#the fonts all broken LMAO

[peevishpants]

Are you open for commissions by any chance or have your rates listed anywhere?

hiya! thx for asking ^^

my comm info is linked on my >> carrd <<

They're perpetually open but I don't actively advertise them. u kno, like secret comms unlocked by clicking and stumbling around haha (tho i'll probably properly advertise them if i'm ever in need of emergency funds or something!)

#just went to my own tumblr profile and realized i haven't updated the theme since i got my blog back... like 4 years ago #the fonts all broken LMAO #woe-and-grow #thx for asking!

[bonesbuckleup]

Feel like you can't figure out how to write a scene? Change the font.

No. Really. Step one. Change the font. Walk away for about five minutes. Reread what you have and try again.

Change the font.

#writing #it is very easy to trick a broken brain into functioning actually #new font = brain going #oh! New thing! #this doesn't always work #usually it does when I know what needs to happen but not how #being a writer is just being a rat in a maze that you built yourself #like being pinkie and the brain all at one time lmao #anyway #I changed the font #like 500 words popped out #ymmv

[harfanfare]

Idia drabble, fluff, lots of couple banter

Your wishlist containing released games is empty.

In the next several minutes after saving a title to one, you can expect a notification that the game is getting downloaded, and a mere seconds after that—several messages from your boyfriend.

“thought u would never play it lol”

“weren't you supposed to be studying??”

He sends a meme degrading your hierarchy of values as if he were any better. It is followed by a request.

“stream it to me when you play it”

And you do, after thanking him yet chiding him for wasting too much money on you without a second thought. His reply was a string of emojis and guarantee that he is doing it all for himself, because “educating you on the topic of latest games is his duty” and he cares about “the boyfriend points”.

“I hope my love’o’meter for u was broken by all that pampering lmao”

“waiting for my cg to load up…”

[NAME]: “not enough affection points”

“damn”

“i need a walkthroughyt to this route”

Idia has you join a voice channel, with you sharing your screen. Playing a game in a separate dorm is a whole different experience than having him beside you, with his hands almost trembling to grab your controller if you couldn’t get past a certain level.

He would always wait for you to ask him for help, though. Then he could let the feeling of self-satisfaction sink in as he easily guided your character to another enemy to slash.

If he only has you on the voice chat, you might be able to finish the game almost fully by yourself.

You can hear the soft sound of his keyboard as he plays something as well. He divides his attention between you and his entertainment, and he throws in commentary to your playthrough, teasing you when you can’t find a secret key to the special gate, bullying you when you find the puzzles too hard, or when you pick the wrong dialogue option.

At some point, you might try to (playfully) mute his microphone, but you can only have eight seconds of silence before he hacks into the options.

“No need to be jealous of my gaming knowledge,” he exclaims, and you know he has that big stupid grin on his face. You huff, and he hums. “But if you want me to help, all you need to do is just ask.”

“I want to go through this game myself!”

“Okay, sure. But you know you have already missed the opportunity for the best ending, no?” He laughs. “That’s what you get for muting me, kitten.”

No need to spoil the ending just to get back at me, you’d love to say, but you learned that the shy boy who couldn’t hold your gaze several months ago is actually a big tease. You must’ve grown too much on him, as he would have continued the bickering even if you showed up in his room. No social anxiety towards you—that’s a bit of a shame, he was cute when you first started dating.

…Well, Idia you know now is a cutie as well, even if he can be very annoying sometimes.

“Enough. I’m going to play my otome games, bye.”

You log out, and shut the stream, chuckling all the time. A funny feeling tingled your heart, like always when you won (or have you?) in banter in Idia: your heart is warm enough to probably melt through the ribcage, but a subtle alarm rings in your head. Idia will probably take revenge for this.

He must already be in distress. He doesn’t like you playing otome games alone, as if you could have ever preferred a 2D boy over Idia. The thought makes you laugh.

You plop on your bed, unlocking your phone and tapping an icon of the name game you’ve installed. Although playing it with Idia would have been funnier, you are going to play him just out of spite.

…And after that, you will send him a wall of text about those handsome characters, because he needs to be updated on your current obsessions.

The title screen appears before everything crashes and the screen goes black. Several messages in neon-blue futuristic font colour appear one by one.

An error has occurred.

Caught exception:

Traceback (most recent call last):

File “characters”, line 46, in script

File “stats”, line 153, in script

File “story”, line 665, in script

File “achievements”, line 411, in log.1

File “backup_data”, line 139, in log

To continue:

“[Name]-san. Please come to our dorm. My brother is moping (so he won’t be finishing his project anytime soon, which is, really bad) and I would appreciate you having mercy on him.

Once you come, I will restore your data! It’s a promise :>

— ORTHO”

…Damn those Shrouds.

#idia strikes me as a man who can play a games with you but if it's not a cozy game he will criticize you a lot #he would probably love playing with you but his inner desire for winning a game is bigger than anything #watching him play a game is a show though #bring the popcorn #he could be a popular gaming streamer if he didn't fear people irl would comment on it #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst idia #twst idia x reader #as a computer science student i have no idea if an error like that could occur (burning in shame)

[losergames]

Chop Shop is strictly 18+ for language, themes, and potential explicit content. 

🔗 - Game Intro | Bug Report | Ko-Fi

Episode Three is now available! (+ 86,000) - PLAY HERE

Get your first taste of the underground car scene.

Meet some other players in the game.

Be made an offer.

5 achievements up for grabs!

And more!

AN: thank you so much for the patience - i've been dying to put this update out. lots of new characters and lots of variation!! there are 3 major paths to choose between in this ep, i recommend trying them all out! and thank you to my betas for keeping me sane lmao

This update comes with a patch and UI refresh (Version 1.1.2) Notes are under the cut. If preferred, you can access them in game in the start menu.

STORY

EPISODE 01:

MC should now be able to smoke! Buying cigarettes at the shop was not triggering correctly. If playing with an old save, you DO NOT have to restart as code at the beginning of EP 03 has resolved the error. Player will need to restart if they wish to read smoking related scenes in previous episodes.

Updated MC Name selection. Player can now choose from a list of names instead of having to input one to proceed.

Player can now give Taha their chocolate bar if it's in their inventory.

When asking Maz about their scars, the second choice 'You want to ask about it but you're going to keep your mouth shut.' should now take you to the correct response.

Extended and updated 'End Game' scenes.

EPISODE 02:

If MC is faint after exiting the car, but also drunk, they should now get the fainting scene, followed by Dilani helping the MC in the bathroom.

UI + TECHNICAL

SETTINGS:

Autoname Save is now defaulted to ON. This is to add ease and flow to gameplay, especially for mobile, tablet, and app users, instead of calling for an inputted saved name. If player wants to input save names, toggle Autoname Saves to OFF.

Autoname Save previously only used the forename of the MC but now includes the surname as well.

Removed the Fullscreen toggle as it is only intended for desktop use. Player can still toggle fullscreen function via the UI bar on the desktop interface.

Added a choice indicator toggle. (This probably won't come into effect until EP 04 or 05)

Changed serif font from Vollkron to EB Garamond.

OTHER:

Changing the MC's pronouns via the Dashboard has been updated. Additionally, after confirmation will take player back to the Dashboard and not close the dialog boxes entirely.

Hovering over 'Personality', 'Motives', and 'Skills' titles in the Dashboard will now display an information box with a definition. Mobile and tablet users will need to tap on the title.

'Resume Game' now only appears on the main menu when there is an autosave in the saves log.

Choices styling changes.

General UI and button style changes.

Fixed errors with the text message styling.

Added styling for reading text off of a page in game.

Darkened blue in light theme 'Skyline' to reduce eye strain.

CREATE A SAVE

Introducing Create a Save! This feature allows players to quickly manufacture a save file and start at a later point in the game.

Set your identity, appearance, history, and statistics; including personality, motives, and skills. Continue to set key decisions made in previous episodes.

Randomise options available for creating a PC and key decisions.

OTHER

Fixed gaps and spacing issues.

Minor phrasing and sentence structure changes.

