#i keep forgeting to come here post things

[truthscrapper]

Devlog #1 📚 The Very First Devlog

We announced Truth Scrapper with a beautiful trailer this month!!! The response has been absolutely incredible, thank you so much for following me on another funky memory adventure. Throughout the development of ISAT, I have written monthly devlogs on Steam, talking about the making of the game. People liked them a bunch, so…

That’s right. It’s time. For the Very First Truth Scrapper devlog!

In case you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I am the creator of timeloop RPG In Stars and Time, and now am working on my next game, memory visual novel Truth Scrapper. It’s gonna be a good one.

Alright! Development talk time. Where’s the game at?!?!

So, right now, I have just finished writing the script for Day 4, so I "only" have the art, code, and implementation to do for that day. Truth Scrapper is divided in 7 days, with three different routes you can go through from Day 6 onwards. So really, I need to write and code 11 days. Which puts me at almost ⅓ through development! WOAHRGH!?? At this point, I know where the story is going, I know what each route will consist of, etc. I just don’t know the Details. The portraits are all done, backgrounds are done sequentially for every day, gameplay is all figured out… TLDR: It’s In Good Shape!!!

“That was a good short paragraph, but can I have the detailed timeline of the game. Please.” ok fine you asked for it.

The Big Timeline (and some images!) under the cut

📚 this image was made so early in development, it didn't even have Betz's shibari-like pink harness

TRUTH SCRAPPER TIMELINE

DEC 2022: I finish ISAT around NOV 2022. I get an idea. I write it down. It was going to be an RPG but nobody got time for that. Main themes and ending are here. I work on pre-production very slowly over the next couple months (because I am recovering from finishing ISAT and still gotta keep working on post-production stuff for ISAT)

JULY 2023: Ok fine let's make a renpy file and figure out if the most important gameplay thing can be done. AKA: can I make a book menu where the game remembers the choices you make, and how complicated is that gonna be for me to add to it down the line. It works and I am happy

📚 this image was made so early in development, it just looks very bad

AUGUST 2023: Character design. They look Not Great and character design takes me like nine months. Plot is getting somewhere though!

NOV 2023: In Stars and Time comes out. People like it I think.

MARCH 2024: I decide I need to work on something, and decide to work on that and apply for the Ontario Creates grant. This game is actually starting for realsies!!!!!!!

MAY 2024: I actually lock down character designs.

JUNE 2024: I hire Dora, who was the producer of In Stars and Time and who rules.

📚 dora and i signing our lives to one another on discord. the bond between a creator and their producer can never be broken

SEPT 2024: I work on da gaem

MAY 2025: Day 3 is implemented. We announce the game. Now we’re here!!!!

Alright, that’s it for today! This first devlog is more about telling you where the game is at, and every month you will have a whole new devlog where I can tell you about all the great things I did that month for the game. You can even comment with questions and I might answer them one day. Ok. Thank you. And as always, DON'T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THATS THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

Links! 📚 Official Website 📚 Join the Discord 📚 Sign up for my mailing list 📚 Follow Truth Scrapper on Bluesky 📚 Follow ME on Bluesky

[cuinaminute229]

Tremble, little lion

pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader

summary: A request from Death herself can change so many things. A path already set is altered when Rio comes to you with words that make it so hard to refuse her.

a/n: I'm alive! This has been in my drafts forever and I keep rewriting the first chapter so I just decided I'm going to just post it. So here ya go :)

...

“I would like for you to look after someone for me.”

Rio comes to you with this request as the sun kisses the treetops. It’s a cloudy afternoon. You’ve just returned from a nearby river, a basket full of berries and a book in one hand.

You frown at her request. “Where are you going?”

As far as you know there’s no one Rio trusts that much, let alone you. Especially you. You’re just a witch, a coven-less witch at that. Why would she ask this of you?

It’s only your peculiar use of the craft that lets you see her and it’s only Rio herself that stays long enough to be known.

She doesn’t look away at your question, she doesn’t back down. She clears her throat and when she responds, her voice is steady. “There is someone waiting for me. I promised him an adventure. I don’t know how long we are going to be gone.”

Rio moves her hands behind her back as she waits. Her cloak is the deep color of the forest at dusk and her hood is down. She watches you with a guarded look and would almost worry you if you didn't know who Rio is.

“You trust me that much?” You ask her after a moment. You haven't seen Rio in months which you know is no time for her but it's not the same for you. You're used to being alone, used to her spontaneous comings and goings but this feels like a request too big for you.

“I trust you enough.” She gives you a nod and yet she still doesn't move. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel this would be necessary.”

You look her over for just a moment and then you set your basket and book down into the grass and take a step closer to her.

She looks exactly the same which doesn't startle you, you know Rio. You know who she is. But this request, it's new and strange.

“Are you okay?” That is all you will allow yourself to ask. Because Rio doesn't let anyone pry, she barely gives either way and yet you've learned to read her in ways that words do not say.

She gives you a small nod but no smile. No words. She looks distant and tired. Rio looks like she doesn't want to be on this plane or existence.

You make a choice that's full chance. You walk over to her, closing the distance with small steps. The moment you are close enough to reach out and touch her, you wait.

You don't ask what's happened, it's not your place. But you know Rio. You've known her for years. She's a phenomenal green witch, she's an interesting mentor, and you would even consider her a friend.

“Tell me the truth and I will agree.”

Rio, since showing up, finally smiles. She tilts her head and lets her shoulders relax. “He is special. The one waiting for me. He is young and bright and his mother is a force to be reckoned with.” She glances away, towards the tree line and shakes her head.

When she steps towards you, you listen. You wait for her.

“I walk through death like it's home. I see families, empires and kingdoms all die. There are rules to what I do.” Rio glances back at you and her eyes are as dark as the night sky without stars. “But this, I can't break any more rules. I can't bend or stretch, I can't do anything. I feel helpless.”

She takes a breath that is unnecessary and closes her eyes for just a moment. And this time you do move, you step up right in front of her and you pull her into a hug that you know she needs.

Rio's touch is like a dip in a freezing lake and still you pull her closer. She buries her face into your neck and clings to you with a strength you always forget she has.

He's special. That's what she said. You can only guess how special from what she’s just told you. Rules, broken and bent.

Rio doesn't break the rules. She's a stickler for rules. He must be incredibly special. You don't say anything as you hold her, no words can make whatever happened better, you know this.

Rio doesn't cry. You've never seen her cry. But now, you hear her as she fights with emotions that are too complex for you to understand. And still you hold her steady, a silent anchor.

When she pulls back, a small sniffle makes her nose scrunch up and you find yourself brushing your fingers under her eyes to wipe at her tears. She does not protest, she doesn't move away.

Rio closes her eyes and just breathes.

It's as your hands brush to cradle her jaw, her fingers digging into your waist and brows furrowed, do you wonder if she has no more tears to cry. “Whatever you need. I am here.” You tell her with a whisper.

“You are too good.” She steps back and opens her eyes as your touch falls away. Rio's eyes are like liquid coal, so dark.

You know she wants to leave, gather her footing away from you. The small tilt of her head towards the l forest is a subtle tell you know well. But there's a tugging at your chest that tells you not to let her leave. Not like this.

“Rio,” Her name on your lips is barely a whisper, almost a plea and she turns back to you with a frown. You want to reach for her, you want to take her hands into yours and let your touch ground her. “Stay, just for tonight.”

When she glances past your shoulder you know she's looking at the cabin. The place Rio helped build.

Her touch is everywhere. The flowerbed that sits on either side of the stairs, the two rocking chairs that sit on the porch, even the small table that usually holds carving tools and whatever project Rio was working on at the time.

It's been months since you’ve seen her and yet she's everywhere in the place you call home.

“I can make you some tea.” You add when she is quiet for too long. Then a thought comes to mind and you smile. Rio waits for you to say what you're thinking. “You have to meet Tom. You're going to love him.”

The name causes her to look back at the cabin, eyes searching for something. You know she can easily find him, using her magic to find his life force. But when she repeats his name, a whisper of curiosity, you think she's going to follow you.

It takes a moment, a long drawn out moment that feels like purgatory before she gives in with a small nod.

You step back to grab your basket and book before holding out your hand for Rio. She lets you lead her to the door and her voice is soft when you move to open the door handle. “I missed you.”

The words make you stop short for just a moment before you glance back at her as you push open the door. You give her a small smirk and whisper back, “You just missed my cooking."

