#also it looks long but most of the questions are image-based not text-based

[jungwookjins]

which beloved onlyoneof b-side are you?

mwah enjoy lyons <33

#or non-lyons #take this quiz to find out which b-side u should listen to to start ur lyonification #i got byredo <33 #onlyoneof #ooo #uquiz #ennuitxt #god i hope this shows in the tags idr if links still prevent posts from showing，but if i have to repost this imma be so mad #fun fact for the fragrances question #most of the options are ones that either i use #or wookjin or taeyeob use (just bc they had the most listed in their namuwiki for me to pick from) #and yes the quiz colors are instinct teal and pink <3 #also it looks long but most of the questions are image-based not text-based

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 6)

Masterpost

The Wayne family gathered in the family room once Alfred was done setting up the projector, somehow there was also a plate of cookies and a couple pots of tea on the coffee table. How he’d found the time they didn’t know, he always seemed to be doing just a little more than should be possible but they didn’t question it. 

Jazz seemed nervous as she plugged in her USB and accessed the power point on Ghosts and Liminality. The tidal page had a picture of Danny in his Phantom form standing with a group of others, a boy with gray skin and blond hair, a girl with green hair and skin, and a goth with purple eyes and a dark skinned boy who looked around Danny’s age, and Jazz with the title “Ghosts and Liminals!” 

The next slide had simple text: “What are they and How are they made?”

With each slide she read the text on the screen allowed and then added any context or anecdotes she thought of, or had prepared. 

(Next slide)

Ghosts:

Made of ectoplasmic energy and obsession

Made either:

when someone dies with strong enough desires

An idea gains enough traction to take on a life of its own

Immutable concepts and gods

Must be allowed to indulge in obsessions or they will cease to exist

All have basic abilities such as flight, intangibility, invisibility, and minor shape shifting

On top of basic abilities most will have additional powers based on their obsessions

Immortal unless killed 

Love to fight

Liminals

Made when a human is exposed to high levels of ectoplasm for prolonged periods of time

Have some ghostly traits 

Ghostly traits vary person to person

Less susceptible to human illness and injury

“The ghosts on the picture are Kitty and Johnny, we’ve had problems with them but would consider them friends now. They’re the ghosts of two humans who died, but there are others, Vortext for instance is the ghost of Storms. Those ghosts who come from ideas are called ‘neverborns’. There seem to be almost an infinite number of ghosts, however not all of them are interested in having anything to do with us so we tend to get the same faces showing up a lot in Amity.

“I don’t know how many liminals there are. I thought they might be new with my parents' research but as I look into it more I think there are more natural sources of ectoplasm then my parents thought.” Jazz explained before going to transition to the next slide.

“I have a question-” Bruce started before Jazz hushed him. 

“Wait till the end please! I might answer it without you having to ask,” She scolded, and he felt very much like a schoolboy again as his children snickered.

(Next slide including a image of the glowing green viles in the Fenton’s lab and a glowing green crystal)

Ghost biology 

Ghosts do not have any recognizable organs or bones

The only solid part of their being is their Core which is the source of their ectoplasm 

Any injury to a ghosts form not done directly to their core is considered minor and will heal

A healthy ghost is fully capable of mending any damage including removed limbs in a matter of hours or days depending on extent of the injury

All injuries not including the Core are considered minor 

Ghosts are considered young for at least the first hundred years of their existence and are often not considered adults until nearly 500

A caveat to this is ghosts are heavily driven by emotion and will often be the age they feel they are allowing ghosts to mature much more quickly, or more slowly

When this is the case ghosts are treated as the age they present and behave

Ghosts reproduce by shaping ectoplasm and Wanting a child badly enough

“Believe me it was incredibly scary the first time I saw Danny in his ghost form have something go right through his stomach. It took him a long time to convince me it wasn’t a big deal and it barely hurt. He does have to make sure he repairs the damage Before turning human again though or the damage can transfer over and I don’t need to tell you a hole in the gut is a lot more serious for humans!

“If I’m honest I only know ghosts that have stayed younger then they really are, for instance Youngblood who’s a few hundred years old and could be well on his way to adulthood if he wanted but has remained a child. I assume it can go the other way though, if a ghost is very mature for their age.”

Ectoplasm 

Ectoplasm is the energy that makes up all ghosts and the Ghost Zone itself. All ghosts can feed on the ectoplasm around them as well as produce their own by indulging in obsessions. The ghosts Cores produce the ectoplasm like a brain produces neurochemicals when exposed to the right stimulation.

Ectoplasm is a powerful source of energy but unstable. When it is stabilized into an ecto-crystal it is more stable and can be used as a power source safely by ghosts and liminals.

“Most ectoplasm is green like you see in the pictures. But it isn’t the only colour, some other ghosts produce different colours and it is highly tied to what emotion drives them. When it’s pure it usually smells like petracore but it can get pretty foul.”

(next slide)

What are Obsessions

Every ghost has one or more obsessions

They can be very literal things such as boxes, or ideas and emotions such as Love

In rarer cases they may have dual obsessions

Unlike for humans obsessions are very healthy for ghosts

Ghosts need to indulge their obsessions

Sometimes the way ghosts indulge their obsessions might seem evil, however it is almost always just amoral 

Obsessions shape every part of a ghost from their powers to thier physical appearance, to befriend a ghost you Must understand and aid their obsession

In very extreme circumstances a ghosts obsession may shift, sometimes this is healthy, more often it is a result of extreme trauma

“With my interest in psychology this was sort of hard for me to accept. From the outside the way ghosts obsess seems really unhealthy but it’s what gives them life. When not allowed to indulge in their obsessions ghosts will dysregulate and go to extreme lengths to try and get their obsession, if that doesn’t work they either go dormant if their core is still healthy enough or they will melt. 

“Ghosts change their obsessions very rarely, I’ve heard of it happening as they heal. For instance once a ghost has gotten revenge for themselves, if that was their obsession, their obsession might shift to avenging other people, or even protecting them so they don’t need to be avenged.”

(Next Slide)

Ghost Culture

The Ghosts have a monarchy

The title of the Ghost King is not hereditary but passed through trial by combat

Under the monarch is a council of being known as Observants, and powerful and old ghosts called Ancients 

Ghosts respect strength and value power and cunning in combat a lot

Ghosts bond with each other through combat and play fight with family and friends often

“I have down that the ghosts are a monarchy, and technically that is true but the current Ghost King was a tyrant who was locked away thousands of years ago. I’m sure as soon as someone shows up who’s powerful enough to beat him his court will be happy to pick up where they left off with a better King, or queen, though I don’t think the title has to change based on gender.

“I really can’t stress enough how violent ghosts are! Because nothing short of having their cores shattered can kill them, play fighting for them can look Very Much like a murder attempt to a human. A lot of the issues we’ve had with ghosts have come from them just not understanding quite how fragile humans, and for most of them they feel really bad once they know they actually Hurt someone by shooting them. It’s really best for everyone when they’re kept separate and Ghosts can happily tear each other apart in peace.”

Liminals

The result of long term low level exposure to ectoplasm, sudden high doses are almost always deadly

Liminals Can have almost every trait a ghost can, usually having a combination of a few

Commonalities between liminals include

Minor cosmetic changes such as: glowing eyes, pointed ears, and/or sharp teeth 

Increased stamina, strength, and aggression

Increased obsessive behaviour

Liminals sometimes develop powers shaped by the strength and type of obsession 

“Most of the people Danny and I know are liminals. I don’t want to talk about them in case they don’t want to be outed so I’ll talk about myself and my parents. We all had prolonged exposure after all. My ears are pointed,” She said brushing her hair back so they could see them, “And Danny is a little more then liminal but even in human form he has fangs. 

“My parents didn’t realize it but they could to the point they could subsist on their obsession without needing to eat or sleep as often as a regular human would. About a year ago I started developing the ability to tap into and feel other peoples emotions, I can feed on them a little too but I try not to because the Worst ghost we met did that and I don’t want to be anything like her.”

(Next Slide)

In conclusion

Ghosts are not evil even though sometimes their actions are hard to understand

Never get between ghosts when they’re fighting each other but it’s usually safe to yell at them to remind them not to break anything

Never get between a ghost and their obsession

Don’t drink ectoplasm unless you know you’re already liminal

“I have a feeling the section about liminals will be familiar to a bunch of you. I know Damian is liminal though I don’t know how he was exposed to ectoplasm and some of you,” Her eyes skirted across Tim and Bruce. “Are toeing the line. You’ll probably notice Damian and Danny getting really close, and they might get in some really vicious looking fights. I promise Danny is playing at least.”

The family was left silent for a moment, Bruce knew he was thinking about Jason. Who had died, been exposed to.. What certainly seemed to be something like Lazarus water and come back, obsessive, aggressive, and emotional. He wished he’d had this powerpoint a long time ago. It helped understand Damian too but mostly he was thinking about Jason. He needed to reach out again, maybe meeting Danny would be good for Jason?

“So uhhh, ya, that’s the end of the powerpoint?” Jazz said, shifting from foot to foot in the awkward silence. “Any questions?”

Next

#danny phantom #fanfiction #dc x dp #jasmine fenton #bruce wayne #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #liminal #tim drake #jason todd #trans!danny #the batfamily #danny is pregnant au #finally getting help au #vlad is a creep #dc stands for disregard cannon

[colleendoran]

The Secret Language of a Page of Chivalry: The Pre-Raphaelite Connection

Adapting Neil Gaiman’s Chivalry is a decades-long dream fulfilled. The story as text can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and so can the art. You look at the pages and see the pretty pictures, but the pictures also have meta-textual meaning. Knowing this secret language adds to the experience.

Some people pick up the references quickly, but I’ll share with you some more of what’s going on under the surface.

In Ye Olden Days of Art Making, most painters made pictures that contained visual narrative cues. Flowers in a picture might be heraldic signs that signaled political affiliations, or could indicate purity, anger, or love. Purple was the color of kings. A dog in a picture might represent faithfulness, and butterflies could represent the soul.

There are Pre-Raphaelite paintings with so many symbols and ideas in them that you need a deep working knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian social mores to understand what’s going on.

For example, Ford Madox Brown’s Work, a painting which took some 13 years to complete, was first exhibited in 1865 with a catalogue explaining all its symbols and elements. There is nothing in that picture that doesn’t mean something.

I brought some of that visual meta-textual sensibility to Chivalry, (and I’ve written about the symbolism and meanings in the work in other essays.)

I also brought into the work direct Pre-Raphaelite art references.

From 1868-1870, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones created four paintings illuminating the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, entitled Pygmalion and the Image, and wrote a poem with each line titling one painting:

The heart desires

The hand refrains

The godhead fires

The soul attains.

A perfect little poem for Chivalry, and I think of it often when some people present me with what I think is a very strange question: why didn’t Galaad just take the Holy Grail from Mrs. Whitaker?

It kind of breaks my heart that people would even ask that.

Burne-Jones painted two versions of this series of which this is the second.

In the first panel of this page, Sir Galaad kneeling before the Grail is derived from the figure of Pygmalion kneeling before Galatea: The Soul Attains.

Sir Galaad’s restraint even in the face of his greatest desire makes him worthy of his prize.

There are two Pre-Raphalite references in this page, the most obvious being in panel 2: it’s Sir John Everett Millais’s 1857 work A Dream of the Past: Sir Isumbras at the Ford.

The painting was very poorly received on first exhibition, compelling Millais to redo significant portions of it. It was caricatured and ridiculed, and then ended up becoming influential and popular, and isn’t that the way it goes.

That’s an art career in a nutshell, really.

The Sir Isumbras image also influenced John Tenniel’s illustrations for the Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland novels.

Sir Isumbras derives from a 13th century Medieval romance poem about a good knight whose pride causes him to fail in his Christian duty. He is presented with a series of difficult challenges before he can find happiness again, reunite with his family, and be forgiven his sins. The painting by Millais is based less explicitly on the poem than it is on a later parody of the poem. (It’s complicated.)

My using Sir Isumbras as the base for the shot of Galaad with the children is obvious here. In the Millais painting, Sir Isumbras carries a woodcutter’s children across the ford. In Chivalry, Sir Galaad carries the children of Mrs. Whitaker’s neighborhood down the street.

While Sir Isumbras spent many years learning humility and Christian duty, Galaad has a long quest to fulfill before he can achieve his goal. And on the way to that goal, he’s humble and nice to children, too.

That the Millais painting was such a huge influence on many a depiction of knighthood over the years made it a perfect reference point here, and the story behind both the painting and the poem give it further layers of meaning.

The next panel has a far less obvious reference, but the source is Arthur Hughes’s painting The Rescue.

Arthur Hughes is one of the lesser-known Pre-Raphaelites, but his art is widely seen and influential. He’s certainly been a big influence on me, as many of his paintings appear again and again in Arthuriana references, as he was a prolific King Arthur picture tale teller.

The Rescue (1907-1908) was originally part of a diptych which was separated and sold back in the 1920’s. His style was becoming unpopular by the time Hughes painted the work, and little is known about this work except that one panel was in the collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber at some point. Maybe still is. Dunno.

Anyway, the diptych depicts a little child kneeling in prayer menaced by a dragon in one panel, and in the next, safely trotting away with a knight on horseback. I like that this is a diptych, a kind of proto-comic art form common in medieval religious art, so this was perfect to use here.

Another reference to Arthur Hughes is in this double page splash from later in the book as Galaad on his quest encounters the Hesperides.

I didn’t set out to reference this Arthur Hughes piece at first, but it’s one of my favorite paintings. When I realized my sketches for this scene kept echoing the Hughes composition, I went with it. The Hughes painting of Galahad is one of the most famous depictions of the character, so it makes me happy to have this referenced in Chivalry.

Kindly ask for CHIVALRY, published by Dark Horse Comics in the USA and by Headline Books in the UK at your local comic shops or bookstore. Written by Neil Gaiman. Adaptation and art by me.

For further reading on this project, go HERE.

HERE.

And HERE.

Thank you to my Patreon patrons for sponsoring my work and this post.

Colleen Doran Illustrates Neil Gaiman will be a solo exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York City this spring. Watch this space for updates.

Have a wonderful holiday season.

#neil gaiman #dark horse comics #king arthur #Sir Galahad #Comics #graphic novel #fantasy graphic novel #watercolor #pre raphaelite #pre raphaelism

[hangmanssunnies]

Bones, Hearts, & Marriages

Summary: You and Javy "Coyote" Machado did not get married for the right reasons. Now, three years later, you are going to make sure that you two at least get divorced for the right reasons to make up for it. However, per usual, things don't always seem to go to plan when Coyote is involved. 

(Thank you @bradshawsbitch for this stunning gif 🫶)

Pairings: Javy "Coyote" Machado x AFAB! Reader

Word count: 11k

AO3 link

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Marriage of convenice, PinV, Realistic intimacy conversations, implied plus size reader, insecurity, self image issues, Valentine's Day.

Please let me know if I missed any.

Authors Note: Oh gosh, I have been working on this for a while now. It was supposed to be posted for Valentie's Day, but then life happened. I love Coyote soo much, and I actually NEED him to be my husband or I will perish. Coyote Hangman BFF supremacy implied. As always, apologies for any mistakes.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

There was no question in your mind that your husband, Javy "Coyote" Machado, was your dream man, and most people would think that it is very lucky to be married to your dream man. Most people also wouldn't think falling in love with your husband was a terrible mistake. However, most people's husbands were in love with them back. You hadn't married Coyote because you loved him, and he certainly didn't marry you out of affection, either. The truth was, it was just a very convenient arrangement for the two of you. Javy hadn't wanted to live on base anymore, plus the benefits and pay for married men were better. Also, he was so tired of being bottom of the totem pole for vacations and holidays off to the aviators and sailors who were married or had families.   For you, being married would change your financial aid status to receive almost three times more money each term. Having a clean, financially stable roommate was the cherry on top of the deal. You and Javy had really only known each other a few weeks when you had jokingly mentioned your need to get married. After several conversations where Coyote was deadly serious, you found yourself at the courthouse with him signing licenses and throwing a small party with your friends. Even now, nearly three years later, you would still catch yourself thinking about the sweet kiss he had bestowed on you. 

To say you were unhappy with your marriage or your husband wouldn't be true. You were happy, and Javy was good, almost too good and kind to you. That itself could be an issue because it was so easy to slip into being his wife, being Mrs. Machado. Nowadays, it was second nature to snuggle up on the couch with him, celebrate your wins together, and seek him out for comfort with your losses. You would try anything new he would whip up in the kitchen and offer a detailed critique. It was natural to want to make Javy happy. You worry and care about him. Though you try not to make comparisons, you were pretty sure you missed him just as much as any other military spouses missed their partners anytime Coyote was gone. You never allowed yourself to consider the possibility of your marriage being more with Javy. It didn't take much for you to deter those thoughts; typically, just some extended longing looks at Javy paired with a glance in the mirror to remind you that Coyote was out of your league. No matter how often he would compliment or say that you were beautiful. Three years into this marriage, you two still had separate rooms and hadn't fallen in love or bed even once, despite your secret hopes, which was telling enough. 

You and Javy were friends first, no matter what the other circumstances were. So, picking Coyote up from the bar certainly wasn't something unusual. This evening his texts, where most things were misspelled and littered with random emojis,  made you thankful that he shared his location with you because they were borderline incomprehensible. He wasn't actually answering any of the questions you were asking either. It was there at the bar picking him up that you started to realize maybe the benefits of this marriage weren't enough anymore. 

"Howdy, Mrs. Machado," Jake says affectionately when you enter the bar and found the group of familiar aviators that made up your husband's friends. You kiss his cheek in greeting, taking stock of his well-being, pleased to find Jake mostly sober. 

"Hey, Hangman," You verbally answer, looking around for Coyote, wanting to get home and into bed as quickly as possible. His tall form isn't around the table with the other aviators, so you look back to Jake expectantly. "And where is Coyote?"

"Aw, little M&M, you don't even care about me anymore," Hangman says in a fake whine while pouting. 

"That just isn't true," you say, rolling your eyes at the blond while continuing to look around the honestly concerningly dark bar. 

"He's at the bartop," Jake finally supplies. You try hard to contain your frown, but you aren't fully successful. Javy had already been very drunk when he texted you earlier. Sighing, you turn to the bar, finally spotting the tall and broad shoulders you were looking for. He is on the back side, furthest away from you. It takes conscious effort not to let your eyes linger too long, lest you get caught up in just how tall, broad, and what a great ass your husband has. You wave a hand towards Hangman and the rest of the group in a half thanks and beeline to the bar.

Coyote is laughing with the bartender when you get there. You slide in close next to him, leaning in against the bar top. Javy's eyes flash a glance at you, away, and then back towards you as he turns to face you completely. 

"Oh my god Mark, my wife is here!" Coyote says enthusiastically and at least two times louder than he needs to, considering how close you are standing. 

"It's nice to meet you," Mark says, smiling at you. Javy wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a half hug so that he doesn't let you go after. His lips press to the side of your head that is lingering. You ignore how he nuzzles you and how warm and strong his arms feel, reminding yourself that Coyote is just a very affectionate drunk. 

"Hi Coyote," You greet him, trying not to let the wide smile he gives you go straight to your heart. However, when his eyes crinkle, it was a fool's errand. You see that smile nearly every day, and it still manages to make heat blossom in your chest. Finally managing to tear your eyes off him again, you focus back on the conversation. 

"It's nice to meet you, Mark. Has Lieutenant Machado paid his tab yet, or should I?" You ask, nudging Javy's side playfully. It has the opposite effect than you intended as Javy pulls you even closer and tighter into his side. 

