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redgokus · 4 years

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About Rengoku Being Hard of Hearing (Spoilers)

So! There’s a bit of fanon circling around for Kyoujurou, mostly on twitter, that suspects Kyoujurou is most likely hearing impaired/hard of hearing. This is because of the first part released from his gaiden- spoilers ahead!

In the illustrations, we see Kyoujurou’s very first mission as a slayer. Exciting, but troubling! He comes across a demon who has a dangerous flute, and if Kyoujurou were to hear the flute, it would do something along the lines of bursting his innards or rendering him immobile- something drastic like that. Kyoujurou realizes this, so he slaps his hands against his ears before he can hear the tune.

The whole reason that he defeats the demon is because of two very important key factors- Kyoujurou slaps his hands against his ears so hard that he bursts his eardrums and temporarily goes deaf from the impact, and he reads sign language from his fallen comrades scattered on the ground.

The fact that Kyoujurou bursts his eardrums leads to some connections being made in the fandom. It’s a known fact that Kyoujurou is passionate, but he is also loud. He speaks in a booming manner, and he always seems to keep up that loud, thundering energy. It’s part of his charm, but- as fans have been speculating, there may be another reason for this behavior. It may be that the trauma his eardrums faced on his first mission had lasting effects, making Kyoujurou hard of hearing, at least to some extent. So it may mean that he speaks louder just so he can hear himself clearly.

This is where the other key factor comes in. We don’t know why Kyoujurou knows sign language or how he managed to learn it, but he knows it well enough to read probably poorly made, broken signs from half-dead slayers. Being hard of hearing doesn’t just mean that you have trouble hearing yourself, it means you have trouble hearing everything around you, and Kyoujurou hasn’t shown any signs of not being able to hear his surroundings in that way. But. He knows sign language.

A huge part of sign language is not just signing with your hands, but it’s speaking, too. Most anyone you meet who signs is either speaking aloud while they sign or mouthing the words they’re saying with their hands- it’s a part of the language. Expression is also another huge factor in sign language- saying/mouthing the words and using your expressions is half the language (and we also know that Kyoujurou is a very expressive person). So my theory is this:

Kyoujurou is fast and observant. I think the reason that he never shows any hinderance in his hearing capabilities is the fact that when he’s talking with others, he’s doing his best to hear them and he’s reading their lips as well.

This is the more headcanon-esque part of my post. My belief is that Kyoujurou most likely always has his eyes wide and locked onto others while they speak. It fits his character to believe he’s like that. But I think that, if we had the opportunity to know Kyoujurou further and see him more in the series, we may have seen this headcanon come to life (besides the evidence in manga where he’s constantly moving his head back and forth to respond to the appropriate person), and we would see what living with this handicap was like while being a demon slayer. It’s very possible that if him being hard of hearing was true, he would be unfortunately susceptible to surprise attacks and have difficulty fighting with multiple demons at a time because of the fact that he can’t hear his surroundings very well. It would even be interesting to see if Kyoujurou possibly knew about the Transparent World or if he would’ve been able to learn it and use it to his advantage in battle.

This is all just speculation, though, but it’s very interesting to think about and consider. If anything, it makes Kyoujurou Rengoku more admirable. He’d most likely be the type of person who never told anyone about his handicap at all- but again, that’s just an idea. KNY does an amazing job with backstories and expressing trauma’s and hidden meanings, so I don’t think it’s completely out of line for fans to adopt the idea that Kyoujurou was hard of hearing somewhat. Personally, I love the idea, since I suffer from tinnitus and one of my ears has worse hearing than the other. The idea that a character I adore might have been living through that same thing is a nice thought, at the very least.

Anyways lmao rip we’ll never know!

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cognitiveinequality · 2 years

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Your Push For Permanent DST Is Bad And You Should Feel Bad.

(NOTE: this is a long post and I am not putting it under the cut because I am feeling particularly bitchy tonight and so pls feel free to just hit “J” on desktop to skip past this if you’re not in the mood, but I would very much like this on the record. Ahem.)