That pulls a genuine smile from Rio and you close the door behind the two of you.

Rio glances around for a moment as you walk off towards the kitchen, leaving the basket and book on the table. She has nothing to worry about, everything is the same as when she stopped visiting but that's not what seems to irk her.

She glances over at you and when you look up from grabbing the tea bags, it seems the time for tears is over. Rio is watching you and you raise an eyebrow at her when silence crawls across the room.

“Are you judging the decor because I remember you wanting to add certain things that I thought were questionable.”

That makes her smile and you decide if Rio is done with showing her grief then you will act as if things are normal.

“You've butchered my decorative bone sculpture.”

Now that stops you in your tracks and you almost drop your favorite mug. You look at Rio like she's lost her mind and glance over at the sculpture that's definitely not butchered, it just had a hat on its head.

But then she's smirking and you glare at her, shaking your head with a sigh. “You are the worst.”

“You should have seen your face.” She chuckles to herself and goes back to looking around the living room. “If you would have let someone else in here while I was gone I would feel left out.”

You shake your head in response, a small smile on your lips. You let her look because that's always the fun part.

Making tea requires little magic, just a touch to warm the water and then you can continue without it. The mundane motion is a comfort that's easy to get lost in.

It doesn't take long. You're actually surprised it took this long before he made himself known.

A soft meow fills the silence and you glance behind you with a small smile. Rio's attention has shifted, she's glancing around in confusion and determination.

You turn back to the tea and let her find him on her own. There is no urgency to your movements, no distrust at her being so close to something so special. You had wanted it to be a surprise, and this is as good as any.

“His name is Tom?” She looks up as you carry two cups of steaming hot tea out of the kitchen. You place them on the wooden coffee table that sits in front of the couch and take a seat next to her.

Rio is holding the little black cat in her lap, her nails scratching lightly at the back of his head. You can hear his purrs at the attention.

You give her a nod and she turns her attention back to the feline. “I found him a few weeks ago. He was caught in a hunter's trap.”

Rio glances up at you with a frown. “There are no hunter traps near here. Where did you go?”

With the excuse of your tea you take a sip and shrug, and then you get up from the couch and walk over to the bookcase. The spines of the books are bare, a safekeep of knowledge if anyone got past your wards and tried to steal from you. With a whispered spell, fingers dancing over a row of books, the names come to the surface.

While Rio is gone you were left with no studies, no mentor so you took to traveling with spells that could get you in more trouble than worth. But the need for knowledge, for understanding is something you inherited from your mother.

So you traveled and still you always came back, hoping you would see any signs that Rio returned. And while traveling, in the middle of a rumored haunted forest behind a small village, you found Tom. And a book.

You grab the book and walk back over to Rio, holding out the book for her to take. “I found this when I found him. I thought you would find it interesting.”

Rio looks at the book for a long moment before reaching for it and placing it on the table. Her attention goes back to Tom and you smile. Of course he's stolen her from you.

“How did you come up with his name? Because I remember us talking about familiar names before and Tom wasn't on the list.”

“I specifically remember you putting Thackery on the list.” You raise an eyebrow at her and Rio smirks as she scratches Tom's chin.

“You remember correctly.” Rio says and you shake your head with a smile.

To be honest you didn't even have time to think before starting the ritual. You didn't even know if it was going to work. It was adrenaline and panic that pushed you and the first name that escaped was Tom.

Besides, what can you say? A witch and a cat familiar is as stereotypical as it gets and still the entire process was as impulsive as it could have gotten. You love Tom, he's an extension of who you are now.

Tom turns to you with a meow and your fondness only grows. Of course he likes her, she's giving him many pets.

“You said the first name you could think of, didn't you?” Rio glances at you with a knowing smirk.

You think about defending yourself but she's right. The first name that came to mind was Tom. “I was a little preoccupied trying to save his life.”

“Well I think it's perfect, right Tom?” Rio turns back to the black cat, scrunching her nose playfully when he reaches a paw out to her face. Her touch is gentle as her fingers drag lines through his fur, and Tom is basking in the attention.

You had refused to let him outside earlier because he loves to mess up the flowers and you've grown tired of walking by just to see them ruined again. Rio would love to know that little detail, that Tom loves to chew on her flowers but you'll let him have this, just for now.

“I think he likes you.” You tell Rio after a moment of just watching the two. Tom's eyes are closed and his purrs are loud as Rio gives him all the attention. You might even think that she's going to become his favorite.

The small tilt of her head, the fall of her hair as she turns to look at you, even the darkness of her eyes makes you want to hug her again.

“I like him too. You picked a good one.”

It's when you nudge the tea towards her does Rio finally reach for it, she holds it close and closes her eyes as she smells the mint. The small upturn of her lips makes you look away.

The fire burns bright against the dying wood, flames dancing with a rhythm that's exceptionally hard to find and still you stare. The sight is a relief, it's comforting.

It's only with a tilt of your head, a twitch of a finger, does the fire come alive in a different way. The burning edges take the form a dog, it runs around with a wagging tail and it makes you smile.

The soft hum of amusement draws your attention back to Rio, she's watching the illusion. “My turn.”

The competitive glint in her eyes when she glances at you then back at the fire calms your nerves.

As you turn back to the fire, the dog is now chasing a bird. It runs around and jumps to try and catch it but the bird is always faster.

It flaps its fiery wings and swoops around like it's showing off, and yet the dog never gives up the chase. It's tail wags and it bounces to try and reach the bird, failing every time.

The very moment the bird flies out of the fireplace, its fiery body soaring through the air a few times before crashing back into the fire, you turn to Rio with narrowed eyes and the hint of a smile.

“Show off.” You mutter but your words have no bite. Her smile is small and you don't want to break it. So when she turns her attention back to Tom, brushing her fingers through his soft fur, whispering words you can not hear, you let her be. Even for a moment.

Because sometimes words are too much. Sometimes all it takes to feel better is holding a small animal in your hands and knowing that it trusts you. And Tom, you can tell without a doubt trust her. Not as death, but as Rio.

You watch them with a soft expression. Tom, in her lap purring loudly, looking entirely content. Rio, brushing her fingers through his fur, scratching under his chin, leaning down to touch her nose with his. It feels special and vulnerable.

“You know he's going to live as long as you.” Rio finally speaks after a long moment. She tilts her head just a bit to look over at you.

You try to pretend you weren't watching them but it feels impossible not to look away. You hum softly in response, shrugging just a bit. “I know.”

Rio smiles. Turning her attention back to your familiar, green wisps of magic dance at her fingertips as she brushes over his fur and you watch, curious and suspicious.

You feel it. The instance whatever Rio’s done has settled into the bond. You narrow your eyes at her and debate on saying anything. But she beats you to it, with a playful glint in her eyes and a small smirk that tells you she knows exactly what you feel.

“He's fine. You can breathe.” She teases you softly and you look between Tom and her, and he does seem fine. Perfectly okay.

“What did you do?”

Rio says nothing, just gives you a private smile as she continues brushing her fingers through Tom's fur.

“If you want to leave I won't stop you.” The words are soft, a whisper really. A reminder that this is still her choice.

And still Rio gives you a half smile before turning back to Tom who is currently rolled over and playing with her hand. Teeth and claws can't hurt her and yet you know he's not trying to.

And she stays.

She drinks the tea and helps you make dinner, and she even tells you some old joke she's been carrying around for the right moment, which it seems is now. Rio doesn't cry again. She doesn't explain or vent. She's just here, in the moment. With you and Tom.

And when morning comes. When the sun shines through open windows and the sound of birdsong echoes through the woods, Rio is still here.

“Let me make you breakfast.” You haven't made her breakfast in months. You miss it, the quiet moments, soft words and normalcy of it. And you want to see what it’s like to have her in your kitchen again, what it’s like to have this with her. “Please.”

As Rio looks back at you, smile turned soft; she lets you have this. “Only because you said please.”

“Thank you.” You grin and she reaches out to brush your hair back, her finger traces your ear and you don't breathe as she leans closer to you. Her lips are soft as she kisses your cheek and the touch is so intimate that you think your control is going to break.

To kiss Rio, to be kissed by Rio, that’s an urge you won’t ever let become words.

“You're too good.” She whispers but you disagree, you shake your head and take her hand in your own. She's warm under your touch.

The truth is so simple it should be easy. But you know she overlooks things when it comes to herself and still you don't mind having to remind her. “You deserve it.”