Grammar and typo fixes.

whew -- that's a lot of patch notes! apologies for so much that needed to be fixed.

this update shouldn't break/ mess with saves but as a disclaimer i will say, if you spot anything funky, broken, or you don't think things are triggering correctly, try starting a new save. the new create a save feature is incredibly code heavy, and it's been tested relentlessly, but i wouldn't be surprised if something crops up.

if starting a new save doesn't resolve your issue - please submit to bug report or just send me an ask/message.

some things have been meaning to get fixed for Some Time - thank you to everyone that is using the bug report form!

apologies if there are typos and/or bugs - this was a long one to edit and my lovely betas did an OUTSTANDING job reading so much for ep 3 - thank you so much again!!! this time i am going to give it a bit more time before i put together a patch so i can grab more error responses haha.

create a save has also added a wee chunk to the word count, somewhere around 6k, but i'm not including it in the episode 03 word count as it's purely code. so, if you think the total wc is off, that's why!

if you've read this far, happy reading and thank you so much for the continued support!! :) - becky <3

#chop shop #chop shop game #interactive fiction #twine game #cs patch #cs update

[aeriona]

HI HELLO! Welcome to my completely unnecessarily detailed analysis on how I think Inkfish languages could work! + with art! yay! This is all pretty rough and not fully fleshed out (I don't have the time or patience for that lmao). THIS IS A LONG POST.

Okay, so there's dozens of languages spoken by cephalopods in the Mollusc Era but the main two I'll talk about are Inkling (or Inklish) and Octarian, spoken mostly by Inklings and Octolings respectively. 

In cephalopods, speech is formed using the syrinx and larynx, two fancy vocal organs that most other species don't have together. The larynx makes sounds using the radula (tongue) and vocal folds in the throat, it's clear and pretty easy to understand as the sound itself resembles human speech, albeit warbled. The syrinx makes noise by vibrating air at the base of the trachea, it's often trickier to follow as it can sound more like droning background noise than words sometimes.

An inkfish can use both of them at once, resulting in an EXTREMELY complicated language system where words can be made up of multiple layered syllables, and several words and sentences can even be said at the same time.

As you can probably imagine, all of this is LITERAL HELL to learn for species who don’t have both a syrinx and a larynx (so basically anyone who isn't a cephalopod). But fear not! There are many simple and more inclusive alternatives, dialects and other cool stuff like sign language and instant TTS technology for people who physically can't pronounce Inkling/Octarian or even vocalise at all (eg. jellyfish).

Both main Inkfish languages can be broken down into laryngeal words (made with the larynx), syringeal/drone words (made with the syrinx) or a combination of both, called dual-toned/layered words.

Keep in mind that both word-types can be spoken at the same time. Layering can be used to add additional connotations to a word, or to even make a new one entirely. For example, the laryngeal noun ‘bird’ combined with the syringeal noun ‘metal’ spoken together will create the layered Inkling word ‘aeroplane’, like a compound word in English.

Dual-toned stuff is more common in Inkling than in Octarian, as the language is older and has more loanwords. Inklish's dependence on the larynx gives it a higher-pitched, clearer sound whereas  Octarian's more monotone syrinx-based structure results in a deep, almost guttural sound.

Both cephalopod languages are heavy on tone and pronunciation, resulting in a plenty of accent indicators in written scripts. I used the in-game fonts for the art but if I were to rework it, each letter would probably be more complicated than traditional Mandarin on steroids. So hell on earth, basically.

On a side note, all of these language features open possibilities for some very cool poetry and literature. An inkfish author could write a poem with two lines of thought occurring at once, or a book with vivid emotional undertones written inside the prose. Pretty cool.

OKAY that's all I have to say thank you for reading! Hopefully this makes sense, feel free to send asks or whatever if it's confusing and I'll do my best to explain it better!

#I should go outside instead of analysing the silly squid game #I tried my best with my scientific and (limited) linguistic knowledge don't yell at me if I get something wrong lmao #my art #splatoon #xeno tag #xeno inkling #xeno octoling #splatoon 3 #splatoon art #speculative biology #speculative zoology #conlang #splatoon headcanon #inkling #octoling #splatoon theory

[getfuckedblr]

this is the one. the most popular fic in the harry potter fandom. the fic that got me into fanfiction. the fic that i sobbed to for months after reading it.

i tried to bind this three separate times over the last two years and bro the first two sucked ASS. it was legit the very first fic i tried to typeset which is like, not the greatest thing to start off with LMAO. it looked funky, i hadn’t fixed any of the spacing, my footers didn’t match the text font or size. it was very much a baby binding.

the second one was my first time using a cricut and there is a very steep learning curve w the cricut, especially in creating designs that aren’t too complex or too plain. i tried to copy one of the popular printable book jackets and omg i spent weeks modifying my designs and printing and reprinting on my cricut and it looked like trash when i was done.

so finally, we have come to this.

i got really into quartos during the winter and was like omg the editing process for this would be so much more manageable if i broke it down into years! so then i did lol. it allowed me to customize each chapter into sections so i could add the chapter title to the footers, and break down graphics into separate years so i didn’t have 100 pages in one canva file. it was just a lot easier to feel accomplished having broken it down bc this fic is a MONSTER.

every chapter heading is the same - just the swirl. i gilded all the chapter titles using toner reactive foil and my laminator (she broke in the middle of this project. i ended up having to buy another laminator, and about 3 packs of foil from icraft. this is my most expensive fic binding to date🫠). i included the songs ms.kingbean put at the top of every chapter, and the bootleg tapes and christmas special.

i am seriously so proud of how this turned out, and can’t believe it’s actually done. sorry this is super long, but this really was a labor of love. they’re not perfect, i’m still really bad at measuring and cutting straight lines, but i’m satisfied. really satisfied.

#fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #bookbinding #ao3 fanfic #fanbinding #wolfstar #atyd #atyd marauders #atyd fanart #atyd fandom #remus lupin #sirius black #grant chapman #bound in peel and stick velvet flocking #chipboard #and gold htv #fucking hell it’s DONE!! #typesets in my drive #free for personal use #don’t sell fics!!

[bunny-lily]

Lift a Pen and Rewrite the Ending

Fluff for our broken fluffed-out hearts Dedicated to @bunny584 because ow. I promised fluff, so I’m delivering fluff

Pairing: Satoru x piano teacher!fem!reader

CW: just some fluff, man. We all need some happy, sappy moments in our lives with our beloved dumbass boy. 

You taught piano. Plain, simple, easy. At least, you thought so, before meeting an enigmatic man as your newest student. He played a little too well for a beginner, and seemed a little too familiar.

AN: I chose to post this on my side acc since this one was technically made for the exact purpose of writing JJK fics (same with the Ao3 acc (milk_bunny/chimeric-dreams for that one)). So, cheers to the first fic on this blog!

This was honestly scribbled down in a single sitting between 1-5 am. Please don’t judge any mistakes too harshly, I wanted to post it ASAP and not subject it to my endless course of corrections and re-writing.

This is also very short (lmao 6.7k words) for how my work is normally. Again, I just wanted to get it out as fast as I could ;w;

smol update: this has been (minorly) edited! nothing big, I mostly just went in and fixed up a couple mistakes + summoned my dearly beloved thesaurus. Otherwise, it's basically 98% the same as before!

Music sheets laid scattered around you, annotated in messy scribbles in various colors, fonts, and sizes. A scratched out row of bars here, corrected or adjusted notes there, mindless rambles stuffed into the margins as you tried desperately to figure out which key to put your song into so that it matched the exact tone you were going for.

Not like you were some well renowned artist whose career rode on their sole ability to create magical orchestrations. No, you had barely any presence at all. The videos of your songs you posted on YouTube hardly scratched a couple hundred viewers at most, with the occasional comment from a bot or scammer getting your hopes up, only for them to go crashing back down. 

You weren’t some notable figure in the music industry, you were just a white-collar worker that taught piano from your tiny home part-time.

It suited you, you supposed, as bitter as you could feel at times. You were just a normie, a casual passerby who liked having your fingers spring and jump across the keys of your instrument. It was one you inherited from your grandmother. She was the one that taught you how to play when you were little, while your parents were busy working and couldn’t sit and entertain you all day like she could.

She taught you some essentials, too, like how to tune the spinet – ‘It’ll save you big bucks, bunny,’ she insisted – and how to detect even the slightest issue it might have. She was correct about it saving you big bucks.

As shabby as the thing looked, with peeling white paint and floral designs chipping off the sides, the cover scraped to hell and back, and the brassy pedals having long lost their glossy sheen, it was in perfect shape.

In your expert opinion, anyway. You were biased, so what? You had every right to be.

Granny had left the world a while ago, her ashes situated on the short mantel of your tiny fireplace. You lit the candles every day, rested two softly smoking incense sticks on the shallow bowl to catch their cinders, and gave her a swift good-morning before you raced out your door, inevitably arriving at work with only minutes to spare.

In the evenings, you’d teach, then ramble to her about your day, wish her a loving goodnight, and go pass the fuck out. Rinse and repeat, except weekends, where you were teaching all day.