If you are one of those people who advocates for "year round DST" I need you to take several seats while I explain to you why you are completely wrong to please reconsider.

Oh, you don't like losing an hour of sleep? BITCH, ME EITHER. But the answer is NOT a shift forward an hour all year, and here's why:

1) It "saves" literally nothing:

Don't be fooled by the term "Daylight Saving". Most of us associate DST with long days of summer, and "who wouldn't want that???!" we ask ourselves, as we scowl at the clock and chug coffee to wake us up every morning for weeks after losing an hour. But you and I both know permanent DST won't magically create sunlight, no matter what doublespeak politicians use to win votes. I understand that "keeping it this way all year!!!1" is a lot more attractive when you’re sleep-deprived and when the days are already getting longer. And isn’t it funny how that’s exactly when the loudest advocates always seem to crop up to sell this terribad idea... I wonder why that is...? 🤔

Did you know that the biggest industries pushing for year round DST are recreational outdoor sports like golfing? They think that an extra hour of daylight in exchange for one less hour of morning light is more likely to put money in their pockets. No matter what politicians like Marco Rubio tell you, the push for year round DST is not about a better quality of life, it's about the bottom line of their corporate lobbyists.

And get this: American politicians have already had their chance at this and it blew up in their faces. If you're younger than 50, you probably didn't know that the U.S. already TRIED year-round Daylight Saving Time.

During the OPEC crisis of the 70s, the Nixon government passed a "temporary, year-round DST" that started Jan 6 1974. The idea was that it would "save energy" — with the NYT citing "experts" at the Federal Energy Office who anticipated "a national saving of 100,000 to 150,000 barrels of oil a day." Do you know what happened? People quickly figured out it was all baloney - a Department of Transportation study at the time concluded that the change actually had minimal impact on saving energy and might have actually increased gasoline consumption.

People in 1974 immediately figured out the change wasn't a good one, and it showed in polling. There were a multitude of articles and opinion pieces through that winter calling for an early end to the 16 month experiment with much of the concern focused on the fact that longer, darker mornings meant parents were suddenly sending their kids to school in the pitch dark for months on end. And the parents probably weren't exactly relishing their morning commutes, either, because....

2) It's bad for your brain:

Sun in the day and darkness at night are the main signals that adjust the timing of our body clock, and our bodies use light cues to regulate a TON of internal processes, from hormones to heart rate. And one of the things that science is still trying to fully understand is its heavy influence on mood.

I'm no doctor/researcher, but from my reading the basics seem to be: Light stimulates your hypothalamus - the brain's main regulator of a ton of important functions, including the production of hormones linked with circadian rhythms and mood. This means that the timing of your exposure to daylight — usually 100 to 1000 times brighter than indoor light — can make a significant difference in how your brain functions.

There's a school of thought among researchers studying Seasonal Affective Disorder who believe that SAD patients are actually experiencing a "phase-delay" of their circadian rhythm that throws their brains out of sync with their regular schedule and contributes to depression, partly because of the timing of melatonin secretion. Studies have shown that early morning light exposure is critical to those people — it’s theorized that the light tells those brains to "speed up" their circadian rhythm to match the clock.

Other SAD studies have looked at the role of serotonin, dopamine, and other hormones stimulated by light levels, and while no one has quite cracked the code on their complex relationship to the disorder, there are consistent, repeatable results that show that light therapy is one of the most effective treatments for seasonal depression. But — and this is the important part, for our purposes — the light has got to be morning light. More, brighter light in the middle or at the end of the day does virtually nothing to alleviate SAD symptoms.