It’s when Rio leaves, a promise to return and Tom perched on her shoulders you let yourself almost believe you could get used to this. She said she wanted to get him some pheasant this morning as a treat and there was no way you would deny her.

The cabin is silent as you make breakfast but you don't feel alone. You know she won't stay but you missed this. Having her here with you.

As the front door opens some time later you look up to see her again. She has her hood up and somehow Tom is still on her shoulders, a bird feather between his teeth as his bright eyes look for you. He perks up at the smell of bacon and crawls out of Rio’s hood to jump on the floor and trot towards you.

He places the feather at your feet and meows, flicking his tail back and forth as he waits for his treat. You shake your head and tear a piece of bacon and set it on the floor as you take the feather.

“I think he likes you more than me.” You chuckle and look back to Rio. She’s lowered her hood and her eyes are on the two plates in front of you. She walks over slowly and sits down across from you.

“Blueberries?” She asks, picks up a blueberry and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You nod in response, place the feather down next to your plate and take a sip of your tea.

“Special treat.” You shrug as you tear apart your bacon and nibble on one piece.

Rio loves blueberries. It was one of the first things you learned about her. It was the berries in your basket the other day.

When Tom jumps on the table to grab another piece of bacon you shoo him away with a soft wave of green magic, he floats in place for a moment before dropping to the floor. His angry meow and hiss makes you shake your head with a smile.

Rio laughs but she’s far more giving when it comes to her bacon. She sneaks a few pieces off her place as she eats and you know she’s dropping them to Tom who’s probably sitting on the floor right next to her but you don't have it in you to scold her. It’s adorable.

It’s later when the sun is high in the sky and the two of you are walking down a path that leads to the nearest lake, you know that this is goodbye.

“Are you ready for this?” You ask her once the two of you reach the lake. There’s a group of ducks swimming in the middle of the water and a deer is drinking on the farside. Rio nods after a long moment. She takes a breath that relaxes her shoulders and nods again.

“I have to be.”

“Okay,” You move to stand in front of her and she watches you with curiosity. Rio reaches for your hands and you let her fingers dance against your palm before she takes your hand into her own. “Now, who is it you would like me to look after?”

You don’t expect her to frown, and yet you should have. You don’t rush her though, there is no need. Rio recovers quickly, she squeezes your hand and you return the gesture. “Her name is Agatha Harkness.”

“Agatha,” You mutter the name because it sounds familiar. You don’t notice Rio watching you carefully, waiting for your response, waiting to see what you do.

Agatha. Harkness. Suddenly the recognition sparks to life like a wildfire. Agatha Harkness. The witch killer.

You look back at Rio in utter shock. Her expression is guarded and you know if you say the wrong thing she’s going to pull away, she’s going to hide under her apathy.

“She could kill me.” That is not what you meant to say.

But Rio doesn’t move away. She shakes her head, steps closer and holds your face in her hands so you look at her when she speaks next.

Her eyes are so rich in color you think you could drown in them, if it weren’t for the predicament of this entire situation. “She won’t. She can’t. I promise you she can’t. Agatha’s powers are unique.”

Yeah, her powers kill other witches, you would call that unique and terrifying. Even if every word is just rumor you still would not like to run into her.

“If you don’t blast her, if you don’t harm her with your magic she can’t steal yours.” Rio explains gently. She brushes the pad of her thumb over your lower lip and sighs. “You do not have to do this if you do not want to.”

You shake your head, close your eyes and breathe. You grab at her wrists and you can feel her exhale against your face.

Rio came to you with this request. You have already agreed. You clear your throat and nod, open your eyes and look at her. “Where is she?”

She licks her lips before she responds and you're too weak right now. Your eyes fall to her lips and you exhale softly. “North. You have time.”

“What do I even say if she asks why I’m following her?”

Rio hums softly before she responds, her index finger traces the line of your jaw. “Agatha's thirst for knowledge fuels her curiosity, if you dangle something she wants right in front of her she will let you stay close by. She's like you in that regard.” She smirks and you glare at her.

“I’m a way better cook.” You grumble and she smiles, her laugh is light and teasing.

“Yes, your pancakes are to die for.” Rio teases you and you want to kiss that expression off her face.

“How long will you be gone?” You ask her, voice a whisper.

“I promised him an adventure.” She doesn't explain more and you know that is answer enough. You won't see her for a while.

“Okay, okay.” You let out a soft breath and give her a small nod. You can do this for her.

“Thank you.” Her whisper tickles your lips and you have to close your eyes so you don’t give into that urge.

“Whatever you need.” You tell her softly. You don’t know if it's relief or regret that you feel when she finally steps away. You open your eyes and watch as she reaches for something hidden in her cloak.

What she pulls out is a bracelet. It looks like it’s woven together with straw, it looks like a child's creation. You glance up at Rio and she looks down at the bracelet, holding it in her hands. She runs a finger over the design and smiles sadly. “Trust me. You will find her with this.”

[rosieshipper]

Do y’all ever hyperfixate on something so hard that seeing any criticism of said hyperfixation feels like a punch in the gut?

Cause like I am in major last of us hyperfixation mode and I’m just trying to find some nice edits on TikTok but I can’t look in the comments of any last of us video without someone calling it trash or bullying the actors

Like I get it everyone is entitled to their opinion and are allowed to not like shit, but when you go onto people’s posts who are talking about how much they like the show and start spewing hate calling the show trash and anybody who enjoys it trash, then you yourself are the problem

It feels like I can’t enjoy the show at all. Like yes I have some minor grievances with season two it’s not perfect but that doesn’t make it bad. And let’s not forget that everyone was up in arms calling the second game a fucking mistake when it first came out. But now that season two is here, everyone is flipping their shit again because it’s a one for one recreation of the game

Like yes, it’s not gonna be realistic for Ellie to kill everyone she comes across in Seattle because she is only one person and the reason she kills all those people in the game is because you the player are controlling her to do so, it’s part of how the game works, you kill all the enemies to advance to the next area

But the show is not the game. Ellie is not gonna be a bad ass ruthless killing machine who’s gunning down everyone she sees. She is a traumatized woman who only wanted to kill the person who killed Joel. The show actually makes her feel human rather than just a video game character

And don’t get me started on the hate that Bella Ramsey has been receiving since day one of the show. Back in 2023 when the first season came out, the hate was pretty minimal and easy to deal with. But today we live in a world that is just so quick to hate things and not let anyone enjoy anything. People love to hate on Bella because they look nothing like game Ellie and love to say that their acting of her is terrible as well

Again, the show was never meant to be a one for one recreation of the game. It is an interpretation of it. It is going to be different. Even the creators say they weren’t casting the characters for their looks but rather the soul of the character, to embody who they are and what they mean

But also people love to hate Bella Ramsey for their appearance as well, going as far to say they have Down syndrome when they don’t. So way to be fucking ableist. They love to dog on them because this version of Ellie is not “sexy” enough. First of all, game Ellie was never for the male gaze. She is a lesbian who was a young child for half of the franchise, she was never for the men to like

But people will always be jerks who can never keep shit to themselves. They will always be stuck in their ways and never see things from anyone else perspectives

That’s all I have to say, I’m going to bed

[underweather-forecast]

Get To Know Ramona

Prelude…

I always forget that other people don’t really know anything about my characters. To remedy that, I’ve decided to start giving you guys a little information about each one when I post sneeze content of them.

Who is Ramona?

Ramona is one of my characters for a book/play/comic I’m working on. Within canon she’s married to Richard who, for a better lack of words, is sorta the worst version of a 50’s husband. Their marriage is built off a more toxic side of the ‘lavender marriage’. Rosa is a Mexican American writer (immigrated), who is slowly pushing her way into the writers room; currently is dominated by men. Ramona is very much a ‘no one can get in my way’ type of person. If Ramona strives for something she isn’t the type to remove herself from the topic despite its down sides. She’s passionate about what she does, and realistically she’s wonderful at her job despite what others may say.

Ramona in Relation To Snz…

Ramona is currently like one of my favorite characters to write snz stuff for when it comes to this group? If I were to describe her main situations I’d say she’s always catching a cold of some sort: if it’s too cold outside, if anyone around her is slightly contagious, if she’s touched something without properly sanitizing afterwards.