"He hasn't. In fact, he was just ordering another Shirley temple," Mark informs you. Shooting a halfhearted glare at Javy for ordering another drink this late, his grin hasn't dimmed once. Sloppily he raises the drink to his mouth, taking three attempts to finally find the straw and slurp up a large gulp. When he sees your frown, Javy sets the drink back down on the bar. 

"It's a virgin," Coyote reassures you with a small laugh, no better than a schoolboy with what he finds funny sometimes. Once he manages to contain the giggle, he continues on, "I know better than to drink after 12:30."

That answer placates you as you start rummaging in your purse for a card to pay. However, when you go to hand over the card, it is smacked out of your hand. There wasn't any real force or aggression to the action, but it certainly was surprising, causing the metal rectangle to clank against the bar top. 

"Javy!" You gasp in surprise, turning to see him glaring at you. 

"You're not paying for anything when I'm around," he all but growls. His arm that is snug around your shoulder hasn't moved one bit, but his free hand is digging around his pocket, clearly looking for a wallet.

"Javy, sweetheart. It's okay. I know how you feel about this." You pick up the card from where it fell on the bar and show it to him. As you explain, the Navy Federal Credit Union logo is clearly visible for him now, "This is the card for our joint account."

Halting the digging in his pocket, he narrows his eyes to fully observe the card. Once he is convinced it's the card attached to his account, he weakly apologizes, "Oh. I'm sorry."  

"It's okay, " you say as you pass over his soda and then nudge his side again. "Why don't you say goodbye to the boys. I will close your tab." 

"You're not going to leave, right?" He asks you worriedly. His thumb brushes a broad stroke against your arm while he asks the question. 

"Not without you, handsome." You reassure him, ignoring the small butterflies he still inspires in you. 

"Promise?" Javy asks you in a small voice. 

"I promise," you say. You squeeze his hand gently and then peel his arm off you.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," you guarantee, hooking your pinky with his. A wide grin splits Javy's face again, and he kisses your forehead. Walking away, mostly steady on his feet, to say goodbye to his friends. Once you're sure he made it alright, you turn back to Mark. 

"I'll grab his tab, and we might as well grab Seresin's Tab also. The blonde one over there," you request, gesturing back their direction. 

"Sure thing," Mark says, offering you an easy smile and taking your card to run through the POS system. It's in that quiet moment in-between while paying when your whole night shifts. You hear a group of men a bit farther down the bar, but there weren't even any people between you and their gabbing. You were sure they were all drunk enough to think that the conversation wasn't one that could be overheard. 

"That's Coyote's wife?" One asks in disbelief catching your attention. 

"Yeah, I'm shocked every time," someone else confirms. You resist the urge to look over at the group and see which one of them had met you before or if they just knew because of Javy's previous yelling. It's not like you exactly played the part of trophy officer's wife very often like someone married to Javy should be. 

"I don't understand," the first man says like he is trying to solve a very complex math problem. It's not an uncommon reconciliation someone might have to make seeing you and Javy together. 

"There is no way Coyote settled for that," One of them says in disbelief. Their conversation is a dagger to your heart and self-esteem. While you knew that Coyote was out of your league, confirmation from someone outside yourself doesn't make it hurt less. 

"Maybe she looked different when they first got together. You know a lot of women let themselves go after marriage."

"Well, she is kinda pretty… If that's what you're into." Gritting your teeth to keep from crying, you wish you could just disappear or that Mark would hurry up with your card so you can collect Javy and leave. 

"Fair enough, but Coyote is a ten dude." Maybe it was more offensive that they thought you weren't aware of your husband's attractiveness than their opinions on your own looks. As if you weren't aware, like you didn't see Coyote shirtless daily or when he got home from his run and the gym. The 5-inch inseam shorts he wore on your last beach vacation and just how great his thighs looked haunted your dreams for months. As if you hadn't seen him in his dress whites, dress blues, and the Tuxedo he wore to his cousin's wedding last summer. You were very conscious, hyper-aware even, of how attractive Coyote is. 

"You know who else has an ugly wife?" Someone interjects, and their conversation moves on. You wish it was as easy for you to move on. Of course, it's not the first time you have heard similar comments, but they still nearly bring you to tears every time. It's not fair so much importance is put on physical looks, on something you can't even fully control, despite what most people think. 

You make eye contact with Mark, who is looking at you with something much too close to pity, while your card is processing. How he looks at you makes the pit in your stomach fall a bit lower like he agrees with them but would never say it. As if he is embarrassed that you were forced to endure hearing the truth on this matter. You manage to give him a smile, but it clearly is forced. Anyone thinking you weren't painfully aware of the discrepancies of attractiveness between you and your husband must also believe you are blind. When Mark gives you the receipt to sign, you quickly scribble a tip and your signature, wanting to escape as quickly as possible. As you shove your card into your purse, you finally look over to the group who made the comments trying to remember their faces in the din of the bar so that if you meet them again, you can avoid them at all costs. 

You go back to Coyote, who is laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and his eyes are crinkled. You know that he isn't laughing at what you just heard. Javy's sense of duty regarding you and your sham of a marriage is boundless, and he hasn't hesitated to play the part of a protective husband before. However, you feel so sensitive now that part of you thinks he must be laughing at you. Despite how irrational it is, you can't fully push the thought away. Coyote must find it funny that he has gotten you to come pick him up. It's funny that people always view the discrepancies in your marriage in his favor. 

As your feelings and thoughts start to spiral darker, your nails bite into your palms. The looming cloud over you is shoved to the side because Javy is making grabby hands at you. As a human embodiment of sunshine, something magnified by how carefree and open he is while drunk, it only takes that and a smile for the dread hanging over you to significantly lessen. Even though you don't feel quite as low as you did when leaving the bartop, you still aren't in high enough spirits to settle into Javy's welcoming embrace. His strong arms fall back to his side at your denial, which also dims his smile as he comes close to you. 

"Are you ready to go, Coyote?" You ask, trying and failing to achieve the upbeat tone you were shooting for. 

"No," he answers petulantly. 

"No?" 

"I want to dance before we go." He pouts, opening his arms wide again. You try to ignore all his friends' eyes on you and Hangman's amused sniggering. Javy is very affectionate when drunk, and it wouldn't shock you that Jake had been on the receiving end of that affection in the time it took you to get here to pick your husband up. 

"We aren't dancing. We are going home," you respond, maybe a bit too curtly because all the joy in Javy's face is sucked away. Watching his grin become a frown and the mirth in his eyes drop just serves to add to the heavyweight you feel coiled up in your chest. The one that is always there but was aggravated by the conversation you overheard and will be as sensitive as an open wound for several days to come. 

"Bye guys," Javy says halfheartedly, waving to his friends and now quickly striding to the door, not even waiting for you or checking if you are following. You look over to Hangman and shrug quickly, telling him that you got his tab too. 

"Little M&M, you do care!" Jake gasps, pressing a hand to his heart. 

"And don't you forget it," You say, while accepting his side hug. 

"Thank you, honest. And you get my wingman home safe, please." Jake says, letting you go and shooting you a stellar smile. The rest of the group calls their well wishes, and You give one last wave before hustling after your husband. Coyote is standing, waiting near the door outside. You immediately start to walk to the car but turn around when you realize Javy hasn't moved. 

"Can still hear the music out here," Javy mumbles. 

"True, they must have an outside speaker." You say while backtracking to him again. Javy lifts a hand, settling it on your shoulder, then running it down your arm until his fingers tangle together with yours. 

"Dance with me? Please." He requests again, and you can't say no with the way he is looking at you. 

Setting down your purse on top of one of the outside tables, you hesitantly step closer into Javy's waiting arms. He hums contently the moment you are there. Singing along with the music into your ear, he holds you close. The dancing is little more than swaying together almost in time with the music. That doesn't really matter to you, though, because Javy is warm, and being this close to him makes you feel safe. Two songs pass that way. However, when a more upbeat tune comes on Coyote tries to spin you, nearly falling in the process, and you think it's probably time to get home. 

He doesn't make any complaint getting into the car, except for insisting on carrying your purse and then holding it in his lap once his seatbelt is secured. While driving home, Javy is staring at you instead out of the window. He was so quiet at first you thought he had fallen asleep. However, when you cut your eyes over to him at a stop light, you are trapped in the deep brown of his gaze. You're lucky the roads are mostly abandoned because you nearly miss the green light you are so caught up in him. 

"Do you ever wonder?" Javy eventually asks you. 

"Wonder what?" 

"About us. About this," He says, spinning and twisting his wedding ring. Javy had surprised you when he had come home one day with the matching bands only a few short weeks after you got married. There had hardly been an occasion since that he could be found not wearing it. 

"I don't know. What is there to wonder about Javy?"  

He blows out a long sigh through his nose, and your stomach clenches with anxiety. Javy had always been so resolute, so committed to this deal you two had. His steadfastness is what you would desperately cling to on the days that you felt like you conned him. Javy questioning your union suddenly shakes everything in you. Maybe he had heard what those men in the bar were saying after all. Perhaps after all this time, it was going to click for him that he shouldn't waste away in a loveless marriage, that he could do so much better than you. 

"I suppose so. 'S Not like we could go back and change anything."

"Do you regret what we did?" You ask him, barely above a whisper. The quietness following your question is heavy, and the dark of the car makes it nearly suffocating. Javy's left hand peels your right hand away from the steering wheel, and he threads your fingers together tightly. 

"No. I never regret," he says firmly. Neither of you utters another word on the way home, but Javy doesn't let go of your hand either. 

The men's comments from the bar hang over you all night as you fitfully toss and turn, trying to sleep. You consider them beyond just the comments about your looks, but more about Javy and what he deserves. How he deserves something more than you. You want to keep him, but the more you think about it, the more wrong that seems. While meditating on your husband, you come to the decision there is nothing, not even your own comfort, that you care about more than seeing Javy "Coyote" Machado happy and in love. Something he will never be with you. You rationalize it's like a bone that had been allowed to heal the wrong way; the only way to remedy it and set it on the right path is to break it first. Bones, hearts, and marriages all practically the same thing. 

You are buzzing with this revelation, and when you wake up the next morning, you know you can't wait. The sooner you get it over with, the better it would be for both of you. Still wearing pajamas, you go straight to the kitchen after waking up. You can hear Javy there making noise. 

"Javy, I want a divorce," you declare more confidently than you feel. The words leave your mouth before you have even fully gone through the kitchen doorway. There is a clattering and your eyes are instantly drawn up from the floor near your feet where you had been focusing. Javy is standing by the counter wearing his Kiss the Cook apron and drops a knife he was holding. 

He opens and closes his mouth twice before he finally says something. It sounds directed more toward himself than you. "I can't believe you just asked me for a divorce on Valentine's day."

"Is it Valentine's Day?" You ask him, shocked. Quickly pulling out your phone to check the date, the device confirms that it is absolutely February 14th. You can't believe you woke up and let the holiday sneak up on you.

"It is," he reaffirms, a deep frown marring his handsome features. 

Guilt immediately floods through you because Javy loves Valentine's Day. He had openly admitted on your first anniversary that it was one of his favorite unexpected benefits of being married. He loved having someone to do all the typical Valentine's Day things with. Someone he was guaranteed to spend the day with. He wouldn't admit it, though you suspected he also liked that it was a day you were guaranteed to think of him. An added day to the calendar that he knew he wouldn't be forgotten. 

There are not one or two, but three large bouquets of flowers scattered in the room. The table is all set up with a cloth covered in pink and white hearts. With a glance at the pan, you see the potato pancakes Javy is cooking as well as the sweet crepes arranged with strawberries he had cut to be heart-shaped. All of this on top of the various decorations littered around the room. The room is littered with evidence of Javy's joy for the holiday, almost decorated to the point of tackiness. Every part is thoughtful as well as endearing, and you hadn't even realized the day. Tears prick at your eyes while taking the whole thing in. He leads you to rest at your small round dining table his palm warm on your arm as he guides you. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I can ask again tomorrow, I guess." You say with a wobbly voice. 

"No sweetheart, I don't want you to ask again." He says tightly. Javy isn't even sitting in the other chair. Instead, he kneels in front of you while holding your hands, looking so earnest. "Why do you want a divorce?"

"Well, the reasons we got married don't really apply to us anymore. You will still live off base now no matter what, at your rank, and I'm finally graduating."  Javy's thumb is still swiping across the back of yours. You recognize it's wrong to take comfort from him right now, but you also can't help how you relax slightly which each stroke. 

"Okay," he says slowly. Staring at you intently, you can see how hard Javy's brain is working to process the information you just threw at him. He traces over your face, then falls down to look at your joined hands. Javy squeezes your hands and drops them, sitting back on his heels, and you feel the dread seep in again, not having his steadying warmth so close anymore. "Can we dissect this together, please? You want a divorce?" 

"Yes," you answer. He blows out a long heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands across his face as he sits in the chair on the other side of the table. Silence starts to stretch before Javy breaks it again. 

"Have I been making you unhappy?" 

"No. Not directly at least," You answer quickly, and it's not a lie. Javy himself is rarely the cause of your unhappiness. 

"Indirectly then. And you have been unhappy?" 

You think over his question and then start to think of a lie. You don't want to detail your feelings about this. Honesty would certainly lead to both your feelings being hurt more than necessary. You have been unhappy but in ways only of your own making. Wanting that which you could not have, fancying yourself a sort of Icarus. 

"As much truth as you can spare me, please. Don't want to hear whatever lie you were just cooking up." 

"It's more about the happiness we are cutting ourselves off from. The opportunities that we are missing." 

The hold on the very neutral look Javy has been wearing slips, and he clenches his jaw hard. You are momentarily distracted by the flexing muscle, nearly forgetting the conversation at hand. The deep frown that pulls Javy's lips reorients your priorities, and you really wish this was a conversation that didn't have to happen face to handsome-distracting-gorgeous face.

"Is there someone else? Has Mrs. Machado's eye finally been caught after all these years?" Javy asks the questions more casually, curious than you are expecting. It does make you feel foolish to look for jealousy in his words. However, the idea of there being someone else is so funny you can't contain your dry chuckle.  

"Our divorce is not a laughing matter!" Javy cries so indignantly it just makes you laugh harder. Then a few breaths later, his deep laugh intertwines with yours. It is not long until you are both breathless after the chuckles turned giggles turned howling. Javy is actively pushing away stray tears, and you are clutching your side, feeling a small stitch. Leaning back in his chair, he blows out a breath, sniffing in hard and breathing the air out in a measured way.  

"Okay, well. This isn't something that can really happen today, is it?" Javy asks you. 

"No. I guess not," you agree. 

The corner of his right mouth quirks up then, and some of the severity eases on his face. "It's still valentines day then, and you're still my wife, so —" He trails off and reaches across the table, picking up an envelope that was sitting in the center, handing it to you. With shaky fingers, you open it. The card inside is almost more beautiful than any card Javy has ever given you. The front is covered in tasteful pastel hearts, gold foil, and your name. It's just as high quality as you knew it would be. You aren't sure where he has been buying these over the years but every card you have ever gotten from him is stunning. Seeing the inside filled with Javy's cramped writing with an extra sheet included almost moves you to tears, and you shove the card back in its envelope. 

"I'll read that later," you mutter with a watery smile. Javy doesn't push you, which you are thankful for. Instead, he just holds out a hand, and you immediately grab it threading your fingers together. 

"Will you be my valentine?" Javy asks you hopefully. 

"Yes, of course, I will." 

He grins, but it's not as wide as you would hope. There is still a clear air of somberness to him. "If you don't want to spend the day with me now I understand." 

"Oh Javy, I'm so sorry. I should have thought through bringing this up to you much more than I did, including factoring in relevant holidays. Of course, I want to spend the day with you."

"No sweat, my Valentine. How about I finish cooking us breakfast then? I have the whole day planned, you know."

"Yes, I know," you say affectionately. 

"Today's menu and itinerary can be found to your left," Javy informs you. His free hand gesturing to a small decorated chalkboard propped on the table. Then he lifts your joined hands up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your palms. When he tries to detangle your fingers and stand from the table, but you stop him. 

"Hold on. I have to go grab something."

"You already had papers drawn up?" He asks in a strained voice. 

"No, I haven't. Let's set the divorce aside for the day okay?" 

"That's a good idea," he agrees. 

"I didn't completely forget about Valentine's Day. I just didn't remember this morning. Do you really think I would miss all the heart decorations all over the place? Or the 14 hearts you drew on the calendar." You ask him teasingly. 

"Well, I don't want you to think you have to do anything." 

"Javy," you sigh affectionately. Then telling him to stay put, you rush to your room and grab the wrapped gift youpicked out only days after new years. Coming back down, you excitedly plop the box in front of him on the table. 

"This is so kind you didn't have to." 

"I never mind doing anything for you Javy. Now stop delaying and opening it." 

Obeying your command, he excitedly rips at the paper and into the box, searching for the gift. When he pulls it out, he smiles so wide his eyes crinkle, and everything is right again. "A candle of the month subscription?"

"I thought you might like it," you admit.  

"With a wood wick," he sighs, opening the candle to smell it. 

"And they let me put a list of all our no-no scents," you say. 

"I love this, really. Thank you so much, sweetheart." Javy says while he reads over the little brochure that had been sent with the first candle. 

"I'm so pleased you like it." 

After that you finally allow Javy to finish cooking breakfast, making surprisingly easy conversation. It almost seems as if he truly has taken the temporary tabling of your divorce to heart. The day preceding light hearted and upbeat the rest of the morning, following the same patterns as years past. 

You and Javy do have Valentine's traditions at this point, gifts, and the day spent together. The first Valentine’s you spent together he had made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town weeks in advance. Only for the meal and service to be subpar, both of you agreeing Javy could have made something just as good if not better at home. In the years following, you two have still dressed up, but Javy makes the meal. Valentine's day is also one of the two days a year you are guaranteed kisses from Javy. He will drink too much wine, becoming affectionate and playful. Then he will pout about all the work he put into cooking, never in a  way that makes you feel guilty. Huffing until you ask what he wants in repayment. Then Javy will always request the same thing. Each of the last four Valentine's days and all three of your wedding anniversaries, a kiss. It never stays at one kiss, but it has never been more than a heated make out session. It's something that neither of you ever brings up the next day. 

You think it seems odd that you should make an exception to that tradition just because it's the last one. You hope that your foolishness of suggesting a divorcee on today of all days won't make an impact, but the more rational part of you knows it already has. Regardless, you still dress as nicely as you always do that evening for dinner. 

The hallway into the kitchen and the kitchen itself are decorated with way too many mini candles to be considered wholly safe. The soft lighting is accented by the heavy aromas of Javy's cooking, making your mouth water slightly. Javy has a dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and has a towel thrown over his shoulder as he puts the final touches on some of the dishes. Glancing up as you enter the kitchen he freezes into place before straightening to his full height. 

"You look beautiful," he utters, throwing the towel on a rack and striding across the kitchen to you. 

"Oh come on Javy, don't make fun." 

"I ain't making fun," Javy says, catching your hands and holding them tightly in his large warm palms. When he sees your disbelief, he repeats the words again, squeezing your hands urging you to believe him. With a breath, you accept his words the best you can. You had spent a lot of time deciding what to wear and were pleased with how the overall styling went. 

"Thank you. You look very handsome. Are you an aviator or a model? We may never know." 

"Why can't I be both?" 

"Don't worry Coyote. I'm sure the day the Navy decides to do a shirtless Naval Aviator calendar you will be number one on their speed dial." Which makes him laugh as he pushes in your chair for you at the table. Then pressing a kiss to your forehead, he goes back to the kitchen. 