But don't take it from me - let's hear from the fine folks of the American Academy of Sleep Medicine, from their position statement on permanent DST:

DST is less well-aligned with intrinsic human circadian physiology, and it disrupts the natural seasonal adjustment of the human clock due to the effect of late-evening light on the circadian rhythm. DST results in more darkness in the morning hours, and more light in the evening hours. Both early morning darkness and light in the evening have a similar effect on circadian phase, causing the endogenous rhythm to shift to later in the day. There is evidence that the body clock does not adjust to DST even after several months. Permanent DST could therefore result in permanent phase delay, a condition that can also lead to a perpetual discrepancy between the innate biological clock and the extrinsic environmental clock, as well as chronic sleep loss due to early morning social demands that truncate the opportunity to sleep.

(hmm... "phase-delay".. where have I heard that term before?? 🤔🤔🤔)

3) You might not like it as much as you think you will.

Like I said at the start, the association with long summer days holds great appeal for most - me included!! And we've already covered how less morning light will likely cause serious mental wellness issues for many. But maybe you think "ehh... maybe Minnesotans and Alaskans have to worry, but we'll probably be OK where we are...."

Know this: If a shift to permanent DST was enacted across the U.S., those in most states north of the Oklahoma panhandle would would not see sun until after 8 a.m. from late November until the middle of February — already super fun — but the real chaos begins when you realize that the sun rises even later the further west within your time zone you go.

Switching the clocks ahead an hour in the winter means someone in Boston might see the sun around 8:00 am during the darkest parts of winter — already kind of sucky — but if you're in, say, Louisville, KY (right on the western edge of the Eastern Time zone) even though you're hundreds of miles further south, don't expect to see the sun rise in December/January until nearly 9:00am.

For months.

Fun!

(And not for nothing, but multiple studies have found that the further west people live within a time zone, the more health problems they may experience and the shorter they live on average. With some theorizing that these outcomes have links to the greater disconnect in circadian rhythms caused by the misalignment of ‘body’ time to ‘clock’ time. Neat!)

So is there any answer? I hate messing with my body clock twice a year!

Bitch, me too! And once again, I will turn to the pros at the AASM:

It is the position of the AASM that the U.S. should eliminate seasonal time changes in favor of a national, fixed, year-round time. Current evidence best supports the adoption of year-round standard time, which aligns best with human circadian biology and provides distinct benefits for public health and safety.

(emphasis mine)

Like the pros at the AASM above say, just keep the clocks on standard time.

Sure, we'll get a little bit less evening light in the summer, but that just means fireworks and sparklers can start earlier, fireflies will be visible sooner, and patio lanterns can glow a little brighter — a small tradeoff for millions being less likely to stick their head in the oven or drink themselves to death from seasonal depression.

#in conclusion #Daylight Savings is a land of contrasts #Standard Time 5 eva!#sorry for the rant #this has been eating at me for YYYYYEEEEEEARRRRS #and the increasing blithe calls to ''just keep it permanent dst already!!''#make my fucking ass twitch #cog rants #DST #long post #daylight savings #yes i don't have sources for every link...#im tired and I accidentally closed some incognito tabs OK?#just know I fully looked this shit up #pls

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babycharmander · 3 years

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If you think you have never stolen artwork, read this post.

So, art theft. If you've been a follower of mine, you've heard my barely-coherent rants about this before, but I thought it might be more productive to make a more coherent post on the subject.

If you're wondering about the title of the post here, it's because I feel like a lot of people aren't really grasping what exactly art theft is, and a LOT of people, even well-meaning ones, do it without even realizing it.

"But wait," you say. "I would never STEAL from an artist!! I never claim it as my own!" And that's all fine and good, but you're missing something here.

To start things off, what IS art theft? (It's not what deviantART said it was several years back, I'll tell you that much. *cough*)

We all know what art is, so let's talk about theft. Dictionary.com defines "theft" as "the act of stealing; the wrongful taking and carrying away of the personal goods or property of another; larceny." Okay, makes sense, but what about that other word there, stealing? Dictionary.com defines "steal" as "to take (the property of another or others) without permission or right, especially secretly or by force."

From those definitions, we can go on to define art theft as, specifically, "taking art without permission or right." In the context of art, that typically involves reposting it (not reblogging--reblogging is different) or using it for other things.

