#I try and think of mobility workarounds for my

[theartingace]

What’s your opinion on centaurs vs stairs. How (un)successfully do you think they’d try and get up and down stairs?

ohh I think it would depend entirely on the stairs, but they would be able to manage most stairs, depending on the setting and what kind of hooves they have! As obviously a draft-type taur may have more trouble keeping their big ol dinnerplates gripped onto some narrow stairs than a mini would with their delicate little tippers who could probably manage stairs that would give humans trouble!

But I think the biggest factor would be how steep they are, if you want to make sure any centaur will be able to climb your stairs, just make em shallow and then they're only slightly more slippy than rough terrain!

but the steeper they go past 45 degrees or so and you're closing in fast on a ladder, and we've already established how that goes for centaurs (NOT GOOD. TOO MANY LIMBS)

[virydia]

Hi! so sorry to bother u lol and i’m sorry if you’ve already answered but what app do you use to draw? I finally saved up and have an i pad and pencil and i was gonna get procreate and i saw it was 13$… i dont mind getting it if it’s worth it but is it? Do you use it? If not then what app would you recommend? This is my first time digitally drawing btw i’ve drawn on paper before! Also honestly any tips on general on drawing digital would mean a lot! :) thank you and i hope you fave a fabulous day! 🫶🫶🫶

My such high praise 🫣 thank you so much!!

I’d say procreate is very much worth it! Though I do have some qualms about it such as it’s limited layers (depending on your canvas size) and the fact that you can’t select/edit a group (you have to do it individually, but there are workarounds)

Another one you can try is ClipStudioPaint, I don’t personally use it but my friend does and what’s cool is that if you have it on pc, from what I’m told you can connect your account on mobile and pc for a cross platform situation

Aside from procreate I also use PaintToolSai2 for pc when I’m streaming and I usually have like 50+ layers per artwork, so it was definitely a huge adjustment when I first started using procreate 😂

As for tips, definitely find references if you can! I usually use a 3D app called poseit (mobile) or posemyart (web) and it has helped me significantly! (My 3D animator ass can’t live without them now 🥲) though I don’t always follow the pose I make to a T, it’s there to help me visualize the bits and pieces I can see in my brain 😂

My process usually goes like this:

vague Shitty thumbnail —> reference/3D posing —> art

But honestly my best advice is just keep drawing and have fun with it, no need to think too much, never stop learning new things and if you have a hyper fixation that’s even better 😂

[kaeyx]

my brain is on a blender trying to get the most juiciest idea about the poly!yan!beast skk DON'T DIE ON ME NOW LEO ARE YOU SAYING DAZAI WOULD CONVINCE CHUUYA TO CUT OFF YOUR LE- [gets shot]

Btw i'm trynna mix this with your idea of reader with amnesia, so reader would be more willing to it i guess (because if chuuya and dazai kidnapped me I'll be more than happy, LET'S BE REAL HERE)

Man I have half a fic/drabble/snippet/thought/whatever about you working for Beastzai then one day you hit your head and he immediately swoops in and starts lying to you telling you during the weeks you don't remember you warmed up to him. Because it's exactly the kind of unethical desperate loser move he'd pull and I LOVE it.

Anyway ahem yes to me y!Beastzai is exactly the kind of guy to use straight up amputation to make sure you don't leave him. Because there's no threat of you running if it's physically impossible! Problem solved! But I'm not sure Chuuya would be entirely on board at first. Until Dazai convinces him or you try to run away, and then he agrees to go through with it. They'd take the best care of you though! Especially now that you can't do it yourself. Brushing your teeth and hair, washing and feeding you, dressing you up (but only sometimes, you're mostly naked bc they think it's cute how you can't cover yourself up). Massaging away phantom pains and carrying you everywhere, you can have anything you like! As long as it's not a wheelchair, or mobility aids of any kind. Even if you could find a workaround for many tasks, they keep an eye on you always to make sure you don't. No getting up from bed, they'll carry you. No trying to feed yourself, they'll spoon feed you. Etc.

[astridellejo]

My Voice Is Broken So I Don't Use It Anymore What is the Search Term for That?

I began losing functionality of my voice about three years ago. It would happen for a few days at a time, usually when the seasons started to change so I just assumed it was some kind of perfectly normal seasonal hoarseness. It happened to me again in September 2023, but this time it stayed way longer than a few days. It has now been five months since my voice stopped working and I don't think it's coming back. It got on a plane to Peru and said, "See ya!" I've written about my voice loss in previous posts which you can read here and here.

Now that can no longer use my voice like I used to, I've been trying to find some level of community online. Because it turns out, just creating OCs that can't speak, or have difficulty speaking, isn't as fulfilling as I hoped it would be. Curse my needs for occasional social connection! The trick to finding community online is to figure out the correct search terminology that will help get me connected to others.

I started with "spasmodic dysphonia" because that's what the ENT specialist told me I have. Found some information but very few people. I expanded to "laryngeal dystonia", which didn't really take me much further. It did inform me, however, that a panel of experts decided it is the preferred term over "spasmodic dysphonia". Then I thought since I don't talk anymore, I could try using "nonverbal" as a search term. It got me a whole bunch of information on autism, but I am not autistic so that's not going to be the right search term for me. (I am ADHD though.)

So then I thought, "Okay, what is the most generalized concept I could use that is still reasonably accurate to my issue here?" The term "mute" is an option I suppose, but it might be a little too general. Plus it has some negative connotations. Even the dictionary says it's "dated or offensive" in terms of describing someone who cannot speak. Eventually it dawned on me I could simply use "speech disorder" as a search term. I didn't use it at first because I didn't think it was accurate, but I gave it a try. Hey! Look! There's my people!

I'm Astrid. I'm almost 50 (whoa). I have laryngeal dystonia and lost use of my voice only five months ago. Yes, communication now is more challenging, but I'm finding workarounds. And ya know, I actually quite enjoy not talking. I'm learning ASL (American Sign Language) and I absolutely love it! I use my phone to write messages if needed, or good old fashioned pencil and paper whenever I feel thumb typing might take too long.

So if your ability to speak is impeded in some way and/or you use alternative forms of communication for whatever reason, from a pencil and paper, to an AAC device, to sign language, I see you! I finally found the right search term and I see you! You rock!

[image description] Hipster Ariel wears thick-framed black glasses, a green scarf around her neck, a lavender shirt, and a matching lavender starfish in her side-braided red hair. From her right ear hangs a bespoke dinglehopper earring. Ariel sweeps her hair over her left shoulder revealing on her right shoulder a stylized tattoo of a seahorse. In her left hand she holds up a pink mobile phone with text on it in large letters reading, "voices are overrated". [/image description]

[blaiddfailcam]

A couple of tricks for gififying Bloodborne on console

Understandably, not many people bother making gifs of Bloodborne as it still isn't officially on PC, and the workarounds to do so unofficially require a fair bit of hassle that most won't bother with, particularly if it requires purchasing a PS4/Bloodborne Machine for that sole purpose. To think one of the most visually enthralling games ever made is utterly without even a mod for photo mode... It makes my head shudder.

Thankfully, I'm a weirdo who finds joy in manipulating the camera on console versions anyway, because I was always too lazy to get a PC for the like 3 game series I care to play. So here are a few insights I've uncovered in my first few hours of reabsorbing the colorful (metaphorically speaking) sights that Yharnam has to offer.

Wall-crouch, the Ol' Reliable

Just like in Elden Ring, standing near a wall in Bloodborne and then hunkering down so the Hunter is out of view allows for some wide FOV shots. Unlike Elden Ring, however, FromSoft hadn't devised a foreground object transparency effect, which can be somewhat irritating at times, but on the other hand allows for some fun perspectives.

Also unlike Elden Ring, there's no crouch button. This means one has to resort to the "Sit" and "Prayer" gestures, which are painfully slow when trying to capture enemies or transitory environmental hazards.

Damn you, OTS monocular

The monocular is Bloodborne's equivalent of Dark Souls' binoculars or Elden Ring's telescope, but with some choice differences. For one, it doesn't put you into first-person perspective, but rather into an extremely zoomed over-the-shoulder, meaning the bottom and right of the frame are constantly obfuscated by the Hunter's shoulder and head, and any two-handed weapon will block the view entirely.

However, there are a couple of caveats. The player still has all the same gameplay functionality while in monocular mode, with the exception of running or locking on. This means that wherever they stand, the player can once again use the "Sit" or "Prayer" gestures to drop the Hunter out of view, making those close-up shots of smaller environments and objects once again feasible without having to crop out the Hunter and wind up with a muddy gif. (Again, this is a clunky method that doesn't work terribly well for enemy encounters, but it's not entirely impossible.)

Bless you, OTS monocular

As mentioned, the player retains a good deal of mobility in monocular mode, making it possible to record panning/dolly shots with a careful mind for how to hide the Hunter's shoulder. If the player moves to the right, the Hunter slides almost entirely out of frame; moving uphill also drops the Hunter out of view, which is handy in a surprising number of places already.

Oh, but be sure to wear form-fitting gear. Having a shot fudged by a feathered tricorn can be frustrating. I suggest sticking to the Foreign Hood or Prospector Hood, as they maintain a trim silhouette while also hiding the Hunter's hair. Also be aware that shouldered parts of trick weapons and stick out past the Hunter's shoulder.

○ ○ ○

That's all I've got for now, but it's been fairly helpful in getting all sorts of new perspectives on a game I've played dozens of times already since 2016 (I was a year late to the party).

You can probably detect hints of the Hunter's presence in some of these gifs, whether I had to keep just a smidgen of their shoulder in view or if the camera staggers with their footsteps, but I kind of like letting those slide sometimes.

I'll be experimenting with consumables later, particularly Pungent Blood Cocktails. Too bad they only work on so many enemies.