Ramona and Colds…

When a cold is coming on it is never hard for anyone to tell, Ramona’s nose is always the first thing to become very sensitive. Suddenly, she’s more prone to sneeze if the wind is too heavy outside or if a scent is too strong. She always gets very congested as the course of a cold goes on, her ability to catch her sneezes (which progressively begin to give her less build up as a cold worsens) becomes almost impossible to maintain.

Ramona typically sneezes in fits of 3, the first typical sounding a lot more like a half sneeze/ soft warning and the rest following being powerful loud spurts. Usually if she’s far into a cold her sneezes are a lot messier than not, and coughing tends to follow behind if not a lot of nose blowing. By the end of a cold the last symptom to leave her usually is congestion and her more aggravated form of sneezes. (Specifically in cases of a cold)

Ramona and Allergies

Most of the time if Ramona is sneezing it’s likely due to a cold, though in a slightly more rare instance dust and cat dander can really irritate her. Most of the time Ramona keeps a clean area, though if wandering into a friend’s undusted house it’s easy for her to quickly become a mess.

In regaurd to dust, Ramona is quick to dismiss her allergies even if they are becoming dauntingly clear. Ramona’s dust allergy is something that’s slow to ramp up but never has any soft progression when it comes to the volume of her sneezes. When dust is around Ramona sneezes in small bouts of 2 though each one is loud and powerful, usually without mess until she’s left the area. Once Ramona has left an area containing dust the runny nose and congestion takes place afterwards and the rest of the day is simply miserable being followed by occasional build ups but a lot of false alarms.

In regard to cat dander, Ramona body handles it terribly. Ramona is usually well about avoiding them, she knows how badly they set her off. Stepping foot into a house that has just one cat who’s been pushed into a separate room, still does not save her from a constant trigger. Ramona’s usually tell tale sign of her allergy beginning to ramp up is the fact her nose becomes really itchy. Unlike the other circumstances with her cat allergy she’s always going to have really long build ups that eventually, (after many terribly false alarms) will thrown here into a rapid fit of about 6 sneezes at a time (can expand into more if exposure is longer).

Going home after being exposed to this allergy specifically will lead to about the opposite of her dust allergy, congestion follows though the false alarms she’d usually have slow and she starts to have closer together fits for the rest of the day.

Snzfucker or Not?

Ramona would not be considered a Snzfucker though she definitely feels oddly ‘good’ after a long sneezing fit. She’d never really admit it but whenever she has one she always finds herself a little ‘hot and bothered’ by the situation and will usually seek some forms of relief. She’s never thought of it as a kink of hers but realistically once her girlfriend finds out about the whole ‘need for relief thing’ she definitely starts to take advantage of Ramona’s sensitive nose.

Ramona is a switch within her relationship though most times if she’s going to be taking the top she never tends to purposely induce/ indulge herself. When she’s not on the top her girlfriend (Rosa) finds it fun to induce her as much as she possibly can, usually leading to a pretty bad cycle of Ramona wanting more. (Silly lesbians <3)

Endpoint…

Teehee thank you for reading about Ramona, I hope you enjoyed learning a little more about her via this side of content. She’s very fun but I have a lot more for you guys later…

Please only reposts to Kink Blogs relating to Snz, don’t repost to vanilla accounts or SFW accounts please!

[frozenwolftemplar]

(this is so long now lol) (and sorry Charls for not getting to your question about being pinged; so much else going on in this post I literally forgot)

Seconding Mari's answer about having headcanons that just rattle around in the subconscious waiting for the right prompt to bring them rushing to the fore. For instance, Mari just unlocked the Grocery Shopping Headcanon (think I'll put that in a different post; this one is long).

LOL THE TOOTHPASTE!!! I am honestly the same way: go to brush my teeth and be like 'shoot, I need more toothpaste; I should buy a tube; guess I'll borrow some tonight' and then forget to buy any...until the next time I brush my teeth; this cycle must repeat at least four times before I actually remember to buy toothpaste. This is also how Carmen functions and, like Mari said, why Shadowsan does the shopping.

Carmen: Hey, how'd you know I needed toothpaste?

Shadowsan: I have watched you go and 'borrow' Ivy's for the past five days. You are the only one who was ignorant of the fact.

Thinking about the Milan shopping trip, I can't get over those sunglasses; you know they probably cost several hundred dollars, and that is waaaaaay too much (spoken like someone who routinely loses hers lol). But his asking for them...I feel like it speaks to why none of them are too proactive in curbing her spending. Aviator shades like that- to me at least- seem like something he's always wanted but never had the money for, and now...now here they are, Carmen eager to buy them whatever they want, everything they never could have before...it's hard to want to stop that.

MARI!!!! THE SPIDERMAN PEZ!!! 🤣🤣🤣 Shadowsan tries to avoid taking Carmen to the grocery store whenever he can because he knows that, without fail, she will come back with the most useless trinket known to mankind.

Shadowsan: ...What is that?

Carmen, toying with a piece of Silly Putty: No idea. Saw it in the checkout line and thought it looked interesting. (ooh, stretchy!)

Shadowsan: (he hated American checkout lines; he was convinced that half the store's profit came from impulse buys). Did you at least remember the milk?

Carmen: (Silly Putty snaps). That's what I went to buy!

(she didn't remember).

It's part being kinda scatterbrained, but- riffing off Mari here- also no sense of self-preservation. She was raised with the philosophy that nothing was more important than her mission, basic necessities included. Remembering to buy toothpaste or food is a waste of brain space better spent planning capers; VILE will take care of all that for her. When she broke away, she just...took that mentality with her: always more important things to remember (which leaves Player and co to take VILE's role in doing the smaller things like providing basic necessities to keep her alive; good thing they don't mind).

dark!Carmen was also like this. Her crew...wasn't sure what to think.

Tigress: Wait. Let me get this straight. We are going out to buy Fedora toothpaste and soap?!?

Gray: Yup. And snacks.

Tigress: Can't she do that herself?

Gray: Apparently not.

Tigress: What are we, her nannies?

Gray, who has been feeling like just that: Yeah, I'm not answering that.

(Tigress soon begins wishing Carmen was back to being Shadowsan's problem; traitor deserves her).

THE SHAMPOO SOLUTION!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Carlotta has outwitted them all!

This post is now Legend to me; hugest thanks and thousand kudos to y'all, Charls and Mari and Skye/Max and the anon who fueled the RAMBLES!!! This has been so much fun!!!

Carmen Sandiego Money Headcanons

I said I'd do a longer post! ;)

(thanks and kudos to @mmaricarmen23 @bisexually-finger-guns @backofthepencil11 for spurring this)

-- Growing up, Carmen really only knew about money in a vague, conceptual sense: money was a thing that VILE needed in order to function and was an indicator of how valuable something was (with 'something' being the 'imports' that were brought to the Island). That's it. Once a year it needed to be...whatever Cookie Booker did, but other than that you didn't need to think about it. Pretty easy low-maintenance stuff.

-- She got a bit of a wake-up call when she left the Island and hadn't yet started lining her pockets with VILE's ill-begotten funds: apart from a roll of bills in the pocket of Cookie's coat and some of his own savings account money that Player quietly wired to her (don't tell his parents), she was flat broke. It was here that Player first grasped just how...few life skills his bestie possessed.

-- Carmen: Player, guess what? I saw this place off the highway that teaches you to ride a motorcycle and-

Player: Red. Please tell me you didn't...

Carmen: ...Why wouldn't I?

Player: How much did this cost?

Carmen: I dunno, a hundred?

Player: RED!!! THAT'S LIKE YOUR MOTEL ROOMS FOR THE WEEK!

Carmen: But! I can ride a motorcycle now. 😎

-- He is now bestie/hacker/money manager

-- Once they joined her, Zach and Ivy had a hard time wrapping their heads around (a) how much money their new friend had (b) how freely she spent it, and (c) how willing their new- boss? friend? something?- is to spend it on them.

Zach: Whoa! You wanna eat here? Isn't it kinda...expensive? (it's literally an Olive Garden)

Carmen: No worries; tab's on me. 😉

Zach: ....Ives, we died and went to Heaven. 😍

Carmen: ...We're in Ohio?

-- It was...hard to get used to. Especially for Ivy; she'd been the one to manage the money when her and Zach were on their own (he would have spent it all at McDonald's, something he has freely admitted) and is well aware of how much things costs and what smart spending looks like. Seeing someone basically burning through a bank account (never mind it seems to be bottomless?) is...well.