"Callsigns at home, on Valentine's Day. Sweetheart, you are trying to break my heart." Javy teases, bringing over your plates. Paying him all his compliments due, You had only had the first few bites when Javy asks you a question that catches you off guard. 

"What about health insurance?"

"What?" You splutter. 

"What are you going to do for health insurance when we are divorced? You need that insurance, sweetheart." 

"Javy, I thought we were leaving it." 

"I can't leave it. I don't want a divorce. So, I'm sorry, but I can't leave it. Who's going to take you to your doctor's appointments? Where are you going to live? Am I moving, or you, or both of us? Are we selling the house?"  

"I don't have it all figured out yet. It's something that we are going to have to do as we go along." 

"I just don't understand what we would gain from this," Javy says, frustrated. 

"Freedom!" You cry out, wishing you could find it in you to explain the twisting feeling, the dark and sad thoughts you had to endure in this marriage. Knowing you not only would never be enough but that you were less than. Your words make Javy stiffen like a board. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had entrapped you into this relationship," The words are biting, and you wish a conversation could ever go the way you were hoping. 

"It's not like that," You tell him quickly. "Don't you want the freedom to choose to be with who you want? Don't you want to date and not have to awkwardly explain that you're married to your roommate?" 

"So there is someone else?"

"No, just you Javy." 

"Can you tell me what it is about me that you don't love?" He asks you in a quiet way. Javy's eyes drop down to his plate and you feel his knee bouncing quickly. Your mouth goes completely dry, and you scramble to sip some water from the glass set out. After a big gulp you still aren't sure how to answer. But then Javy's shoulders slump slightly, you see part of him crumble, and you crumble with it. He deserves honesty, maybe more than anyone else you know, because Javy is straightforward, ambitious, loyal, funny, kind, and you love him. 

"That's the problem. There isn't anything about you that I don't love Javy. And god, you would think after nearly four years married to you, I would have found something not to love. I honestly think you are more wonderful now than when we first met." 

Javy's eyebrows draw together, and he clearly is struggling to process your confession. Then he lets out a sigh of relief, "Thank god, this is wonderful news. I love you too." 

"Javy you could do so much better than me. You should be with someone who is on your level." 

He laughs. Javy laughs, and you wish you could manifest yourself out of existence. But then he is out of his chair and crowding in close to you, hooking a finger under your chin lifting it so that you can no longer avoid his gaze. "Sweetheart, there is no one better than you." 

Then slowly, so slowly, he leans in and catches your lips in a gentle kiss. A kiss before wine, and before a drawn out preamble. It was a kiss because Javy loved you with no other pretenses involved. He pulls away, and you suck in a heaving breath. His eyes study yours intently, and he leans in for another kiss. Meeting him halfway you wrap your arms around his neck, awkwardly pulling him closer while deepening the kiss. 

Javy looms over you, and the angle makes your chair squeak shifting backward, trying to take the shifted weight. You are saved from falling completely thanks to your arms and his that instinctually wrapped around your waist. Once you are both steady on your feet and the danger of falling has passed, you meet Javy's eyes while biting your lip to keep the giggles in. He looks in a similar state of mirth, not able to stop smiling even as he presses kisses to your face. 

"Do you know how hard it's been? Blissful torture every day of our marriage. Able to have you here, to see you, but not allowed to touch. And I have wanted to touch you for so long."

"Where do you want to touch Javy?"

"Oh everywhere sweetheart," he says roughly. His hands drifting from your waist over your ass and then starting to trace the shape of your thighs in slow appreciation. Just when you are finally getting to appreciate Javy's tongue against yours, his phone rings. He pulls away from you with a pained groan, glaring across the room. His phone is set on the furthest away counter that it can be practically tucked away. You know Javy would have had the phone turned off and tucked away if he was allowed. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he strides quickly across the room and picks up the phone. 

"This is Lieutenant Machado," The tone is stark and official. His eyes haven't moved from you, though. Then a tick forms in his jaw, and he grits out, "Hangman, are you serious? It's Valentine's Day. I care about you, but unless this is life or death, I'm spending the night in bed with my wife." Hearing who it was that called, you follow Javy into the kitchen. Sliding up to him, you slot yourself into his side, draping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer.

"In bed with M&M?!" You hear Jake start to yell, but you are taking the phone from Javy. 

"Seresin, don't call back through do not disturb unless it's a real emergency," you mutter into the receiver before hanging up. Javy's lips are tracing your neck less than a breath later. 

"What was this you mentioned about bed?" You ask Javy. 

"Do you want to get in one with me, like right now?"

"Yes, please," you agree breathily. You hand Javy his phone, and he tucks it in his pocket, clearly displeased by the device's proximity.

"I hate being on call."

You are pulling him in the direction of his room just because it is closer before you can let any further idea of work enter his head. Entering the room, you both practically scramble to undress each other. Javy whines while reminding you that his shirt is Armani, and he wants to keep all the buttons when you fumble opening them. You roll your eyes but slow down and take care not to ruin one of your husband's favorite shirts.  

"I think about these pretty lips every single day," Javy tells you. He kisses you again, but it's more tender than you expect. When he pulls away, he smiles. 

"I think about how pretty they are when you smile and all the ways that they could touch me. What they feel like against my lips. How they would feel wrapped around my cock." Javy's thumb starts to trace your lower lip, and you suck it into your mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue against the pad. Inhaling sharply, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, to your disappointment. 

"I think about touching your tits all the time." Javy pivots while grabbing a handful of your breast and squeezing, taking the opportunity to unhook your bra. You help him slide the straps off your shoulders, and he takes a moment to admire your breasts. Then dipping down to kiss them as well. Urging you to lay back on the bed, once you are lying down with Javy's eyes raking over your form, you start to feel self-conscious. Even as he pulls your panties off and starts kissing your legs. You cross your legs and do your best to cover yourself. His intense gaze nearly making want to reach for the throw blanket that is on the end of the bed. The sight of Javy's chiseled chest and cut edges reminds you of your soft edges and curves, the thought that you are ill matched flooding your brain. 

"Now Mrs. Machdo. That is not how things go in this bedroom. But don't you worry, I'm here to teach you." Javy tsks at you. Javy grabs an ankle in each large hand, pulling you toward the end of the bed. Then completely unabashed, he stares at your pussy. You try to close your legs again, but Javy's hands on your ankles prevent you from doing so. Kneeling down, he presses soft kisses to your legs and the inside of your thighs. 

"I'm going to take my time with you," he tells you, kissing up your legs. He bypasses your sex, instead kissing your stomach. As he is teasing one of your nipples, you dare to touch him back, letting your fingers dance over the shape of his arms and then across his strong shoulders. It's an exploration you have dreamed of many times, but the soft smoothness of his skin is better. When Javy has paid attention to both nipples and leaves a mark you know will blossom into a hickey near your collar bone he is kissing you again. With one of his strong thighs in between your legs, you push against it trying to seek some friction and relief from your burning arousal. Pulling your lips away from his. 

"Javy, I want you now," you gasp, pouting. Squirming against his thigh, you trace your hands down his back with the full intention of pushing down his briefs. Instead though, he is easing himself back down your body and kneeling on the side of the bed.  

"No Ma'am. I'm going to do everything I wanted to on our wedding night when we should have consummated this marriage." Javy starts tracing your skin again, peppering kisses where he sees fit. You jump slightly at the feeling but quickly relax. Even though you two have not ever been intimate, that doesn't mean that you aren't comfortable with him in almost every other way. It feels surprisingly easy to take this new step, to be pressed together. You had always thought it might not be there, a physical spark, that maybe you were compatible with Javy in every other way. However, the moment Javy's tongue meets your clit, and he is the one who moans first, the doubt largely vanishes from your mind; it's so evident he desires you too. 

While licking your clit Javy traces a finger along your lips, occasionally dipping into you, but the whole action is teasing. Just when he edges the length of his finger inside you, he kisses your thighs. When he licks your clit in firm strokes, he starts to edge his finger out of you. It's building you up but also making you feel like there is no end in sight. 

"Javy, I need you now," you beg again. 

"It's too soon." He tells you, lifting his head and pulling his mouth off you, and you nearly cry at the loss. "I have to warm you up baby, or it will hurt." 

It will hurt, Javy claims, and the thought of his dick being big enough that is something he worries about sends another wave of arousal rushing through you. Married three years, you had seen the delicious outline of it in boxers, briefs, grey sweatpants, and towels, and even now, you still haven't seen all of him. 

"Now, please," you whine. 

"Prove you can take my fingers, and then we will see," Javy tells you, attempting to compromise with a teasing lit. He only has one finger in you, and you buck against it, seeking more. When he teases another at your entrance, you shift taking that finger as far as your position will allow. Sighing contently when with the stretch, feeling more full. As you clench around his thick fingers, Javy grunts out a low moan, speeding his digits and occasionally scissoring you wider open. 

"What about a third?" He asks eventually. The idea sends another wave of arousal through you. As you clench around his fingers, Javy hums against your clit. Gasping desperately, you fist your hands in his forest green quilt. Javy doesn't actually indulge you in a third finger but continues to tease your entrance like he might. His tongue drags against your clit, and the wet sounds of the whole act making you clench harder around his fingers. 

"Please, just fuck me. Please, Javy."

"You think I'm going to fuck you before you cum on my tongue? You're so silly, sweetheart. I'm taking my sweet time with you. I have so much to make up for," Javy nips playfully at your inner thigh. You hum at the contact spreading your knees and legs a little wider to accommodate Javy's broad shoulders. Flattening his tongue to give you a broader stroke and occasionally licking around his fingers. You feel dripping at the combination of your own juices and his spit. It's teasing and playful, a pattern you're starting to notice with him. 

Nearing an orgasm, you try to grind harder on Javy's tongue, but when you do he teases a third finger again. The push for new fullness drags you back from the edge. Teetering there, you try to figure out if another one of his fingers will enter you. When he curls it away, you groan lowly. Javy stops sucking at your clit and turns his face back to pillow on your thigh. You can feel his smirk against your skin. You weren't prepared for this kind of edging, and the desperation feels nearly raw and beyond just needy. 

"Please, Javy. Do I need to beg more? Do you want me to cry? Or—" you trail off, hoping that he will fill the blank for you. You are willing to give him whatever he wants; you just don't know what that is yet. Navigating sex is always something a little awkward with a new partner. It feels an extra layer of odd because you know Javy, and have known him for years. You know that the smallest glance with a squeeze of your hand means he wants to leave a party. You know when he spends too long at the gym by the slightly slower pace he walks. You know the soup to make him when he has a cold and tries to hide it from you. You know Javy. Suddenly having a situation where you are unsure feels foreign and uncomfortable. 

Javy sits back more on his calves so he can better gauge your reactions. "I want to rock your world. I want to ruin every other man for you. I want my name to be the only one you know. I want you to be mine and only mine. Sweetheart, you are all I want." 

 "You already have all those things," you reassure him. Propping yourself on your elbows so you can meet his gaze. Even heavy with lust, his eyes still make you feel warm and safe. A small genuine smile lifts on his lips, then grows into a splitting grin that makes his eyes crinkle.  

"You've been so good and giving for me Mrs. Machado. About time I give back to you ain't it?" He asks, peppering more kisses all over your legs. His fingers resume pumping into you steadily, and he is purposeful in how he drags them along your inner walls. "I want one more thing, though." 

"Anything Javy. Anything."

"I want you to cum for me whenever you're ready. I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, baby." Javy isn't teasing this time. He starts to work you over again with his lips sealed around your clit. He sucks while also tracing hard twisting strokes of his tongue. His digits maintain a steady speed, but they are fucking into you harder, and he continues to curl them, occasionally dragging over your walls. Arching further to the edge of the bed, Javy's arm lays across your hips, holding you down so he can grind his tongue against you harder.

"Don't stop," you beg, and this time he listens. It takes a few more pumps of his fingers, and you are tumbling over the edge. Your pussy spasming around his fingers. Javy moans, and the vibrations travel right through you, extending your orgasm and making your hips stutter before falling all the way down to the bed. Closing your eyes tightly with short breaths, it takes you several moments to come back to your body. When you finally feel yourself, you find Javy on the bed with you resting with his head on your tummy. As your brain starts working, you try to push Javy's head away, but he resists snuggling further into you.

"Javy," you start to say, not sure how to explain to him your insecurities. 

"Thank you, baby. That was so good. You are so beautiful," he says, mouthing little kisses near your belly button and up your chest. 

 "I love that you're so soft," he mutters, almost in awe. One of his hands squeezes your side, and the other graces over your lower belly. Javy presses his lips to your breasts and sucks a nipple. You keen under him. Using your knees to urge him that much further up your body so you can kiss Javy, tasting the hint of yourself on his tongue still. Once he knows that you don't mind your own taste he deepens the kiss and rolls you both to be less perilously positioned on the end of the bed. 

"Will you fuck me now?" Javy is nodding, but not as enthusiastically as you expect him to. So you ask him hesitantly, "Or we can do other stuff?" 

"I really want to make love to you, but." 

"But?" You ask. Groaning, Javy slides to lay next to you, hiding his face in your chest. You run your fingers across the shaved prickly skin at the base of his skull, patiently waiting. 

"I'm worried I'll cum too fast. I don't want you to get the wrong idea." 

You make no attempt to stop the burst of tenderness and love you feel at his small confession sharing vulnerability. Then in the kindest voice, you say, "that's okay. It doesn't really matter to me. As long as you enjoy yourself, that's what matters."

Lifting his face from your chest, the look Javy gives you is horrified and a little offended. Immediately he starts jumping into explanation, "To start, fuck no. That is not what matters. Like I said, I don't want you to think that I'm always quick to cum. I've just wanted this for so long, and I spent so much time putting everything together today that I didn't even jack off in the shower. My second round of the day is always so much longer, I promise." 

"Javy, thank you. I promise this isn't going to change my thoughts or feelings about you. Okay? And a second round sounds great to me. We have to get through the first, though."

"Okay," he says with a sigh. Javy stands off the bed again, and you take the opportunity to scooch  further back against the headboard. You watch, entranced, as he finally peels his briefs off; Coyote’s cock is mouthwatering. You aren't at all ashamed of the small gasping moan that falls from your throat. 

"How do you want me?" You ask him as he crawls back up the bed. You stare at his body, suddenly overcome with the urge to trace over every single inch of him with your tongue. 

"How do you want me, beautiful?" He fires back in an easy tone. 

"Missionary?" You suggest. Nodding his head enthusiastically to your suggestion. Settling in between your thighs and you have to widen your knees to accommodate his broad frame. 

"Fuck yes, I want to be in this pretty pussy and able to see your pretty face too." 

He wasn't lying when he told you that he was big, and as he starts to push in, you are appreciative that he took his time with foreplay. Being stuffed so full of him leaves you gasping, and your mind keeps repeating better. This is better than you ever thought it would be. He is better than you always knew he would be. 

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" 

"So good. I'm so full of you Javy. I want more." 

Taking your permission, he starts rocking into you at a steady pace. With one arm, he anchors himself against the headboard gripping it tightly, then his free hand traces your face. You can tell Javy is trying to hold himself back and take things slow for the sake of his ego. You start to meet his thrusts lifting your hips a bit more to get a better angle. Javy's hand falls from your face to your ass, helping support you. The steady pace starts to increase to a hot frantic tempo. He moans your name brokenly, and you grab his ass, trying to urge him even closer to chase his pleasure. His hips start to stutter, and panting he slips out of you. His hand lets you go to give his cock a few harsh jerks, and Javy cums on your chest. He is frozen like that for a moment before rolling to your side with a wide grin on his face. 

"You could have cum inside. We are married, you know." You tease Javy. He stops breathing momentarily, and you turn your head to see him better. Despite having just cum, his eyes are still heavy with lust, and when he does take a breath again, it's a little ragged. 

"We've never really discussed that and should have used protection anyways. I'm sorry." Javy hasn't even finished the apology when you drag your finger across some of the cum on your chest. Delicately you swipe your tongue across your finger, tasting him. Javy groans low in his chest, turning to lie flat on his back and his face in the crook of his elbow. You hum happily, the power you have over him intoxicating to a degree. 

"You're right. That's definitely something we need to talk about, but next time…" You wait for Javy' to remove his elbow and look at you again. He does peek at you a few seconds later. "I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you dripping down my thighs. I want you to fill me up." 

Javy's mouth falls open, and his eyes are so dark you feel like you could get lost in them. He is surging forward then and kissing you. It's a dirty and quick tangle of tongues. Then he pulls away and starts mouthing at your throat. "Do you want to be stuffed with my cum, baby?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Machado," you say cheekily. 

"Fuck. You drive me a little crazy," he warns you lowly as you move to straddle him. You can tell he is still sensitive, but his dick is already starting to thicken again. You settle on his thigh instead, deciding that you could be patient waiting for him. You rock against his thighs for the smallest bit of stimulation just to start you going again. Javy watches you, completely captivated. 

"You being a good girl and waiting for me? Just give me a few minutes."

"I've been waiting three years. I can wait a little while longer to be full of your cum," you tell him, but it comes out as a whine like you're trying to convince yourself that's true. Javy settles a hand on your hip, giving you a small bit of encouragement to grind against him harder. 

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. No more though. I've got you now. I promise. I've got you." He repeats gently. His sweet and caring tone only makes the desperation in you burn higher. Shaking your head at him, unable to form the words explaining how you are feeling. Instead, you drop your eyes down to look at your chest again. You thought you would feel a little more peeved at the feeling of his cum drying against your skin. Rather, you just find more you can scoop into your mouth. The fact that his dick isn't in your mouth feels criminal. 

Taking a moment to not just admire him but also strategize. Javy has a long cock, and you know you wouldn't be able to take all of him down without practice and working your way up to it. Something that definitely wouldn't be happening tonight. However, then the taste of his cum isn't enough, and neither is just looking. You slide further down his thigh; your own pleasure is lost in the haze of this need. 

It's a more burning type of relief to have your mouth on him. You give the head a few soft licks, vaguely wondering how different he will taste when he hasn't already been in you. Javy lets out another shuddering moan. You want to lift your head in order to take in his features, but you are too absorbed in the feeling of his cock in your mouth. Javy clearly doesn't mind as you set about tracing his length. After a thorough exploration, one of your hands joins the mix, appreciating his shape and how heavy his dick is in your hand. 

Sucking Javy until he is fully hard again, you become braver, daring to take more of him in your mouth. Bobbing slightly and sucking, letting your hand make up for the rest. However, just as you start to feel pleased with your rhythm, Javy gently pulls you off him, cooing when you whine. 

"Baby. Baby stop. It's okay. Take a breath. That was so amazing. You are so fucking amazing." 

"I hope it was okay. I might be a little out of practice," you admit to him shyly. Your lusty haze ebbing, you trace the lines of his chest but don't want to meet his eyes. Surely he hadn't been expecting you to be this much during your first time together. 

"You're doing so good, sweetheart. I love you, and I love this," he reassures you. You shimmy up to straddle him again, lightly dragging your dripping cunt over him. Javy's cock is pressed hotly between your thighs, spreading your lips while nudging against your clit. You rock along him, wanting that friction while bracing against his chest, leaning down to kiss him. 

"I love you too," you mutter against his lips. When Javy shifts his hips in tandem with yours, catching your entrance and then sliding past it, you're spurred into action. "I need you in me, Javy."

"I ain't stopping nothing, but are you sure you are okay?"