Until then...

[bluegekk0]

Is there a place where everything about your AU is, including asks and stuff, or a story? My fanfic brainrot continues and I want to read moreeeee about your AU (Perfectly fine if not, your answers to asks blessing my dash are great)

i'm currently working on a summary that goes over the story and each of the main characters, though it's using tumblr pages so it doesn't seem to work on the mobile app. i have a link to it in my bio if you're curious, but it's barely even started (only wrote a bit of the timeline summary and some of grimm's character page). once i finish writing it all down, i might start thinking of a workaround to the mobile app problem. but it does work in the mobile browser version of tumblr, at least from what i've checked

until that's done, i guess you could try scrolling through all of my ask responses, the tag to that is also in my bio. there is a lot though, so i understand it might be overwhelming. but i can always clarify if you have any questions, so feel free to send more asks! ❤️

[bngrc]

Step-By-Step Guide for Installing and Running Android Mobile Apps on any Mac or Windows laptop

A lot of people don't like the latest Duolingo update and want to go back to the old version. This tutorial will also tell you how to run older, "downgraded" versions of apps.

Search apkpure.com for the mobile app you want to install, and download the apk file for the version you want. Older versions will be listed on that particular app's apkpure page, below the "About" section of the page. If you want the old "learning tree" version of Duolingo, you'll need to download version: [5.65.9] NOTE: If that link stops working just try doing a web search for "duolingo apk 5.65.9"

Download and install the Bluestacks android emulator on your laptop: [Bluestacks website]

Open the apk file you downloaded in bluestacks (it should open in bluestacks automatically). This will install it in your android emulator.

Open the app in your emulator. You might get a screen asking you to update to the latest version of the app. Say no.

Congrats. You're running an android mobile app on your laptop!

.

But wait! Bluestacks isn't compatible with my M1 Mac laptop!

It turns out Bluestacks has yet to come out with a release that's compatible with Mac laptops using the new M1 chip.

Don't despair! There's a workaround.

Search apkpure.com for the mobile app you want to install, and download the apk file for the version you want. (If you want the old "learning tree" version of Duolingo, you'll need to download version [5.65.9])

Download and install Android Studio: [Android Studio website]

When you open the software program you'll get a welcome screen with three buttons labelled [New Project], [Open] and [Get from VCS]. Below those buttons will be a drop down list labeled "More Actions." Go straight to that "More Actions" drop down list, click on it, and select [Virtual Device Manager].

Now that you've opened the Virtual Device Manager, hit the [Create device] button.

Pick a Pixel or Nexus phone as your device. I don't think it really matters which one. I went with the Galaxy Nexus. Once you do that, hit the next button.

You should now have a screen asking you to select a System Image. DO NOT select Tiramisu. That one gave me problems. I went with the S|31|arm64-v8a|Android12.0 release.

Finish creating your device, and it will automatically be added to the Device Manager.

Run your new android phone emulator by hitting the "▶" button in your Device Manager. Your emulator will look exactly like the display screen of whatever phone you chose as your device.

Make sure your emulator has web connectivity. If it's not connecting to the internet, use [this troubleshooting guide] to fix it.

Drag & Drop your downloaded apk file into whatever phone emulator you're running. This will install it.

Open the app.

Congrats. You're running an android mobile app on your laptop!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Inconveniences

My stepfather, holy shit.

So it’s about 8pm my time and I’m about to get a bath and settle for the evening, and phone rings. It’s my stepfather, telling me that the people who apparently screwed up my windows the first time and had to look at the hinges some more on my first day of work-from-home (which was, like, nearly two months ago now) are coming back tomorrow and Thursday, this time to actually do the work. Please note:

I got zero notice about this, and had to move things like plants off the windowsills

I’m working from home basically all the time right now, so I am definitely going to be working when these people are banging around in here

Some of it will be in the study, which means I have to move my work-from-home set-up to the sitting room, which means no music and a worse ergonomic situation

Some of it will be in the kitchen, which means I’m boned if I want coffee or, like, lunch

It is JANUARY, and the temperature’s plummeted again, and I’m going to be having the windows open on a day that, according to the area weather forecast, is going to be 2 degrees Celcius at best. Mostly, though, it’ll be freezing. Literally, 0 degrees Celcius freezing. And I’m having people leaving my windows open

I don’t even know if they’ll be in this flat on Wednesday or Thursday! My stepfather says he’s asking them to start with flat 13, and while they’re sure it’s going to take six hours per flat, he’s convinced it won’t take nearly that long. So if he’s right, it’s on tomorrow. If he’s wrong, it’s Thursday. I DISLIKE UNCERTAINTY

Here’s the stupid part: this is partly the window people’s fault. They keep insisting on calling my stepfather and saying that they’re ready to work the very next day. The reason he doesn’t? “I don’t want to mess around with it”. But he’s entirely happy to mess me about, apparently. The man will not say, “Can I get back to you on that? I need to check with my stepdaughter”, or “Can I get a range of dates and see what works for everyone?” Noooooo; he just accepts what they give him and never mind how that messes with my doings. If I’d had even a day’s more lead time, I could have spoken to my manager and switched around some of my annual leave days so at least this wouldn’t be messing with me while I’m working! (Not that this is a great time to do it, mind you; we are so swampled...) I just hope moving to the living room works because the internet cables aren’t where I need them to be and I think I have a workaround but I’ve never tested it. I should probably do that now, but I don’t really want to move my damn laptop until I have to.

The other really annoying thing is that they would not have been calling him at 8pm. So he must have known for hours before he rang me. He knows my work hours. He knows my email. He knows my mobile number. He knows I’m home most of the time now! He could have taken five minutes to confirm things with me, or at least called right after. But instead he waits until 8pm when half my options for trying to make this less disruptive are unworkable because the work day has ended. (Not that it would have mattered this week anyway since Scruffman was on a half-day and was out of the office while I was logging in for the day, but you get the general idea.)

I have no idea how to say any of this to him. It’s frustrating as hell; he vacillates between “procrastinates for months if not years” and “It will be done NOW NOW NOW according to MY schedule!” and no in-between. I am getting just a little bit sick of it. I mean, at least I know the work is slowly but surely getting done, but ... it’s just annoying.

[fearowkenya]

it's the time of year where I feel very like...boxed in??? okay hold on

so like everyone else who has adhd mine has its own exclusive flavor and weirdness that manifests itself in its own Cute And Quirky Teehee ways that arent universal to everyone w adhd. mine specifically makes it so that the amount of energy / willpower i have to put effort into literally anything is directly proportionate to how much light there is outside. it doesnt have to be SUNNY , just naturally bright.

anyway as you may or may not know im up in canada where it is currently 4:41PM and is nearly dark, and will continue to get darker earlier and earlier until like three quarters through december. so already , not great for me and my fuckign plant-life-wannabe of a brain .

to compound this, i also slow down when it’s cold. that part is normal i think. its not uncommon to want to swaddle yourself in a nest of blankets when temperatures start to drop esp if its like -40 but it DOES make moving around a little more challenging. so like not only do i have to put in the effort to like, do each step of whatever task or activity i am attempting to do, but i also have to pry myself out of Soft Warm Bed which becomes an additional step in making aforementioned whatever the fuck happen. and if u are at all familiar w adhd you know that when the step count gets too high your odds of doing anything other than staring at a wall get slimmer and slimmer unless youve got a damn good workaround for your own brand of brain nonsense

im also one of those ppl who constantly has cold hands , so stuff that requires fine motor skills like art can be tough to start working on when my fingers have the mobility of two fistfuls of freezies.

ive gotten fairly good at finding ways to do things that accommodate my adhd but once winter hits thats when i get boxed in. it’s dark out early, so getting anything done after sunset is like wading thru sludge. then the sludge fucking freezes solid because its cold out, and even if by some miracle im able to like idk draw, my hands feel stiff bc of the cold and makes everything harder. so its like this uphill battle to do fucking Anything when im a sludgecicle. its way easier to do Nothing instead of trying to fight my way out, like the amount of effort it takes is SO frustrating.

‘hey idiot have you tried turning the heater on’ yeah dude i know but i still gotta get outta bed and wait for my fingers to not feel like a bunch of frozen baby carrots before anything gets done, and jsut the thought of that when im nice n warm in blankets is an enormous deterrent and it fucking sucks!!

im super fed up w that happening to me every damn winter so i guess i’ll start to work on throwing together some kinda coping mechanism and hope smth sticks.

since i moved my furniture a while back, my heater is right next to my desk so at least i’ll warm up faster when it starts to be like minus a billion degrees. i have no fucking clue what i am going to do about the uhh (checks notes) reliance that my brain has on the literal actual sun. i have one of those sun lamps that i suppose i can try to use more often?? idk if thats going to trick my brain into thinking it’s actually bright outside so stay tuned i guess. or dont im not your dad