It was tiring, working two jobs like this, especially when some of the kids you taught were insufferable, but music was your passion. At the end of the day, you viewed it as worth every minute spent doing something you loved.

You liked to think she would have been proud of you.

A light tapping sound, a knuckle rapping against the wood of your open front door, caught your attention. It was a warm day, one that was too good to spend with the doors and windows closed. Natural light flooded in, casting the figure standing at the entrance in a brilliant glow that hid their features from you.

You glanced at the clock on the wall to your left, then leapt up from the floor in front of your coffee table, hurriedly and messily stuffing your music sheets into a folder. “Oh, shoot, sorry! I didn’t see the time, I’m so sorry about that. Are you the two o’clock?”

Today was a surprisingly free day for you. You only had one appointment, with a new student, if you remembered correctly. You must have gotten so ingrained in your rapid-fire notations that you lost track of time.

While you weren’t expecting an adult, since the email sounded like it was from a teenager, it wasn’t uncommon. You had students of all varying ages, anyways. It was a nice change, too; you found that adults tended to listen better than children.

A smooth laugh greeted your ears, the sound impossibly pleasant to your ears. “It’s fine,” the man said as he stepped into your home, breaking from the prison of light holding him. His stark-white hair caught you off guard first, followed by his height, and then the round shades resting low on the bridge of his nose. “That’s me.”

Eyes as blue as the most vivid summer sky peered straight through yours and into your soul, his hues almost appearing to shine in the tranquil environment of your living room, without the help of the overhead lamp you had turned off. His lips curled into a sparkling grin, giving him this sort of youthful luminance that had your heart skipping beats.

You swallowed and looked away before his gleaming smile blinded you, striding over to your upright eighty-eight, using it as an excuse to busy yourself and avoid eye contact with him before he made you stop breathing just by fluttering his lashes.

“Come on in,” you responded stiffly, clearing your throat to ease off the tenseness in your muscles. Why were you getting so worked up over him? Sure, he was pretty, but you’d barely spoken two sentences to him. How had he managed to get you in such a tizzy so easily, where your tongue felt tied and your pulse raced in your wrists? “How much do you know about piano?”

“Uhh,” he set down his briefcase against the wall beside your door, slipped off his shoes, and met you next to the instrument. “I know a bit.”

“Alright,” you nodded and patted the bench, then paused to think if it would be too low for him. What intensely long legs. “Do you need me to get a different stool?”

He shook his head, sliding into the seat like it was second nature to him. “Nope, this is just fine.”

“Great,” you smiled at him and tucked your skirt under your hands as you sat down on the other end. “Let’s get started, then! Are you familiar with the different notes?”

His hands took place over the ivories and he slowly pressed each one down as he labeled them. “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.”

“Excellent, that’s awesome! You’re already a few steps ahead of other beginners,” you nodded approvingly and retrieved the thin booklet you had laid on top of the upper panel. You opened it and sifted through a few of the jingle options, picking out something a bit more intermediate for him.

It was still simple, but definitely more advanced than nursery rhymes. You found teens and adults had a more enjoyable time learning when they didn’t feel like they were being patronized. Teens especially, fickle little creatures, those ones.

“Let’s start with this one, then,” you said as you set it against the music rack in front of him. “It’s pretty easy, I think you’ll pick it up quickly.”

The piece consisted of quarter-note half steps that ignored the sharp and flat keys for now. You had placed a piece of tape over the tempo indicator, finding that it put your students under too much pressure and made them stumble in their rush to follow the pacing they thought was right when they didn’t know what tempo was to begin with.

The man took a few seconds to study the sheet, then placed his fingers on the corresponding keys and began playing. 

He was a bit slow, holding some notes too long and others not long enough, but you were correct in thinking he’d get the hang of it fast. After a few runs, he was playing it decently well, and confidently, too.

“Perfect! I knew you’d get it like that,” you snapped your fingers, then picked up the booklet again, flipping the pages in search of something a little more challenging. You probably wouldn’t find it in a kiddie book like this one, so you placed it down and got up, grabbing a more advanced one from the side table nearby. “What got you wanting to learn how to play?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “My dad always wanted me to learn as a kid. I finally caved in, if only to make him stop yapping in my ear during family dinners. I’m just twenty years late to the party.”

You burst into giggles as you returned to your place on the bench, placing the new song you had chosen out for him where the previous one had been. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. You’d be surprised how many later bloomers there are.”

He chuckled along with you. “Well, that’s a relief. Had me fearing I was the only fully grown student you’d see in your life.”

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I teach a grandfather that wants to play for his grandson at his graduation next year. It’s never too late to learn.”

When you looked up at him, you found him already peering at you with those intensely cerulean irises, his sunglasses folded neatly into the collar of his shirt. You twitched, startled by his stare. He had you locked in his gaze, captivated as he observed you and you observed him.

You noticed with wonder and fascination that his lashes were as milky white as the tresses on his head.

He really was beautiful. Those same lashes were long and soft, brushing his high cheeks whenever he blinked. His lips were plush and pink, seemingly always curled up into a permanent smile regardless of size. Life and boyish playfulness darted in those mesmerizing oases that refused to shake their hold on you, and you wouldn’t wish them to.

They were the breath of fresh air you never knew you were deprived of, the nectar of life that was water to your parched throat, the flickering mirage that came to life before your very being.

You felt drawn to him, inexplicably. There was something so… familiar about him, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Like you’d seen him before, across the metro platform, or walking into the store you were just leaving, or someone walking the opposite direction as you on the crosswalk.

Where have I seen you before?

You blinked yourself out of the illusion, your lips parting, closing, then parting again before you finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot your name, could…could you remind me?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, forgiving your forgetfulness. “Just call me Satoru.”

Just Satoru? Is that really okay?

It doesn’t sound like a name I’ve heard before.

“Alright,” you agreed regardless. “Satoru it is. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmured your own name in return, dipping your head down in a mini bow. You returned your attention to the music sheet, lightly tapping the back of his hand with your pointer finger. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You noted how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. It was hard not to see it, your index finger would likely barely reach the topmost joint of his if you pressed your palms together.

Your hands tingled at the thought. You quickly shoved it aside, focusing on being a good instructor. 

Satoru continued to surprise and impress you as he mastered the tunes you chose for him after trying them out a few times. Each time he made a mistake, he listened attentively as you corrected it, laying your hands over his as you adjusted the positioning of his fingers.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine,” you snickered. “I’m a bit jealous. It’s hard for me to reach those far keys sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned cockily, flashing you a sultry glance between chords. “They can reach a lot of things very easily.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you stuttered, whipping your head away and acting as if he hadn’t completely flustered you.

Truthfully, the session was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but when you looked up at the clock, you were shocked to see you were nearing an hour longer than expected. It didn’t feel like much time had passed at all, maybe thirty minutes at maximum. Had it really been that long?

You pushed yourself up, stretching your legs as you felt pins and needles spark up in them. “Seems I got distracted twice today. I’ve kept you for an hour longer than I intended, I’m sorry,” you laughed meekly. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge extra for that, that’s on me.”

“It’s no worry,” Satoru reassured you as he got to his feet as well, delicately closing the fallboard with a careful hand. “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind paying for it, I did take up your time.”

He made something warm form in your chest.

“It’s fine, I love teaching. It’s not my main job, anyway, don’t stress,” you brushed away his concern. “You’re a prodigy, y’know,” you told him as you walked him to the still open door. “It’s no wonder your dad wanted you to learn how to play. I’m sure he’s proud.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded maybe a little forced. “Yeah, hope so,” he responded as he eased his shoes back on and bent down to grab his briefcase. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” you brushed your hair behind your ear, blushing. “Ah– when would you want to see me again? I-If you do, I mean.”

The odd firmness he had a moment ago melted away, once more replaced by that handsome smirk of his. “Same time next week? Ah, hang on, why don’t I get your number, just in case? I have a bit of an unpredictable schedule.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you assented, taking his phone after he unlocked it and passed it to you. “You don’t like using email?”

He shook his head, watching you punch in your number into a new contact, add your name, then hand it back. “Nah, texting is easier for me. I’ll message you later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” you acquiesced.

“Oh, right, how much do I owe you?”

You blinked a few times before recalling that it was technically a paid session, though it didn’t feel like that to you. You murmured out the cost, and he gave you an odd look for a brief second. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a few bills, and folded them in half neatly before passing them off to you.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he grinned and waved goodbye, promising to text you later as he headed down your walkway, turned the corner, and vanished from sight.

You closed the door with a quiet poompf, staring blankly at your piano as you tried to remember how to function again. You glanced down at the bundle of money in your hand when you thought it felt a little too thick, brow furrowing as you unfolded it and counted and holy shit that’s way too fucking much–

You rushed out of your house, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and looked for him, though you knew it was futile. He was already gone.