You don't answer him directly; instead, you reach between you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. Leaning back for a better angle, you slide down his whole length. You are taken aback, letting out a sharp almost pained gasp. Having already accommodated him inside once tonight, you didn't expect to still feel the slight burning stretch of his girth now. Once you adjust riding Javy is a dream. Praise spills out of his mouth along with the most delicious sounds. It's a great angle that makes you feel incredibly full. Your thighs start to burn when you stop the slow grinding and transition to you bouncing quickly on his dick. You hope the increased pace, paired with the snapping of Javy's hips, would get you there. However, it's still not enough. Not even when Javy brings his thumb up to circle your clit in strong consistent strokes. Although you are nearly in tears, Javy looks perfectly content like this is exactly what he wants. 

"Javy," you cry high pitched, completely ceasing your movements. Even though you froze, he doesn't. Javy's hips continue lifting up fucking into you, and his thumb doesn't falter either. You take a moment to just feel it, and savor the moment. Then tiredly you slump down against his chest. A few thrusts later, you bite Javy's peck hard. He doesn't complain as he runs one of his hands down your back and squeezes your ass, chucking. 

"What do you need, sweet girl?" He asks you. You bite him again, licking one at his nipple before nibbling it too. That rewards you with an extra hard thrust from Javy.

"I don't know," you admit, frustrated. The constant stimulation makes you burn hotter and is tantalizing, but it doesn't give you any push to the final release. Javy completely stops moving but stays hilted in you. His hands urge you to sit up, and he holds your gaze steadily. 

"It's okay. We always figure things out together, don't we? This isn't any different." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course. Now tell me how you are feeling. Tell me what you like." 

"I really like you. I love you Javy. And I've been thinking about this for so long."

"I've been dreaming about it too. I can't believe neither of us said anything sooner."

"I couldn't ever tell you."

"I wish you had. Why didn't you?" 

"We both know you're out of my league, Javy. I never thought that you would want me back." He makes a pained sound hearing your admission. 

"I'm not out of your league, and I've always wanted you back from the beginning. Okay?" You feel a little frustrated that he doesn't see or understand what you're saying, and if he wasn't literally still inside you, it might have been possible to press the issue. Right now, though, you know your insecurities could be tabled to another day. 

"Okay."  

"Good," Javy mutters, slipping out of you with a wet sound. "Let's try a different position. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?" 

"Okay, we can try that," you say with a shrug. 

Then with little effort, he gently manhandles you off him into a new position. Your front is pressed to the bed ass up for him, and Javy helps slide a pillow under you for better support. Kissing down the length of your spine. He asks twice if you're comfortable, taking his time pushing into you. It's a good position, allowing Javy to fuck into you harder than before. Your biggest complaint is the loss of being able to appreciate his handsome features. 

In between telling you how good you are and just how wet and perfect your pussy is, Javy asks if he can spank you. It's a suggestion that has you biting your lip and agreeing hesitantly. It's not even a hard spank against your ass, just enough for a slight sting. The sharpness in contrast with how deliciously you're being filled, has your back arching. With a few more spanks, all of which you can tell Javy is holding back for, you feel close to an orgasm again. 

"I'm getting close," you warn him. 

"Going to give you every last drop, sweetheart. I'm going to make sure you're so full of me. I really want to feel you cum, though. Can you do that? Will you cum for me, Mrs. Machado?" Javy finally gives attention to your neglected clit again, and you know it's only a matter of time. Every time he bottoms out and gives your pulsating bundle of nerves a tweak, you feel yourself teetering. 

"Call me that again," you request, relishing the way it falls off his lips more than nearly any of the other times he's said it in the past. 

"Mrs. Machado," he repeats. "My wife, my girl, my love. Mrs. Machado, I want you to cum now." 

With an extra hard press of his thumb, you're cumming. The heat that had been building in your abdomen bursts flooding bliss through your limbs. Crying out his name and fluttering around his cock, your legs start to spasm too. Coyote keeps fucking you, though, a little harder, a bit more selfishly chasing his own release. 

"Javy, fill me up now," you demand, turning your head as much as you can to watch him. His pace falters at your request but immediately picks up again. 

"Yes ma'am," Javy gasps. Speeding up so fast and hard, you feel a twinge against your cervix at the abuse. Just as you think you are going to have to tell him to be more gentle with you, Javys hips stutter. Holding himself entirely in you, his hands gripping your hips so hard you won't be shocked to find bruises later, he finally fills you up. You clench purposely around his length, wanting to help him milk his orgasm as long as possible. The warm spreading feel of his seed in you makes you sigh happily, and the boneless tired feeling after a good orgasm hits you like a truck. 

Javy lays down on the bed, his breath still coming out in short pants. Immediately you cuddle closer to him, turning to lay your head on his shoulder. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you even closer to him. As his breaths even out, he starts kissing you slowly, hands cluching you tighter to his chest. 

"Come closer, sweetheart," he requests quietly. Part of you wouldn't be surprised if Javy will ever think you are close enough to him again now that he's been inside you, but most of you relishes that concept. You scoot even closer, more than half laying on his chest, pressing as much of your skin together as feasible. 

Later after one of the most tender intimate showers of your life, you are snuggled into Javy's bed with fresh sheets, trying to pick out a sappy Valentine's Day movie to watch. Javy had brought the extra pillows in your room, so you could make an extra area for movie cuddles. You are still scrolling when he comes back into the room with a plate of reheated dinner. Ravenous from skipping dinner and the following activities, you grin widely seeing the food.

"You are the most amazing man to ever walk this earth, Javy Machado." You tell him, patting the spot you left for him next to you. 

"Sweetheart, you'll give me an ego if you keep talking to me like that." Javy expertly balances the plate and nestles in close. "Please tell me more," He says cheekily, pressing a kiss casually to your lips. You have to take a full minute to process that's a thing that can just happen now. So you lean a little more of your weight into him, and seek out Javy's lips again, simply because you want to and can. 

'Well, no one cooks like you do."

"Yeah?"

"And no one gives as good cuddles as you do." 

"I think that one's actually about you because you are the most comfortable and soothing person I have ever met. Of course it turns me into a snuggle monster." You laugh at him, and he casually throws an arm over your shoulder. He feeds you a small bite in off the plate before taking one himself. However, he doesn't seem overly invested in it like you expect. 

"You ate a plate in the kitchen, didn't you?" You guess and feel Javy stop breathing. 

"That maybe could have happened. I'm sorry sweetheart, I was so hungry." Javy adopts an exaggeratedly apologetic face sticking out his lower lip pleadingly. 

"I guess, I could be convinced to forgive you."

"Oh, I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."

"How about breakfast in bed tomorrow," you suggest casually. 

"Absolutely, whatever you want. Quiche? Waffles? Omelettes? Croissants?"

"That all sounds good, but I was thinking of something else."

"Really? And what do you want to have, sweetheart?" He asks curiously. 

"The only thing I had on the menu was you," You tell him cheekily. His eyes widen a little, and his teeth dig into his lower lip. He kisses your neck sweetly, nosing under your jaw. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. 

"Marry me?"  

Finding his joke funny, you laugh lightly, playfully tapping your elbow into his side. Javy remains quiet and serious, though. When he doesn't respond, you set the plate aside, so it has no danger of spilling and turn to face him more fully. You are sure that he is waiting for that to reveal his mirth, but his eyes are just as serious as his tone. 

"Javy, we are already married." You say, chuckling again. 

"Marry me, again." He requests earnestly. Taking your hand in his, he gently pulls off your wedding band, holding it out like an offering. You pluck the ring back from him, sliding it into place on your finger. A smile breaks out on his face following your movement. Then you place that same hand on his face, holding him so he wouldn't be able to avoid your eyes. 

"No. We are not going to get remarried." Javy pouts, and before he can reach true sadness, you lean forward to kiss him again. "But we can throw a really nice party if you want."

And when you two do finally get around to throwing a big old party, most of the room is confused about why exactly you and Javy are exchanging vows. However, absolutely no one is surprised when Javy produces seven cramped front-to-back sheets of paper of written vows when it's his turn. 

#javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #Javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado x you #coyote x you #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfiction #carnal for coyote #hot hot hot! #hot 🥵 #bones hearts and marriges

[rainbow-scarab]

Symbols of Hallownest and its Royalty

(Edit: This post has been expanded upon, with new info and some revisions. Please see this expansion, though read this post first!)

In art and architecture, Hallownest has symbols representing the kingdom, the Pale King, and I would argue the White Lady as well as generic bugs.

(Note: This post has many images. If anything's unclear about what I'm referring to in the image, I have tried to put much description in the alt text of the images)

The most prominent symbol in the entire kingdom is the same one that can be seen in the Hallownest seal.

It can be found pretty much anywhere in game, from architecture, to tapestries, to the UI. Its most basic elements are the crown, the wings, and an oval body.

It has obvious relation to the Pale King. He is at the top of the Kingdom’s hierarchy. Though the Queen’s role in the Kingdom is a bit uncertain, it is clear the Pale King is spoken of much more frequently, and it is him who the citizens of Hallownest seem to focus on.

It hardly needs saying the crown on top of the symbol is the Pale King’s. Also, the Pale King may be seen to have wings in the White Defender fight.

However, there are many symbols in the game that don’t look exactly like this. Many times, you find something similar, but it will be missing the wings, or missing the crown. Or both. You also can find variants where the top of the symbol has a single spike.

Lemm describes Hallownest Seals like this:

These ornate seals were the official symbols of the King and his Knights, and were treasured by those who carried them.

As you sell him the seals, he chooses to speak of the Great Knights of the kingdom, rather than the king. The impression I get, then, is that the seals are less a direct representation of the Pale King as much as they are of Hallownest itself, or at least the upper levels of government. Of course, the design of the symbol must be at least in part based upon the physical traits of the Pale King, with that crown he has…it’s just that as a symbol it represents a bit more than that.

We do have direct representations of him, though. Lemm says of the King’s Idols:

An icon of Hallownest's King, who was revered as both a god and a ruler.

He says that the idols were for worship, and that each idol was personalized for their owner. He says “Depictions are of an imposing, gleaming figure and a fiercely horned crown.” He also speaks of the White Palace. In other words, unsurprisingly, the idols are just about the king, and not so much other things.

This figure does not have wings. And in fact, neither do the few statues that can be found of him.

In fact, besides Ogrim’s memory, there are no views of him with wings. His body, alive and dead, has nothing that can be easily identified as wings.

I’m not exactly setting out here to answer questions about if and how he has wings though. Just focusing on the relevance to the symbols.

I do get the impression, even if the more direct representations of him lack wings, that the instances of the symbol with both crown and wings are still supposed to be based off of him. A ruler often represents more than just themself, for instance, in the real world, a ruler may speak with the royal we. And for someone who is king, founder of the kingdom, god worshipped by the citizens, and even said to have created the world…the Pale King and the Kingdom of Hallownest are strongly linked together.

There’s one more detail that sometimes shows up. There’s often a spike at the bottom of the symbol. I have wondered if perhaps it’s a tail of some kind. The king being a wyrm…well, he certainly had a long body, and possibly even still in his small form, under his robes.

There are also a few cases where there’s a sorta head shape and not just a crown. This is true of the save symbol. On these tapestries, I wondered for a moment if the shape enclosing the symbol was like…some long wyrm body. Perhaps in the way that his current body was born out of that giant body. But that is pure pure speculation—there’s really not evidence for such.

There are also cases where there are no wings, and no crown. Just an oval, with lines across it. Actually, this is very very common. It can be seen just about everywhere. In fences, for instance…so many fences. The shape of the windows too, as can be seen from the outside of buildings in the City of Tears.

Had tumblr no image limit, I would spam so many pictures. But since there is, I want to highlight a certain subset of these ovals appearing.

There are a few instances where the full Hallownest seal is alongside an oval on its own. In most cases, it is the full symbol above, and the oval below. I got to wondering if the oval is a generic symbol for bug. As it turns out, what you might call “generic Hallownest bugs”, the kind you find in places like Crossroads or the City of Tears, tend to have this sort of body shape. Quirrel as well.

I wonder if this configuration is a bit of extended symbology for Hallownest. The kingdom/king above, and average bug below.

As I was looking through the game, I found more variations built off of this lined oval. Many of them are in the City of Tears, on the rich side of the city. Though I'm not sure if many of those have particular significance...extra embellishments just to be fancy.

More importantly, I kept finding these variants in the image above. We have these types, in two different sizes, that have flowery embellishment around the ovals. We also have one symbol here that is similarly flowery, but does not have this bug oval in the center.

These particular symbols can be found throughout Hallownest. I have found them in areas such as near the city storerooms, in the Stag Nest, or near the bench where you find Quirrel in the City. They’re also all throughout Queen’s Gardens.

Besides this gate marking its entrance from Fog Canyon, Queen’s Gardens does not have the Hallownest seal anywhere within it. We have either the plain bug ovals, or the flowery symbols without ovals.

I’d like to say that these flowery symbols are symbols of the White Lady. She herself is not particularly flowery looking. She is called Root, and she looks the part. But of course roots are associated with plants, and she clearly loves them.

Greenpath is also full of plants, Unn having turned the land green. Queen’s Gardens used to be a part of Greenpath. But the architecture in the Gardens is clearly Hallownestian, and not something from the mosskin.

Either these symbols represent the queen directly, or they may have a parallel with the Hallownest seals: symbolizing everything that comes with a queenship, the power and role in relation to Hallownest.

These symbols may often lack the bug oval in the center as well because…well. The Pale King changed his form to be more bug-like. The White Lady did not. In this view, the flowery symbols with the bug oval in the center are the more odd ones.

This architecture may also be found in this one room in Fungal Wastes, where there are two shrumal ogres. Clearly a smaller garden as you might find in Queen’s Gardens. …. Okay this isn’t very important, I just find it a neat detail XD

The Queen for whatever reason does not have statues. There is no reference to her being worshipped by the people (discounting Godseeker). In development, there used to be a statue of her alongside her husband (and broken statue of the Hollow Knight). This was replaced by the time the game came out, with a more abstract shrine to the Pale King (as symbolized by his crown). There are also soul totems in the White Palace which I’ve heard people interpret both as the Pale King and the White Lady. In truth, it doesn’t really look like either of them. Maybe a bit more like their concept art, a bit more like those old statues. But in any case, it does not look like the current versions of the two royals.

If these flowery symbols do represent the queen, it would be one of the few things that reference her as being part of the kingdom in an official capacity, beyond the places named after her. Having some sort of official significance, beyond just “the king’s wife”, acknowledged through symbols.

Lastly, the fountain, the memorial to the Hollow Knight.

The Hollow Knight has at their feet four spikes coming up going around their body. This must be representative of the Pale King (his crown always being depicted with four spikes) (presumably yes there are more from the back view of this fountain but hey, the Pale King also in actuality has eight spiked horns XD). They’re also standing on what seems to be shaped like a flower, and the next level down from that is either a larger flower, or leaves. I can’t help but think that those aspects have to do with the White Lady.

Anyway.

If anything, I hope all this shows something about the relationship between the Kingdom of Hallownest, its two monarchs, and the average bug.

Edit: Please see my continuation of all this for new info and some revisions.

#hollow knight #hollow knight theory #the pale king #the white lady

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: Trying to understand the Aux Tresors novels without actually reading the novels in question.

This is the last, and the most borderline-experimental and cringe-flop part of the reading break #1, because in this post, I will be discussing the five novels based on the show.

Without actually reading them.

Nobody has seemingly ever scanned or copied them, and I don't have the ability to buy them. If you're French, or a rich person, perhaps you could get your hands on them and tell me how wrong I am, but until then, let's speculate.

You can find the... (sighs deep as fuck) Plot Summaries on Otakia. Everything I will discuss here comes from Otakia. You can find the books somewhere else. Perhaps Amazon, probably some other site too... Because as far as I remember, Ankama's literal official shop only has one of the five.

Roman Kerubim (Dofus) Tome 1 : Le ciel sur la tête

>Read about it here

To regurgitate a bit of info from Otakia: just like the Wakfu novels, which apparently also exist, these five novels are kind of like... a bonus episode in a written form, following the structure of the show.

When grabbing quotes from Otakia I will be putting them into a translator and then screenshotting, so that you can quickly read them, and so that I don't have to copy things.

But I won't be copying the descriptions or summaries of the books, just the bits I'd like to elaborate on. You can read them yourself there.

To reference that one meme: Why didn't he start thinking about his dead parents? Is he stupid?

OKAY, I really didn't expect this post to go anywhere, but it's funny that even in Dofus times, Porkass people were known to eat Twelvians.

You will never fucking guess with what nation Bonta of the Waven era, is involved in a seemingly mutually cannibalistic war with.

Roman Kerubim (Dofus) Tome 2 : Une étoile pour le shérif

>Read about it here

I want to thank whoever runs Otakia for uploading this image specifically. Thank you Monsieur/Madame Otakia.

You may notice that, I will be upscaling all the images I bring here from the Otakia articles. The reason for this is that I am a normal and sane person, and need to look at it in a crispier way.

As you may remember, Kerubim already said that he used to be a sheriff in episode 16, West of Astrub.

The writer of this article will literally be like "the book gives you candy, sucks your dick clean and dry, cleans up your home, and then it gives you a hundred dollars, so I didn't like it."

I wish Kerubim would be a fucking loser and a menace more often.

In the Judgement of The Twelve episode, Kerubim and Bashi had already mentioned meething each other many times as young adults, and having stories about it, so it's nice to see this factoid utilized for more than 2 episodes, if only in a book.

Also, yet again, Kerubim literally doing his job and Bashi being fucking insane and hating him for it, despite doing far worse things.

Roman Kerubim (Dofus) Tome 3 : Panique à Astrub

>Read about it here

Indie is insane for this btw.

Joris canonically eats burgers and YES reading this article a while back is the reason I put burgers into my Joris fanart.

You can see full art on my general artblog @atcham-crepin. Yeah, my blog naming scheme is very creative, I know.

I just think his refined ass eating burgers is funny, even though in canon he is only depicted doing this as a kid.

Roman Kerubim (Dofus) Tome 4 : Le décapiteur de soiffard

>Read about it here

Including the cover art because it is very nice, and to draw your attention to THE best novel none of us will ever get to fucking read.

My dream Joris & Simone story, and I can't even read it. Smh.

List of things I love about this:

Joris stealing stuff.

Joris stealing stuff.

Joris stealing stuff.

Simone being a leader.

Kerubim, as we had seen in the past episodes, literally the type to text something like "I am not long for this world.... tell my family I love them." over a tummy ache. I hate this man so much it's unreal.

Of Course he sent them on a wild goose chase over some random bullshit.

Simone and Joris @ Kerubim at the end of this book:

Roman Kerubim (Dofus) Tome 5 : Tous en piste

>Read about it here

I will be real, I don't think any living being can tame that fucking beast.

These books are just treating us with characters in outfits we hadn't seen them in, in the show. It would be... a better world, if these books were episodes instead.

Also, want to yet again remind you that I am upscaling the shit out of these images. Because I'm normal. But at times the results can be wonky.

The World of Twelve has never seen, and will never see again, a couple more toxic than them. Sad!

Unlike the Simone & Joris book, I yet again don't have much to say, but, I'm sure I would, had the books been available to me.

This brings me to a close with the first reading break. After this post, I will resume liveblogging about the show. But I do have ideas of what the next reading break entail, and I think they're rather fun! Like "trying to read Dofus manga without reading Dofus manga" or "reviewing Dofus Aux Tresors merch without buying Dofus Aux Tresors Merch", or, perhaps, "scrying on a crystal ball to read Tot Ankama's thoughts."

...Yeah. Only the last one is a joke.