[umflowers]

if anyone is wondering how healthcare in the united states is going, i just spent over an hour playing phone tag bc there's a national manufacturer's back order of one of my medications, victoza i usually get it filled at a different pharmacy than all of my other medications bc that one is located in a hospital that has a 340b federal grant, which lets them dispense certain medications for way cheaper without even going through insurance, bc there's enough poor people living nearby can't get it filled there, the best time table they could give me is 'we're hoping to get some in july, but we're not sure and don't know when exactly' and they put me on a list with more than 100 other people trying to get refills so i call my normal pharmacy, which doesn't have the 340b grant and would have to go through my insurance. they're also on backorder, but she checks her system and goes 'oh! actually it says we have 30 in stock and can order more' so she does and then tells me 'i don't know if we'll actually get any, but if we do it'll come in on monday' so i do a cursory search to make sure there's no discount program from the manufacturer. there is, but you can't have insurance (i do) and have to have diabetes (i don't), so i don't qualify oookay, so time to call my insurance company. her system says the out-of-pocket for one refill would be $150-155 but doesn't say whether that's for a 30 or 90 day supply, and my plan says i'm responsible for 30% of the cost but caps out at $200 and it doesn't matter if that's for 30 or 90 days, so she thinks based on my plan that the $150-155 is for a 30 day supply, and if that's the case i might as well go for a 90 day supply since that'd cap out at $200 anyway and then i have more of the medication in case the shortage continues so they need prior authorization. so i call my doctor's office back, cuz i had called asking for any workarounds, and the best they can do is tell me to use goodrx, which would lower the cost to like $550 (i had already checked) so i give them the info from the insurance company and they're gonna do a prior auth to see if my insurance will cover it (which it may not, since it's technically a diabetes med, which i don't have) even if it is covered, the new approved script will show up in the patient portal for my prescription drug coverage and i have to keep an eye out for it showing up, then i have to call the pharmacy and have them manually fill it, bc it's not communicated automatically so IF my usual pharmacy gets some delivered monday, and IF my insurance company approves coverage, and IF all the paperwork goes through before other people claim all the refills from the possible shipment on monday, and IF i can scrounge up $200, i, a 400+ pound person with a dozen chronic pain-causing conditions that both make it so i can't be mobile enough to lose weight and that weight exacerbates the pain creating an endless cycle, may be able to get one of my medications and if not, i can MAYBE get some the usual way sometime next month, maybe, maybe not, and the pharmacist i spoke to was audibly incensed with me for asking, which i'm gonna guess was fatphobia. in the medical field?! shocker! and all i had to do was play phone tag for an hour and a half with the insurance company that takes $200+ out of every single one of my husband's paychecks for our 'coverage' but i will say, everyone i've spoken to trying to work this out other than that one pharmacist was incredibly kind, helpful, and sympathetic and hey, this is still better than my old pharmacy trying to force me to re-use single-use vials of my arthritis medication and literally screaming at me for telling them they had forgotten to include the methotrexate in my bag of refills, leaving me without the med that helps the most with my pain things are going great

[blahandwhatever]

So I got offered one of the jobs I did assessments for (God I wish every job did assessments, because those are the ones I most often actually get). I don’t think it’s a lot of work, but it’s better than nothing. Ended up spending far longer amounts of time with printers than anticipated - at the library printing my contract and stuff to sign, because my printer hasn’t been printing right for a while, and at home scanning, where I had to set up my printer/scanner software from scratch for the first time since my hard drive died, connect the printer to my mobile hotspot, and deal with malfunctions.

May do an interview for another job next week, though it pays less than I’d like and may have a rigid schedule, so it might not be worth it - but it depends on my level of desperation. I’ll see if I hear back from anyone else.

I’ve lost my internet service, mostly because it’s bundled with TV in a pricey package I haven’t been able to keep up with (or even change to a cheaper package because they don’t allow you to change it if you have a past due balance?!). I’ve actually been perpetually one payment behind since last year, which I unfortunately didn’t catch up on even when I had money. One payment behind doesn’t affect service, but two does. So I’m relying on mobile hotspot now, which there’s generally a limited allowance for, but apparently there are workarounds like using a VPN, so I’m trying that. Worst-case scenario, I get throttled speeds and maybe go to the library sometimes if necessary.

Still hating the Tumblr editor situation, but for now I just want to keep going and have changed the theme to one where de facto text posts don’t look as jarringly different from the old photo posts. Still hoping for a better solution in the future.

The baby birds have hatched, heard but not yet seen, buried somewhere in a dark hole in a nest that’s too high to see without standing on a chair and I don’t want to disturb too much. Between the lack of visibility and having recently learned about the brutality of sparrows, I’m not sure I feel that excited anymore, but it’s still a little something.

I keep sleeping a lot and thinking a lot about my parents. My father came home last weekend, which I honestly wasn’t sure if he would - he was in such a weird, ‘this might be the last time I see you’ sort of state last time I saw him, I thought he might kill himself. I didn’t exactly want that, but there would undeniably be some resolution and relief when it comes to things with my mother. He noticed she’d been watching YouTube videos on narcissists and told her she was the most narcissistic person he’d ever known. She of course felt terrible. I imagined the nightmares that might lie ahead. Imagined different ways to try and get through to my father. Wanted to get so involved, and wanted to stay the hell away so much. I would feel so much more comfortable being frank with my father with a therapist present, because otherwise, I can just imagine the exhausting mess of invalidation and manipulation and shaming and bullshit that things might devolve into. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I increasingly feel I can’t act normal - or what has been established as normal thus far - with my father anymore. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to be fully happy until I know the situation has resolved.

[antiquecheesecake]

Wait...CPTSD type neurodivergence is a thing?? This would explain so much about myself. I searched your blog and couldn't find a whole lot - do you have any suggested resources on learning more about this?

Yes it is! There's a push among psychologists to categorize Complex PTSD as a separate DSM listing than PTSD because it affects the brain and body completely differently. The treatments that are effective are also proving to be very different. Where PTSD is usually traumatic 1 event, CPTSD comes from years of fairly constant and extreme trauma.

There's way too much to cover in 1 post but think about this:

-There's an extremely high correlation between those of us with complex trauma developing autoimmune diseases, severe allergies, or pain issues that resist regular treatment.

-SENSORY ISSUES!! Whether from the trauma itself, panic attacks, or things like allodyna if you're like me & have fibromyalgia, sensory issues are a big deal with cptsd. Some senses may be extremely heightened or dimmed at different times of year nearing anniversaries of traumatic dates. Some senses can become prioritized when we use certain senses to cope.

-Complex trauma affects the way we store memories. Many cptsd survivors have blocked or patchy memory as it relates to their trauma but even retaining day to day memories of things you do all the time like a route you drive for example, can be a struggle. I personally regained memories with treatment and don't struggle with day to day anymore but it's a really common symptom that it's debilitating and not discussed enough. The workarounds needed to live with a fucked up memory alone cause us to live & experience the world differently than most people.

-Living around/with su*cidal ideation from a young age causes most of us to either become hyper spiritual/seeking/open or completely skeptical & cut off. For me I've always been extremely open, visually saw energy, & have paranormal psychic experiences. I personally believe this to be a result of the soul wanting to be away from the body so badly (dissociation) that it seeks sanctuary in the spirit realm as a child (out of body experience) & becomes proficient at traveling between worlds. At a certain point I realized the info I was experiencing this way was consistently accurate & people kept seeking me out for advice. I work as a spiritual coach & intuitive now & literally hundreds of my clients who are proven professionals like me come from trauma backgrounds. Most cultures acknowledge that their most spiritually tapped in people experience a type of "death" or extreme trauma that opens the door to their abilities. This too changes the way day to day life is experienced. & if you're a skeptic that's fine I have zero interest in trying to "convert" someone or whatever. Do what you will, but this part is for anyone else who lives this way.

RESOURCES

Most of the resources I've amassed over the years were direct from a shitton of therapy or specific research books related to the traumatic events I've experienced. I'm uncertain what you're looking for but perhaps any of this could help.

-EMDR was life altering for me. Very tough to go through but extremely healing long term.

-DBT is excellent and helped so much! CBT was a phenomenal waste of time & $ for me personally.

-Finding anyone who is for real trauma informed is very difficult, everyone says they are but most are not. Be diligent in asking if they specialize in childhood trauma or more specifically whatever your experience in that was if you know.

- most helpful for me - getting a service dog! I bought and owner trained mine.. He is 7 now & a complete angel in a dog suit. Panic attack interruption, blocking, DPT, & light mobility are the most important tasks but honestly he's brought me so much healing & safety. Having a dog helped me accept myself finally. I have a lot to say about SDs but you'll have to really think it through because the amount of work & $, unwanted attention, and dealing with the public's bullshit behavior is really exhausting. This life isn't for everybody.

BOOKS

This book is written by a psychologist who specializes in treating complex trauma, especially focusing on the physiological (mind and body) effects and how those of us who have this experience the world totally differently than folks who aren't trauma survivors.

Some other books that helped me:

This one was very clinical and written for professionals not survivors but a good resource for sure

Don Miguel Ruiz books are easy to find, cheap or possibly free somewhere who knows, & helped me understand the inner critic and how to have kind relationships.

Thich Nhat Hanh - Anger - Wisdom for Cooling the Flames - Terebess https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh%20-%20Anger%20-%20Wisdom%20for%20Cooling%20the%20Flames.pdf

Free PDF of this book about anger. Really helped me!

Anyway I think this may have been in my inbox for a very long time. I forgot asks exist here to be honest 🤭 but I will try to keep up with it now. Happy healing 💞

[hangmanssunnies]

When I tell you, I’m insane about this story. I meant it. The mobile app literally did not let me add all my screenshots. They wanted to limit me to 10? Absolutely not; I had more things to comment on, and I was going to do it. So I found a workaround so I could attempt to explain how enthused I feel about this fic.

I loved this second part so much. I loved all the different aspects we got to see of Cross and Coyote. I loved seeing them with his mama, I loved seeing them as friends, and I loved seeing them take the first steps into actually being more together. I adored every moment. I once again felt like I wanted to highlight every sentence.

Very long thread of thoughts below.

I don't think I said it last chapter, but Cross is so cool for doing this for Javy. Yes, I know she is in love with him, but still. Pretending to be dating someone ( who you are very in love with) would be rough, and Mrs. Machado is so clearly so wonderful, it would be hard to knowingly lie to her. Also, seeing Javy again after that kiss the night before would be ... a lot. So, I completely understand Cross being nervous.