You tried to think of how you were going to slip the excess money back into his pocket next time you saw him, but as soon as you were inside, you raced to the folder you left on your coffee table, practically ripping it apart as you pulled out all the papers, aggressively uncapped a pen, and got to writing at light speed.

That man, whoever he was, infected you with a painful shot of inspiration that you needed to get off your chest right then and there. Your hand flew across the pages, revising entire sections you had been stuck on for weeks in the blink of an eye. Messy verses were refined, the missing notes floated into place, and by the time the moon had risen high and the timid breeze had turned cold, you had finished your song.

You looked it over one last time, a disbelieving giggle escaping you. You finished it. You finished it. This damned piece had been giving you restless nights, a broken loop in your brain that kept skipping over the unwritten parts, but one session with Satoru had seemingly given you the one push you were missing all along.

Your phone buzzed.

You opened it and tapped on the messages icon to find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown, 9:17 PM Hey! Sorry for texting so late. It’s Satoru. Does next week still work for you, same time?

What divine timing on his end. Right as he entered your thoughts, he slid into your DMs. 

Your fingers practically trembled with giddy excitement as you texted back instantly to confirm the time, uncaring of what kind of impression that was making on him. You were elated, feeling like you could exhale in peace at last. You gave a little victory cheer as you went about closing and locking all the windows and doors, pulling the curtains shut with so much energy, you questioned if you’d be able to sleep.

The answer was yes. After you had gotten all ready, having pampered yourself as a small reward for yourself, you fell onto your bed and passed out mere minutes later. For once, everything seemed to be going right.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“How’d you learn how to play?” He asked one day as he sipped at the tea you prepared for him. He was right about his schedule being hectic at times, but he somehow managed to fit himself into having lessons with you a few times a week, rather than just the standard one.

It surprised you, but pleasantly so. He was eager to learn and improve, and you were more than happy to teach him. He made for fantastic company, too, and you found you enjoyed spending time chatting lazily with him just as much as you did instructing him.

“My grandma taught me,” you told him with a smile. “She passed away a while ago, but I like to think I’m keeping her legacy alive like this, by teaching others, and keeping that old lil’ thing alive.”

Satoru nodded in understanding. “You’re amazing at playing,” he complimented sweetly. “She did a great job.”

“Thank you,” you answered bashfully, hiding your blush behind your own mug of tea.

“What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His smile felt like the sun kissing the apples of your cheeks on a perfect spring day. Him wanting to know more about you had your heartbeat picking up in speed, chirping a new, happy melody like a canary.

You deliberated before replying. “She was a very shrewd woman, stern in her teaching, but very gentle at the same time. She was the kind of granny that snuck me pieces of candy when my parents weren’t looking. She let me stay up late playing music whenever I was staying at her place. I probably bugged my parents to let me stay there every weekend, just so I could play it and learn from her.”

“So you got into music young?”

You bobbed your head. “I fell in love the first time I heard her playing when I was a toddler. I had woken up from a nap one day, somehow escaped my crib, and crawled to the living room to watch her play for…man, I don’t even know how long. I was just…hypnotized.”

“She sounds like she was a maestro,” he snickered airily, though you knew he meant it.

You grinned widely, resting your chin on the curved cup of your palm. “She really was. I can show you some videos of her playing sometime, if you’d like to see,” you offered.

“I’d love to.”

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Satoru had been your student for a while now. 

He zoomed through the intermediate pieces into the advanced-amateur category easily, though seemed to plateau around there. Despite this, he was a wonderful student, always trying to improve himself and his skill. You knew he had it in him, he was only missing a little something he needed to tip him to the next level.

At one point, you had joked that he must have been purposefully holding himself back just so he could keep studying under you.

He laughed, and said nothing more.

By now, he reached a point where he would come in with a pep in his step, claiming he had perfected a lullaby he wanted to play for you before you started the session. You’d find yourself (politely) seated on your couch nearby, and would watch with a fond expression you didn’t know was there as he treated your piano with a touch more tender than even your own.

And you’d listen. He’d choose some of the prettiest, albeit not complicated, arrangements to play for you, and you’d find yourself slipping into a state of blissful peace. All your thoughts would drift away, and you’d absorb yourself in the music he played. 

A few sessions had been spent just like that, with him as your personal musician, and you couldn’t figure out why you felt so…happy.

You liked the emotion a lot, though, and found yourself looking forward to his every visit, anticipating the full body chills you’d get whenever he lulled you into that state of delighted serenity. You didn’t remember when you stopped charging him, and when you let him come in without knocking anymore. 

You also didn’t remember when having tea after each session became tradition, but you were grateful for the joy he brought you with his presence alone.

In fact, you decided to get him a small gift as thanks. For what exactly? His company? Patience? Entertainment? Whatever it was didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything big, either. It was a record you stumbled across while visiting a thrift shop recently.

You picked it up for two reasons. First, he divulged he had a hobby of collecting old vinyls. Second, he mentioned he had been searching for that specific record for a few years with no luck, saying it was the last one he needed to complete his collection from that particular brand. The moment you spotted it, you grabbed it and practically bolted to the cashier, uncaring of the price.

There was no way you were leaving it there for someone else to nab it before he could. It was the most reasonable option.

Which was why you were extra giddy to see him again.

You opened the door in the middle of him reaching for the handle, stunning him for a second. That bewilderment was quickly wiped away by an excited grin that surely matched your own.

“If I knew you’d be this enthusiastic to see me, I would have worn something better,” he quipped.

You snorted and waved your hand, stepping back so he could come in. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see my favorite student? You look good no matter what you’re wearing, anyway.”

“Favorite, eh?” He teased as he closed the door behind him, leaning down to give you a quick hug. “Now I really feel like I should have worn something fancy.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” you giggled, leading him to the usual spot.

“I dunno,” he hummed, a sly expression crossing his face. “Pretty big deal to hear that from my favorite teacher,” You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest weakly, to which he laughed openly. “Ready to get started, teach?”

What a gorgeous sound his laughter was.

“Actually,” you said, “I got something for you. Wait here a moment, lemme go grab it.”

He raised a brow but didn’t raise any objections as he sat down and tugged his tie to loosen it a few inches, saying that he’d be right there.

You had to resist the urge to skip to your room to locate the record and retrieve it from the drawer you had safely stored it in. It was your sock drawer, actually. You wanted to keep it somewhere protected while it tarried for its new owner. You sang the melody of your newest single quietly as you picked it up, inspecting the album cover for any indication that it had been touched since you last put it in there.

Pristine. Obviously aged, but in flawless condition otherwise.

Sounds from your living room brought pause to your actions right as you closed the drawer after dumping all your socks back into it.

…Was that music?

Frowning, you picked up the record and crept towards the source of the noise. You recognized it instantly – it was the most notable piece written by the notorious Gojo Saichi. It was considered the most difficult composition created within the last century or so. You’d listened to it on repeat occasionally, attempted it dozens of times, though you always fell short before the second movement started, which came early on.

Was Satoru watching a video? No, the melody was too clear and full to sound like it was coming out of a phone speaker.

Then…

You froze in the entrance to the hallway, stuck in place as you watched Satoru play the oeuvre flawlessly. From where you were standing, at an angle, you could see his precise actions and motions. Every note came to him as naturally as air, each shift in tempo as easy as blinking, down to the fragile, silk-like contrast that made the instrument sound as if it was a weeping widow, sitting on a window sill as she descanted to the moon, alone. 

His digits knew exactly where to go, when, how deeply to press, how to shift between fierce and floaty as if he was born to do exactly this.

As your eyes flickered from his hands to his face, you saw that his eyes were closed. He was doing what some musicians could only ever dream of achieving in their careers; he was uniting with the music, playing as one, letting it fill his heart, then pour out with every throb like the very blood in his veins.

The most complicated, difficult, astronomical concerto known to man in the modern age, and he was playing it like it was nothing.

Satoru must have sensed your burning gaping as his hues flickered open and his hands stilled over the claviature. He looked over towards you, his mien morphing into something resembling embarrassment.

You staggered closer. “That…that’s…that piece was…written by Gojo Saichi…” You mumbled, barely able to get the words out. You set down the record onto the coffee table, already having forgotten about it.

You were flabbergasted, rattled as you came to a stop at the side of the piano. He…how could he have played that so well? Wasn’t he barely in the advanced category? That was…that was professional, grade A, genius level music he played.