Ivy: Boss, you can't buy these! $400 is way too much for sunglasses!

Carmen: ...It is?

Ivy: .....YES!!!

-- And she just...doesn't feel completely comfortable with sponging off someone they just met, even if she is really nice and offering to pay for room service and hotel room movie rentals and anything else they could ever need or want. That's not the world she came from; in her experience, everyone has an angle they're playing, and money is how they keep you beholden to them. Plus this whole vigilante thing? Yeah, it had to be a one-and-done for this...she wants to say 'heiress?' She made that mistake with Eddie, and she's not making it again.

-- Zach is more comfortable with the spending sprees. He's a little uneasy at first (he, too, knows the value of a dollar), but quickly and easily adapts to a life where he doesn't have to feel shy about asking for seconds.

-- Update: Carmen really doesn't have an angle; they really are doing this vigilante thing, she really is footing the bill, and she really expects nothing in return. She also, Ivy quickly realizes, has no idea how money works beyond buying things. Good thing she has practice explaining this stuff to Zach

Ivy: The drugstore sells pairs for less than $12 that work just as well. Just go there to-

Carmen, already wearing the sunglasses: Still getting these

Ivy: At one point, my entire wardrobe cost less than that. Think about that for a minute.

-- This is not going to be easy.

-- Shadowsan feels some guilt for not teaching Carmen about money management better, and for being the reason she spends like it's her last day on earth (which it could be with VILE hunting them but we're doing that today), but he doesn't take much action beyond occasionally remarking on something being too expensive. It's not like he was responsible with money when he was her age. Or ever.

-- No one pursues money management 101 in earnest, though. Ivy and Zach and Shadowsan and Player...they all know how unfair the world can be, and all know what it is to be dealt a bad hand. They all (well, the kids; Shadowsan has Guilt (TM)), to an extent, kind of....feel they deserve this (hey! tons of people far worse than them get to have nice things; why can't they?). They want and like this lifestyle, of jet setting and high living, the fantasy come real. It's fun, and really nice to not have to worry about being unable to afford their next meal or next month's rent. Plus they like the perks; the cars and tools, the bayside warehouse and the super-fast CPU Player wouldn't have been able to afford otherwise. It's hard to want to stop all that.

-- Maybe they can just...ignore that part of Carmen's Life Skills curriculum? Wolfe's secret accounts were seized by VILE, so a good chunk of this ill-begotten money is technically Carmen's by rights. The interest alone is a king's ransom, so she...doesn't really need to learn budgeting, right?

-- Carlotta disagrees.

-- She wants her daughter to be able to manage her own money. Responsibly.

Carlotta: Hija, you spent almost $200 (US dollars for simplicity's sake) on shampoo this month. Do you truly think that's sustainable?

Carmen: ...Yeah? I mean, I recycle the bottle.

Carlotta: Dear Lord. 🤦‍♀️

-- It's hard to see just how ignorant she is about money; it just reminds her how her baby was raised to be a weapon against humanity, one who was never meant to exist outside VILE. But stewing over it won't change matters, and anyway, after missing so much of her life, she actually welcomes to chance to teach her daughter Life Skills. And anyway, Carmen has a good head on her shoulders; how hard could it be?

Carlotta: Now, mira, see these bottles? The same size as the expensive one, but cost far less. You'd have more money for other necessities.

Carmen: Like the expensive shampoo?

Carlotta: ....Like food.

-- This may take longer than she thought...

[alwaysacoyote]

the flat circle (chapter 1)

Find me on AO3

König x f!pararescue!reader | no use of y/n

Synopsis: You and König are partners. In this world and at the end of it. Your mission: you just need to obtain a case for KorTac, but nothing ever goes according to plan. Word count: 3.3k Tags: Horror romance, mutual pining, slow burn Warnings: body horror a/n: inspired by True Detective S1! wanted to take a break from my own original project and bang out something for the fandom I have lovingly stalked from afar for an embarrassingly long time. please god forgive me for my mistakes, I am new to posting works on tumblr. reader has a backstory but is otherwise vague.

You would pronounce it if you had a good watch: the contact is fucking late.

As it is, you turn your wrist over on muscle memory and blink at your watch, forgetting for just a second that it’s good for fuck-all. Nothing moves as it should. The hour hand spins around the face and the second and the minute hands labor to keep up. Whole days have gone by, in the eyes of the watch, you and König in an abandoned hotel room that stinks like mildew and stale cigarette smoke. You will have sat here for days, slumped on the edge of the bed, leg bouncing as you curl over your rifle and pinch the bridge of your nose.

And König– König will have paced endless circuits, day in and day out. 

He’s in tune with you as you are with him. Working each other up and up till he’s redlining his fucking engines and the only thing he can do about it is wear a hole in shitty matted carpet. Drills himself like a boot, eleven steps in his long and lolling stride get him from the window to the door, then about-face, then eleven steps back.

He steps into and out of the red light slanting in through the gaps in the curtains, painting him in bleeding stripes, turning him into something flayed. 

“Sailor’s delight,” you mumble into the muggy air, half to yourself. You tap one-one-thousand, one-one-thousand, one-one-thousand out on the magwell of your MK18. Not keeping any particular kind of count. Just reminding yourself how seconds should go.

He halts, feet square, and only then does he let whatever facade he’d put on in his head drop. Hip swings, gait slinging base wide and casual. Does a lot of talking with his eyes and posture out of necessity of always having his face covered by something, that head tilt and hand on the hip where he wears his sidearm. Unimpressed, for damn good reason. Everything is red. Your skin, your hair, the food you eat, the clothes you wear, and all your mornings, noons, and nights. What you wouldn’t give for color.

“I still think he’s dead,” he contributes, reviving the debate from Hour 1. Feels like a lifetime ago, like the watch might be right, that you've been waiting on nothing for days.

But it hasn’t been days.

It’s been hours. You should know this.

“Don’t speak that into existence,” you groan before he’s even got the words all the way out, “because knowing our luck, it’ll come true.”

He laughs, a whooping bark of a hyena-cackle, that says that’s just the most delightful thing he’s heard all day. “Got to start thinking of all the possibilities, haven't we?” he answers, tapping his helmet. “Can't be disappointed if we're always expecting the worst.”

He gets drunk sometimes and he’ll always fall back on telling the story of how the Bundesheer deemed him too fucking big to be a sniper, like it’s not one you could recite yourself start to finish without error. Maybe more than one thing can be true about his past life. Maybe König couldn't sit and wait worth shit. It wears you down but it whittles him spearpoint-sharp. 

You've been around for his failed relationships, on-off alcoholism, and sometimes questionable use of medical req pain pills. Maybe– when he is denied something, he wants it all the more. Doesn't matter if he would've fucking hated it. It's his Shangri-La, the things he can't have. Enough head trauma and doorkicking have given him the personal philosophy that any problem is made of a builder-grade particleboard core, and if he places the appropriate amount of force into his heel right near the lock, he can finally have what he needs to satiate him. 

“Any ideas?” he prompts, misinterpreting your silence. 

“I'm thinking how we'd track that case down if he's bought the farm,” you lie, pushing your knuckles into the meat of your thigh to stop your leg from bouncing. It doesn't help. And he's right. At some point here, you're going to have to cut your losses, and there's no more than thirty minutes tops before the two of you are going to be playing inner city cadaver dogs, looking for the contact's miserable corpse. 

“Idiom.” No explanation. When both of you say shit about tapdancing bears and pleading the Fifth, there has to be quick cross-cultural exchanges. 

“Died. Keep up, I've said that one before.” 

He starts to kick up another bout of zoochotic pacing– that's a thinking-stride if you've ever seen one, the way he marches and pivots like he's got some place to be– and he completes another about-face when the air conditioning unit kicks on. 

It puts him with his back right to it. He can't see it, and he certainly can't turn to look at it now. In the scarlet light, his scleras are bloodshot-red ringing his irises, and they bore into yours. 

Your gut plummets and your heart leaps into your throat. Between the two extremes it's a miracle you don't just vomit into your lap, but instead, you straighten. Inch by painful inch, spinning hour hand telling you you've wasted hours staring at the control panel, till you can get a good look at it. You check. Double check. Triple check.

The LED on the panel is off. 