#novels #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #tagging because I want a broader circle of fans to know about the existence of the novels #so that maybe a kind pro-p*racy frenchman will someday upload them to l*brary g*nisis. i don't know.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 2

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we're defined by our job, it's those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

First

You stare up at the imposing structure of a skyscraper much like the one you work at. If you hadn’t just walked to this one you might have even thought you’d never left work at all. This had been your first perplexing halt. The second came as the building  appeared to have no storefronts around its base. There was just the shiny gleam of a half dozen glass doors and the stark interior of yet another standard lobby. Frowning, you dug through your bag for your device.

You: Hey, it’s Y/N. I’m going to assume you didn’t give multiple people your number and that you do in fact want my name.

It was the text you had sent him after work the day prior. Instead of responding, Donatello had simply applied a check mark emoji to your message and then sent the address for the next shop. Opening the follow through link to a map app, it indeed read that you were in the right place and just needed to scale a multitude of floors to complete your journey.

The only thing was, that simply didn’t make sense.

With the amount of suits funneling through the doors it seemed unlikely that this was a mixed used property. Tapping your phone screen several times, you brought up the shop’s information panel. There wasn’t even a single image or review uploaded along with the notation. Frowning, you wondered how Donatello would handle it if you questioned his accuracy. He seemed like the kind to take particular care in being right. Hovering a thumb over the shop’s entry, you debated.

“Odd, isn’t it?”

You jolted as the voice came directly by your left ear. Swinging with your device as a mock weapon, you watched as Donatello straightened up.

“Yeah, that’s one word for it!” Finding him not to be a threat, you rubbed the side of your head in an attempt to shake off the tingles.  

Instead of evaluating you, he turned and sized up the building. “Their SEO is atrocious.”

“That’s not-!” You started and then stopped along with lowering your limb. He surely knew what you meant and cooing into your ear was probably his odd way of flirting.

Your mind ground to a halt at the thought.

Was that what he was doing?

“Pathetic to be satisfied with nothing more than a trapped clientele.”

You gave him a curious look. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something that was worded a little strange, but you also barely knew him. Since you had been granted an extension on your budding affection, you’d decided to make the most of it. Resisting the urge to text him had been tough enough, but at least the time between stints had been short. “There’s really a restaurant here?”

That wasn’t exactly questioning his authority.

“Word of mouth.” He responded simply and started his trek. You chased after his coat’s swinging edge and admired today’s outfit from the back. It was similar to the previous one in shade, but he now donned a mock necked zipper henley beneath what had to be different piece of luxe outwear. His sleek boots made little noise amongst the rummaging throng of lunchtime workers. 

“That didn’t answer my question!” You called, making a few longer strides to catch up to his side.

He passed you a glance as you both reached the door. With a longer reach, he caught the handle and you watched with wide eyes as he opened it for you. Maybe yesterday you just hadn’t given him a chance to be chivalrous. Passing him an appreciative bob, you slipped inside. The quiet contrast of the lobby sank in. His boots now clicked with purpose and you rolled your eyes as you again had to scamper after him. You couldn’t help but catch the look the receptionist gave you as you passed. The concept had already been strange enough that you hadn’t taken the time to consider that you might not have access to this mysterious place.

“Uh-, Don-”

“At my 9th study, I heard two patrons discuss this location.”

You almost ran into him as he came to an abrupt stop at the elevators. Adjusting yourself, you got caught between smiling at his languid response time and mild embarrassment at your fumble. He seemed disinterested in the latter so you looked ahead to see if he had pressed the button. It was already lit so you craned your neck to see beyond your companion and found an annoyed businessman tapping his toe in wait. The man’s expression was already sour, but something about the way he glared at you for looking his way reminded you of the receptionist. “Are we supposed to be here?”

“What do you mean?” Donatello’s eyes were fixed squarely on the elevator’s display panel which read over 10 floors away.

“I mean…” You tucked yourself closer to Donatello’s side in an attempt to both shield yourself the other man’s annoyed aura and to keep the conversation for interested party’s ears only. “This isn’t like an exclusive dining room, right?”

Catching your little shuffle and hushed tone, Donatello swooped his gaze over you and then to the other man. With his head swiveled away you couldn’t see his expression, but you did watch as the other man suddenly snapped to attention and turned away with a cough. Your lids came down in slight curiosity as Donatello’s attention returned to the elevator panel. You studied his side profile until you saw the exact moment the muscle in his jaw tightened as he was about to speak.

“No security at the door, no keypad access to the elevators, and no check-in with the receptionist.”

You glanced to the front of the building. Everything he said was undeniably true, but something still felt off.

“It’s also publicly listed regardless of how terrible their online presence is.”

You slowly brought your gaze back and thought it over. The elevator arrived before you could come to a conclusion. You started to step forward when you realized Donatello hadn’t moved. You paused your foot’s journey and watched as the door opened. Several people got off and as soon as they were clear, Donatello moved to board. You followed, but just before breaching the threshold you caught a glimpse of the businessman from earlier who this time paled as you caught eyes.

“I-I’ll take the n-next one.” He stuttered out and glued his eyes to the floor.

What had Donatello done to the man?

You immediately swiveled your head to the mutant to find him punching in the number 27 on the panel. He then moved to stand with his hands tucked behind his back in the center of the elevator. You were about to ask when you noticed one of the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. It was the closest thing to happiness you’d seen him display, but your heart was caught in its excitement by what seemed to be the knowledge of its source.

What a menace he was.

The elevator doors closed and you leaned against the wall beside the panel.

You weren’t exactly sure what to think of his oddities, though you were still undoubtedly interested.

“Do you think I’d steer you wrong?”

You didn’t move, but his sudden question jarred you. You hadn’t expected him to lob you one, so you bided your time checking the floor counter before turning your attention to him.

“Well I would hope you wouldn’t kill me in a place this public.”

Though he also didn’t move, there was something in the way he brought his eye to you that felt like you’d surprised him. His mouth had flattened out, but it opened with intrigue.

“Was that a concern?”

You blew out so hard that a minor raspberry rumbled on your lips. “In this city? Heck! In this world? You always have to play that game with new people to make sure they aren’t serial killers!”   

“I’ll keep a better eye on you then.”

You laughed and the elevator chimed its arrival. Before the doors could open, you pushed off the wall and leapt forward. You watched one of Donnie’s brows raise in incremental curiosity as you planted yourself firmly facing him and away from the grand reveal. “For the record…” You trailed off and listened as the metal split behind you. “I don’t think you’d steer me wrong, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still worry!”

With your point made, you did a little hop to see what the 27th floor looked like. There was a small landing and the walls continued the same sterile motif from the lobby. Beyond that there were a set of two clear glass doors that revealed a dining room that disappeared out of sight on the right and an odd test kitchen sort of set-up to the left.

“Woah…”

You felt a hand press against your mid back just as the elevator doors began to close due to inactivity. You stepped forward and mourned the loss of touch as you made it onto the landing.

Donatello clicked his tongue and for a moment you thought he could read your thoughts. A defense was on your lips about your fleeting feelings when he spoke something else more to himself. “Asinine waste to not market this.”

You wanted to laugh again, but you bit your bottom lip and scrunched up your face to keep it in. He was really hung up on their e-commerce.

“Is that what you do?”

Since you were a step ahead, you caught a door handle and held it for him.

He eyed you as he passed. “No.”

You gave an interested hum as he evaluated the space. You ignored the actual counter in favor of gawking at the dining room. From the sliver you had seen before, it stretched even further out of sight and presumably all the way around the floor. Various tables, chairs, pergolas, and plants filled out the space, but left the grand view of the blue sky outside stretched unobstructed. For each wooden structure, there was a fan turning on a lazy setting to keep what could have been a greenhouse effect at bay.

With your head coming back from reviewing the display, you found Donatello watching you with his head tipped ever so slightly to the side. You could feel the fondness in your expression grow as you wondered if he had been watching your excitement. He was as nonplussed as ever, but knelt down incrementally and you leaned is as he seemed to want to discuss something.

“There’s a cashier at the far end.” He pointed and you finally took in the kitchen portion of the restaurant. A long stretch of various foods were laid out buffet style with a divider thrown up to separate the open kitchen. There was a single break between the glass panes that seemed to be a place where you could order something that wasn’t readily available on a hot or cold bar presentation. “You get a tray and we’ll meet there.”

From the looks of it, there only seemed to be cold slider style sandwiches laid out in a pallet. “Think we can order our clubs from the window?”

His head turned to you a little bit more and his chin was tipped up. Though you had only seen it once before, you had a feeling it had something to do with appreciation. “If not, we’re wasting our time.”

“This was definitely not a waste.” You threw an arm out to the room in demonstration, but found you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his.

A slow blink passed between you both before he finally moved away. Your racing heart beat only became apparent when he parted though you had a feeling it had started up long ago.

“I’ll see to the order and you scout the other offerings.”

“Sounds good.” You gave a nod and he moved straight for the kitchen window. You glanced over the cashier who was absorbed into a novel she had propped against the register. Gathering a tray, you used it as a sort of partition as you slowly looked over the bars. It had a standard fair of salad building blocks, fresh cut fruit, and grab-and-go lunches. On either side of Donatello sat a few heat lamps with side dishes and a variety of beverages. Suddenly hyper aware that you had no idea what your companion liked, you reminisced on the feeling from the day prior. There was so much to learn. It felt as daunting as the choices laid out.

Sneaking a peek at Donatello, you watched as he conversed with someone on the other side. The tone sounded genial and a satisfied smile graced your lips. You were glad he could continue his conquest, but that didn’t help your task at hand. Shooing the happiness away, you furrowed your brow. Going off what little you knew about the staunch man, you bypassed the fruit as no matter how bright it looked, it was all definitely out of season. Salad seemed like a pass as it felt more like a counterpart as opposed to a companion to sandwiches. Something about that thought sparked something another, thankfully.

Turning, you moved to where some whole fruit and prepackaged snacks that required only ambient temperature were stacked. You stared at a menagerie of chips and felt flicker of pride in your chest. You had a feeling that this was some kind of test. It didn’t feel malicious, but it fell in line with his methodical sandwich choices. It all lie in if you had correctly identified that chin move as appreciation. If that were the case then him allowing you to chose an accompaniment meant he had some sort of value in your culinary decisions.

You were definitely over thinking this.   

Still, it was a fun game. Ignoring the typical name brands, you perused a set of locally made kettle chips. Anything too potent would skew the sandwich evaluation so you knocked those competitors out of the ring. It left only variations of salt which at first glance seemed like the safe choice. Chuckling to yourself you tried to imagine how his computer would process the data. He probably went through whatever you were going through but charged up to some astronomical degree. There was no way a man who was trying his 13th sandwich shop would do any less. Pinching two bags together by their top corners, you hoisted them onto a tray and went to join Donatello.

He was standing off to the side waiting with a slip of paper clutched prominently in one hand. The way his eyes went right to your tray said all you needed to know about how he’d considered the endeavor.

“Sea salt and cracked pepper.”

You waited for his eyes to flick up to yours. You gleaned nothing else until that moment finally happened. When it did you were ready, you said your prepared line. “A little extra seasoning, so to speak.”

He made a clear sound of acceptance before his chin tipped up and then down into a nod.

He then turned into the motion and headed towards the cashier. You were able to keep a lid on your delight until his back was to you and you nearly skipped after his form. It wasn’t conclusive, but whatever it was still sent your heart aflutter. He paid and when you stepped up to the cashier next you watched the woman go back to her novel. Waiting further, you blinked as Donatello headed towards the dining room. The woman didn’t part you a glance.

“He got you.”

“He what?” You wondered aloud and she must have heard the rhetorical note to it because she simply turned the page in response. You frowned and tightened your grip on the tray. “Hey!”

From several lengths away, Donatello was evaluating which table would be best.

Cheeks taunt with irritation, you brushed passed him and plopped down at a table perfectly shaded by a monstrous plant and just outside of the gusty radius of a nearby fan.

“You paid for me.” You ground out as he sat across from you.

“I did.” He responded simply and picked up a bag of chips. “You forgot napkins.” He added before plopping down a few onto the tray in demonstration.

You pouted at them and watched as he turned the package over to read the back. It was clear he’d dropped the conversation and you could have just enjoyed his contribution, but you were seized with obligation. “I’ll get the next one.”

“If you want.” He set the bag down. “They’ll bring out the food when it’s ready.”

You gave a curt nod.

“What flavor do you actually get?”

“What?” You momentarily surfaced from your sulk.

Instead of repeating himself, he gave a single finger tap to the chips.

You stared at the bag with growing wonder before turning an accusatory glare on him.

He cocked his head the slightest degree.

“How’d you know?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you asked.”

“I did.”

You frowned and the corner of his mouth upturned in a tempered version of when he scared the man outside the elevator. Your jerk senses were tingling, but there was an infuriating beguiling quality to it. Probably because he was right; this wasn’t what you would normally choose in normal circumstances.

He certainly was far from average.

“It depends on my mood, but if the sandwich is gonna be more on the plain side then I get a more potent chip.”

He gave a single nod.

“How was my choice?” You absolutely wanted to know.

He opened his mouth, but another voice came out.

“Here we are!”

You startled at the sudden approach of an aproned man, but Donatello simply straightened. The man set down a tray with two sandwiches and Donatello parted the man a thank you as he left. You made room on your tray as your companion placed a plate onto it before setting up his own arrangement. You watched him take the same care as to where to pick his club up from. Shaking your head at his absurdity, you grabbed your sandwich and bit right in. They had added an herbed blend or perfumed their oil. You thought it over in way you might not have if it weren’t for your opposite.

You continued to eat, popping your chip bag open about halfway through and considered the flavors. The calm of the moment swallowed you up until Donatello finally spoke.

“Not bad.”

You looked up to find his finger still pinched from where there was presumably a chip.

“You’re just saying that.”

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite read, but there was an air of disdain to his slightly arched brow.

You suppose he hadn’t minced words before this point.

“The pepper offsets the aromatic quality.” He lifted the bread off the uneaten half of his sandwich in examination

“I couldn’t have known about that…” You responded with a heavier quality to your voice than you hoped. You weren’t actually upset about something as silly as potato chip choices, but you had been betting on a solid win which felt stripped from you.

“Don’t point out a flaw the other party hasn’t caught on to. It shows your hand.”

You brought a questioning gaze to him and found him staring back flatly.

“You think I knew…?”

“No, but you could have made an educated guess.”

You broke eye contact to glance at your surroundings. Though it were smack dab in the middle of a trade building, the ambience had an upscale quality. You almost wished you knew how much the meal cost though you wouldn’t have been able to take it into account as you’d already made your choice by then. Something about the whole thing seemed planned all along. 

“What do you do?” You adjusted how you sat in your chair.

“Freelance.” There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation.

That was unusual.

You gave him another incredulous look that he pointed ignored by popping another chip in his mouth.

“Broad and vague.” You noted, doing the same.

You swore you heard another of those plausive hums, but between chews you couldn’t be sure.

“So serial killer is still on the table.” You crunched down on another chip and heard what you thought was a snort. Your eyes flew to him instantly, but found only composed stoicism there. “Did I just get you?”

He gave you that look again.

He was never going to tell.

Unfortunately for him, that in and of itself was quite telling.

You let out a little bit of laughter and shook your head. “You’re something, you know that?”

“’Broad and vague.’” He quoted with an almost amused air.

Something you’d said so candidly got a positive response. Internally you rode the high, but externally you only showed how pleased you were with a grin. “Actually, it’s a turn a phrase.”

“The intent of which changes upon inflection.”

“How did mine sound?” You put your elbows to the table and placed your chin upon your hands in a show of awaiting his response.

He looked back to his meal and lifted the last bit of his sandwich. “You’re so busy pining that it’s hard to see past that.”

You had the urge to duck against that return shot. He had a certain command for conversation even if he seemed to be in a perpetual state of not wanting to be in one.

“That obvious?” You gave a little wince.

You received that patented look for the third time.

It was unmistakable now.

The epitome crossroads between ‘you already know the answer’ and ‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response.’

At least he was aware of your intentions.

That thought had you faltering in your posing. Head now below your hands you were slow to raise back up.

What were those exactly?

Hadn’t this been a fun little crush accommodation?

Your face felt hot, but you weren’t sure it read blush.

Finally heaving your chin onto your hands, you watched as Donatello tidied up his mess. He’d already finished his meal and you weren’t sure what this whole meeting had really gotten you.

“Did you pacify your boss?”

You were thankful for the perch that allowed you to loll your head. “No way, I just don’t care today.”

“You must not be since you’re already later than yesterday.”

“Am I?” There still was a quality of fear to your voice that couldn’t been quelled. When it hit your ears you gave a synthetic laugh in a pathetic attempt to dispel it.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off for a fear you couldn’t quite place.

“Do you like eggs?”

His mouth closed and he just openly stared.

You did so back with what you assumed was the same amount of tempered confusion.

The old saying of every step being one in the right direction sure didn’t account for your mouth.

“It depends.” He responded after what seemed like an eternity passed.

At least you’d had time to fill your treacherous mouth enough to finish your meal.

“On what?” You mumbled through a napkin.

“Time of day and mood, I suppose. I’ve never thought about it in exact terms.”

“Are there any egg dishes you like?”

He leaned back in his chair.

With all your trash squared away on a tray, you gave him a sympathetic smile. “It seems odd.”

He gave a single knowing nod of agreement.

“You were so upset by the thought of them being in a club the other day I thought I’d ask.”

His shoulders seized in the smallest way. It was a telltale sign of his displeasure with the matter. “They aren’t a component.”

His tone was so dark you’d think he was talking about something pure evil.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

His displeasure must have continued because he stood to take his tray.

“W-wait, wait!” You got out between chuckles.

He waited beside his seat and looked down his snout at you.

“We can table the egg thing, how was the sandwich?” You hustled to grab your belongings.

 “A solid choice, but not what I’m looking for.”

“It was like real shaved turkey, but the add-ons made it too deluxe!”

He waited until you joined him to move to the designated dump area. “I appreciate how it showcased the ingredients, but they also can speak for themselves.”

“You’re looking for a mom and pop shop kinda meal…” You nodded to yourself as you dumped your trash.

He seemed to be looking elsewhere. You watched him curiously as he was trapped within his thoughts. You reached out unconsciously to rouse him and he flinched away when you got within centimeters of his coat. With your hand still outstretched you gave an apologetic frown. His eyes flicked from your appendage to your face before he moved to the door.

He held it for you, but the atmosphere had changed in a way that words didn’t feel could penetrate. Hearing the door close as he followed you into the lobby, you moved to press the down button. You both stood, staring at the elevator screen as one unit moved down and the other up.

“If inclined I enjoy a plain omelet on occasion.” 

You brought your head up a little higher before turning it on him.

“It’s something I make myself to ensure it’s cooked to my specifications.”

“Are…” You tapered off and watched him to see if a follow-up question were appropriate. Instead of his usual parted gaze, he brought it to you and seemed to wait. Something about the act made your chest tighten. “Are you a good cook?”

“To an extent.” His eyes shot to the corner as he presumably considered his catalog. “I make what I like.”

“I get that.” You stuffed your hands into your coat as an elevator arrived.

“What about you?” He asked only in passing as soon as the doors opened. 

“Am I a good cook or do I like eggs?” You snickered and joined him.

You pressed the ground floor button as he hadn’t yet and when your attention returned to him, your heart nearly stopped. Though it were still tucked under that same stoicism, there was the ajar door quality to the curiosity on his face. You were beyond elated with a torn undercurrent. If he really were letting his real emotions slip through then this was a show you’d be stuck examining for the foreseeable future. It could be anything from interest to goodwill for whatever had happened when you’d gone to touch him. There was also the chance that it was all just a put on. Though if that were the case, you weren’t sure why he’d suddenly try to trick you when he seemed to staunchly only do what he wanted. Paralyzed by the many scenarios, you short circuited as the doors closed.