“Yeah,” he grinned, and you would have believed his show of being sheepish if the gleam in his eyes didn’t give him away. “He’s my dad.”

You sluggishly dropped onto your spot on the bench, peering at the keys but seeing nothing as you unpacked the bombardment of information you witnessed.

“That’s…the– that’s the hardest piece…even I can’t…”

“I know,” he rubbed his nape. “He basically forced me to stay up day and night playing it until I got it right.”

“But…how?” You tilted your head, peering up at him from the corner of your eye.

Satoru shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a fucking bombshell on you. “I asked him to teach me when I was a teen,” You heard him say. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I…” You labored to find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He asked. You nodded, and he let out a heavy sigh. 

Instead of answering immediately, he stood up and pulled you to your feet as well, pulling you into the kitchen, where he filled your kettle with water and put it to heat up.

You desperately wanted to know what exactly was going on, but couldn’t find it in yourself to rush him. He went about methodically picking out both your mugs from your cupboard, tossing a bag of tea into both, grabbing the bowl of sugar on the counter, and setting it all down on the table while he waited for the kettle to whistle. He seemed lost in thought, while you had many and none at all at the same time.

You could only observe him as he picked his words carefully.

He finally began when the shrill noise of boiling water filled the room. “I don’t know if you remember – probably not, since you didn’t recognize me – but we actually did meet a while ago. I was a lot different back then,” he said as he poured the water into both mugs, afterwards placing it back on the stove and holding his hand sideways at roughly chest level. “Maybe this high, scrawny, kind of a douchebag,” he admitted with a chuckle.

You were still in shock over the whole situation. All you could do was silently urge him to continue by leaning closer, accepting the cup when he passed it to you. Heat spread through your fingertips, easing away the frosty feeling you didn’t notice set in.

“You were playing the piano in the music room at the school we went to together. It was…honestly, beautiful. I grew up with a famous pianist for a dad, but even he can’t make music sound as alluring and gentle as you can,” he continued, awkwardly holding his own mug. “So, when I saw you again a few months ago, I couldn’t believe it was you. I always wanted to ask you to play something for me when we were younger, but could never get the nerve to.”

As he spoke, the memories were beginning to filter in through the thick haze in your brain. 

You were so focused on writing music and learning to be a great musician like your grandmother that you never really paid attention to your surroundings or the people around you if they weren’t your granny, parents, direct friends, or music teacher.

From what you did remember, Satoru was always a confident, cocky boy, shameless and loud. To hear he was…shy about asking you to play for him was hard to believe.

“So, I finally let my dad start teaching me,” he rambled on when you didn’t respond. “I’ve tried so many times to replicate the song you played, but I could never get it right. I know it’s probably a long shot, but you don’t happen to remember what song that was, do you?”

You thought back, scraping the dust off your highschool recollections. There was one piece you had hyperfocused on perfecting during the last year there, determined to play it exactly as your grandmother had.

You never did manage to master it.

You set down the tea you had only sipped at twice and walked past him into the living room, heading to your piano in a sort of trance. You slid onto the bench, and set your fingers on the keys. Muscle memory took over, the gentle tune coming to life in…how long had it been since you last played this?

You let the music flow through you, gave it access to your heart, allowed it to peer into the deepest parts of your soul, and simply followed the path it created.

“Was it this one?” You asked quietly.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, lips parted as he stared at you with nothing less than amazement. “That– that’s the one. Which– what’s it called?”

“It’s a piece my grandma wrote for my parent’s wedding,” you answered. “She didn’t tell me what it’s called. I’m not sure if it has a name to begin with. She played it for me once, and I,” you huffed out a short, choked chuckle, “I became obsessed. I spent every day as a senior trying to get it right, to play it like she did, but…”

Your fingers slowed into a stop as you looked at them blankly, recalling your attempts, and the disappointment that followed each failure. You memorized it after playing it just twice, but it didn’t help you reach your goal in the end.

You startled when his hand rested lightly atop of yours, his body partially leaned over your shoulder so he could look you directly in the eye. This close, you felt his light breaths as they brushed your cheek. You could see the exact shade and hue of the teal composing his striking irises, match the exact pace of his heartbeat to a sonata, hear him swallow nervously.

“Keep playing,” he rasped, sounding almost desperate. “Please.”

You obliged. How could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? When he requested it so feebly in a trembling voice that was close to cracking? How could you say no when you saw and felt firsthand how his body relaxed when you filled the room with the lilting melody once again?

The music hopped and glided, playful in some parts, somber and tranquil in others. He stayed right where he was, the heat of his stomach resting against your upper back, thawing the tension in your shoulders as his hands held them gently, thumbs rubbing circles into your tight trapezius.

In every way, the ballad reminded you of your grandma, of your parents, of your childhood spent trying to reach a point where you were truly happy with how you played each note.

But, if that was the case…

How come you saw Satoru’s eyes when you closed yours and listened to your own hands dance across the keys? 

Why did his smile, his laugh, his touch, his voice, his everything, come to mind when you picked apart every stanza and bar? If you put together all the notes a specific way and decoded them, you swore they’d spell his name.

Your hands drifted and halted as you reached the end of the lilt.

Or, rather, the end as you knew it.

There was a brief pause, then he mumbled, barely above a hum, “is that it?”

“Grandma never showed me how it ended,” you told him morosely. “She said she’d tell me ‘when the time is right’, but…she died before she could.”

He sat beside you and took your right hand into his. His fingers massaged meaningless shapes into the creases of your palm and the smooth plane of the dorsum. Neither of you dared break the silence, mulling in your own worlds.

Satoru was the one to cautiously cross the line of quiet, doing his best to not disturb it. He wrapped his left arm around your back, pulling you into his side while continuing to toy with your dainty digits.

“We’ll find it together,” he whispered.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Truth be told, you never imagined you’d find yourself in this kind of place before – especially not in this position. 

Your hand hovered over your brow, shading your eyes from the brilliant sun as it shined low in the sky, kissing the horizon. Though it was setting, the approaching night was warm as ever. A pleasant breeze ruffled the fabric of your dress and caught the strands of your hair that managed to slip loose from the style your mother put them in. 

Stars were already beginning to dot the expanse above, glittering and so, so crystalline when you were this far outside the city. You never thought you’d get to see them so clearly, enough to point out individual constellations, and even identify Jupiter and Venus. 

You never had a reason to leave the bounds of the city before, so all this was a distant dream you might have had once when you were a teenager. 

But here you were, outside a lovely villa, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, miles away from where light pollution would dare to touch. The buzzing, lively chatter of dozens of guests filled the air; the clinks of glasses, the clacks of forks and knives on plates, all of it was so animated. You felt like you were in a sort of daze, overwhelmed with happiness to the point that it almost didn’t feel real.

A pair of soft lips pressed against your temple, drawing your attention to radiant, minty-ocean hues.

Satoru gazed at you with nothing short of pure, raw, true adoration. Like every fiber in his body, each and every singular cell, was dedicated to loving you.

“I have one more present left for you,” he murmured against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss right after before he stood up and raised his glass. He tapped the back of his knife gently on the side, creating a chiming noise that settled the ongoing conversations with ease.

Once all the attention was on him, he set both objects down and began speaking.

“I know we’ve already said it a lot, but I wanted to thank you all again for coming here to celebrate this day with us,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “This is truly the happiest day of my life – so far,” he added cheekily, earning him a laugh from the crowd. “So, before all the festivities end tonight, I wanted to do one last thing, if you’d all be so kind as to grant me this moment.”

Of course they would. Satoru was just that type of person. Charisma poured off him in waterfalls, charming anyone he spoke to without effort – you included.

He pushed back his chair, moving to leave. Confused, you grasped his arm and called his name.

There was a glint of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t identify, not with the light tingle of wine sitting in the back of your mind and the overstimulation of the grand day.

“Just listen, baby,” he whispered to you, then he was weaving through the guests, snaking his way to the grand piano situated off to the side of where everyone was situated. “This is a little song I heard many, many years ago, and fell in love with from the first few notes. I’d like to dedicate it to my mother-in-law, father-in-law, their late mother, and I would like to especially dedicate it to my lovely wife.”

Your mother gasped, grabbing your arm as soon as Satoru began playing the familiar melody of the diapason you had been taught ages in the past. It was the one your grandmother played for you, just once. It was the one she played for your mother and father for their wedding. It was the one you played for Satoru, once unknowingly, and every time after that intentionally.

The one he was playing for you now.

Your mother teared up faster than you did, reaching for a clean napkin to dab her eyes with while she waved her free hand at her face, trying to stave off the tears so that they didn’t smear her mascara, though she wasn’t succeeding. Your father was gently shushing her, rubbing her shoulder while he looked between you and Satoru with pride, and you…

You recalled the first time you heard him play the composition his father had written, when you still believed he was just an advanced player. Back then, you felt entranced.