Oh, I am giggling!! Javy is distracted by the pretty girl in his car. Our man is checking her out! Checking over his shoulder or getting a better look? 👀👀👀 I know he can be more eloquent, but he is probably trying to hard to think respectful thoughts right now.

Oh, to be complimented by Javy Machado. 😍😍😍 I was ready to blush when he said the dress was nice, then to be actually complimented !!!! I would scream. I would be flustered. Yes, Cross is right. I wholeheartedly believe that he would be complimenting his girl all the time. I think one of the things I enjoy most about how you write Coyote is that he is so open and honest. I definitely would never stand a chance knowing him. Glowing from his compliments!!! I'm sorry I think I'll cry.

Oh goodness, this moment destroyed me. Wrecked me!! In several ways, actually. First of all, I knew that Cross winning darts when they first meant something to Javy. It was wonderful to have the confirmation here. The concept that Javy might not be great at taking praise actually wrecks me here. All of these little mannerisms you add in are phenomenal. How he starts ripping up the straw! and leg bouncing!!! I very much love him and want to give him all the compliments in the world and tell him just how amazing he is.

My breath caught on the "it was to me" line. The effortless honesty that these two share is so special. Cross wanting him to know that because it's true. That felt so natural!! They are clearly soooo enamored with each other, getting lost in themselves right in front of his Mama!!! A JAW CLENCH !!!! 🥵😵‍💫Please excuse me while I go scream.

HE NOTICED HER !!! fuck me UP !!!!

Javy is so cute retrieving his Mamas scarf, actually. 🥹🥹🥹 I love him so so so so much. Also, I think I gasped when his phone background was a picture of the two of them. Something tells me that definitely wasn't part of this little ruse.

I loved everything about the shenanigans of the wing eating contest. Seeing them have fun together like that!! Javy has an amazing heat tolerance, I loved that detail. I love him. I love them together. They have obviously been so wrapped up by each other for a long time now.

screaming, crying, throwing up, and crying again. She grabs his shirt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank god Javy's a gentleman. Seeing Cross in his shirt I'm sure did some things to him. Also, I am obsessed that he came right back to her house to check on her and see her. The fact that he was worried. I love him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He is polite in putting his cup in the sink!! The little details you add in about Javy really make this fic pop in the best of ways. I love him so much. I don't know what I expected him to say but it wasn't that, I literally gasped. Javy said that and it felt so absolutely right that he did because it has always meant something though hasn't it? They have always meant something to each other from the start. I was already wrecked at this point... I have no idea how I made it through the rest of this chapter.

hot hot fuckk fhiajjfa;j HOT. I know that these comments are getting progressively incoherent, and honestly, Javy is completely to blame. You just wrote him as so so so damn attractive. So damn adorable !!!

I'm sorry... HOT !!! The tension between these two absolutely sizzles off the text. The fact that he isn't even touching her here!! Javy doesn't even need to touch to make me feel like I'm going to go crazy. Cross is so strong for not melting in place here. YEAH JAVY YOU RIGHT THERE IS NO WAY IT WAS JUST GOOD. I am so glad that he feels that way too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🫶🫶🫶

My brain goes BRRrrr. I think that maybe part of Javy loves that Cross is the one who kissed him first. His smile🫶 🥹 The Fact that he is wearing a henley is so hot, actually. A phenomenal reminder so great!!! This kiss is everything to me. Sana, your descriptions are so damn good. Javy is beautiful; thank you for writing him that way. When he kissed her knuckles, I might as well have passed away.

SNUGGLES OH WOW!!! SNUGGLES !! This man is really going to drive me actually insane. I love him so much. I also really liked that they both have this need to be close to each other now that they can. While they both obviously have a sexual attraction, that's not all their relationship and connection is. Also, SNUGGLES? Fuck it's just so cute; I need to take a breather. I would beg for cuddles with him any day of the week.

I adored that he doesn't want Cross to change out of his shirt. Further proof that seeing her in his shirt is affecting him. I like how this is easy for the two of them because they know each other while simultaneously being something new and nerve wracking. I would be so buzzed being that close to Javy. Then when they finally settle together, I was very heart eyes.

Javy's back story was so sad, and oh so real to me. I was so sucked in and affected that I couldn't even screenshot any quotes. I was so close to tearing up that I had to power through and not dwell. However, it was so so phenomenally well-written and interesting. Fantastic writing. Your brain!! 🫶😍

As I said, Javy's story with his ex made me emotional. THIS RIGHT HERE BROKE ME. BROKE ME, I SAY!!!!! I want to kiss him for the rest of eternity. He is wonderful. He deserves the heaven and the earth. I am so so so so happy Cross stopped him and said these things to Javy. She is absolutely right. Javy trying to act like he was the one completely in the wrong, was ridiculous because, as we know, Javy is a wonderful man. So thank goodness Cross immediately went to try and set things straight. It's what he deserves, and I can see how well they fit together because it's also what he needs.

Crying for real now... they... them...

"YOU'RE NOT SELFISH FOR ASKING SOMEONE TO LOVE YOU ... AND I THINK YOU DESERVE SOMEONE WHOM YOU DON'T HAVE TO ASK."

Sana!! POP OFF. This went so hard. When I say real tears were shed, I meant it. An absolutely beautiful, wonderful sentiment for anyone, but in reference to Javy... absolutely transcendent. He does deserve that kind of love. He isn't selfish. He is good, honest, kind, and smart.

Thank you for writing and sharing this wonderful story. I am messed up in the absolute best ways. Honestly, you could have ended this fic here, and I would have loved it forever. So the fact that you have two more parts planned is so exciting, and I know they are going to thoroughly wreck me with Javy's hotness, sweetness... and sexiness.

your love is the love i need || chapter 2/4

pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross

summary: Cross and Javy continue their charade, try not to think about the kiss, and share secrets of heartbreaks past

warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – even though there is no smut in this chapter, there will be some in the next

length: 7.3k

A/N: once again, thank you to my anons who send inspiration, and the people who let me brainstorm with them @daggerspare-standingby (also ty for beta-ing!) @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @peakyrogers💙

previous chapter

Sunday

It’d been a productive morning, which you were choosing to believe was because you were a productive person.

Absolutely not because if you sat still for more than two seconds you started panicking. 

You cleaned your kitchen—not merely putting away dishes and swiffering the floor, no, you windexed the windows of your kitchen. Outside and inside.

You ran a load of laundry for the dagger squad—after a day of dogfight football and the news that the laundromat on base had flooded, they’d dropped sandy towels, tshirts, and swimsuits off with you, promising to pay you back with coffee.

You made dough for cinnamon rolls—it  took 8 hours to rise in the fridge, and you could have a good answer for “what did you do this morning?” or “and what will you do for the rest of the day?”. And in the absolute worst case scenario, you could use it as an emergency escape plan if required, but you doubted it would come to that.

You turned your closet inside out, trying to decide what kind of image you wanted to present and ultimately deciding on a sundress with a light cardigan. You were wondering if it was too on the nose when you heard a car pull up outside. 

Javy’s mom probably expected him to walk to the door to fetch you and, as fun and confusing as last night had been, that wasn’t how you wanted to start today. You locked your front door quickly behind you, and were sliding into the backseat of the car before Javy was able to get out of the driver’s seat. 

“Good morning!” you sang, wondering if you sounded as fake-happy as you felt. 

“Good morning,” Mrs. Machado said warmly, smiling over her shoulder at you. “What did you up to this morning?”

“Ah, not much,” you lied through your teeth, pulling on your seatbelt. “I did get started on a batch of cinnamon rolls, so that’s exciting.”

“Oh, do you bake much?” she asked.

“Not at all,” you sighed, wanting to lie, but also knowing you’d be doing enough of that today, so the truth slipped out easily. “I was just nervous, so I needed something to do.”

“Sweetie,” Mrs. Machado fully turned in her seat to smile kindly at you, “you don’t need to be nervous! I’m just pleased to have time with you and get to know the other special lady in Javy’s life.”

You smiled back at her like you were reassured, when the opposite was true. You looked nervously at Javy, to find his eyes on you in the rearview mirror. You didn’t recognize the expression on his face, which did nothing to calm the butterflies in your stomach from her words, so you looked away quickly, hoping you hadn’t blown this already.

“That’s,” Javy cleared his throat, checking over his shoulder before he turned the car around, “that’s a great dress.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, flattered that he’d noticed. You supposed you didn’t wear dresses that often around the squad, so it was probably something like a shock. 

“Duckie,” Mrs. Machado chided softly, “you can do better than that.”

“Momma, I don’t need—” Javy grumbled, but broke off when his mother just lifted an eyebrow. His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror again, before they darted down to the reflection of your dress, and up again. 

“You look beautiful,” he said.

And it was three words, three very simple ones, but they settled deep in your skin, the kind of compliment that made the sun shine warmer. Javy looked like he meant them, too, he looked earnest and honest, which was a combination you’d never stood a chance against. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t seem flustered.  After all, surely Javy would give his actual girlfriend compliments like that all the time—but you got the feeling that if he told you the same three words every day for the next fifty years, you’d still glow from them. 

You looked away first again, out the backseat window to watch the car pull over the Coronado bridge. There were runners in the pedestrian lane, bright neon splotches against the bay and the sky, the same shade of gray as the morning mist hovering over the sea. North Island blurred into La Jolla, and Javy dropped you and his mom off in front of Harry’s Coffee Shop, while he looked for a spot to park the car. 

Mrs. Machado linked her arm through yours, as you walked up to the restaurant and asked for a table for three. They seated you at a brown leather booth in the back and you busied yourself with the menu before recognizing Javy’s voice as he spoke to the seating hostess. You expected him to slide in next to his mom, but he sat on your side of the booth, facing her. His arm went across the back of the booth, not quite touching you, but you could feel the warmth of him through the cotton of his henley all the same. 