You sag and let out a sigh from the depths of your soul. Cheap aircon unit in a cheap hotel that's busting apart at the seams– maybe it's just his weight and proximity that eked a brief, tinny shudder out of it–

He mule-kicks the fucking thing. Over. And over. And over. Each clang is so loud it sounds like the goddamn apocalypse is happening in this hotel room. You sprawl, scuttling up the bed as if to run from the report of his boot caving in the metal housing, and then he’s done and he stands, huffing. 

“Wh- dude.” You push yourself back up, blinking dumbly. You're not surprised, not chastising, either. Hell, part of you is pretty impressed by the absolute ruination he caused in just a few seconds. It's certainly making noise now, painful metal-on-metal squeaks as parts settle in their new configuration with a massive dent on the face. “Just in case I forget you're not domesticated or something?”

Shit like this is why he was an insertion specialist in the Bundesheer. He's decisive and efficient— and the property damage helped too. Shit like this is why he's with KorTac now.

He doesn't even seem sure why he did it at your prompting. His stomach rises and falls and his mask billows as he sucks air hard. On some level you think it was just his instinct to react to an embarrassment, no matter how temporary, with outright violence. 

Then the knock.

Open palm slapping on the door, fast and urgent, and your brain clicks the pieces together. The sound of the aircon, this. You've fucked up, you've given yourselves away. Both of you snap your heads towards it. 

The deadbolt wiggles alarmingly. For that moment when pure fear lances through your system, you forget all about the guy you're here to meet: there is nothing good on the other side of that door. 

König and you move as one practiced unit without the need for words. He lifts his AUG and nestles the butt into the meat of his shoulder, while you rise from the bed and tuck into the space between the wall and the bed in the corner, taking a knee to conceal yourself. Water soaks into your pants, but you prop your rifle and wait.

If it comes through that door and it's not the contact, it'll have a few rounds in center mass before it can even figure out who's all in the room. If it comes through that door and it dives for König, it's getting gutshot.

He leans on the door, steadying it, muzzle of his rifle trained at the water-stained drop ceiling. He peers through the peephole and gives you a quick chin-jerk. Your finger eases up off the trigger. 

His throat clicks dry when he swallows. “Spindle.” 

The reply is muffled. “Come on, just let me the hell in–”

“Spindle.” 

“Fuck– uh, Jesus. I've got the fuckin’ Pelican case,” the man outside snaps. “That good enough? You sure it's me now?”

You and König stare at each other. Neither one of you wants to be the one to make the mistake first, and your eyebrows lift into your balaclava, asking a silent question.  A bead of sweat tracks down the back of your neck. You wipe it away in frantic pawing when it feels like something crawling on your skin.

“I'll throw this thing out the fucking window and you two can go fetch it, swear to God,” the man continues. 

Both of you nod. He unlatches the deadbolt. 

Terry is the kind of man you'd be wary of, working so tight with KorTac. Old man in a profession where they die young and all that. 

He falls into the hotel room while König shuts the door and locks it again behind him, huffing indignantly so you both know he's pissed about the treatment. His silvering hair had been tied up in a manbun at some point, but flyaway strands frizz out from it, and he's wearing a fucking Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and Adidas sneakers. Reads as a snowbird to the untrained eye, but to you, he screams spook. 

You stand, letting your rifle lower till it's just hung on the sling. Most important of what's on his person is what he's got in his hands. The black Pelican case. You don't know what's in it, why it's important, or all the assuredly rancid shit that had to be done to bring it to you now, but you don't care. All you're here for is to ferry it from Point A to Point B. If you needed to know, you would know. 

Terry's scoped you out in that first minute. Not just you-- your rifle, the window, the half-inch gap beneath the closed bathroom door like he expects to see a shadow moving under it. The red light casts a beam across his heaving chest and he steps out of it, feet squelching on the moldering carpet. 

“What was all that shit about a fuckin' password?” he starts in on you. 

“It was shoehorn,” König reminds him of his piece, moving away from the door. 

Terry's on a roll, though, spitting mad at the both of you. He rounds on König because he was the guy at the door, and therefore the most culpable for making him wait. He jabs a finger at your partner's plate carrier-covered chest. Color-changed in the light as they are, his eyes are clear and clever as he gazes down at the older man, head cocked. “Day I've fuckin' had, see if you remember fuckin’ shoehorn-”

“Case.” Usually König isn't quite so economical with his words. He goes from his shoulder-rolled posture to something you recognize well from working in proximity with the man for as long as you have. All his little nervous tics cease, and he sights in like a scope. 

He is, without any close runner-ups, the biggest motherfucker you've ever seen in your life. He's just shy of seven feet in his boots and all told when he's geared up, he's got to be close to 350 pounds. 

There is still one thing in the world that makes sense, and he's slavering at the bit to remind himself of that. 

Terry has also probably worked with enough operator-types like König to recognize someone's civil mask slipping. Creeps in around the edges of the eyes, corrosive like acid. “Jesus.” He blinks first away from it, and then he all but throws the case on the bed near you like the handle was burning his palm. “Albatross ‘round your necks, now.” 

It pings as an odd thing to say on your radar. Either it's odd to König too, or there's no one-to-one German equivalent for that particular idiom, because he glances at you over the spook's head. There’s the silent transfer of responsibility, tagging you in, but neither of you take the case.

“What’s that mean, Terry? And where were you? We gotta be outta here before sunset,” you chime in. You're better with people, marginally, than König. Maybe you were supposed to wheedle some good information out of him, but your nerves are too frayed to not get in a dig where you can. It’s all for nothing. Terry isn’t even looking at you. “Terry.”

He stares at something beside you. The window, the aircon. At the mention of his name, he shakes his head, snaps out of his trance. “What?”

“What do you mean, about the case-”

“You checked this place?” he interrupts urgently, swinging between you and König.

That nasty streak König had let slide is gone. Back to his edgy fidgeting, rocking his weight back and forth, left to right. Arms crossed, he cradles his rifle now up to his chest. “KorTac-approved, cleared ourselves.” He continues without needing to, voice dropping, “Abandoned, anyway.”

Terry hisses through his teeth, ssst, like correcting a pair of bad dogs. And he goes still. König gives a full body jerk, spine snapping ramrod straight, and right next to you, the LED light on the aircon unit clicks on.

It wheezes to life, a tortured rattle. You're the first to feel the break from the heat and humidity, cool air on your thighs. There's no relief in it. 

The lamp at the bedside flickers, casting a wan white glow. 

König turns his trigger finger. It's as small a motion as he can muster, hooking it at you. The meaning is obvious. 

Come. 

Slowly. 

When the rattle of the aircon dies, the lamp brightens, holds steady. Its glare backlights you, throws your shadow across König's front, but you see in color again. black, gray, khaki, yellow, the faded bleach tears streaking down his sniper hood from the eyeholes— and his wide blue eyes, unblinking. 

The outlet at your side crackles, an over-surge of power coming alive in its terminals. Smells like burning dust. No more than a foot from you now. You’d managed half a shuffle step but you plant your feet, suck in a breath, and stop the very air in your lungs. Would that you could stop your heart, too, beating frantically against your ribs like a flopping, dying bird. And you realize at last just how long it takes for seconds to go by. 

Pressure clamps down. 

It settles in your chest and you only have room to breathe out but not back in. An iron band hitches tighter by fractions of inches around your ribcage when a stilted, tiny burst of air leaves your nose. Your cartilage pop-pop-pops down the line of your sternum, floating rib tightens on your liver. You gag on a grunt.

It feels like you're underwater. Your ears stop up and darkness pulses at the corners of your vision. Lets you keep your eyesight, so you can watch König search your face, fingers twitching, head jerking with miniscule movements. 

It twists around your heart and your lungs in the wet blackness of your bone and muscle and tissue. If it wanted to, it could split you open as fast and easy as blinking, and the fact you aren't staring at a pile of your own steaming entrails means it doesn't want to— yet. 

König is considering something stupid; you see that familiar look in his eyes. You mouth, Don't. 

It skitters back up your aorta, out of the pit of your gut it'd crawled into. 

And then it drops you. Your knees crack on bare subfloor. 

The outlet bursts in red sparks. The television on the dresser flashes a grinning weathercaster frozen in time before it cuts to black once more, and the LED clicks on and off and the lamp goes dark. Maybe the woosh you hear like the bone-rattling passing of a freight train isn't the sound of blood finding its way back through your veins, because Terry and König both duck and cringe from nothing as it seems to pass right by them. Over them. Through them. 

Your partner recovers faster.

“Heilige Scheiße, you fucking lived!” König rushes forward, kneeling before you and crowding you. 