Now, you felt completely spellbound.

You lifted yourself, carefully making your way between the enchanted spectators. Some clutched and squeezed your hand as you passed, and a few others breathed out little congratulations to you, not risking breaking the delicate atmosphere. 

By the time you made it to him, your vision was blurry, and he was playing the last line of bars.

The arrangement floated into the placid, halcyon evening, each individual note rising like a star to join the thousands that looked on with bated breath, protecting this little moment of clement apotheosis.

His hands swept across the final few steps, barely touching the keys at all. The concluding tone resounded, fragile and silk-like, followed by a second of calm silence before the crowd erupted with cheers, hoots, and deafening applause.

Satoru rose from the bench, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It echoed in you, the sweetest lullaby, the happiest composition that could never be written down identically. It was one only the two of you could hear and feel, one only the two of you could dance, live, cry, laugh, breathe, and love to.

Of all the endings you ever tried to give that precious lullaby your grandmother had written so long ago, the one Satoru created was perfect.

Because you created it together.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #fem reader #I'm going light on the tags fn #is this considered light lmao #fluff #jjk fluff

[sharpeno]

quick writeblr intro

hi i've been lurking around writeblr for so long and finally decided to make my own blog so my wips can go feral lmao

about my writing

my writing process is usually: i hyperfixate on a media or topic -> i write about it

usual genres include fantasy, sci-fi, historical fiction

mostly angst/whump but trying to go into other stuff (my chars need a break ig)

i've been writing as a hobby but never really thought of publishing my works

my wips are probs the same vibs but in different fonts

i write a mix of original content and fanfic that i've broken down in my own categories bc there's too many of them at this point

about me

20+ yr old non-binary, pansexual, they/them

southeast asia represent🫡, currently in 🇨🇦

been getting back into reading and currently into the Armand Gamache series by Louise Penny

goals

have an outlet for my writing

get some writing inspos bc my wips need some love

meet other writers

some of my wips

alpas fantasy, found family, filipino mythology A series centered around a group of young salamangkeros (magic users) as they go from saving their friend to saving the world, all while having to deal with their families' conflicts and themselves.

the garden fanfiction A Sherlock Holmes fanfiction series that starts with a bloody corset and the initials "A.B." that seems to haunt Holmes and Watson realizes there's more to his partner that he doesn't know just yet.

unnamed wip w/ superheroes sci-fi Hans meets Vesper in a dinner party when Vesper's brother suggests they become friends because they're teenagers so why not. Getting closer, the two start to realize that maybe they were meant to meet each other after all.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #writing community #writeblr intro

[til-f]

Episode 3 Thoughts

I was literally terrified that they weren't going to give us the whole prophecy. Breathed a sigh of relief when they did.

the prophecy scene with only gabe saying it felt super forced lol

I really missed the line "The real world is where the monsters are. that's where you learn if you're any good or not." Like, I wanted that. I also think it describes annabeth's character, and a lot of the reason why she wants to go on the quest.

some good angst when percy got mad on thalia's behalf. again, why do we have to change the tiniest lines to be different. JUST KEEP THEM THE SAME UGHHGHLJ

I don't mind that annabeth is like, a badass, but she isn't the leader of the quest. and i think her anal leader vibe is kinda not the best way to portray her. I don't know. This is percy's only quest. and I could see rick in the film studio being all like, "nah, we can't let percy be the star of the show. he needs to learn to relinquish control" and that is driving me CRAZY. the whole bit where alecto tells annabeth that she might be the most formidable demigod alive? WHY RICK. WHY. WHY MUST YOU NOT LET PERCY JUST BE THE FUCKING MAIN CHARACTER. WHY MUST YOU CHANGE THINGS. WHY WASN'T PERCY THE ONE TO KILL THE FURIES ON THE BUS AND WHY DOESN'T HE FEEL LIKE THE PROTAGONIST. WHYYYY

this book is so near and dear to my heart yall, I should not be making these posts LOL. But I love the show so please read on.

I loved grover's song, lmao. so cute. and when percy goes "our voting system's broken." i'm cracking up.

WHY WAS THE MEDUSA SCENE SO BAD AND SO WEIRD ??!!!!!???? WHAAT ???? WHAT THE FUCK. SERIOUSLY. WHAT?????????????? And again, why are the mosnters so fixated on annabeth? It's kinda weird?!!?!? Um. and I feel like just putting the invisible cap on medusa wouldn't have stopped her powers. also, the fight scene should have been more epic. whats with all the psychology. Just let the children eat burgers and kill medusa. jesus christ.

I don't quite get why percy is having trust issues in the show. in teh books, he's loyal to a fault. he doesn't even think to question that annabeth or grover would betray him. and that he only brought annabeth because he thought they wouldn't be friends? Sigh. Rick, if you're reading this, grrr

the last bit of the episode where percy ships the head to the gods (very impertinent!!!) (same font and same message as the book ahhhh!!!!!!!) and hermes delivering it to the 600th floor almost made up for the other nonsense. almost.

New York City babyyyyy I like it!

WHEW. overall, this episode drove me a little crazy, so I don't really know what to say. Hopefully next episode is better.

#percy jackson #pjo show #meta #percy jackson and the olympians

[mooifyourecows]

Moo, what do you use for writing? Word? Google docs? A secret third thing? My best friend finally convinced me of writing a fanfic for the first time in 12 years and I've been using Google docs but dont love it. Thank you :)

I use Word 👍 It's what I've been using since i was literally a kid (back when it was FREE) and it's the most comfy and familiar for me. Even when they have updates that do weird shit (like all the incorrect AI edits/suggestions they force on you? turn that shit off, it's not worth the headache) it never really loses the things I like most about it.

I don't particularly like Google docs. I use it when I have to share things with people, but it drives me nuts. can't write in it. it starts chugging so damn slow when your doc gets too long. Word also starts to slow down, but at a much higher word count than Google docs. I wrote MOST of Open Tab in one document of Word before I finally had to start splitting it up lmao.

also, maybe i'm just stupid, but i had to look up how to change the default format settings for google docs and when i followed those instructions, it STILL didn't work so like.... hello??? i don't want to manually change all my font/paragraph/spacing settings EVERY time i start a new doc. Or even just when I PASTE new words into a previously started doc. it goes back to the old formatting!!!!!!! Like what the fuck man? I've tried so many ways to get it to format the same. I've used the keyboard shortcuts, I've used my mouse (although they got rid of that option now so like... uh okay...) and nothing works. so the internet lied to me. Unless my docs are just broken and i'm the only one saddled with this misfortune. or maybe everyone else just likes typing in their suggested default settings. maybe i'm the unreasonable one.

at least Word is easy to format and then accepts my defaults without question or hassle.

And i like the Welcome Back feature. Super helpful when i edit long documents over the course of several days and don't want to have to manually hunt my last place down.

anyway, that's what i do. I've heard of other good options like Scrivener but i prefer to keep it simple, and Word is simple. Simple without being empty/devoid of options

I wish you luck on your writing adventures! I love writing and it makes me happy when other people fall in love with it too. Have fun! and may you be blessed with zero writer's block for years to come 🌈

[inkforhumanhands]

What do you use to make your comic edits? I really like them!! And is there like a process you follow? Like do you storyboard the rough idea first? Sorry if you've answered this somewhere before

Ohhhh man this is going to have to go under a cut due to pictures. Luckily whenever I make an edit I tend to DM my friend process pics while screaming about how horrible they look and how I can't figure out how to fix them. 💀 So some of the record exists!

I use a mix of three different programs. To be honest even though it's free, Photopea.com is my go-to for most functions, especially since they have a large pool of fonts to choose from which means I don't have to go into the font mines and download 500 different ones just to see what's going to look best. I also use Paint Shop Pro, which is the program I learned how to make edits (icons, back in the day) on when I was like 14. I have a newer version now since I finally had to retire the 15-year-old one on my broken laptop, and I still don't really know my way around it that well. It's not the most user-friendly software, but it is a lot better than Photopea at resizing images to make them larger. I also use Clip Studio Paint whenever I need to draw anything for an edit.

When I need resources, I often use dafont.com for fonts. I have a bunch of texture packs from various places on the internet, but my go-to nowadays for new stuff is pexels.com where you can get stuff with a royalty-free license. I also occasionally use my own photos for textures (took a bunch of wall photos in Italy- my dad thought I'd lost my mind). I don't use brushes all that often but there are other free resource spots.