Mrs. Machado was studying her menu, but the corners of her mouth turned up suspiciously when you pushed your menu towards Javy.

“So,” she asked brightly, once a waiter had come to drop off waters and take your order, “I want to hear your version of how first you met my son.”

Of all the questions she could have asked, you were relieved she’d chosen one that would require little to no embellishment on your part. You glanced at Javy, who was fiddling with the wrapper of his straw, somewhat embarrassedly, before looking back at Mrs. Machado. 

“Well, it was right after I was assigned to this detachment,” you began. “Some guy was being creepy to this girl at a bar, I called him out on it, he wasn’t backing down. Then Javy stepped in, flexed a bit, and the guy was humbled pretty quickly.”

Mrs. Machado’s jaw dropped, looking at Javy. “I thought you met while you were playing darts!”

“We did,” he said stubbornly, and it didn’t surprise you at all that he’d downplayed his role on that night. “She came over and beat Jake—you should’ve seen his face, Momma, it was hilarious.”

“That’s when we met,” you acquiesced. “But my first impression was before that, when this guy was in full Knight In Shining Armor mode.”

“Yeah, call me Lancelot,” Javy joked, winking at his mom, like it was easier to brag than accept praise. He’d started peeling strips in the paper wrapper, a little pile of confetti forming on the glass tabletop. 

“More like Galahad,” you told Mrs. Machado, who looked at you fondly. “No, seriously, it was like something out of a movie. I half expected him to have some John Wayne line like ‘I think you’d better listen to the lady’, something like that.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Javy grumbled, and you shook your head. 

“It was to that girl,” you insisted. “It was to me.” 

You weren’t sure when you’d moved, but your hand was on his forearm, an unspoken emphasis of the weight and meaning behind your words, but you withdrew it quickly. He wasn’t looking at you, but you saw his jaw clench, looking down at the table; you looked back at Mrs. Machado, who was smiling proudly at her son.

“That’s my boy,” she said fondly. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the clear affection between the two. A waiter came by with coffees, cleaning off the table and picking up Javy’s scrap pile. You felt the bench start to shake and you realized he was bouncing his leg—was he nervous? He couldn’t be. His mom seemed like the kindest person, and this story was pretty damn congratulatory. 

But his leg kept moving, and it was making you nervous, so you shifted slightly, your leg resting next to his. You regretted it almost immediately—with his arm almost over your shoulders, and his long leg now pressed against yours, Javy was entirely too close to you for you to be able to complete full sentences. But his leg did still, so you figured that was better.  

“Anyways, darts came after that,” you said, continuing the story. “Jake was beating him pretty embarrassingly, and I’d wanted to say thanks anyways, so I went over and introduced myself.”

Mrs. Machado poured some sugar and cream into her coffee, sliding the sugar jar down the table to you. 

“Well, I’m glad I asked,” she said. “I figured there was more to the story than a bar game.”

“He may not have noticed me before then,” you shrugged, “but that’s when I saw him.”

“I noticed you,” Javy said quietly. 

He didn’t seem to realize he’d said it aloud, but the table was quiet as you and Mrs. Machado stared at him. He looked between the both of you, lifting a shoulder lightly. 

“Come on, are you kidding, of course I noticed you.”

And it warmed you, the same way his compliment in the car, that he’d say something so kind with absolute conviction. A tiny voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn’t real, but his brown eyes held brightness and honesty, so you told that voice to stuff it, and turned back to Mrs. Machado.

“Well, there you have it,” you said, reaching to fix your own coffee.

Mrs. Machado smiled over the rim of her mug, looking between the two of you, before the conversation shifted. You talked about your hometown, what Javy was like growing up, how training was going between missions. 

Safe conversation topics, topics without surprises. 

Maybe that’s why you felt brave enough to lean back a little, relax into the warm leather of the booth, your shoulders brushing against Javy’s arm. Maybe that was why his hand dropped from the back of the booth, his thumb ghosting over the thin material of your cardigan. 

The rest of the meal flew by, and you’d tried to break away after breakfast, but Mrs. Machado had insisted that you come with them as they walked around Balboa Park. So you joined them in playing tourist for the afternoon: picking out glass ornaments in the Spanish Village Art Center, coming up with names for the koi fish in the ponds at the Japanese Friendship Garden, struggling to pronounce Latin names in the Botanical Gardens. 

Your phone died somewhere between the Casa de Balboa and the Old Globe Theater, and so it was Javy’s phone that you handed to strangers offering to take pictures of the three of you. The wind caught Mrs. Machado’s scarf as you were posing by the lily pond; Javy took off to chase it, and the kind tourists held out his phone to you, photo opp deferred. You thanked them, waving apologies for having interrupted their afternoon, as Javy leaned dangerously far over the pond, trying to snag where the scarf had tangled in some bulrushes. 

You swiped through the pictures they’d taken, laughing at the stop-motion effect of the wind blowing her scarf away, but the pictures they got before then were cute. You minimized the camera by force of habit; you didn’t mean to look, but Javy’s background made your heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of the two of you.

Last month.

“This is the dumbest idea any of you have ever had,” Phoenix announced, to a roomful of ears that were absolutely not listening. 

“Yes, but it’s team bonding,” Fritz said, dragging a stack of chairs across the Family Center. “You know how Mav feels about that.”

“THE dumbest idea,” Phoenix reiterated, “and, really, guys, that saying something.”

But she grabbed another stack of chairs. 

Fanboy’s latest comfort youtube content was various Star Wars cast members on Hot Ones—the show where celebrities were interviewed while eating increasingly spicy chicken wings—and as a gag gift, Payback had gotten him a verified box of the hot sauce lineup. One thing had led to another, and now an industrial amount of wings had been delivered to the Family Center, while half the squad was raring to prove that they had the strongest tastebuds.

Or, at least, the most fireproof ones.

“So, Phoenix,” Rooster called, “is that your way of saying you’re not gonna join in?”

“Absolutely not,” she responded. “This is not a question I need answered.”

Everyone laughed, as you arranged chairs around a foldout table. 

“Halo?” Hangman asked, lifting his hands in dismay when she shook her head. “What? Come on.”

“I feel like she’s protecting our dignity,” Bob said, as he carried over a couple gallons of milk and some paper cups. 

Everyone looked at Callie, who smiled slightly.  

“I was raised on Ma La Xiang Guo, guys,” she shrugged, pointing to a sauce with a literal skull and crossbones on the label. “I could brush my teeth with that stuff and be okay.”

“It’s all good,” Hangman said, with an impish smile as he looked between Phoenix and Halo, so you knew what he was about to say was just to goad them into reacting, “we all knew a man was going to win this anyways.”

And apparently it worked. 

Because, without batting an eye, Phoenix announced, “Cross’ll do it.”

Your head whipped around as you heard your name spoken from down the table. “Cross will what now?”

“Welcome to the competition, Crossy,” Jake crowed, slapping a paper plate down in front of you.

You looked down at it. “Guys, I’m not—”

“Feminists everywhere are counting on you,” Phoenix said solemnly. 

“Remember when you said this was a dumb idea?” Payback asked, and she waved a hand at him. 

So that’s how you ended up sandwiched between Rooster and Harvard, eating wings doused with hot sauces that sounded like terrible porn star names, and hoping the lining of your stomach could take it. 

It was fine, and then it suddenly really, really wasn’t. 

Bob tapped out on the fourth one, bless him, and Omaha was out on the fifth. Rooster hung on for a couple more, Payback too, but by the time you were down to the final two sauces, it was you, Fanboy and Coyote. 

“For our penultimate round, ladies and gentleman,” Hangman croaked, his voice hoarse from Da Bomb, the sauce that had knocked him out in round eight, “I present to you—Unique Garlique, by Puckerbutt Pepper Co.”

“That is not the name of the company,” you groaned, your eyes streaming. 

You’d started crying around round six, and had accepted it as your fate. No way were you about to touch your eyes, and sweet Bob stood beside you with a tissue, patting at your face helpfully, but it really was no use. 

“Tragically, he’s not,” Fanboy sighed, dabbing some sauce onto a wing, before passing the bottle to Coyote.

And honestly? Fuck him. Because you were actively weeping, Fanboy was sweating patches into his uniform, and Coyote looked like he’d maybe gone for a light jog. If anything, he was glistening, like some eau de perfume commercial from the early 2000s, and it really was ridiculous. 

He handed the bottle to you, and you grimaced, reading the label. “How does something as innocuous as garlic somehow contain 642,000 Scoville heat units?”

“You can always tap out, if you need,” Hangman teased, and you wanted to flip him off, but that took more energy than you had to spare.

“I want you to know,” you told him, not looking up from the wing that was practically glowing with garlic poison, “that I’m channeling all of my pain into anger at you specifically, and I will win this damn thing on spite alone.”

“The American way,” Coyote said, cheersing his chicken messily into yours with supernatural enthusiasm, and then Fanboy’s. 

You three took a bite.

You three chewed, thinking maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

And then you three saw hell.

You could not drink enough milk, and Natasha was trying to be helpful by fanning you with a notebook, but somehow it felt like that was stoking the spiciness higher. Your mouth felt like it was actively on fire, and you were pretty sure your throat was closing up on itself.

“Holy shit,” Mickey wheezed.

“What if we just die,” Javy rasped, “what are they gonna tell our families?”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled. “Only one more, right? Then I have clear and convincing evidence that I am more of a man than Hangman could ever dream to be?”

Javy might’ve snorted beside you, but he also might’ve just been choking. 

“Oh, babes, you passed that a while ago,” Callie said soothingly, rubbing your back.

“One more,” Bradley confirmed, and he slid the bottle down the table to the three of you.

The Last Dab, it was called.

