional puzzle that made me think a little bit, most levels can be beaten while functioning on autopilot. If you're going for 100%, the levels can just feel tedious, since some of them have 15 or 20 Clydes that you have to control and have escape individually, one at a time. Other times, the levels just get questionable, like how there were a couple levels toward the end that were very, very spacious for seemingly no reason. I didn't hate it, but it felt like instead of doing something new, they just took a level and spread it way out. GImmicks get reused, objects get used in the same way, and thus, a lot of the game's 30 or so levels blend together. There were a couple that stuck out, like a neat catapult puzzle that made me have to think for a minute, or the penultimate level, which was this absolutely massive sprawling course that felt like this game's The Great Maze from Brawl, but generally, most were forgettable.

Another gripe is the lack of background music. You'll get a little melody at the start of levels or for defeating every security robot in a level, but otherwise, it's just silent. In a game like Frogger Returns, I'm focused so much on not dying that I don't notice as much, but in a more explorative, relaxed game like this, it really bugs me.

For what the game has, I still really like it. It pretty much was what my childhood self remembered: this fun, jank little game with funny little character animations. I really, really wanted to give this game a 7, but it just doesn't quite reach that bar. Too much of the game just doesn't feel like it's pushing what it has to the limit. It's not the lack of assets that's the problem, it's that they mostly get used in very surface-level ways. Most levels in the game you could stick at the beginning and few would bat an eye.

Overall score: 6/10. Can recommend, was a fun experience. If you're an achievement hunter-type, this game is pretty easy to 100% on top of being relatively short.

[hiruzensux]

Hiruzen x Enma size difference issue (bc i'm horny and have no self control)

(under a cut bc vague to semi-graphic descriptions of sex (and related injury at the end there))

Just thinking abt these two and how they can fuck without Hiruzen dying / suffering permanent injury, because I think they're up against some anatomical challenges.

(Apparently i couldn't decide whether this was supposed to be a logistical analysis, a joke, or just horny.txt, so... apologies for the tone fluctuations throughout)

It’s safe enough if it's Hiruzen in the penetrative role + Enma receiving, but i don’t know if that’s going to be quite enough for Enma? i think Hiruzen is reasonably well-endowed in relation to the rest of his body, but he’s a pretty small guy, and Enma is... Large™️. I’m not usually especially into fisting but that might be the only thing for it here

re: Hiruzen's ass: Enma’s fingers look like a pretty satisfying size but i’ve seen his nails and i have Concerns lmao

But there’s plenty of other stuff they can do besides penetration...

There’s always handjobs; Hiruzen using both hands, Enma using... idk a few fingers?

Oral is an option, but i’m honestly not sure Hiruzen could get his mouth around it; mostly just a lot of licking while, again, his hands do most of the work

Frotting is size-difference-friendly. I’m sure intercrural is a big hit with them too (Hiruzen seems like he's got fuckable thighs)

You know, I bet they could actually do both at once; Enma can be behind him and Hiruzen squeezing him between his thighs and if they angle it right, Enma's dick is big enough to slide through with enough length leftover to rub against Hiruzen's with each thrust (and can you imagine how that must look from Hiruzen's POV? or fuck, EITHER POV — Enma can just lean forward and see everything over Hiruzen's shoulder, bc he's fucking huge)

...Honestly though, i don’t think Hiruzen would be able to resist the challenge; that enormous cock haunts his dreams and calls to him in a language his ass can’t ignore

Hiruzen on top just dripping with lube, hovering over that towering erection (freshly doused in its own bottle’s worth) trying to spread himself open as much as he can

Enma’s like “You don’t have to do this...” but in his mind's eye Hiruzen sees Kagami's face and he's just like “Yes. I do.” and just sits on it

it takes a minute or so of sitting on it; shifting around, trying to get that huge head into that tiny hole before it finally goes in and oh fuck that tearing feeling can’t mean anything good but it’s just so tight and full and it’s really too late to turn back now—

neither of them last even 10 thrusts before they both cum

...and hopefully it was worth it bc now Hiruzen gets to decide whether he's going to Danzō, Biwako, Tobirama, or just to the general hospital to explain, crying, that he needs emergency suturing INSIDE his ass bc he was having inappropriate relations with his summon and was actually horny and stupid enough to try to take his massive monkey cock

[zydrateacademy]

First Impressions - Once Human

So what we have here is an open-world survival-crafter that shares its bones more with the likes of Ark and Fallout 76 than it does Division, which was sort of the impression I got from most gameplay clips whom apparently like cutting out all the tree-chopping and rock-mining. But here we are.