You could feel his eyes on you, but no matter how hard you tried your body and even your mouth refused to cooperate.

The floors ticked by as silence filed in.

Your heart sank in time with the elevator’s descent.

“I suppose I can handle the suspense until tomorrow.”

“You still want to see me again?” The question jumped off your lips so quickly, your eyes widened.

Why after all that time was that what was easy to say?

“Your phrasing could use work, but I believe our agreement was for this area. We have two more locations to cover.”

The elevator chimed and the air felt too thick to turn to him.

That made sense.

He was meticulous if nothing else. 

You gave an odd laugh. “And here I thought you might have liked me or something!”

The doors opened and it was only when he also didn’t move that you felt some semblance of control.

You clutched the bottom of your coat to ease your nerves.

A flash of movement caught your eye and in your distraction you watched Donatello’s arm shoot out to keep the doors from closing automatically.

Otherwise, he still hadn’t moved.

The doors sensed his presence and opened back up.

Swallowing desperately, you felt the pull of his gaze. Tracing back to him via his still outstretched arm, your muscles tensed as you finally glimpsed his face.

Painted on it for the fourth time was what you now considered his trademarked look.

You knew what it meant.

There was no way.

He let you drink it in for enough for the doors to attempt a second close before he finally moved.

“Donatello?” Your voice sounded so small because you still couldn’t believe what you’d seen.

He, however, was long gone. You scrambled out just as the elevator doors made their third annoyed attempt to close. They bumped your shoulders and caught you. Breaking free, you sprinting out only to find him already reaching for a door handle across the lobby.

“Donatello!” He didn’t stop his trek as he exited the building.

NEXT

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

[samsvenn]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

mentions of violence 

𝐑𝐮𝐤𝐢

It’s pretty hard to hide anything from Ruki. With how much this man plans things out, your daily routine isn’t exempted from that list. 

He only uses his familiars if he’s out of town for Karl. Since you’re his Livestock, he takes pride in controlling each and every part of you. One of these includes how long it’ll take before you notice that every escape route in the Mukami Estate has been completely sealed off.

Ruki loves to incorporate ‘trust’. Since you don’t know too much about his watchful eye, Ruki tests you by asking questions only you’d know about.

 It gives him a chance to see if his ‘findings’ were right and based on your answer, he makes a daily probability chart on how honest you are with him. Therefore, unbeknownst to you, your entire safety and well-being is leveraged on how open you are to the eldest.

He likes to make games with your prey and predator relationship. One example is toying with the idea of escape. If he leaves a fake key out in the open, will you try and escape behind his back, knowing this act of defiance will leave you near death’s door?

Somes games don’t involve him for the most part. Ruki has reserved the role of observer and punisher so the only one playing is you.

𝐊𝐨𝐮

He’ll use his familiars or pay private investigators to keep an eye on you. Kou won’t risk his idol image being dragged through the mud or worse, his company and fans using you as an excuse for him to ‘apologize’ for his obsessive behavior.

That doesn’t mean you’re free from his grasps. Once it relays to Kou that you’re going somewhere secluded like a run-down bakery in the outskirts, it’s all fair game on his end.

Being more attuned to the modern world than all his brothers, Kou will 100% wiretap your mobile devices. He never got any resemblance of personal privacy from his past and to even now, so why should you?

Kou likes to put trackers on you, but not in the way you might think. Instead of placing a sensible location like slipping a tracker into your bag or gifting you something he knows you’ll use daily, he’ll instead pay off someone to run a hidden background software on your phone that tracks your movements 24/7.

There’s a corresponding app for the tracking software and with a ‘little’ extra tip, the app automatically runs diagnostics weekly about the places you frequent, the routes you commonly use to commute and who you text the most from your contacts.

With all this in motion, it’s safe to say that Kou’s methods are horrifying, especially since they all involve him being in the shadows. Even if you had a shred or a nub of evidence that points to his wrongdoings, it’ll just end up with you looking delusional gaslighting king 

𝐘𝐮𝐦𝐚

His approach is more hands-on. While the main idea of stalking is to remain hidden, Yuma doesn’t care if he fails to hide his huge figure. The image of a tall, large man following your every move is enough to terrify you; meaning it all works out for him in the end.

Yuma won’t hesitate to kill. He’s not good at working through distressing emotions, so removing the problem at its root is the only way to go. 

He likes to dispose of his victims by grinding their frozen corpse into a meat paste and plowing that paste through the garden dirt. Not only does it loosen the soil, it also provides nutrients since the calcium from their bones and other organic nourishment give plants that boost. 

The cold temperature helps to temporarily stop the body from excreting the disgusting bodily fluids that comes with death.

Unnecessarily cruel, but Yuma likes to gift you the teeth of the people he’s killed in order to keep you around. For you, it’s impossible to tell who’s who but because of the dried blood on the teeth’s pulp, it’s like searching through clear water.

Constantly sniffs your body. The weird part isn’t even the sniffing itself, but how his sniffing resembles a dog. He’ll do this without your consent. He immediately goes into a frenzy the moment he realizes your scent has wafted away.

He follows you and makes sure you know. Yuma will purposely make his footsteps louder when he’s right behind your trail.

There’s also times where if you’re out in the city late, he’ll stand against sources of light and let his shadow loom over you. When you spot him, he doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, he just… watches.

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐬𝐚

He’s always an arm's-length away. Azusa genuinely feels like a drifting ghost haunting you. He loiters and lounges in your lingering scent, but that doesn’t stop him from chasing until the source, you, is in his sights.

Azusa loves to cut your skin open until the blade is so deep in that it’ll take weeks for your body to heal.

It makes it easier for him to track you and seeing his ‘work’ displayed out in the open just gives him another incentive to chain you to him.

“No-! What if you… attract another vampire… because your open wound was too tempting… to ignore?” He’ll ration out outrageous excuses until you’re too mentally exhausted to keep up.

Azusa will drive you insane. There’s times where he’s blatantly honest about why he stalks you, but there’s also situations where he’ll profusely refuse to answer you; claiming it’ll drive you away once he does. He gifts you hope, then utterly retracts it, leaving you on your toes and desperate.

If you start to act bravely against Azusa, his antics will get more aggressive. Be more brazen against Azusa and his serrated knives will start to look at you funny. It won’t be long until your ability to walk is ‘out-of-commission’ for better words. 

#diabolik lovers #dl #rejet #diahell #diabolik lovers fandom #mukamis #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers headcanons #headcanons

[writinginfinite]

imagine part viii

imagine: form a mental image or a concept

plot: you didn’t know what you were getting into when you turned your hobby into an actual career on f1. based on Lewis’ “imagine” tweet.

Saturday May 7, 2022

"again"

All you wanted was to wake up believing yesterday was a nightmare that you couldn’t escape the grasp of. When you finally decided to check your phone, you were reminded that it wasn’t a nightmare but a reality. The numerous missed calls and texts only added to your stress because you hated others worrying about you. All the text read about the same “Are you okay?” “Please explain what happened?” “What’s going on?”  Thousands of thoughts ran through your mind reading the same messages repeatedly. There was nothing for you to explain, though. The video told it all; you couldn’t comprehend why people needed further context. If that weren’t enough, nothing you ever did would.

You scrolled through the countless missed calls and texts of those worried about you. It was time to face the music and calm the nerves of others, even if yours were through the roof. You didn’t have any energy to return phone calls because if the video weren't enough to even the ones who cared for you, nothing would do. You sat in a chair for minutes typing up a text that would be short but reassuring. You shook your head in frustration after typing up a lie. You could only hope that a lie would get everyone off your back. Almost instantly, replies were coming in. It was overwhelming, so you turned your phone on Do Not Disturb until you felt ready to talk again. 

//

The walk through the Paddock was tense. You didn’t know if it was all in your head or if the feeling of people staring at you was happening. What caught you most by surprise were the looks from team members. You looked around, hoping to see a famous figure or just anything other than you that people were looking at. To your disappointment, there was not, only you and a few other people walking around, and they were also glancing at you. That trek toward the media center felt like hundreds of miles. "This is going to be a long weekend " was all you could think while heading towards the media center. 

You could feel a sudden shift in the room as you walked in to find a seat. You couldn't tell if you imagined it, but it seemed as if everyone was further away from you than usual. And as you found your seat, it only felt worse. All the reporters’ reactions didn't surprise you; you knew the second you sent out that tweet, the dynamics would split even further. If their goal was to get under your skin, they were starting to succeed. You had to try and put it behind you because you had a job, just like everyone in that room.

//

Qualifying flew by, and the only shocking outcome from qualifying was the order of the top three; you expected it to be in reverse. If you could ever get to it, that was something you planned on highlighting in your post-qualifying article. Being overwhelmed affected your work. Pieces were now on the backlog, which wasn’t normal for you, and you hoped no one would notice. You watched Charles, Carlos, and Max enter the media center for their post-race qualifying interviews, but you could not care less now. You had no questions for them because you knew they’d give the same generic responses.

Get asked about Red Bull (even after qualifying first), have to praise them, then talk about your team. “They are extremely quick in straight lines. We are quick in the corners, and it will be a tight challenge tomorrow. And hopefully, we'll come back on top.” Or Carlos being asked if he’d finish behind his teammate because he’s ahead in the championship and has to say nonsense to avoid making a cheap headline. “No, the consideration is that we are teammates and that we want to score a one-two for the team independently of who is ahead or behind.” It was the same energy, just in a different country. You used that time to write about practices two and three.

You were about to publish practice two and three articles when your wrist vibrated. You looked at your watch to see Ashlyn had been calling you for the third time. You were so zoned out that you missed the first two calls. Friends and family knew not to contact you during press conferences, so you automatically assumed the worst. You quickly stood up and began heading to the nearest exit until a microphone was in your face. You hadn't realized there was a final call for questions, and your standing up made them believe you had one more. "Oh, sorry, I have nothing to ask. I have to take an important call," you apologized for the confusion. 

"You hadn't looked up once since the drivers walked in. Can't wait to see what was so important," someone roared, causing the room to erupt in laughter. The words stopped you in your tracks. You looked around the room and found the person who made the statement. There were so many things you wanted to say but chose against giving them a reaction. 

You just shook your head and turned to walk away, not before catching the puzzled looks of Charles and Carlos

//

You called Ashlyn back, worried something was wrong back home. “Are you alright? You’ve been behind on your work, and that’s not like you,” Ashlyn said after the first ring. Of course, she noticed, you thought. You explained the situation to her, and she did nothing but listen. Hours had passed in your mind, but your phone only showed two minutes on the call. "It will get better with time," Ashlyn tried reassuring you. "I am thinking so, too. Thank you for letting me vent again. I owe you. Tell everyone I love them. You too, of course. Bye."  

"Wait, before you hang up, let me say one more thing," Ashlyn said quickly before you could end the call. You had a feeling where this conversation would be going. 

"Yeah, go ahead," you said sheepishly.

"I only want what's best for you. Have you thought about taking a break or leaving? We miss you back home. May be right now, you're not cut out for this. I think this life is taking a toll on you. I see it, and strangers online notice the treatment. I love -"

You hastily cut Ashlyn off before she could finish. "Take a break? Not cut out for this? Do you know how hard I worked for this? If you truly knew what was best for me, you wouldn't try me talk me out of what I am doing. I can't believe you right now." 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm sorry; please hear me out," Ashlyn pleaded on the other end. 

"Oh no, I heard you- loud and clear at that. There's no need to apologize. I listened to how you felt, so now it's your turn." You said it in the coldest tone. A voice that was unrecognizable to Ashlyn.

"I put in twice the work than anyone in that room with me. It's easy to ignore when it's strangers online or people who, from day one, have a vendetta against you. I will not allow you or anyone else to discredit my craft. But from you, I would have never thought. Have a nice life, Ashlyn. Goodbye," were the final words you said to your once best friend before the call ended. You didn't even give her time to backpedal. 

You were indeed on your own. Not only did those in the media room not believe in you, but you now knew your best friend didn't either. It was as if things kept falling as the hours went by.

//

It took you some time to collect yourself after that call. "Did I lose my best friend?" ran through your mind as you headed back to your seat. You were grateful everyone was heading out to the media pits to get a sport before post-qualifying interviews began. You had about 10 minutes of quiet, something you desperately needed.

At that moment, you finally decided it was time to check Twitter. To finally see the aftermath of yesterday. Nothing in your mentions honestly shocked you; people love drama at the expense of others' feelings. Of course, you gained many followers, some verified news personalities who previously would never give you the time of day. You opted to check your direct messages, something you rarely did, to see if people came out of the woodwork trying to talk to you. To the surprise of no one, there had been. It reminded you it was time to do the following cleanse once things calmed down. There was one name that stuck out to you: Lewis Hamilton.

"What the hell? We both have to be following each other for you to send me a direct message," you mumbled to yourself when you opened the message. You had to make sure it was him, so you clicked on the account. It was Lewis, with his profile saying Follows you. Your head started spinning when you looked at the message. He wrote, "I know this is unexpected, but I felt the need to reach out. I've seen the video and noticed your treatment in the media. I want to check in when you have a moment. Take care of yourself, okay?"

You couldn't believe what you read. Was Lewis making time to speak with me? Was the busiest man on the Paddock is checking in on me? But it wasn't just that direct message from Lewis Hamilton; it was someone finally asking, "how were you doing?" Everyone knew how kind of person Lewis was. His constant messages of reassurance and hope he gave others shouldn't shock you, but "why me?" is all you could think of. You were typing a reply before seeing the time. You had about less than five minutes before the pit interviews started.

//

You stood in the media pits going through the motions. Every driver that passed meant one step closer to leaving this Paddock. You were trying your hardest to look interested and engaged, but you didn't even have the energy to ask a single question. That all changed when the final driver arrived, Lewis. He knew of yesterday's ordeal, and his tone of answering questions made everyone painfully aware.

Listening to them stumble over their questions to not rock the boat brought you a little enjoyment. Even for a few minutes, they got to experience the pressure you had been battling for months. You let out a light chuckle that no one seemed to notice.

The questioning went quickly, per usual, but this time it was different. You could tell others had questions, but the guilt ate at them. Lewis' team PR person looked around the circle and asked for final questions.

“I have a question,” Lewis said. His words caused stunned looks from his PR person and media members; it was out of the ordinary. Lewis said your name, making everyone turn to face you immediately. Your heart rate rose when Lewis said, “What are you back there smirking about? Did I say something funny?” in a joking voice while raising an eyebrow.

Attention being drawn your way caught you off guard and you couldn’t think of a verbal response. So you tilted your head a bit and gave Lewis that look that people like you two universally understood. Your face reads, “You know these people are uncomfortable, right?” You watched Lewis quickly nod, “yes.” He was aware of what he had been doing the whole time.

“I’m just joking. I hope you’re well,” Lewis said in a now calm voice. The tension in the air eased for everyone else, but that fog formed again for you. “I am, Lewis. Thank you for asking again.” A glimmer in Lewis’ eyes and a slight smirk appeared after you said, “again.” Your response reassured him you had seen his direct message. “You take care of yourself, okay.” Unlike the direct message, Lewis wasn’t asking a question but telling you. His tone was that of someone who cared and would be on the lookout for you. You looked him in the eyes, nodded your head hesitantly, then watched as he walked away. You knew he didn’t believe you, and he was right.

Once he was out of view, you headed back to the media center. A nagging feeling you couldn't shake told you to turn around, and when you did, it was to everyone watching you, murmuring something you couldn't make out. You tried replaying the last few minutes, wondering what you said that could be spun. “Damn it,” you said to yourself, realizing where you made a terrible mistake.

//

You were about to open the door to the media center but couldn’t face them yet. You could only pray you were overthinking the situation and it would disappear. So you decided against entering and took a walk around the track, something you hadn’t done at previous races. Miami Grand Prix was beautiful, as you saw the sun beaming on the fake marinas. You had missed that electric feeling of what being a fan brought. Not having to hold back your emotions during races because you could look biased. At this moment, you wished you could skip covering the rest of the race weekend to live in the moment, but you couldn't. Or so you thought it was. 

The longer you walked, the more your nerves mellowed. You would typically share your adventures with your followers via live videos, but you were trying to stay off social media. You were not feeling conflicted. Continue to avoid social media, neglect the interactions I built over the years, or suck it up and go live. The latter felt right because your audience didn’t deserve to be forgotten because of the actions of others. So you sent out a quick tweet: “Want to walk the Miami track with me? IG live in less than 2 minutes!” purposely leaving out your handle name. 

You did little talking on the live besides occasionally answering where you currently were on track. To your surprise, the comments were all going well, and you believed no one had noticed your mistake. The sun was setting, and you left your sunglasses, which became your sign to end your live. You were about to do a sign-off when you heard two voices excitedly calling your name. You turned around and greeted the two girls dressed in Mercedes hats and shirts. You did not know how to react because this was your first time being recognized. One girl showed you her phone; they were watching your live video. The interaction brought you a joy you couldn’t explain.

“Aww, this is a first. Do you guys want to say hi to people watching?” The two girls quickly waved and dropped their social media handles, which you had no problem with. Of course, the handles were creative names that incorporated Mercedes or Lewis. 

“I'm not beating these Mercedes allegations” ran through your mind but you didn't care in that moment. Two strangers being happy to meet you brought you so much joy. The girls asked for a photo, another first for you. Without hesitation, you agreed, placing your phone down and taking a few selfies. They were satisfied with the pictures and were about to walk away when one girl said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” you nervously agreed, praying she wouldn’t ask what you were trying to avoid. “What did you mean about ‘again’ when Lewis asked if you were doing okay?” Your heart rate rose because of what you didn't want her to ask. She did. “It was nothing. Just check in on others, that’s all,” you stammered out, hoping it would be enough to please the question. The two girls could sense your discomfort and said, “I understand. I guess the internet was reaching. Thank you again; it was a pleasure to meet you. Take care of yourself,” the girl said as they both walked away.

You tried collecting yourself before remembering you were still live. You picked up your phone and said, “Sorry about that. I hope you guys enjoyed seeing the track. Until next time.” Before exiting the live, a comment caught your eye, “I was waiting for someone to ask about her saying again!"

//

All you wanted was a hot shower and to sleep; grabbing your belongings from the media room was the only thing stopping you. You didn’t have the energy to be bothered by anyone in the room. As you entered, no one seemed to notice you, so you could begin packing up without problems. It felt almost too good to be true… and it was. A woman who has never spoken to you tapped you on the shoulder. So you put on a fake smile and asked the woman, “Can I help you with anything?” The woman had a devious look.

“Can we sit down for a minute? I want to talk with you.” You nervously sat down with the woman, expecting some juvenile prank to happen. “First, how are you?” the woman asked, causing you to panic immediately. Something was up, but something told you to play along. “I am okay. Do you need anything from me? I am trying to head back to my hotel.” “I was just trying to get to know you and-”

“Bullshit, I’ve been here for months, and no one has attempted that. I’ll ask you one more time, what do you need?” You hastily cut the woman off. 

“Okay, few around here were wondering if you and Lewis had a thing. When we, I mean they, watched your interaction earlier and were curious. Especially with your response. I am sure you don’t and would love to put an end to it all. Everything is off of the record, by the way. Just between us two.” 

“Are you serious right now? Did you hear yourself? There’s no record.” You now spoke loudly for the whole room to hear. The woman was now shushing you to lower your voice but to no avail.