You looked at the bottle—orange red, with a flame logo, and a lovely worded description that explained how it was the only hot sauce in the world made with the apollo pepper, and the Scoville heat units couldn’t even be calculated.

“Well, I have had a stunning epiphany,” Mickey said, slapping his hands on the front of his pants. “And that is that I straight up do not need this. I’m out.”

“Garcia’s out!” Omaha yelled.

“He yieldssssssssssssss,” Jake called, like he was an announcer at an internationally broadcasted sporting event, not standing in the middle of a team of dripping, miserable pilots. 

You looked at Coyote.

At his ridiculously handsome face, with his ridiculously calm demeanor, with his ridiculously nonplussed expression, as he handed the bottle to you. “We doing this?”

You desperately wanted to say no.

Just go stick your head in a freezer or stand under a cold shower for the next three hours or drink your weight in orange juice until your body felt some semblance of normal. But Javy was looking at you like he was having fun, like he and you were the only ones in on this joke, and you weren’t about to walk away from that.

Also, feminism, peer pressure, all that. 

“We’re doing this,” you sighed, coating the final wing. 

He poured the sauce onto his wing resolutely, then shrugged, following the tradition of the show and dabbing an additional glob on top. 

“Lagniappe, and all,” he muttered. 

“Laissez les bon temps rouler,” you offered, those two phrases combined being the extent of the New Orleans slang that you knew. Javy flashed a smile at you as you clunked your chicken wings together in a cheers, then took a synchronized bite.

God, it was awful.

Truly horrendous, mind-bogglingly painful, and if you hadn’t already been openly weeping, this would’ve done it. The squad was going crazy. You were pretty sure Natasha was taking pictures, Jake was being an exceptionally good sport and had started clapping and the whole room was yelling, cheering like you’d won dogfight football, and for a moment, you felt it—you were on the team. 

Javy caught the scarf. 

He returned, brandishing the colorful fabric like a banner, and Mrs Machado patted his cheek as he helped wind it about her shoulders again. You didn’t say anything about the picture, turning off the display on his phone, before you handed it back to him, and tried to forget about it for the rest of the day. 

Mrs. Machado had an evening flight and there were a few more things that Javy had wanted to show her before she left, so you thought that now would be the perfect opportunity to give them some time alone, and use your cinnamon roll excuse. You borrowed Javy’s phone to call yourself a ride, and bid your goodbyes to your fake boyfriend’s mom. She held you so close when she hugged you goodbye, making you promise to text Javy once your phone had battery again, letting them know you’d gotten safely home, and you felt guilty the whole ride back to your place. 

Maybe that’s what all this was—an extension of your guilt. 

Guilt had you so on edge that you’d imagined Javy being calmed by your touch this morning. And he’d probably kissed you last night because it was part of convincing his mom. And his phone background—well, the phone background was hard to explain. 

It looked like the picture had been taken right before that final wing, at the impromptu competition last month. A nervous smile was on your face and you’d closed your eyes bravely. Beside you, Javy was laughing at something you’d said, his eyes on you, his expression one you didn’t remember. 

But, maybe you’d remembered that wrong too. 

You’d only looked at the picture for a couple of moments, and maybe there was something you hadn’t seen—Jake acting a fool or something funny that would make sense for Javy to keep it as a background. 

Guilt and emotional exhaustion made a hell of a cocktail, so you let autopilot take over as soon as you got home. Plugged your phone in, rolled out cinnamon rolls, put them in the oven, cleaned the kitchen while they baked, set them on a rack to cool and clipped your hair up before you hopped in the shower. You were almost done with the arduous process of moisturizing your whole body when there was a loud knock on your door. 

You made a face at your foggy reflection in the over-the-sink mirror; someone must’ve gotten the wrong address for one of your neighbors. As you readjusted the towel under your arms to continue rubbing lotion into your legs, the knocking continued.

“Wrong apartment,” you called, hoping they’d realize their mistake soon. 

“Cross, come on, open up.”

You froze, recognizing that voice.

Shit. 

Glancing around the still misty bathroom, you realized your clean clothes were in your bedroom, opposite of the way to the door, but you weren’t about to answer the door in a towel. Thankfully, the closet that held your washer and dryer was right next to the bathroom, and you rooted around in the dryer for the first tshirt you could find, sending a moment of gratitude to the universe that your front door had none of those filtered glass panes on it. You shoved your arms into the shirt as you struggled into some pajama shorts on your way to the door.

“What are you doing here?” you asked before the door was opened, and even then, only wide enough for your head to poke through.

Javy was leaning against the door frame, arms braced on either side of it, and you noticed his shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw you.

“You’re okay?” he asked, his eyes running over you, seemingly scanning for some nonexistent injury.

“What?” you blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine, what…”

All at once, you remembered the promise you’d made to his mother, and your phone charging in the other room, and how long it’d been since you’d gotten into the car at Balboa. You looked up at Javy, clocking the relief and stress warring in his expression. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your nose wrinkling. “I just got carried away with stuff and—”

“Is that my shirt?” Javy interrupted you, and you looked down. 

It was his shirt. 

You’d grabbed it out of the tumbled load in the dryer, which you now remembered was one of the last dogfight football loads.

“It was the first one I grabbed,” you said, quickly. 

Javy didn’t say anything, but his hands did drop from the door so he could cross them across his chest. And he was smirking, damn it, something that should be annoying or at least not attractive, but it was, and it made you want to stomp your foot. 

“It doesn’t—“ you tried again. “Don’t be weird about it, okay, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure, Cross,” he said, that lazy smile growing, and you pursed your lips, refusing to give into the impulse to smile back. 

“Okay,” you said, knowing it was petty, but pointing to the phone he held in his hand, “is that my picture?”

Javy’s jaw actually dropped.

“Don’t be weird about it,” he mumbled, a moment later, stuffing his phone in his back pocket, parroting your words back to you. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

It was your turn to hum, amused. 

But you did feel bad that he’d been worried enough to drive to your place, so you stepped back, opening the door to your apartment. You walked through it without waiting for Javy to follow you, heading into the kitchen to cover the cinnamon rolls, the smell of them still lingering in the air. You heard the door shut behind you, and smaller shuffling sounds as Javy toed off his shoes.

“You actually made cinnamon rolls?” he called after you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be offended by the surprise in his voice.

“To everyone’s shock and amazement, yes,” you replied, flipping on the tap. “Want some water?”

“Sure,” Javy said, his voice closer this time, and by the time he made it to the kitchen, you had filled a glass and held it out to him. You wrapped the cinnamon rolls carefully, while Javy stayed in the doorway. 

When you glanced over your shoulder at him, he was looking around your small kitchen curiously. He looked at ease, like he almost always did, with the calm aura of assurance that was deeply grounding. It was something to see him like that, in your space.

He finished the water and walked the glass over to the sink, turning to lean his hips against it. You pushed the cinnamon rolls to a corner of the counter, crossing your arms in front of you self consciously as you became aware of the casualness of your dress. 

“Well,” you said, awkwardly, “thanks for checking on me. I am alive, so this has been a win for due diligence.”

Javy nodded slowly, his eyes still flitting around the kitchen, as the silence stretched. 

“What if it did?” he asked, and you tried to track what that could mean, but couldn’t place it.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, confused.

Javy shrugged, his posture casual, but you noticed his hands gripping the countertop behind him. 

“Mean something,” he said, before continuing as you shook your head, still confused. “My shirt. Our picture. What if…what if it meant something?”

The room felt like it’d been de-pressurized, like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air and you couldn’t breathe. 

“What?” you managed again, your voice sounding like more of a squeak than your actual voice.

Javy didn’t move from the sink, merely lifting an eyebrow while he waited for you to process what he knew you understood he was asking. It made his forehead wrinkle, which was annoying, because he couldn’t be adorable while he was tilting your world off its axis. 

Your mouth felt dry and when you wet your lips, you felt Javy’s eyes dart down to watch your tongue as it slipped between your lips. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” you said, your voice sounding shaky, even to your own ears, “it was really sweet having breakfast with your mom. And today was fun. And like, it was a good kiss, but it’s been like twelve hours of faking it, we can’t—”

You stopped talking when Javy pushed away from the sink, his long legs crossing the room quickly. The laid back air of earlier was gone, replaced by an intensity that seemed to crackle the air, and you backed up as he walked closer to you. Your back hit the opposite wall and you yelped quietly, but Javy didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. 

He didn’t touch you, and you could’ve moved, but you both knew you wouldn’t. 

Not when he leaned his forearms against the wall behind your head, his large body caging you, and all you could see, all you could focus on, was him. 

“First of all,” he said, and his voice sounded different up close, like it rumbled out of him, “it wasn’t just good, and you know it.”

You knew what he meant, and his eyes darkened when you nodded, after a beat.

“Second,” Javy continued, in that same voice, and you shivered, “we’re pilots, not actors. Twelve hours…if that was all it was, neither of us would feel like this.”

You shook your head, knowing that if you let yourself imagine, just for a moment, it was going to hurt all the more. 

“You said you had no plans to ask me out,” you whispered, aiming for a cavalier tone but coming up short. “That this was just the easiest lie.”

“I’d take it back if I could,” he said quickly, and you read the honesty in his eyes. “But, look, I was panicking. I’d been telling Momma about you for months and then she showed up and I had to say something before she told you how much I…before you got freaked out. I didn’t know you felt the same thing I did.”

You both desperately needed, and were terrified of, what he’d been going to say. 

“This is wild,” you mumbled, your mind reeling. “You can see that, right?”

Javy smiled, the inevitable, gorgeous smile of his, and he lifted his chin a little bit. “Kiss me again.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

And you knew it wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t explain any of it, would probably complicate things further, but if the tradeoff was clarity or Javy’s mouth over yours, you knew what you were choosing. Your fingers curled into the front of his henley, pulling him down to you, and then you could feel that smile against your lips as he kissed you. 