And there, my friends, is the issue.

If something is taken or used without permission, it is stolen. Permission is the important thing here--if an artist says "oh yeah, you can go ahead and use this!" then it's not stolen. You have their permission. But if you DON'T have that, then it IS stolen. It IS theft.

"But I'm not claiming it as my own!" you say. But you don't have to claim it as your own--the act of taking it in and of itself is an act of theft.

"But I said 'credit to the artist!'" The "credit" thing is a whole other conversation, but here's the short of it: The entire point of credit is to direct people to the source of something. If you are not directly linking to where you got the art from, you are not giving credit. "Credit to the artist" is not actually credit of any kind whatsoever. (Also, Google and Pinterest are not sources.)

"But I DID link back to the artist!" Okay, now this is where it may get confusing, because you may think you're covered because you actually did give credit. Here's the problem: if you reposted it or used it without permission, regardless of whether you gave credit or not, it's still stealing.

I'm bolding this because it's a point that a lot of people get tripped up on. Let me explain it this way: If you went into your neighbor's house and took something of theirs without their permission, but you told people "oh yeah, I got this from [neighbor]'s house!" that that would still, of course, be stealing, and it's no different for art.

Another thing is that even when you credit, people don't always check the source. Very recently I found a case where someone had reposted a piece of artwork of mine to Pinterest that was deliberately made to look like it came from the source material (it wasn't meant to confuse anyone, though--the description of my original post made it very clear that it was fanart). The person who reposted had linked back to my original post. The problem? The comments had people asking if this was official, where it happened in the source material, etc. Despite the fact that the source was right there, no one thought to look at it.

Even if you link back to the source, if you did it without the artist's permission, it's still stealing, and still causes problems for us artists.

"But I just posted it to my Pinterest--" DO NOT DO THIS. DO NOT POST AN ARTIST'S WORK TO PINTEREST IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THEIR EXPLICIT PERMISSION TO DO SO.

"But this artist friend of mine says they're okay if I post their work to my Pinterest so long as I link back to them!" Good for your friend! But the fact that your friend is okay with it doesn't mean that all artists are okay with it. For me, personally, I am very not okay with my work being posted to Pinterest, and say as much on my art blog description and posts (which people tend to ignore).

The problem with Pinterest--and reposting art in general--is that we artists don't know when it happens unless we're told, or unless we find it ourselves. It causes us to lose control of our art. And because of this, our art can spiral further out of our control, because when our works get posted to Pinterest or other similar websites, people who have no grasp whatsoever on how art works will just take it as "free art" and then use it for whatever they want.

That's how a piece I spent 20+ hours on was used as a poster for a paid event, without my permission, and without any payment or credit to me.

If an artist has said nothing about Pinterest (or other similar image sharing sites), your default should be to assume that they don't want their artwork posted there.

"Well I didn't repost someone's art, but I did use it for my avatar/RPing icon/video/fic cover/photo edit--" That's still stealing. If you're using it without their permission for any reason, that is stealing. Not to mention, the artist may not be cool with what you're using their art for anyway. (Looking at you, people who use platonic art in your shipping videos.)

“I MEANT to ask them for permission, but I forgot!” This can ONLY happen if you used the artwork BEFORE you asked for permission. You can resolve this by asking for permission BEFORE you use it, rather than assuming the answer will be “yes” and using it before asking.

"But it took me a really long time to make that icon/video/cover/edit!!" How long do you think it took the original artist to draw their piece? It doesn't matter how much work you put into modifying someone else's art--if you're doing it without their permission, you're still stealing.

"But I couldn't find the original artist! I tried to find them, I really did, but I couldn't. Is it okay to use their art then?" No, because you still don't have permission, and by reposting it anyway, you’re continuing to make the artwork spiral out of their control.