“I don’t appreciate you all trying to spin stories on me. Like everyone in this room, I have a job to do. There’s nothing for me to put an end to because there’s nothing there. I thought I left high school close to a decade ago.” You wanted to say much more but couldn't get the word out. You grabbed your bags and headed for the nearest exit. As you walked towards the gate, you knew a story would be written and had to get ahead.

You found a seat and began typing up what happened in your notes, fighting back the tears. 

“Let me get ahead of this before things spin. A few minutes ago, I planned on leaving the media center to head back to my hotel. A fellow reporter wanted to ask me a question. I knew something was up but hoped to be proven otherwise. This woman was polite at first until she felt the need to say everything I said would be off the record, but there was no record. The woman asked if I had some personal relationship in the Paddock, which isn’t true at all. Someone finally treated me like a human, and the reporters assumed something was up. They are trying to create more false narratives. I know I’ll type all of this; still, people will believe what they want, and I have to accept that. Treating people with kindness is all I ask.”

“I am aware of the games being played. I am here to do a job and want the same respect I give everyone else, but I don’t believe I’ll ever see it,” you tweeted with screenshots of what you just typed. You debated on turning off the replies but left them on. You had nothing to hide and wanted to let people show their true colors.

“Whatever happens, happens,” you told yourself. 

//

It was close to one in the morning, but you couldn’t stop scrolling through your mentions. Your image was being tarnished hour by hour. So you locked your phone and relived the last few days in your head. You wanted to blame someone, but you didn't know who. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I had followed the norm. I wouldn't be in this situation if I had kept my mouth shut on day one. What if Lewis never spoke to me?" “Lewis,” you remembered you never responded to any of his messages. You grabbed your phone off the nightstand and went to your direct messages. He had sent a second message just minutes ago.

You typed and deleted so many responses because nothing felt right. You didn’t want to appear emotional or fragile, telling Lewis how much his words meant. You didn’t want to make him feel guilty for being his genuine self. Yes, he’s human, but he’s still a highly profiled figure in F1, a sport you loved. He raced in the morning; the last thing you wanted was for Lewis Hamilton to be worried while driving 220KPH. 

You debated not responding as you’ve done to so many others, but he deserved a response this time. 

“No, I should thank you. I cannot convey how much I appreciate you for asking. It means more than you’ll ever know right now. I realize I cannot control how people try to spin an encounter. Whatever happens, happens. Please don’t worry about me, Lewis. Have a nice night ... well, morning. Also, don’t you have a race to prepare for tomorrow afternoon?"

You knew Lewis meant well, but it did not prepare you for what was coming your way.

// parts

author's notes: have to proofread this again. sorry i took forever, forgive me!

word count: 3.7K

#lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #fanfic #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton fanfictions #fanfics #imagine by writinginfinte

[kyra45]

Guide to spotting donation scam accounts

I am aware there is multiple guides posted by other accounts but this one is my own based around my posts I’ve made over the months of running this blog. If you already know how to spot scams, then good! Someone else might not.

If you appreciate all the work I did to make this post accurate and easy to understand, feel free to share it and link it to anyone who might need info. If you want to show thanks in another way, I take pocket change by tips. My pinned post also has links to quick access posts that are about scams.

Not all blogs who ask for aid are scammers! Legitimate people do exist it’s just that scammers will take their information and use it as their own in order to get the money for themself. This post is most meant to be a through guide into finding these scam posts more easily at a glance.

So here is a guide to spotting donation scam accounts under a readmore as it is a long post.

Check how old the blog is by seeing if their archive is enabled. You can also guess this by scrolling the blog and seeing if the posts made are entirely random or seem to come from a certain trending tag. Also check the date of the reblogged post by turning on timestamps. Backdated posts are when a user reblogs a post then goes into post editor and tries to make their reblog look older then it actually is. A common mistake is the new date is even older then the post itself was made meaning the user has went and backdated the post to make their account look older than it is. If the archive is disabled, you may only find ~20 posts shared within seconds of the others.

If they sent you an ask to share their post, did it request you to answer privately? People who are requesting aid are generally wanting a public audience to share their post and would not generally tell someone to answer their ask privately unless their up to something suspicious. If your ask says to answer privately, try using tumblr search to see if it was sent to multiple users. An example of an ask is below.

(Image has alt text! But I will still copy/paste the ask below as well.)

“hi!! I hope you dont find this ask strange, weird or whatever you call it :( Just wanted to ask a favor if you could possibly check the post I pinned for my cats? It’s on this blog, please do check if you have a spare time and reblog/boost it. Im so sorry if I did bother you, just need some help. Please do send me a msg to reply or answer the ask privately, please 😭 🙏 🙏 🐈 “

These asks are known as scam asks, though most commonly sent by blogs that are using content stolen from a legitimate fundraiser for a pet that is needing veterinary care. They are sent to multiple users who have shared a popular or trending post and is sent regardless of it the user would share the post or not. As it stands so far, most accounts who send these asks are scams.

Another type of donation scam is when a user will save the medical photographs of someone’s fundraiser and repost them to say it’s theirs. These can be graphic hospital images stolen off Instagram/Facebook and used in a fabricated story claiming it’s the users grandparent or child of who needs help. Most often, though, there is multiple images used that may not match up with the story itself. Scammers may even fake a funeral fundraiser using a similar method of stolen content.

Above all, donation accounts also will steal Instagram photographs to impersonate people and give them made up names. There are cases where scammers have made fraudulent GoFundMe’s with stolen images and made up stories about sensitive topics in order to get money. It’s important to pay attention and see if the suspected scam account is answering questions about their situation or if their asks and messages are turned off. This is usually a sign they may not be legitimate and are avoiding any questions about their legitimacy.

You may also want to pay attention to the support links given that lead to methods of sending cast. If the local currency isn’t matching up with the given information, it may be sign of a scammer. The most common example is someone asking for $USD but the local currency would be something else and they don’t supply a currency conversion anywhere in their post or explain why it doesn’t match. However, this is just a common scam tactic.

In closing, there are other minor ways to spot donation scam accounts. Such as searching their username up in tumblr search or just asking them to send you more information that relates to their situation. Above all, one of the best things you can do is examine the askers blog closely and see if there’s anything suspicious and do your own research before asking around.

And remember, always report confirmed scam accounts for phishing like so:

Report -> Something else -> Illegal uses or Content -> Phishing

#scam #how to spot a scam blog #long post #longpost #psa #important information

[etherealascend]

hii it's unorcadox ^_^ how does your editing process work!!! like how do you choose what images to use, how to combine them, how to get the right "feel" etc. 👀 very curious abt ur answer

Damn, great question! Also, love your edits, Orca! (also a bit jelous abt your productivity, wish i had so many great ideas) So i present to you: a wall of text! (cw really long!)

So, many people see a great base image and then immideately get an idea of what they wanna do w/ it. I'm not like that, i ususally have an idea of an edit in mind, and then search for sometimes a few hours for a base image that may work. I have a whole tutorial-worthy process of how i always find what i need, but i digress… Most of the times, tho, i get something better than what i had in mind. I love this process, cause it's like tresure hunting for me. (ofc it's not always like that, just most of the time. Since i have a giant collection of base images i may sometimes use them). I choose my images based on the mood i wanna portray. It's always supposed to be looking kinda dreamlike and unreal, but it can also be creepy, dark, bright, etc.

When editing my favourite style of edits - fake dreamlike places - I try to make them look as real as possible, regarding color, lighting, etc, while still making them look blatantly fake regarding the composition, subject matter, etc. Ofc i don't try to perfect my lighting, since it can take away the feeling i strive for, so it's kinda based on my own feelings idk. I get really inspired by the surrealists' painting. Artists like Brent Wong, for example. Liminal spaces are already weird, so why not make them even weirder, by making the geometry non-Euclidean and subject matter impossible in the real world. Also unlike surrealist painters, i have a luxiry of making the scene like "more real" by combining actual photos in photoshop. Ofc people have been making surreal art w/ 3d programs forever now, but it still doesn't give off the same feeling real picture does, yk.

Uhh... what was i talking about... Ah, yes! I firstly make a collage, that i have in mind by this point, and sometimes it just... doesn't work out! i had discarded so many great ideas, cause they weren't turning out good. But if it works, i add shadows and highlights. I look at real liminal space photos and try to really analyze them. Like, what makes them work? the color, the quality, the blurriness? Then i add effects that works to my edit. Every edit needs it's own level of compression, sharpness, blurriness... You just gotta feel it.

Really important step. I leave my edit for a few hours, so i forget how it looks, and then return later. All the imperfections, things that don't work, etc pop out immediately. I read somewhere that the process of creating and the process of analyzing are two completely different things, and i couldn't agree more. It's annoying when you have a finished edit, and you really wanna show it to the world, but you have to wait... But it's better, than being embarrassed later that you posted something unfinished and you can't fix it now.

Ofc i make text edits as well, but they basically serve the same purpose and not that interesting to describe, cause process is the same just with a few steps skipped.

There wasn't such question, but i still wanna talk about it, cause it kinda answers "how do you get the right feel". Well, why do i make edits? Well, the world sucks ass (i don't agree w/ this statement for the most part, like friends are great, nature is buitifull, but then there are parts that just... yk...) and for me weirdcore is a sort of an escapism. I can't traverse dreamworlds mindlessly, alone or come across magical events in real world, sadly. But I can make them however i would like them to look and feel, with my characters (like deer), and my own thoughts about them, that no one except me knows. It's kinda like i actually've been there, and i took a picture. Or hell, maybe i've never been here myself, but those deer were, or invisible creatures, that are not in the shot. And i know them personally, cause i made them, they are a part of myself! And it really helps, and i'm so glad these pictures resonate with so many more people here too! I had been making these pictures without realising why for a year. I had some thoughts and heard dozens of opinins of other pople, but i hadn't had a full picture. And then a video by SuperEyePatchWolf about liminal spaces comes out, and i get it now, it was really eye opening, for me at least. It explains really well why we love unreality so much.

[earthnashes]

Hey Earth I've been trying to figure out what makes a good character reference sheet, what to include and what not to. What do you suggest is the most important things to have on a reference sheet?

The most important thing about a character reference is the character's design, full-stop. It's great if a character ref has extra bits to it to make it look pretty and interesting to look at, but in the end, if the character's design isn't clear, it's missing the point. SO! In my opinion, the most important aspects a basic reference MUST have, no questions asked:

-At least 1 fullbody of the character. Bonus points if the character is in a pose that hints to their personality, but the pose should be clear and very easily show off as much of the design as possible. 3-quarter views are popular for that reason: shows a lil bit of everything.

-Character's palette. I've been doing this for years, and I can safely say I often don't color pick from the palette, BUT it should still absolutely be there on the chance that A) a different artist does color pick from the palette and B) it's just much easier to see the base colors and double-check you have the right colors when coloring the client's design.

-Character's name. This one is subjective; it isn't necessary to have the character's name on the ref, but it's a good idea if only so it's easier to call the character by name. It's also basically an introduction to the character, so knowing their name would be nice. ----------

What NOT to add to a ref sheet:

-DO. NOT. SHADE. YOUR. REF. This is something I'm seeing more often, so to reiterate: The point of a ref is to showcase the character's design, and to do that the artist much have access to said design to make sure they're getting it correct when they work with your character. This includes coloring. Shading could make things pretty but is ultimately one of the biggest pains in the ass to deal with when working with a character, because it suddenly becomes a guessing game in trying to figure out what is the correct color. At the very least, if you insist on shading your refs? Have a flat-colored version. That is not up for debate.

-Similar vein: If your reference has a watermark, have a version that lacks it, especially if the watermark covers the whole ref. The unwatermarked version is for ease of the artist to color-pick and see the design of your character. You don't have to post it, just have it on hand to give to artists you plan on commissioning.

----------

What isn't necessary for a character ref but are nice/helpful little additions:

-Expression shots. This is a great visual way to showcase the character's personality as well as showcase how a character emotes. How one character smiles is NOT the same as how another smiles, so seeing that in action could help the artist, or viewers of the ref in general, get a better feel of who your character is.

-Detail shots. I'm talking close-ups of eyes, hands/paws, teeth/mouth, tattoos, items the character always wears. This is to give the viewer a better view at the thing in question, and helps artists who are drawing your character get a clearer reference if it's something that is integral to the design. For example: Closeup of a character's cutie mark. Now the artist doesn't have to guess what it looks like base on the one angle; they have the full image of the cutie mark right there to work with. Bonus points: it's a PNG item that you can send the artist so they can just copy-paste that shit onto the character. Work smarter not harder.

-Character notes/funfacts. So long as you keep it short and sweet, it's never a bad idea to have little text that gives the view snippets of your character, whether that be explanation of how a part of their design works, or just funfacts about their personality, or their pronouns so no one can get it confused.

-Additional full-bodies or half-bodies. It takes more work but is great to have if your character has asymmetrical elements in their design, such as markings that you can't flip. It's also a fun way to give the viewers a glimpse at, say, their wardrobe, or lack-thereof is you need a shot of the character nakey vs them in clothing.

------

Aaaand there ya go! Hopefully that helps! :>

[manonamora-if]

ive been looking at the ifcomp and i think im gonna do it. any advice for a firsttimer? what should i expect? what was your experience?

Hi Anon!

First of all, congrats on taking the leap! I know it can be quite daunting to participate in one of the biggest and oldest IF Competition there is currently. Takes quite a bit of guts to do it! Yay, you!

Suuuper long ask answer because you asked questions requiring long answers, where I probably repeated myself multiple times.

IFComp Advice

What to expect?

What was my experience?

TLDR: it's hard but also fun. Def recommend at one point (unless ranking makes you go blerg... then do the SpringThing or an unranked game jam).

IFComp Advice

I do have some advice for you, especially if you are planning on submitting a game to the IFComp this year, which is less than a month away:

Be Ready for your work to be judged and reviewed by people. Some will be harsh, some will be kind, most will be fair. If you are not fully open to criticism, especially negative one, the voting period will sting like hell. It is also fine not to read any review or comment about your entry, but a head's up is important.

Be prepared to rank low. If you follow the advice below, you probably won't end up last place. But the competition is stiff. Authors often spend a year or two on their entries before they submit. If you know you can't handle rankings, go for the SpringThing instead. More chill.

Submit your intent to participate NOW! The deadline is Sept 1st, but it's easy to put it off and forget. And intent to participate doesn't mean you have to submit something. You can back out at any moment (even during the voting period).

Check the rules and timeline of the comp (@ifcomp). You don't want to disqualify yourself by mistake...

Keep it short: 15 to 30 min of gameplay. There is less than one month left, and you want plenty of time to make sure your entry is as polish as possible! I took 3 months last time and it was a buggy mess on Day 1 of the voting period.

Use a program you know, or a simple one with good documentation or guides. You might have time in a month to learn how to use a complex program, but I wouldn't recommend it. List at the end.

Create something simple but airtight. You are racing against time. Shooting for the moon with something complex could work, or it could land you in the bottom. Usually, it is best to create a game which is doing little, but doing it very well, than submitting a behemoth that can't even do its core gameplay loop right every time (dissing myself, yes). Sam Ashwell has some good article for choice-based, Emily Short for parser puzzles.

Your prose should have as little grammar mistakes as possible. Pass your text through as many grammar checkers, and maybe some human testers (beta). The more eyes you have on it, the better. Hate to say it but, avoid word crimes there...

Have some impactful interactivity, that makes sense with the story. Puzzle, branching of variation, etc... Even if all of it is fake, and you are pushing the player through a linear story, the player shouldn't feel like they are just flipping pages of a book. I am not talking about the quantity, but the quality of the interactivity. Emily Short has some great article about that stuff.

Don't have bugs. Should be obvious, but you know... I didn't follow that one and got (rightly) roasted for it in the reviews. Test your game (and have people test your game) A LOT.

Style your project a little bit (if possible). It doesn't have to be fancy, but as simple as changing the colour of the background and the text, maybe the font of the text as well (!!! it should still be readable) can go a long way. Also appreciated but never mandatory: different formatting for different bits of text, some animation in the text, having images, having audio, having accessibility settings (theme, font, visual, audio)... Again, those are pointers. Leave this for last.

Credit where credit is due. Code, assets, beta-tester, etc... anything you did not make from scratch, or anyone helping you along the way, should be added in a credit page. Also credit yourself for what you did :P you deserve to show off your efforts!

Test your game relentlessly. Yes it bares repeating, I've done that mistake. Don't be me. Test your stuff again. Have people break your game.

Edit your submission page with care. Have a grabbing hook for your synopsis, an eye catching image, and any relevant documents the players would need (i.e. walkthrough). DON'T FORGET TO ADD A WAY FOR PLAYER REACH YOU FOR BUGS!

MOST IMPORTANTLY: Have fun! If you have fun making your entry, it will show in the writing and how the game is constructed.

Hypertext/Choice-based: Twine (Harlowe, SugarCube), Ink/Inklewriter, Moiki, ChoiceScript Parser: Adventuron

Oh... and good luck. You'll need it :P

If you are thinking of next year instead, most of these advice applies. You can just rule out the intent submission for now, the length of the game (1h gameplay is usually the sweet spot), and the program to use (though take one you understand). The rest could work for any comp honestly.

What to Expect?

The IFComp period in an exciting time where many people gather to play games and talk about them. Many people submit stuff yearly, sometimes with good results, sometimes it's atrocious. Sometimes, authors who haven't been seen in a while reappear to show off their labour of love or review other people's games. It can be very intense and overwhelming if you are participating (author or player).

As an author, you should expect (not exhaustive):

deadline (intent/game/voting),

potentially getting comments for bugs (and having to update, which you are allowed to),

seeing reviews and discussions about your entry (mainly on the IntFiction Forum, but sometimes on blogs too): good stuff, negative stuff, and people missing the point entirely or having bad take, or takes you didn't think about.

seeing people rating your entry on the IFDB (rating =/= vote, but can be a flawed indicator)

feelings galore (good, bad, ugly, anxious), especially stressing about the results

having to remind yourself that no one can judge everything completely objectively (expect when it comes to bugs, it is or it isn't), and that people vote for what they like.

following the rules on the IFComp website

a special private group on the IntFiction forum to discuss with other authors when the voting period starts, as well as posting reviews,

maybe get a prize at the end? (depends on your placement)

Honestly, it can be pretty rough. This is not an easy competition. Most people have been working on those projects for months or years. Some have for just a few weeks, but their pieces can be out of this world. Only the organisers have an idea of who is competing ahead of time, and how competitive it could be from year to year (i.e. did big names come out or not).

While reviews and ratings can give you an indication of how your game is faring with players, you will not be able to know until the votes are actually out (case and point: me, thought I did much better than reality). Either way, it will be a surprise, good, bad, disappointing...

Speaking of reviewers, most will try to be as partial as possible and going into every entry with an open mind. But, there are harsh reviewers out there, as well as kind ones. It is not unusual to see blunt reviews, especially if something ticked the player (bugs usually).

But also, it's loads of fun! You have a bunch of very serious people debating on minor things, newcomers trying out the comp and sometimes even reaching the stars, oldcomers popping by for a cup promising they will review ever game and then disappearing after three, a lot of very very very good games to play, so many different perspectives on what if IF, and feeling like you have a voice in what should be crowned the best of the competition!

It's weird, it's serious, it's goofy...

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best... but most importantly, have some fun. And do what's best for your mental health!

What was my experience?

I think I've talked about it quite extensively in my Post-Mortem for The Thick Table Tavern. Read that before the end of this, for context.