It was different when you weren’t two steps above him, when one of Javy’s hands fell from the wall to hold the side of your face as he kissed you. His lips were so soft, and of course he was teasing you with it, his mouth brushing over yours with light chastity until you pulled harder at his shirt and he pressed closer to you, his lips parting. At the first sweep of his tongue, your knees literally weakened and you swayed into him, your bodies coming flush together. Kissing him was dizzying, dreamy, and when you came up for air, you thought this might be your favorite sight—beautiful Javy, from this close. 

You reached up to wipe at his mouth, where some of your chapstick had smudged, and he turned to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Told you,” you whispered, “Galahad.”

He laughed softly, another sound that was different up close, warm and deep and you wanted to hear it again. Unfortunately, Javy cleared his throat, kissing your forehead before standing up straight. 

“I should get back to base,” he said, regretful but responsible. And he was right, of course, because you had drills in the morning, and whatever was between the two of you could wait another day. 

“Stay,” you blurted.

You almost took it back, embarrassed of how needy it had sounded, but when you looked up at Javy, he looked almost as hopeful as you felt. 

“Snuggles?” he asked, and you pressed your lips together at how freaking adorable it was, that this enormous man lit up like a kid on Christmas at the thought of something so innocent.

“If you want,” you hedged, and Javy gave you a look like it wasn’t even a choice for him, before he thought it through. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said gently, “but, hell, I want to.”

You shook your head determinedly. “We won’t do anything. I don’t want to rush it, and today’s been a lot to add that, too... but it’d be nice to be together, without the pretending.”

You couldn’t believe you were practically begging the man to stay and just cuddle, but also it was Javy Machado. You’d do a hell of a lot more than beg, if push came to shove. 

You could see him deliberating, and you decided you might as well throw in a final desperate bid. 

“And you can give me a ride to base in the morning,” you added, “so I don’t have to catch the bus.”

Javy chuckled, before nodding seriously. 

“Well, when you put it like that, it’s only practical,” he said. “The rational choice.”

“I’m a very rational person,” you said. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks to be a WSO.”

Javy blinked. “Do they—”

“They definitely don’t,” you laughed. “It’s off of rank, same as the rest of the Navy.”

He rolled his eyes, but followed you obediently deeper into the apartment. 

You showed him where extra toothbrushes and toiletries were in the bathroom, and offered his shirt back, which he adamantly refused. He ended up grabbing a nondescript Navy shirt from the pile, which you were pretty sure was Jake’s, but didn’t want to comment on, since it seemed deliberate that he hadn’t asked. 

Being in the same squadron, and being based in San Diego, there was a level of physical awareness that you two had passed months ago, so it was oddly anticlimactic to be sharing space as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. 

Which is why the nerves, as soon as you and Javy settled into your bed, surprised you.

It was dumb, because you knew you had nothing to be nervous over. You’d both already agreed nothing else was happening tonight, you should be tired enough to just be chill about this. But as soon as your back hit the mattress, it felt like someone had injected straight caffeine into your veins and you couldn’t lie still.

Javy’s arm was under your head and you’d turned slightly into him, but suddenly your feet needed to be out of the comforter. Or maybe you needed to lie on your other side. Or the top sheet felt weird on your skin, or you weren’t sure if—

“Cross,” Javy sounded like he was trying not to laugh, “I’m gonna leave if you don’t lie still.”

You winced at the ceiling, disengaging so you could put just a few inches between the two of you. You felt yourself relaxing, like some weird performance anxiety, after he’d been so excited to hold you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “it’s just—”

“A dream come true, I know,” he sighed, like it was a heavy burden to bear, and you swung halfheartedly in his direction. Your hand swatted at the comforter over his chest, and you could feel the bed shaking as Javy chuckled. 

“Unfamiliar,” you revised, “is what I was going to say.”

Javy hummed, and you both knew his answer was closer to the truth, but he was kind enough to drop it. 

You shifted slightly, settling more deeply into the bedding, trying to tell your body it was comfortable so it could just be still. But even with the distance, every inch of you seemed hyper aware of the fact that Javy freaking Machado was literally in your bed. You knew you’d made the right call earlier, that you didn’t want to rush this, and everything else rational…but you were only human, damnit, and you were too curious to drift off to sleep. 

You chanced a peek at Javy, at what little you could see of him in the dark of the room. 

He was on his back, facing the ceiling, his hands folded over the top of the comforter like it was a sitcom from the 60s. His eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically with his deep breaths, perfectly at ease. Except…if what he’d said last night was true, he should’ve been as ill at ease as you were, sharing a bed with someone. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked quietly.

“Ah, sure,” Javy said, still sounding amused. “Not like we’re sleeping till you’re tired out.” 

“Okay, well—” you huffed, but Javy lifted a hand from the comforter placatingly. 

“I kid,” he said. “Honestly, we should all be impressed that I’m staying PG and not slipping into a ‘well, I can think of an easy way to tire you out’ line of thought.”

Your mouth snapped shut; you hadn’t even considered that. 

Javy shifted and the comforter crinkled as he cleared his throat. “Okay, neither of us can think too hard about that; ask your question.”

You hesitated for a moment, kind of enjoying the comfortable silence of the room. You turned your body to follow your head, settling on your side with your arm between the pillow and your head, before you asked, “Why hasn’t there been anyone since the Academy?”

Javy didn’t freeze, didn’t pull in a deep breath or tense up, but you felt his surprise, all the same. “Sure you don’t want a happier bedtime story?” he asked, his voice carrying a kind of hesitation that was new to you. 

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want,” you hedged, meaning it. “I can think of another one.”

You watched his jaw tense, and then he shook his head, just once. “Is it crazy that I want to tell you?”

You weren’t sure, but you did know that it felt an awful lot like trust, and you wanted that more than you wanted to know the story. Javy was fiddling with the end of the comforter, and the motion reminded you of the straw wrapper at Harry’s so you reached for him.

His movement didn’t break, he just accepted your hand and enveloped it in his. He wove the fingers of one hand between yours, and with the other he traced along the tendons on the back of your hand.  

“There’ve been folks since Academy,” he said, slowly, like the conversation had to pick up steam. “Just no one I’ve introduced back to Momma. You know how it is, how you can always find someone for the night. I found it was…easier. To keep it that way. No expectations, no strings, just fun. No one gets hurt that way.”

His slow motion of his fingers over the back of your hand was soothing, tracing patterns an retracing them with another finger. 

“You got hurt before?” you asked softly, watching Javy’s nostrils flare slightly as he processed the question. 

“I hurt someone,” he said, quietly.

You doubted the distinction was mutually exclusive, but you stayed quiet as you waited for him to continue. 

“We met when I was at Annapolis and she was at St Johns. She was from up North, so she was like no one I’d met in Louisiana. On a law track, in a sorority, all that. And we were…serious.”

He paused, and you could tell he was trying to decide how much to tell you.

“Pick out a ring, serious?” you prompted.

The pause lingered, before Javy traced down the fourth finger on your hand, saying quietly. “Put a down payment on one, serious.” 

It shouldn’t have surprised you. 

You tried to envision a younger version of Javy, bright-eyed and fresh at the academy, planning his life out, with conviction. That part hadn’t changed, Javy’s calm assurance, and you could envision some paralegal from Connecticut being absolutely swept away by him. 

“I got my first post, in Norfolk,” Javy continued. “She got into Law School at William and Mary, and we had a little place in the middle. Painted the kitchen yellow, had a hell of a fight with the landlord over it. We had window boxes with flowers; we couldn’t keep anything alive in there, winters were too cold, but we tried every spring.” 

It sounded idyllic, how he described it, and you could hear a painful undercurrent of longing in his voice as he told you about it. Like even now, it hurt how perfect it’d been. 

“What happened?” you asked, gently.

You watched Javy’s profile shift as his nose scrunched up, in answer to that question. 

“I had an accident, one day, flying—I made it, my wingman too, but the plane was rubble.They called her to meet me at the hospital and I remember when they let her in to see me; she was so quiet. She’d been real worried, I guess, and seemed pretty upset…I thought she might’ve missed an important lecture, or something, I don’t know, but it was weird.”

You frowned, squeezing his hand. “Surely a lecture wasn’t more important than being there for you.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t have thought that,” he said, then laughed wryly. “No, that wasn’t what she was upset about. When they discharged me a couple days later, and I got back to the apartment it was half empty. I remember walking in, and she was sitting on the hearth, one last cardboard box by her feet.”

You squeezed his hand again, hating that you knew where the story was going. Didn’t everyone who shared your employer?

“Yeah,” Javy sighed. “Uh, and she was right, you know, it wasn’t fair. If I’d died that day, she would’ve been stranded in Virginia, and every time I went up in the air, she was going to have to wonder if this was the time I left her for good.”

A dozen responses flash through your head, but you bit your tongue, before answering carefully. 

“Flying isn’t something you do against someone,” you said evenly. “No one plans on burning in.” 

“I know,” Javy said, and you hated how his voice had taken on this detached quality, like this speech was one he’d given himself hundreds of times. “But it’s selfish to ask someone to love you with all that on the line, and ask her to carry that fear. I get it, it was too much, so…yeah. I get it.”

He hadn’t stopped tracing over your hand, and your heart broke for younger Javy. How he must’ve felt standing in that empty apartment, as the woman he’d planned the rest of his life with left because she was scared. How blindsided and guilty, and clearly holding that guilt years later, as he relayed that story to you. 

“Run that last bit by me again?” you asked.

Javy looked at you. “It’s selfish to ask someone to love you with all—”

“Yep, that part,” you interrupted. “One more time?”