A monstrous headache blooms in your temples. You're gasping air without any relief from a feeling, a fucking feeling, that it has touched you, and maybe, maybe something bad will still happen to you because of it. 

“Fuckin’ carry her, we need to get the fuck out,” Terry says. His voice is indistinct in the background of your still-ringing ears, and König right in front of you, still trying to get you to stand on her own two feet instead of sitting on the floor like a fresh, limp kill. 

And then it ends. Whine and static, like shutting off a radio. You surface. Everything is too sharp. Too loud. 

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße,” König mutters, defaulting back into German. His black-red eyes stare deep into yours. Has to get close enough for you to feel a faint warmth that spreads through his hood and your balaclava to see whatever it is he's looking for in the low light. Probably pupils, you figure. Might suspect head trauma of some kind, with how you're slack and apathetic. 

You pull back. Your voice is strange and shaky in your ears when you mumble, “‘m fine. I'm fine.” If you say it enough, you'll convince yourself. 

“You can walk?” 

Behind him, an ember thinks about becoming a fire on the damp peeling wallpaper by the outlet where it'd sparked, smoking and glowing. 

You stand to make sure you still can. Good enough. He hovers with his hands spread near your waist but doesn't touch yet. He'd heft you and your gear and your rifle without batting an eye, if needed, yoke you over his shoulders and packmule you through hell and back. But you won't ask him to. 

You think of the firefighters' boots in Chernobyl. Stacked high, boots without feet in the basement because no one knew what else to do with them. Blood-cursed with something beyond sight, beyond perception, only a taste of metal in the mouth promising what's to come, ruination down to the cells. You are the monument of leather in the dark, and he doesn't know what will happen to him if he touches you. 

He shakes your shivering shoulder. “Come on. Can almost taste a good shower, now, ja? We'll get you to the safehouse.” 

You can only smile, weak and watery. “Ja,” you echo.

“That's a girl,” he tries to repeat that phrase you'd taught him. Atta girl. Doesn't quite get it right, but it's the thought that counts. You let out a tiny, misery-soaked laugh, while he packs up to breakout. 

Terry's at the window, facing away.

The column of red light through the gap in the curtains swells around his silhouette, opaque like a dense mist, and it bleeds in the gaps where his arms hang limp at his sides. König doesn't notice, passing you the case so he can have the deadbolt and his rifle ready, but you do. 

“Terry,” you prompt. You slur it, tongue like cotton against your palate, but you're sure you said it loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't move. “Comin’?” 

He shakes his head, whips away from the window. “Yeah,” he insists, mutters it. “Yeah. Coming.” 

You hum in your throat, and you scrutinize him. He's all frenetic, jumpy energy now. The way everyone first is when they enter the Zone. Big cosmic questions no one can answer, so the ones that last keep their heads down, and they do not look up. 

Terry shuts the curtains, and the red light is shuttered out. And you look away. 

[ryuudraws]

A break from training

[sleepinglionhearts]

Comics about work

[inthismomentyouareloved]

you connected the static song to wally darling too?! omg :0

YEAH!!! Did you also? :o Thought there were so many parallels between the Miku in the song and Wally...

Audience companion from a [lost/forgotten] children's television show, from the latter half of the 1900s, who is (very) attached to the viewer, associated with the color red, THE EYES!! THE WHOLE THING ABOUT THE EYES!!, things not being as they should, the isolation themes ... how they just want to be your friend...

[lumiereandcogsworth]

this is kinda vague cause I don’t have any specific question in mind but can you talk about lumiere and adam’s relationship? just ,, anything about them? cause lemme tell youuuuuuuu something 🫵🏻 I think about that fic where he performs a magic trick for little adam all the time

SCREAM!!! the fact that you think about that fic so much makes me SO HAPPY😭 i ADORE adam & lumi’s relationship so YES LET’S GET INTO IT BABEY!

for starters, i headcanon that they’re 11 years apart. i did this because dan stevens and ewan mcgregor are 11 years apart, lmao. but i also think it makes sense! so i didn’t feel like altering that.

they met when adam was 4, and lumiere was hired as a 15-year-old footman. i think they liked each other instantly. lumiere’s jovial/loud/playful personality perfectly filled in all the gaps of adam’s terrible shyness. queen renée liked him, (she was only like. 6-7 years older than him) and he reminded her of her own younger brothers, whom she dearly missed. this helped adam trust lumiere quicker, as lumiere ended up spending extra time with him.

like in the fic you’re referring to, lumiere quickly picked up on how regularly adam needed to be rescued. mrs. potts filled him in on the severity of the situation here, and how it’s been like this since he was born, so lumiere became pretty protective of adam. he’d try to distract him and pull him out of reality as much as he could. cogsworth was always on the fence about it, because on the one hand, he wants to follow the rules and obey the king’s orders that servants aren’t supposed to be friendly with the family. but on the other hand, he cared about little adam too, and he was glad, in THIS case, that lumiere was so good at being sneaky

a couple years later, plumette joined the crew as a young maid. lumi fell for her INSTANTLY, and they became besties very quickly. she, too, of course, felt so badly for the little prince. she also became trusted by queen renée (who was alwaaysss rooting for those two — she’d get their schedules rearranged so they could work together or get days off together, and even find secret rooms to allow them alone time. she’s the OG plumiere shipper😤)

ANYWAY, my point there is that lumi and plumette very much became the big brother & sister that adam very much needed. they both played with him as much as they could. they’d go for walks with him in the garden when his mother was occupied, they’d race boats across the pond. lumiere would give him piggy back rides around the castle and adam would actually laugh sometimes!! he was so,., not very expressive as a kid. especially not happy emotions. so it always melted their hearts when they could hear his precious little giggle🥹

i’ve mentioned this before i think, but for birthdays and christmas and such, queen renée would send lum and plum to paris to get gifts for adam, since she was often not permitted to leave without the king🙃

lumiere also taught adam how to play chess!!!!! he also taught him some “special moves” (cheating) that guarantee (he’s cheating) victory every time😎 (he taught him how to cheat because beating cogsworth is funny). but he still knows (and never forgets!!!) the basics!!

when the queen got sick… ough. everyone was just trying to take care of adam as much as they could. which wasn’t enough At All, but it was all they could do. and when she died? OUGHDKFJSKJ!!!!!!!! adam was 9 (and a half), lumiere was 20. everyone (except the king 🤬🔪) is very very very sad.

adam would have really really awful nightmares, following her death. he’d wake up screaming and sweating and panicking. he’d cry and just entirely be unable to calm down. lumiere soon learned about this and started sneaking to the west wing at night and sleeping in the hallway outside of his room. and then when he’d hear adam wake up, he’d come in and try to soothe him best he could. he’d climb onto the bed and sit beside him and hold him tight until the crying turned to whimpering. adam would mumble “where is she? where’s mama? i want mama” and lumiere would shush him gently and try to keep him calm and pet his hair, telling him to go back to sleep.

the king soon found out about this (he had too many RATS working for him😤) and forbade it, putting a guard outside adam’s room so no one was allowed in during the night. (and sometimes louis would force him to stay in there during the day too! if he was being particularly difficult (having autistic meltdowns or just in general Being An Autistic And Depressed Child) and no one could control him🙃)

anywaaayyyyyy this is the beginning of the many cracks and fractures that would come to their friendship. adam is sent to boarding school in the fall and he just gets more closed off, angry, sad, you name it! from here. it’s not a 180 flip though. the first few years when he comes home for breaks, he’s still drawn to lumi & plum and still leans on them. i have a sweet fic from when he was 11 that’s 🥹🤧 a precious moment amidst the terribleness. and it’s more lumi doing card tricks!! hehe!! he’s an entertainer, what can i say?🤩

by the time he’s a teenager though there’s basically nothing between them. his father beat him enough times to Stop Talking To Them that he just finally gave up trying. and when his father dies just before adam turned 16, it’s all a mess. adam’s completely cold with all of them. he’s been away most of the time the last 6 years because of school so when he does come back and Stay at the castle, he just really makes it his domain. he invites all the awful friends he’s made in the cities, he creates his corrupt and awful court, he indulges and drowns in his self-loathing. all that good stuff 🙃

and where does it leave lumiere? heartbroken with the rest of the gang. feeling like they failed him. which is so hard because it’s like!!! they did as much as they COULD. if they did any more, if they were less sneaky, less careful, they’d have lost their livelihoods! and they couldn’t risk losing their work OR leaving adam to truly fend for himself. so they settled for the brief moments they could each spend with him, desperately hoping it would be enough for him to turn out like his mother, instead of his father😭

but of course. we know how the story goes. during the curse it’s interesting because he’s just stuck with them. like there’s no other people he could distract himself with. he’s stuck with them!!! and he clearly still listens to them, at least to a degree. i really love the scene where he sees a place setting for belle at the table and he gets PISSED and yells “LUMIERE!!!!!!!!!” and goes to talk to him. and he’s all pissy and grumpy but he’s still talking to him!! and cogsworth!! and mrs. potts!! it’s just so complicated!!!! like it’s not like he’s FORGOTTEN how much they meant to him, it’s just that his mind and heart are so DEEPLY clouded by the trauma of growing up with his father and the anger that he still feels for him, and himself! because of him! AGHGHH!!!