As for process, I usually start with comic panels that I like visually and cut out the characters, then figure out what I want to do with them. For Kill Krew, I knew I wanted to use a bunch of the tiny Foggies, but I didn't know that I wanted to make it a story per se until I finished the first section of the edit where Foggy's holding a bunch of papers and I decided to make it kind of like he was authoring his own memoir. Then I just followed the events in the comic. For my volume 5 edits I did have more of an idea for the story I wanted to tell from the start and looked for comic panels that would fit it. (By the way: never forgiving the volume 5 editors for allowing so many different artists. It pained me to have to use a couple different artists in one edit.)

Anyway though kind of like when I'm writing fic, I just start with pretty much a blank canvas, plop the characters on, and hope they arrange themselves into something that looks cool. This is a very early draft of one of them next to a slightly more advanced draft:

A lot of the work honestly goes into choosing the background and marrying it to other elements such as the text and the cutouts. I use a lot of rectangles for this, as you can see in this Kill Krew one next to a near-final draft below. This is also the phase where elements get resized, whether for story-telling reasons or design reasons.

I also fool around a lot with layers and coloring. An unexpected layering choice can totally make or break an edit. See the original comic coloring (left) versus my coloring change (right):

Or this original panel (left) versus a combination of a picture of a starry sky and a coloring layer (right):

Font is also hugely important to me. I try to find ones that fit thematically AND also look great on the image. Like bad coloring or a bad background, an ugly font can also kill an edit. Choose wisely lmao.

Another thing to watch out for in an edit that's multiple images is to make sure they all look nice together and like they're part of one set. I find this probably the hardest, since different source images (comic panels in this case) often have different coloring requirements, but you want the colors to mesh well between different images. It's tough! And if you make extremely long edits like I do occasionally it's hard to even see what they look like together. Sometimes when I'm looking at them stacked in Photopea it looks like a tiny, tiny photostrip and I have to figure out what's working and what isn't. It's tough out there!

Anyway I think that's all I got! Hope that gave you some insight lol I'm glad I had these process pics because I usually just kind of go into a fugue state while making them and come out covered in blood!

#asks #ravenmold #daredevil #inkedits #comicedit

[genderfluidgothwitch]

Bwuehehe. Writer questions 1, 15, 28, 32, and 46

1: What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting"

I use either Calibri or Ariel, depending. Basically any sans-serif font thats ADHD/Dyslexia friendly. Love reading/writing, hate when words don't stay put lol

15: Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

Good lord lmao.

I just recently started being okay with annotating anf highlighting books. I used to consider it sacrilegious to do so, and then I realized who the fuck cares? They're my books, and fuck it, if I'm gonna let someone else read it, they can have fun reading my thoughts while doing so lol. I do not dog ear, only because I have a tendency to either use scrap paper bookmarks, the fancy bookmarks I keep forgetting I own. I LOVE LOVE LOVE reading in the bath. Unfortunately my family hated when I would read in the bath for two hours. Something about there only being one bathroom for six people lol. I do not judge. Again, who the fuck cares lol. I will be friends with anyone, regardelss of how they treat books. Carry them around everywhere, hoard them on bookshelves, tear out pages, blend them into a smoothie, fuck if I care lol.

28: Who is the most delightful character you've ever written? Why?

Oh goodness, I don't know. I'll always have a special fondness for Cam and Maddie, but I think the most fun character to write has actually been Q Tomlin. They're a nonbinary genderfluid teen navigating high school, coming to terms with a lot of structural homophobia/transphobia, and also starring in a Shakespeare play!

32: What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic/etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

What, like in someone else's work?

I guess one of my favorite lines would be from a Dylan Thomas poem.

"Do not go gentle into that good night/ rage, rage against the dying of the light."

It's very much a line about not being complacent. I found it funnily enough in a trilogy I read as a teenager when I found the first book in my summer camp's lost and found. It was the last week of the year and we were encouraged to take things that weren't claimed, so of course I claimed the book lol. I've always been a bit of a rebellious thinker, so can you take a wild stab as to why I fell for that line?

40: Please share a poem with me, I need it.

See above poem, but also, here's one I wrote a while ago that I still can appreciate:

After Life

We walk across trails of light, endlessly winding through the night. A journey to the worlds beyond to find something that lets us bond and become something new, something true, something that we never knew we could be until we tried. Too many tears we have cried, and too many hearts were broken. All these words we left unspoken, a mark upon these hearts, torn apart, if only we had been so smart as to remember who we were together. Now we face the land of forever. Alone now, nowhere near close to that we fear, a different place to call home, our own. Draw me near, this place I roam. I want something as real as this, this glowing land of perpetual bliss. Let this be real, oh gracious god, for I can’t believe that I can trod upon these golden paths to salvation, in desperation, to something great, the blest creation of life in heaven. And now I know and can question how I came to deserve this afterlife, After all the pain and strife I have cause to others, to brothers, and those whose mothers names I cursed in frustration. Can I still receive re-creation of myself when I can’t be bothered to try to just be me?

We travel across these paths of light endlessly winding through the night. I guess I’ll never get it right. So let me fall, in ceaseless flight.

#asked and answered

[pianocat939]

Loved your work and saw requests were open, so I thought i'd ask-

Can I request sone yandere lychee dragon x reader? (Sorry im a simp who loves yandere shit)

WHY DID THE FONT CHANGE- god mobile is hard to use xffhubdg

I’m sorry but I find liking my Longan fic the funniest thing ever. I literally pulled that thing together and finished it at 2:47 AM with my eyes burning. The love is much appreciated tho.

People I might disappoint you on this one because I don’t know Lychee Dragon that well. (I took a break from the game during that time. Don’t worry though, I did research)

This is more on the hcs side because there wasn’t a request on it being a fic/hcs. (My organization is horrible with fics I’m sorry lmao) Additionally, MC is a regular cookie, not a dragon.

Tw: Mentions of brainwashing, getting called pet, you’re getting degraded at the end, Minor character death

Yandere Lychee Dragon

• As a cookie of the Rambutan tribe, you were strong and brave; fighting any monster that came close to your people.

• For a while everything was peaceful, until some of your tribe mates started to adore mangosteen cookie.

• They would feed the child delicious jellies and play with them whenever they asked. It was almost odd how much they pay attention to the cookie. As things continued on, more of your tribe started to act weirder.

• They were almost in a brainwashed-state. They would follow the child everywhere. Often, they go to a cave, where cookies would come deliver things and such.

• You never took the chance to find out since there wasn’t a problem. Recently however, a cookie had been missing for days… Worried, you went into the cave that Mangosteen and the others always hung out at.

• You might have wanted to destroy the world right then and there.

• A dragon had the audacity to control your people. A fucking dragon.

• Where was Mangosteen Cookie? Surely they should be around here somewhere.

• “Look who decided to finally show up! I was wondering when you were gonna arrive; Especially when that cookie that’s been missing for days is dead.”

• “How dare you! You vermin should not be living alongside with cookies! All you do is cause destruction!”

• “Vermin? Did you just say vermin? I’m most definitely not the vermin. If anything, you cookies are. I only had to disguise myself as a sweet child before cookies came flocking to me.”

• What? Mangosteen Cookie was this dragon in disguise? That would only explain the odd way your people acted around them.

• “You however, managed to not fall under my charm. It’s so annoying…But that just gives you a better role for me~”

• You were then caged in by your kin, holding you down so you couldn’t move.

• “I’m going to make you my servant! Not just a regular one either. One that’ll serve me until I say so!”

• “I don’t want to be servant of a stupid dragon! I will get justice for your actions!”

• “WHO SAID YOU HAD A CHOICE?”

• Lychee Dragon then used their staff to hit you hard in the head, causing your vision to slowly blacken. The dragon laughed, and at that moment you felt hopeless.

——————————————————

• You were kept hostage, following every word of Lychee Dragon. At first you fought them until finally you realized you were no match.

• You can’t fight a cookie who holds so much power. Let alone a dragon.

• So now you live your days serving and being a ‘pet’.

• “My pet come here!” They motion over.

• When you approached they gave you a kiss on the cheek, laughing at your expression.

• “I knew you wouldn’t fall in love with me. But I knew you could be broken down until you’re nothing but a cookie who does nothing by follow orders. Just like a pet.”

• Someone just come get you out of this hell.

——————————————————

This was so difficult to write. Like the only thing I could think of was servant.