You knew Javy knew what you were getting to, because he didn’t repeat himself again. 

“You know what I mean,” he mumbled.

“You know what I mean,” you retorted. “Not everyone can take what we do, and that’s fine. But that’s something you hash out on a third date, when you talk about career plans and make sure your lives line up. Not when you’ve dated through college, have a home together, and when you get a call from the hospital. That’s when you need support, not for someone to ask themselves a question they should’ve asked years ago. Like. I’m sorry, but that’s a shitty thing to do.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if you’d overstepped. Obviously you didn’t know the entire ins and outs of the relationship, but let’s face it, you were always going to take Javy’s defense against some WASPy lawyer. 

Or, as far as you knew, a wannabe lawyer. 

With her staying power, maybe she didn’t even pass the bar.

You let out a long breath, trying to release your animosity with it. 

“Thank you,” Javy said quietly.

And you were sure there was a lot you could’ve phrased better, maybe held your tongue on, but you didn’t. Instead, you told your restless body to get over itself and slid back across the bed, into Javy’s side. He kept his hold on your hand over the blankets, but you tucked yourself against his torso, more determined to be comforting than comfortable.

“You’re not selfish for asking someone to love you, Jay,” you said, your voice muffled by his tshirt. “And I think you deserve someone whom you don’t have to ask.” 

He didn’t say anything, but a moment later, you felt him shift, before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You felt the both of you settle, either lightened from the sharing of his past or from the relief of holding each other, and sleep came easily, this time around.

//

next chapter

tagging: people who haven't told me to stop and people who interacted with ch1: @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @roosterforme @blowmymbackout @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @callsignvalley @sebsxphia @javihoney @rosiahills22 @andrewrussgarfield @teacupsandtopgun @katiedid-3 @beyondthesefourwalls @gretagerwigsmuse @auroraboreallisfine @bioodforbiood @m1ssmunson @rassvetsky @desert-fern @et-homephone @letskeepthislo-ki

[glitt3rgeist]

i really want to believe they're converting >10 sec gifs and not <10 sec gifs. as of 2022-07-19 @ 11:22, their post still says "under 10 seconds". i'm trying to figure out how it would make sense to convert shorter gifs but not longer ones. maybe it's just my lack of experience but i can't think of any reasons.

if tumblr does start turning small opaque short gifs into mp4s, i'll add a thing on blinkies.cafe where you can upload a gif and it'll make a tiny imperceptible change to circumvent mp4 conversion. it shouldn't be hard.

there are two ways to do it:

change the duration of the first frame by like 1/100 of a second, like @quantroup mentioned.

add a single transparent pixel on the first frame

i think i prefer #1, because a single transparent pixel is like. pretty noticeable on a 150x20 pixel blinkie, especially when stretched to fit screen width on mobile. but i think #2 is a safer option. given that mp4 totally ruins transparency, i think @/engineering is more likely to start converting variable-fps opaque gifs to mp4, and less likely to start converting constant-fps transparent gifs.

ideally it'd be a browser extension, so you can just post as normal and it'll do the work for you. but i'd have to learn more about programming browser extensions. in the meantime it'd be a web app, maybe part of blinkies.cafe.

part of me says i should start working on this ahead of time, so if they start serving pixel gifs as mp4 i'll have the workaround live before it becomes common. (this is the part of me that thinks i was wrong about the >10 sec thing. this part of me, assuming i was wrong, is also kinda mad at myself for spreading possible misinfo)

part of me says i should just wait and see what staff says. (this is the part of me that thinks i was right re: the >10 sec thing)

[thebibliosphere]

Hi,Joy! I’ve been following you for a while but don’t remember if you answered a question like this. I was wondering if you had any tips for staying comfy while working/studying at home. I currently am undiagnosed but we suspect a hyper mobility disorder, and I’m currently studying art online which means a lot of being seated upright if not standing and it’s killing me because I’ve been on mostly bed rest since Christmas. Advil is hardly helping. Considering getting a new desk chair???

I’m sorry to hear you are dealing with that, and I hope you’re able to get some relief and answers soon.

And this is something I’ve actually considered doing an in-depth post on, because I didn’t really realize how much my work set up was contributing to my chronic pain until I managed to fix some of it. I will say right off the bat, having a desk that is the right height for you is crucial. I honestly didn’t realize how much damage I was doing to my shoulders and spine by sitting at a desk every day that was a mere few inches too tall for me. We’re talking pinched nerves, RSI and just general pain and fatigue all day long.

You should be able to sit comfortably with your feet flat on the floor, with your back supported by your chair, and with your keyboard within easy reach so that you don’t have to overextend your arms or reach up. Magic Physio Man basically had to teach me how I’m supposed to be able to type, which is having my elbows tucked comfortably against my sides, with my forearms parallel to the desk.

This is actually a fairly good visual from ergonomic trends, which is actually full of really good info on how bad desk posture can really fuck everything up, as well as some good tips on how to fix it:

Source: http://ergonomictrends.com/proper-sitting-posture-computer-experts/

As it is, I’m hobit sized, and finding a desk I could adjust to my height, either for sitting and standing has made a huge difference. There are likely cheaper models out there, and I think IKEA has started to come out with some really good electric desks (I know there are ones you can lower and raise manually, but if you have any sort of hypermobility issues I’m not about to rec any of those to you. I injured myself trying to lower and raise one of those, and I’m not even hypermobile) but it’s been a whole year of use now, and I will honestly say that my Uplift desk changed my entire work life and just my life in general.

https://www.upliftdesk.com/

I got an absolute beast of a desk (it takes up the entire length of my office wall lol) so I can spread out all my work, of which there is a lot, and so ETD can join me at my desk and help me with stuff and we both have space to write/type, but they do have smaller setups that would work in a smaller space and are also more affordable. And actually looking at their site their January sale is now in effect, and it looks like a lot of their desks are half price.

The products are sturdy as all hell, and I fully anticipate having this desk for the next 10-20 years and possibly even longer than that if I take care of it. They’ve also been really good whenever I’ve had any issues about getting back to me, and have literally sent out replacement parts for my desk within 24 hours of me emailing them. I really can’t rec them enough from a customer service standpoint, and their desks are solid af. Not sponsored, not nothing, just really like them lol

Also if you are hobbit-sized like me and getting a desk that goes low enough for you isn’t an option, adjust your chair so you can sit at the above angles, and then get yourself a footstool or a box or something to support your feet. That’s what I did for several months and it did help a little.

Speaking of chairs, this is something else I am also trying to fix, cause my current chair is too big for me, and isn’t supporting my back because I have to sit on the very edge to keep my feet on the ground. I get around this with added lumbar supports, either a cushion or something like this:

https://www.amazon.com/Easy-Posture-Lumbar-Support-Black/dp/B00LGCWXCO/ref=sr_1_8?keywords=lumbar+support+for+office+chair+mesh&qid=1578291879&sr=8-8

This one is Amazon is $20+, but my chiropractor literally recommended one that was $10 from a local office supply store, and it does exactly the same thing. So trying to shop around locally in office supply stores, if you can, might prove more thrifty.

Ergonomic chairs can be extremely costly, especially if you are trying to find one not built with the average American male height and build in mind, so I don’t have any chair recommendations just now because I haven’t gotten around to that yet! I know Uplift Desks do sell their own ergonomic chairs, but I haven’t been able to afford one yet. Again, ergonomic trends has some really good advice about height and angle, including some tips for back pain caused by sitting positions. So that’s well worth a read :)

(And perhaps some others might be able to rec good chairs to look into!)

Angled bed desks are also a thing! But I’d need to go try and find all my research for those, and I have no idea where I put that, so maybe that will be another post.

When it comes to art studies, I’m not sure what else you might need in terms of what you’ll be doing, but if you want to give me some specific examples I might have some workarounds for you! I hope some of this was helpful. And good luck with recovering and resting again, I hope things improve and go well for you.

[ofcamerasflashing]

So I wanted to ask you something that's been frustrating me about gif-making. I've made this gifset in Photopea with full HD components (1080p+/- in size, all under 10MB) and they render really well on my laptop but look blurry on my mobile app? Is this a Photopea or Tumblr issue? Have you also faced something similar in the past? Is there a workaround in Photopea? I've seen a lot of HD gifs get rendered crisply both in big and small devices but I'm not sure where I'm faltering :( Thanks a bunch, and, as always, so blessed to have found your blog! ❤️

My first thought could be because you mentioned how large the size is of your gifs? You mentioned 1080p? Also I heard that anything above 5mb gets compressed down on tumblr.  Photopea can be a hit / miss on getting clean crisp gifs!  I would recommend using tumblr’s sizing for image sizes in px and to go ahead and try to lower how big that file is first.  If that doesn’t work come message me off anon through the ims and maybe we can work on that together? 

 Photopea has an issue as well with axing the quality of gifs. Sometimes that source material can be wonderful quality and then you put it in photopea and it turns to mush. Adding a coloring,  a sharpening, or even just daring to resize it down can sometimes make or break a gif done in photopea.  I think it sucks but for a free in browser editor? It isn’t the worst thing in the world.  The best thing to do when photopea is messing up your quality?  Move it to a smaller size.  So take your 540x250 and move it to a 250 or something width.  It sucks but that sometimes saves things.

As for what it looks like moving from mobile to laptop?  I am not 100% sure on that as I don’t use my phone a whole lot so I don’t scroll through tumblr on my phone often.  If anyone has any suggestions why gifs look better on TUMBLR DESKTOP / LAPTOP over TUMBLR MOBILE?  That would be wonderful as I am not versed in that.

AS ALWAYS IF ANYONE HAS SUGGESTIONS? PLEASE COMMENT! I am a bit lost on the tumblr laptop / mobile piece.

                           Glad to help anon with your editing needs!