And almost a year after this experience (on this day, I was frantically writing), I think my feelings have changed quite a bit. I went into the competition guns-blazing without understanding the importance of things (bugs/grammar especially) and thinking I had done the absolute most and breaking the genre, believed I did sooooo much better than any other entry, got very dramatic when the first non-positive reviews came in, and was about to throw my shit when I saw the 1s in the voting curve. I am only a bit over-exaggerating here.

I definitely deserved the placement I got. Don't misunderstand, I am incredibly proud of what I achieved there! But... there were major issues for sure. And I've come around to recognise those.

Those 1s-2s were warranted, those negative comments were warranted: the first version was buggy as hell (which I think was the version in the mass downloadable packet? and I updated the game like 20 times), there are still a bunch of issues with the prose (I learned my em dash lesson!), the pacing is aaaalll the way off (I thought I was being cheeky, but didn't always land)... This was something way different for the comp, maybe more experimental than people expected (I mean, who does a click-only bar for a text-based comp...)? But most importantly, while it looked polished, you just needed to play a few minutes to see the varnish crack...

To say the least, I got slapped back to reality. HARD. This was a mediocre good-looking game. Real pretty, big flaws. And that's ok (not putting myself down). Not every game can be winners (unless it's La Petite Mort or DOL-OS :P), not every game will work as intended. You can rack all the trophies all the times. Sometimes you're just at the bottom.

All this might sound hella negative, but I am incredibly grateful for this experience. I have learned so much about game creation, coding, writing, what to do and avoid... There are things I probably wouldn't have learned had I not participated (or not as early). I have created friendships (and rivalries /jk) and found a community where I feel comfortable being this experimental with my work (hey, it worked for DOL-OS!) and continuing breaking the codes. It's renewed my drive to create and do more: games, experiments, trying new program, but also for the community, helping out, creating guides and templates, giving advice...

And I've found a bit of love for reviewing stuff it turns out.

I've made my peace.

And I have plans for a new pretty weird game for a future IFComp ;) I will make people cringe again :P Hopefully not because of bugs!

Final sidenote: I am still not taking my advice. No one tested DOL-OS before it was submitted, and it won. But also, other games placed poorly... I am still speed-running through competitions (not the IFComp this time), and tripping all over all the time. I still submit thing thinking I'm the hottest stuff and that no one else will be better than me. Completely delusional here. Be better than me, for your sake.

#ifcomp #interactive fiction #experience #competition #tttt #the thick table tavern

[zenodreemurr]

Red is NOT the true color of Determination? An investigation about Undertale lore (Part 4)

Greetings everyone. Welcome to the fourth and final part of my investigation about Undertale lore. If, by any chance, this is the first part you stumble upon, here's a summary of what is happening. These posts are a full-on investigation about the color of Determination and how it may not be red. During the last part, I've shown how common red is in Undertale, and how not everything may be related to Determination, with some more detailed explanations.

Each part of this investigation, due to the full one being too long and to stay consistent with the separation of the parts of the investigation, is its own Tumblr post. It is recommended to read them in order. This post, especially, will talk a lot about the previous parts. Here are PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 Unlike the other parts, this one delves more into theory content that I'll try to argue for and against. I will try to find another possible color than red for Determination, assuming it has any. I will not be talking about any other Determination color theory, since it would be too long. Also, I haven't invented this theory. What color could Determination be? Well, before even answering that question, it will be very important to give one base. The most determined being in the Underground is the one that can SAVE, LOAD, and RESET. Sounds obvious, doesn't it? Do you even remember where it's confirmed? Well here it is:

Yes, Flowey's backstory. This is where it's confirmed. The confirmations that Determination is related to SAVEs, LOADs, and RESETs will be important later. Now what is the color I want to talk about? Well it's gold. It's probably not the first time you hear of it, but I'll try to push it a little further. Now I will be honest. Gold is a shade of yellow in terms of coloring. The difference between yellow text and gold text is not that easy to see. And I'm not the best at recognizing shades. However, that difference, after looking, it seems to me that it actually exists. But still, let's talk about things that are either yellow or specifically gold, and not justice-related. First of all, let's see what appeared with yellow or gold on the images sent on the previous parts (besides those that will be relevant later). Don't forget that multiple shades of yellow appear throughout these screenshots. The list is: -Frisk's skin -Monster Kid's sprite -The doors to the Snowed Inn and the Snowdin Shop -The cheese -The health bar -The encounter buttons when you're on them -The WARNING text during the Flowey fight -The yellow key Some are obviously yellow just because they're associated with that color (cheese, yellow key), and other ere most likely random design choices (Monster Kid, Alphys, Frisk's skin, the doors). The rest may have a meaning. Now there is actual text that may be actually intended to be gold. Like red and white, gold text seems to appear quite a bit in Undertale, though less commonly than both of them.

Papyrus actually uses gold text. I will not talk about the special attack specifically and reunite all of the texts since they seem to be gold all for the same reason. Those are cases of two things we've seen in part 3 as red for importance being colored as gold for importance. This is a flaw with my theory, since gold is not exclusive to Determination, like I made you understood red was. However, stick with me, I will explain why gold specifically later. Before that, I would like to talk about one special text in particular.

The spare names are stated as yellow by this Froggit. They can also be made pink. And while they're as such unrelated to gold by text confirmation, I think it is important enough to be talked about. Also, due to this, I will affiliate special credits texts if you spared enemies with yellow instead of gold, though the rest I will not try to assume anything. Now why am I talking about gold being related to Determination since the beginning of this post? Well there are three reasons for that.

This is the first reason. Entry 5 of the True Lab. What's interesting in here is that it's the only color we see used for Determination (as far as I've investigated, and there's plenty of images I haven't shown just because I can't post more than thirty images per post). It's also the only colored text of all of the entries, interestingly enough. Of course, this may denote importance, but this is the only time (again, as far as I've found) where it's colored, much unlike Papyrus's special attack or Asgore. So it is less likely and it could have the specific importance. But still, unlike red, it works for other reasons. Let's talk about the next.

The second reason is obviously the SAVE points. This is not the most clear image, but we can see enough of the SAVE point to see its color. I also added the text color after you SAVE, which is the exact same. Not red, not white, not any other color, but gold. That is not all though.

When Flowey SAVES during his fight (though, interestingly, not while he LOADS), the text is also gold. As such, SAVing specifically is actually associated with that color, as it can be seen during this fight and while you SAVE yourself.

Even the Continue/Reset/True Reset menu shows the options as gold. While other actions you do show themselves as gold, the SAVE-related ones are particularly consistent when it comes to coloring. Anyways, let's get to the third reason. And it's pretty simple.

It's Flowey. Just... Flowey. This is the very reason I actually talk about gold. Flowey, himself, is stated (body-wise) to be a golden flower. I've proven in part 3 that colors may not be chosen without a specific meaning to them. Flowey is the only person other than Frisk to have this ability at any moment, and while there's a lot of green on Flowey, it's due to his flower state. Again, remember that Toby Fox took the time to give colors meanings, especially if it's important stuff. A golden flower is a very specific choice, implying it has its meaning. And due to Flowey's nature (revived out of determination, player-like being), it's easy to assume that this color was chosen due to his ability, especially when the SAVing text shows as gold even when he uses it. This is speculation, of course, but this is a theory moment mostly, and this is argumented speculation at least. I consider it highly likely, not an actual fact. I would only consider it a fact if Toby confirmed it. Also there's the gold text on the image, which against shows Flowey being gold, except this time... well... in text. Conclusion and special thanks This conclusion is not a summary of everything you can read in the four parts. It's just to separate the main content of the post from the rest. Anyways, if you appreciated these posts, I am happy. If you haven't read it all, I'll understand. It's a bit long. I tried my best in this part to create a good theory, but also to make you see I can see the flaws in my own beliefs. I totally assume I haven't shown everything. I just tried to show everything relevant enough I found. I would have shown more if not for the image limit I've talked a few times about. Now for the special thanks. I'd like to thank Afewbitsandpieces for the Undertale Text Project, which helped me a lot for my research and getting these screenshots. Without this person, these posts wouldn't have been possible. I'd like to thank Alphasaith for making me realize that the idea of the red SOUL being a Determination one wasn't canon, both directly and indirectly, and as such, making me indirectly realize about how many headcanons, interpretations of Undertale lore, and common beliefs that are seen as surface knowledge of Undertale were actually invented by the fans. Also because he's the one one that got me inspired to look up on gold. And to finish, I'd like to thank Error404SansFR for actually giving me the guts to make these posts. Oh, and of course, have good times you all.

#undertale #undertale lore #undertale analysis #determination

[phospadparadscha]

a non exhaustive list of things i love about tumblr that have made it the only Usable Social Media(tm), as someone who follows the maximum amount (5000) of people and has seen it All:

-the tags. every othere sm requires tags to be uninterrupted, no spaces phrases and you can write full fucking novels in the tags on tumblr. this created a completely new ecosystem for how conversations and posts are structured on here. ppl post screenshots of tags, mention previous tags, encourage other people's writing and art in the tags, all while avoiding cluttering the original post's text with every reblog when you want to comment. you can make hushed commentary that sometimes gets noticed and adds a lot to posts when its picked up on!

-the ask system. we used to have fan mail on this site a few years ago but i don't know that it was as successful, so the ask and submissions system became the main way to go. its not as common to have themed ask blogs anymore (like "ask rainbow dash" where people draw responses, i've had a few of these kinds of blogs in the past) but it really allows people to acknowledge each other, get questions answered, and interact in a way i think is really missing from the internet in the late 2020s. its abused sometimes and anon hate still shows up on this site, but i think the culture has changed noticeably in that this kind of hate is brushed off more easily in most cases.

-the longevity of posts and how everything is archived. its so much easier to find old posts on tumblr than other places and you can sort archives of people's blogs based on a lot of different types, like photos only or text only, years posted, etc. really cool especially for looking back on your blog through the years and in the age of the New Posts Only its really refreshing to be able to revisit old posts. I see posts on here that show up from 2012 and its such a pleasant surprise since so much of the internet is being overwritten

- the absurdly customizeable color palettes and appearances of the site. its so customizeable and even though desktop blog sites aren't as common of a way to interact anymore (i miss them rip blogs with no desktop versions) you can literally edit the css and html and show your own personal aesthetics as much as you want to.

-the april fool's day rebrands

-the art is so good and photosets allow for longform posts which i never see ANYWHERE else on social media. you can post like up to 30 images in a photo set i think??? which was increased from i think max 10 and its all consecutive. also that we have a read more button to give people the option to choose to open long posts or not.

-the id system. i've seen a lot of people id posts and make posts more accessible. also people providing trigger warnings which you don't get other places tbh like i've never seen anywhere online where you could straight up choose what you didn't want to see so you don't have to encounter it in the wild! its really nice especially for someone like me who has several phobias lol

i could keep going but like.....i love you tumblr as someone who has been here for literally over a decade.

#tumblr #text #if tumblr dies i dies

[rye-in-a-coat]

Hiii Rye, how does your tagging system work? I'm guessing it has something to do with Toki Pona but I'm curious

That's a great question, let's go through some of the tags I use in this blog.

Also. This will be a bit long.

GENERAL TAGS

The most well known and used is ofc, #ryeblog ,which is given to any post I reblog. It comes from "rye" and "reblog". Another interesting fact is that when I reblog many posts in a short time, I call it a "ryeblitz" (ryeblog + blitz [German for lightning).

For original text-based posts of mine, the tag is #handful of grains, which comes from the fact that I am Rye; but also because originally there was a tag called #sack of grain that never got used and was intended for large text-based original posts.

Images and videos get #pics and flicks, except if these are art. If the art was posted by the artist it gets #art of them and if it's someone else's art it gets #art of those.

#letters to rye will be the tag used in this post, as it is for the asks I answer.

#poll #tag game #ask game #quiz Self explanatory.

Prev tags get marked with #Previously on Tags: and then I mark my answer to those with a #My reaction to that information:

MEDIA TAGS

Quite self explanatory, if I'm reblogging some cute art from blorbo from my shows, tags would look like

#ryeblog #art of them #my shows

Must be understood that this system isn't 100% reliable. If I don't have a tag for a media because I have no knowledge of it or even interest; it won't get a tagged or have a tag.

Imagine this, a fanart featuring characters from the shows A, B, C and D. I only have tags for B and C. Only appliable media tags are #B and #C.

This is why you can find stuff like few Chainsaw Man fanart in my blog, but a tag for Chainsaw Man doesn't actually exist. When I reblog Out of Touch Thursday, I don't do it with a tag for the Lucky Star anime. Characters don't have tags in my system.

I can't give a full list of all of them, but here's the top 45 as of now:

#moomin

#deltarune

#sparklecare

#toh (The Owl House)

#sonic the hedgehog

#dhmis (Don't Hug Me I'm Scared)

#su (Steven Universe)

#tf2 (Team Fortress 2)

#pokemon

#lwa (Little Witch Academia)

#hatsune miku [Ok. It's ironic that this is a character. There's no tag for Vocaloid btw. Cuz of my lack of knowledge on the matter.]

#mlp

#minecraft

#fnaf (Five Nights at Freddy)

#undertale

#bluey

#danganronpa

#homestuck

#breaking bad

#cunk on earth [It applies to other media with Philomena Cunk like "Cunk on Britain"]

#neil cicierega [Technically a person. Applies to all his work. Forgot to mention, artists and bands also fit in this category.]

#tove jansson [Again. A person. This tag exists to not tag her with #moomin in non-Moomin issues.]

#talking heads [Again, a band.]

#jerma985 [A person.]

#spiderman

#undertale 2 [Yep. That's a game. A parody fan-game RPG of Undertale. This tag isn't for Deltarune. I found many people tagging Deltarune as Undertale 2.]

#animal crossing

#hetalia

#loz (Legend of Zelda)

#adventure time

#epithet erased

#lemon demon [Again, an artist; also not everything Neil Cicierega does is for Lemon Demon. This is why this tag is also a thing.]

#omori

#mcyt (Minecraft YouTuber)

#tally hall [A band.]

#barbie

#doctor who

#ghibli

#tetris

#touhou

#ytp

#ella minnow pea

#ena

#they might be giants [A band.]

#alexkansas [Applies to all his work. Currently MISTERMANTICORE]

NOT THAT SPECIFIC TAGS. THEY ARE THE SAME LEVEL AS THESE

#the past for the stuff about the past. The limit of how old has to be the thing to be tagged with this is 20 years.

#language is for everything linguistics, scripts, phonetics, anything of that matter and related. This tag isn't for swear swords, those bitches don't fucking get tagged.

#chemistry #geology #toki pona [An artistic constructed language by Sonja Lang] #handwriting #cursive #flags [Because vexillology was too long and I never knew if I was writing it right] #maps #biology #philately [#stamps is out of use] #reaction image ,etc.

MEET THE SPECIFICS

These tags exists because I have decided to.

TAGS THAT USE TOKI PONA WORDS

#pilin This Toki Pona word describes many concepts, like feelings, emotions, the heart in its both physical and emotional form. However, in this blog, this tag shall only be used for the heart (organ or not) and heart shapes and heart-shaped things.

#kili This word describes fruits and vegetables, all the edible parts of a plant. I also use this tag for stuff made with kili, like French fries, jam and jelly or milkshakes.

#mun This word doesn't just describe the Moon but also all night-sky objects and space objects. This tag replaced the now abandoned #astronomy as stuff like a blanket with sun and moon motifs or the fanart of a furry on the Moon aren't quite related with the science of space.

#kala This word describes fish and all the aquatic animals. Axolotls, whales, jellyfish and crabs may not be fish, but they sure are kala.

#pan As a Spanish speaker you probably have realised this word is for bread. That's right, it's for grains and all grain products. Stuff that is pan but not bread: tortilla, beer, peanut butter, crackers, communion wafers, tejuino. This tag isn't for pansexuality, Tumblr just colours it like that.

#pipi The word for insects and all the little bugs and crechurs, so it includes stuff like spiders and worms.

#waso The word for birds, flying animals and winged animals.

#soko The word for fungi. This tag replaced #mycology.

#akesi The word for reptiles. This tag isn't used for "non-cute animals" as the original meaning of the word expressed and was corrected in 2021.

#kijetesantakalu The word to describe procyonids and musteloids, like ferrets, racoons and tanukis. For the non-Toki Pona speakers. The reason why this word is long and very specific is because it's an April Fools joke that just got too popular.

#in front of them sensors I wears glasses, I like characters that wear them too. So this tag is for that. It also applies to stuff like sport/lab goggles, sunglasses and other eyewear.

#the florist's For flowers. The name is as in a flower shop, just like the butcher's or the chemist's.

#city made of light For photographs of, or art depicting urban light during the night. The night scared us, so we killed it; some beautiful examples of this massacre to our health are Times Square, the Las Vegas strip or Hong Kong neon capital of the East.

#KÖT For cats! The word "köt" isn't for cat in any language btw.

#i do the squeaking For ratas and mice. Tag name based on that one post with the mousegirl house wife.

I don't tag furries for some reasons: First is, what is a furry? Are Moomins furry? Are Sonic characters furries? Furries' opinion on what is furry and what is not a large broad spectrum of thoughts. Second is so people don't block furries from me. If you don't wanna see furries, go and try and see how many tags you need to block to see none, and you will still see some cuz not everyone tags. Also, furries don't get tagged any of the animal tags.

#boyfriendposting Those posts that are like "yeah, sorry that your boyfriend..."

#fake posts Those posts that are made to look like many and have some theme.

#fauxnetics People trying to spell pronunciation using non-standarized methods like the IPA, usually just causing more confusion. Example: "How do you pronounce Chara? Car-uh, Care-uh, Chair-uh or Char-uh?"

#illinois chess Games (doesn't have to be chess, but if chess, funky non-standard chess) [usually board games] with strange setting or rules, impossible to understand. Tag named after this thing from 20020.

#present as the past from the future Meme/joke posts describing modern/contemporany history or the current world as how we speak of the past. Example: "Cowboys were a sort of itinerant warrior class common in Meiji-era Texas."

#rainbow #emoji #ethanol [Alcohol found in drinking alcoholic beverages] #radiation #tbh creature #tea #picrew #9/11 #plush #tell-o-phone [Telephones] #tell-o-vision [Televisions] #jesus #gastronintestinal issues #isobutyl propionic acid [Ibuprofen] #rain #butane [Alkane of four carbon atoms, fuel in cigarette lighters] #loss ['Loss' by Tim Buckley for Ctrl+Alt+Del] #snow #blåhaj #R-Ë-PLANE [Airplanes and similar aircraft.] #ZUG [German for trains. Anything on rails.] #mpreg [Male pregnancy] #cool S [This one.] #aspirin ,etc, probably there are more.

I hope this ask has answered your doubts. There's probably more tags out there.

Now for an example.

Example.

Tag-relevant details: A Sparklecare Cometcare AU fan art piece made and posted by Edward featuring Barry Ill and Uni Sock Cornelius in a night picnic. Uni is wearing her rose-tinted goggles, holding a milkshake with a cherry on top, there's another one present next to Barry. Barry is holding a sandwich with visible lettuce and tomato, there's another one next to Uni. The picnic blanket has the colours of the rainbow. There are stars and hearts around them, the picnic case also had a heart detail. On the field there are white small flowers.

Tags: #ryeblog #art of them #sparklecare #in front of them sensors #kili #pan #rainbow #pilin #mun #the florist's

The tags after the Sparklecare one could be in any order.

And this is an ideal case. As I have stated, I'm not 100% reliable and this sytem isn't either. I sometimes miss some tags.

As a final detail. Comments about the post will go after all of these tags and will have proper sentence capitalization and punctuation. This is the hierarchy the tags go which I sometimes miss too.

#letters to rye #TYSM FOR THE ASK !