It’s definitely not my best work lmao

Unedited

- Celina

#yandere x reader #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run #lychee cookie #lychee dragon cookie #yandere cookie run

[namor-shuri]

I swear your commentary on posts is hilarious af 🤣☠️ These video and photo edits are so cool too. Is there a reason why you don’t post more to Twitter (not that you have to, just an observation)? Thanks for everything

Hey 👋🏾💜 Thank you for the kind words. Y’all need to stop gassing me up. My dad jokes/ corniness will know no end lol.

With my Twitter page, sometimes I question whether or not people think I’m stealing work from this Tumblr page bc both my pfp and handles are not the same 🥲 I made my twt before I made this side blog so the handle and pic was a quick “slap together” choice. The phrase “be f*cking for real” is too funny to me so I just ran with it. And then my brain was completely uncreative and was like “namor-shuri” will do rofl. Hopefully people understand by now that I’m the same person, but alas.

To answer your question, I think it’s broken up into two parts. One chunk of it is that I rant A LOT so this platform makes it easier for me to do so while also being creative with color fonts and all that jazz. I also just love the freedom of layouts and stuff like that. From a creative perspective, of course it doesn’t help that Tumblr messes with quality but what I lose in quality, I gain in possibilities [I swear I don’t work for Tumblr and this is not me promoting them rofl].

The other half of the pie is the stark difference of engagement on Twitter vs Tumblr, in my personal experience thus far. Like I said, I made my Twitter first back in late December of last year. It was kind of a random decision but once I realized I was super into the Namor x Shuri ship, I wanted to engage with the fandom more directly and pour into it. Since then, I’ve been able to have a lot of fun with making different artworks, edits, videos, playlists, you name it! Ya girl has been BUSY to say the least lol And what’s been dope is that this fandom has been a fun outlet outside of my professional artwork and stuff like that. All that being said, what slowly became apparent to me was that I wasn’t feeling as included or apart of the fandom as I initially hoped I would. I would try and engage with people or joke here and there and most of what I would get back was crickets, whether it would be on my own posts or my commentary on others. And to be fair, I know it takes time for people to get to know you and build community but it just felt slightly strange. Especially when I would see new pages pop up and everyone would immediately flock to engage with them. I say this to say that absolutely NO ONE owes you anything in life so to be upset that someone isn’t your friend [whether it’s in person or online] is a human experience but you have to understand that not everyone is going to jell with you. There are billions [billions? *does quick google search] of people on this planet. Someone is bound to hate you, while another will worship the floor you walk on. Someone’s going to think you’re okay, while you being your raw and authentic self makes another person’s day. It’s nothing personal. It’s simply a numbers game. So inherently I understood that but it still hurt the 3 year old in me that was just trying to make friends at the playground, you know? lmao But I think what set it off was when I would look up and then see my edits used for people’s banners, fan art, post ideas, etc without asking me or giving me any credit knowing that they also aren’t following me or even engaging with me in any way. It still wasn’t cool but I think what would have made the whole thing feel a little different is if I was more “in the group” but because I’ve been on the outskirts the majority of the time, it just made it sting that much more.

Then I started to get slightly paranoid and wondered if I was missing something. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something that was off? I felt like a message was being sent and that confused the hell out of me [and lowkey still does]. BUT SOB STORY ASIDE lol I brushed my shoulder off, switched gears and thought “f*ck it, let me make my own side blog and do my thing on there” and that worked for me! I got traction after that, people were responding to my stuff and throwing in their own ideas/commentary/analysis etc. I felt like I could engage with people more, even with the limitations Tumblr puts on side blogs. And just the whole vibe overall started to feel really f*cking good. The funny thing too is that I’ve noticed that a lot of Twitter is on here and vice versa so it’s the same folks but for some reason I think this platform has opened up more possibilities for engagement in my experience. Twitter lends to a wider audience than Tumblr unfortunately but I’ve accepted my humble abode on here.

This rant is getting super long so I’ll end with this; I have nothing against the Nashuri fam on Twitter. Just because I’m not necessarily apart of the “crew” doesn’t mean that I don’t find everyone hilarious or amazing in any way. If you think I’m funny anon, you need to read what these girls say because it is SUPERB *chefs kiss* The talent from artworks to fics to think pieces and everything in between is incredible and oozes from that community. But for me, I think I just haven’t found my footing or people over there and as much as it’s been a bummer, I’m still going to be on there to support the dope stuff that comes out of it. I also want to say that just because this has been my experience doesn’t mean it will be yours. I fully encourage you to branch out on different platforms and try and engage with as many people as possible [fandom or not]. I think I just got my finger burned once and immediately gave up rofl. One of the biggest blessings that have come out of the Nashuri fandom in general is it’s vast bipoc community. As a black woman myself, I haven’t experienced this level of inclusivity when it comes to race, gender, language, culture, ages etc in other fandoms. It’s beautiful and I will always be thankful for that.

I also want to drive home that everyone needs to find what works for them. You owe yourself that. If you feel like your aren’t getting what you desire out of Instagram, move to Twitter and see what happens. If Twitter isn’t cutting it, move to Discord. Move to Tumblr, you name it! I think that move for me made a HUGE difference and honestly made me feel better about being in this fandom in the first place. And also this just goes for life in general but just because you might not feel included somewhere doesn’t mean you or the place is a problem. You might just need some scenery change.

Ps: If you are in the fandom and are on Twitter, definitely hit me up and add me! I would love to be mutuals. I’ve seen some familiar accounts from Twitter add me on here and vice versa and it’s been really cool. I appreciate the blogs that engage with me on there and all that jazz. I’ve never had a Twitter before so I’m lowkey new to that world still but grandma’s getting the hang of it slowly but surely.

Thank you 💘

#nashuri #we just got a letter #I realized this is the first time I’ve actually put this feeling into words #I was really thinking about this question like wait why don’t I post on twt more lmao #nothing on the twt girlies #y’all are bad bitches #I’m just clearly not in the squad #and thats okay 🤷🏾‍♀️ #you win some you lose some

[copper-skulls]

So the thing I've been working on since yesterday is finished! You can get to it here :) Fair warning: they swear at points. It's a little encounter thing for Code, actually made from edited guts of an old, old thing from 2015/2016. I'm nearly 100% sure no one following me here has seen it in action either.

Upgrades I did:

cooler background pattern

all the character text like. matches the current version of courier. I had a serious case of narrative dissonance when I was stuffing in the new sprites but still had old text in y'all.

less round corners.

flexing my flexbox with the buttons

fallback fonts!! even if they're embedded lmao

...relative links.

Past me really did all the heavy lifting with the dialogue tail and the base for the bg tbh lmao

...If anything is broken / leads to a 404, let me know. It's 31 pages I had to butcher for tungle and copy-paste by hand, so mistakes are bound to happen. (And yes, I know, I could've stuck this into a single page with javascript, but I don't find JS fun.)

ETA bcs I Forgot: This is technically a tumblr sub-page, but it won't work if you open it in the app! it has to be a browser. it like. ""works"" on mobile as well, it just scales awkward, sorry, I'm not a webdev.

if you can't read them at points, the narration should give you at least Some context, but yeah what they're saying makes sense.

#undertale #fanart #undertale oc #ut: courier code #skeletons #HAHAHA HOW DO I TAG THIS. I had so much fun testing this and clicking around #but I tested this only on my local copy with local relative links that had to work a little differently #(sed utility I love you. search and replace on multiple files at once my BELOVEEEEEEED) #html #coding #I don't know how to call this #?? a little interactive writing excercise?? #it's like... it has one (1) variable and I more or less track it with the url so. fhaksj. if I did any more the number of pages would Explo

[raziraphale]

risking the mortifying ordeal of being known here but this is just too cool not to share. my younger brother is a print student (training to be a professional printer) and one of his tasks this term was to design and print a paperback book. the content wasn't important to the prof, just the formatting and printing, so my brother decided to make an anthology of some of my fanfic for me and it's so just so ahhhhhhhh

it's broken up by fandom and each section is colour-coded with coloured edges to have this rainbow effect

there are even some images scattered throughout for flavour, as well as some funny formatting choices like colouring all of Zer0's emoticons red and doing a different font for Venom's lines lmao (click to see the full images I didn't want to arrange them to take up a lot of space)

it's nearly 300 pages ??? and it's not even all the stuff I've written, just the stuff I'm still fond of from the past 5 years or so. I am just very overwhelmed that it exists 🥺💜

#sorry @ gray for also subjecting him to the mortifying ordeal of being known but like you had to know I was gonna show it off #i am so jazzed ahhhhhhh #my fanfic #reilly.txt #turning reblogs off just bc it's personal but like feel free to engage i guess i love to scream about it #also my brother did some custom art for one of them and i love it dearly but he doesn't intend to post it himself so didn't include it here #id in alt text