but you know what scene kicks so much ass??? THE ADAM & LUMIERE HUG!!!!!!!!!!! i’ve already perfectly elaborated on it here, and idk if i’ll ever be able to elaborate on it again because it usually just makes me go GJSKFHWKDHWKDHSKSJ!!!!!!!!!!! but that hug is just. CRAZY. “HELLO OLD FRIEND” ??????? i’m gonna throw myself into the sun. adam calling lumiere his old friend is genuinely one of the reasons i fell so FREAKING hard for this film seven years ago. what a line. what a scene. THE IMPLICATIONS OF IT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! adam’s cold heart is thawed and is full of LOVE and he HUGS HIS OLD FRIEND, THE ONE WHO WAS LIKE A BROTHER TO HIM, THE ONE WHO PLAYED WITH HIM AND WIPED HIS TEARS AND HELD HIM WHEN HE JUST WANTED THE WORLD TO SWALLOW HIM WHOLE. THATS HIS OLD FRIEND!!!! ADAM LOVES LUMIERE SO SO SO MUCH 😭😭😭

gosh… anyway, as a last, lovely, note. they of course become such best friends. after the curse, they have a couple deep talks that are so Good for them both, but especially adam. and adam learns how to confide in him, how to trust him again. they play billiards and pass the time! they play chess and adam “wins” and lumiere’s like hey dude i thought we AGREED we were only gonna use those moves on COGSWORTH!!! also lumiere becomes his valet for many years, so they’re just always chattin about one thing or another. (it’s usually court gossip though. lumiere being a servant has ALL THE TEA☕️).

they become fathers together, their children grow up together. heck! they become fathers-in-LAW together!! juliette ends up marrying lumiere & plumette’s eldest son, sebastian!!! :”) (and reecy & their younger child xavier are BEST FRIENDS😤 which is also VERY IMPORTANT‼️) their families are just forever intertwined. even before the marriage, they really are family. in a modern suburban au, i just KNOW they’d be neighbors having barbecues at each other’s houses all summer 🤧 anyway it’s just so beautiful man!! adam and lumiere just have such an important bond. they’ve Truly been through thick and thin. it’s such a sweet love, to have a friend as wonderful as they have in each other 🥹

[reminiscentrainclouds]

You guys ever feel trapped? Yea I'm well-acquainted with the feeling of being trapped.

[transslyblue]

it is dangerous to promote unverified fundraisers! marryum-aljabill/Murryum Al Jabill/Marryum Al Jabill is a scammer. they previously linked to a known scam paypal account, and then edited their paypal link out of their post once people caught on

what's more, the only pictures posted on their gogetfunding link are taken from these three articles

https://www.timesofisrael.com/uk-charities-urge-government-to-welcome-gazans-with-family-ties-in-britain/ https://www.channelnewsasia.com/world/israel-hamas-war-gaza-talks-truce-ramadan-mossad-netanyahu-4184131 https://dppa.un.org/en/un-chief-calls-israel-to-spare-civilians-more-suffering-gaza

https://www.tumblr.com/justforyouu/753745959576535040/this-is-a-scam-this-user-has-not-been-vetted-by?source=share

would you mind deleting their scam from your blog, or clearly labeling it as a scam so it doesn't spread to others?

please familiarize yourself with the posts of some current scammers while they are still under these usernames: fancystudentyouth, smwitais, glitteryfesthaks, tacofriends, millicah, mallycahs-blog, holiyfarrtfatuma, nuttydestinieallli, dutfullydeepdreamlland, beatriceegiveer, nako700, marryum-aljabill, kawaiipeachpainter, burningvoidbird, chieffurygiver

i really recommend looking at their pinned posts in order to better recognize scams, not just using this list as a blocklist, because once they are terminated they each will immediately remake their scams under a new username

I literally didn't know.

I don't have the energy, time, or knowledge to verify every single gofundme and donation link. So I am no longer going to reblog any of them unless it's a master post of them.

If I get any asks about sharing donation links, I'm sorry. I'm not going to and will delete the asks because I literally can not verify it. Again, at this point I'm only going to reblog long master posts of verified donation links.

[tfasiren]

tfuc returns to mind one final time I NEVER EVER TALKED ABOUT THE WRECKERS I NEVER TALKED ABOUT THOSE CHARACTERS THATS FUCKED UPPPP i never shared anything abt springer or whirl or moonracer wtfffff I NEVER SHARED THE SPRINGER AND TARN DYNAMIC WHAT WAS I THINKINGGGG

[indefiniteavatar]

So basically, in a case about him shoving money at someone so they shut up about him. . .he can’t shut the fuck up himself. I would say something clever and funny here, except the sad part is that this is just so normal in current politics that it’s just. . .not hilariously absurd behavior anymore? Not to say that it’s not absurd - it is beyond such, but it is just. . . predictable, I suppose.

I guess this is how I feel about politics lately? Either I get mad at everything or I try to laugh at everything and normally that works because politicians usually aren’t so tragically stupid so very often, but now I just kinda have to chuckle at the particularly eyeroll worthy things like this, and try to ignore everything else or my brain will explode.

[greatandholypangolin]

so whenever DDVAU comes out I screenshot everything that makes my brain itch and then send it to my friends with an explanation of why the particular bit makes me happy and I was looking through my scrumped list and I was like “oh wait, artists (@kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 in this case) actually like knowing what people think and like about your art especially specific details maybe possible perhaps” so I’m being brave and pasting exactly what I said to my friends into here with no rewriting for the sake of keeping them as my raw thoughts. Let the post go where it does I guess (all art is from DDVAU if that wasn’t obvious)

Favourite faces collection (impeccable art style that I will never stop complimenting oh my god I love all of the lil fellas)

I like the little pinky/yellow tones or tint or smth it all seems so peaceful and domestic and a little warm and it’ll be absolutely fine and lovely and sweet slice of life for the whole comic right? right? right? right? right? right?

Already said I love how they’ve designed speaking over. It’s just so effortless and clear idk. Also little note of appreciation for grian’s hand, that’s a shitfuckery perspective and a very well drawn hand. Also really realistic and fluid pose?? They’re just incredibly believable characters and movements, sometimes I genuinely forget they’re still frames and not an animation when I think about it. Do you think they actually pose and use that as a reference or do they just know exactly who their blorbos are and how they present themselves without actually acting it out???? Geniuses. Geni-i. Like octopi but. ok I’ll leave I know when I’m not wanted

Look at this happy and relaxed guy with his cousin he’s so himself and at ease. Seeing grian happy and human and totally himself means so much to me (favourite faces collection)

Favourite faces collection

HI CORNER GEM I HOPE YOU FEEL LOVED (me) (I’m the one) (ily corner gem) (and centre gem presumably idk she’s not here)

I know it’s tango. You know its tango. I don’t even need to say it. Camptain ombvious. however I am very happy they included ranchers thank you doody and maru sending you angels wherever you may be

Oh he could be a father so good I don’t usually see things and go “they’re parental potential”, not because they wouldn’t, it just isn’t something that crosses my mind. He, however, would make a great father and this frame made that thought fizz into my head

Thoroughly enjoyable section, made me smile

Love love LOVE how the thing grips the actual corner of his comic panel as it drags itself forwards

I’ve never not been in awe of this comic, but this is one of those times I’m especially in awe. Hi. Hello. Hi.

Love how the room zoom out was used, he looks so isolated and quietly afraid even though you don’t see his face, especially with the speech bubbles drifting around like that. Very well designed top tier 10/10

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.