I get Division vibes in the town by town gameplay but once you warp back to your custom built base, it becomes another new age Minecraft clone in a hurry while you smelt ingots and craft ammo. They've even tossed in some kind of minipet/Palworld type function which I admittedly have not engaged with to any severe degree beyond letting some paper airplane fly out of my backpack to do supplemental damage for me.

So quite frankly there's a bit of an identity crisis here, a game that's going for a wide appeal but instead taking the blandest element of each in order to hit a live service market. There's of course a shop here but I haven't seen so much as "pay to win" as "pay for cosmetics and some various currencies that help increase dungeon loot pools. Not so much a "pay to skip progress" as "pay to lighten the grind".

The story isn't much to talk about on its own. The usual eastern RPG fare of giant monsters spreading corruption and ended the world as we knew it. I am not sure if it's because of bad writing or translations but not much is really made very clear, I'm not even sure if we're in some pocket dimension, parallel realm, or if this is a full blown post-apocalypse. I'm going to be honest, my mind checked out of the story pretty quickly and I think the Devs did to. I can handle our protagonist having no voice, but when you click some basic four word response during a quest and it cuts to our character pantomiming some reaction it really breaks the reality of how people speaking to each other work. Through almost no prompting every NPC seems to recognize our PC as a "Mayfly", which we're apparently one of the last of. It all just feels so awkward and clunky when we step into town to say four words and have a short story spun at us which ends up amounting to a quest: "Active 5 pylons in this zone, then defeat the big boss".

So where's the merit, here? Honestly, the gameplay loop remains satisfying. If you're a veteran of Ark, Conan, FO76 and that general open world builder type of genre, then you will already understand the basic, fundamental flow of the game. After that, it's really just a matter of prioritizing your schematic tree and figuring out what that beeping noise from your backpack means, and I've never had a question gone unanswered from the world chat.

I can't explain it but it's so viscerally satisfying to continually upgrade from one tier to the next. You fumble with copper weaponry and bullets for a few hours but when you move your base zone by zone, moderately near resource nodes, the upgrades can come flying in. You can move your base for free (with a ten minute cooldown) so you can have your stronghold move from zone to zone as you progress through tiers, which has been very satisfying. In other games of this genre you usually have to dismantle you're entire base and rebuild from scratch.

I do wish this game leaned heavier into its Division feel. Some of the most fun I have in this game is exploring each township, dotted with enemies and moderately hidden gear crates. There's even Souls game-like messages left from other players (the identity crisis pops up yet again) which can help you find the more fickle of hidden chests. Strewn about the world are minor items to be easily disassembled later, which reminds me of my time on Dying Light and Division, grabbing electronics and wire which feed into schematics and crafting later. It's a loop I don't hate, I just typically don't enjoy returning to base and being forced to semi-AFK while hundreds of ingots smelt over the course of twenty minutes.

It's one thing that this genre in recent years doesn't understand. The only reason I bought into Conan Exiles was because it let me customize my experience. Whether on a single player server or with various mods and addons to give me more decor, armor, and weapons. I miss being able to tweak the harvest value to cut down the wasted time of watching my PC chop trees. Over. And over. And over again. Yet the call of cash is too tempting over making an actually comfortable experience.

The monster design is interesting, except ten hours in I already tire of the same zombies shuffling around every street. Every so often you run into a properly unique enemy, like a giant with balloons that you need to shoot as they light up or a floating woman with an umbrella for a head. In fact there's a lot of "head is just some object actually" in terms of design. The game's mascot is this walking bus with arms in its undercarriage but that just seems to be an environmental thing that walks along the path, that's far too easy to just drive by and ignore.

This is a lot of negative for what might eventually be a thumbs up. So what does this game do better than others of its ilk?

I can't say. I am still yet drawn to the game over time that I might eventually have a solid 50 to 100 hours dumped into, but I'm not sure it will hold me as Conan Exiles did or shake me off as Fallout 76 did. I got ~1800 hours on Conan because logging in never felt like a chore. Meanwhile FO76 and other games it's always: Do these tasks/dailies or you'll miss out on a special currency to buy special items, cosmetics, or actual game-fixing features like being able to recharge your fusion cores. Time till tell if Once Human walks this road, but for now I am still enjoying the general gameplay loop and tier progression.