"What if I found the artist, but they speak a different language from mine? I can't ask them for permission, so is it okay if I repost their art anyway?" NO!! DO NOT DO THIS!! If there is a language barrier, use Google translate or find someone to translate for you and get a hold of the artist that way to ask them for their permission. The language barrier is NEVER an excuse to steal artwork. There are plenty of non-English-speaking artists who have taken ALL OF THEIR ARTWORK OFFLINE because the art theft was completely out of control. (And this isn't just exclusive to English-speakers stealing art from people who don't speak their language. It happens artists who don't speak English stealing art from English-speakers, too, but as this post is written in English it doesn't do much good for me to rant about this here.) If you can’t ask their permission, do not use it!!

"But what about reblogging?! Isn't that the same as reposting?? Should we not reblog art at all then?" No, reblogging (or retweeting) is not the same as reposting. If you reblog art, you keep all the information that we attached to the art, including our blog name and the description attached to the art. Reblogging/retweeting actually helps us artists A LOT, so as long as you're reblogging from the original artist (and not someone who's reposting their art), by all means, reblog our art!

"What if I just want to share someone else's artwork on Discord or show it to a friend?" This one's a bit different and is not actually as problematic. If you want to share our work on Discord or whatever, just link directly to where we posted it. Please don't post the art itself, unless you're doing it alongside a link because Discord won't show a preview or something.

"What about a forum or a site like Reddit?" This one's a bit different, since due to the way Reddit functions, if you LINK to the art, you have to go directly to the artist's original page to view it. (At least, that’s what it’s like the last time I was active there.) In a way it's roughly the same as with Discord--be sure you're linking directly to the actual post rather than just uploading the art on its own--but I would also ask the artist if they're okay with it, because they may be a member of the subreddit or forum and want to post it themselves, or they might not want their work shared to specific communities. (Some communities have a function where a bot will repost the artwork to Imgur, and some artists don't want that done with their art.)

"What if I'm saving it to my computer/phone to look at later, or making it into my desktop/phone wallpaper?" IMO this is fine, since your computer/phone files aren't public, and neither is your wallpaper. It's only a problem when you post it to public places without our permission.

"What if it's art I commissioned?" Well... like... in that case, it's art you paid for, so unless the artist you commissioned laid out very specific terms for you, you should be good to use that art. Like, at most, the artist may ask you to credit them somewhere in your blog description if they drew your icon or something, or credit them in a fic description if you commissioned a fic illustration from them, or something to that effect. It's really something you should have already worked out with the artist beforehand, but for the most part you should probably be fine to use art you paid for however you like.

"What about art I requested?" This is a bit different from commissioned work. Just because the art was drawn at your request doesn't mean it's explicitly yours (unless it's like, a drawing of your original character or something). Some artists take requests more as suggestions, so the art they draw in response to a suggestion or request is still theirs. Treat this as you would any other artwork and ask the artist for permission first before you do anything with the artwork you requested from them.

“What about NFTs?” ... Okay this one I can’t really go over too much because I barely understand it in the first place, but NFTs are BAD for artists and are a form of art theft. Do not turn people’s art into NFTs. This is a crappy thing to do. (If you want more information on this one, you’ll have to look it up yourself. It’s a form of cryptocurrency and it’s confusing.)

“If you don’t want your art stolen you shouldn’t post it in the first place.” This is fascinating logic. Try applying it to something else and see how it holds up. “If you don’t want your merchandise stolen, you shouldn’t open a booth.” “If you don’t want to get poisoned you shouldn’t eat food.” “If you don’t want to get punched in the face, don’t walk outside.” Yes. Flawless logic. Truly.

"Why do you care so much, anyway?! I'm sharing your art because I like it! That's a compliment! Shouldn't you be happy?" Well, we're certainly glad you like our art, but the problem is... as I've said before, reposting our art causes us to lose our control over it. When we lose control of our art, that damages our livelihood. As I said before, other people have made money off of my artwork. As well, some artists lose jobs because when their potential employers check out their portfolio, they may find artwork that's been reposted everywhere online, so they cannot hire the artist because they believe they may have stolen the artwork in their own portfolio.

Your reposting an image you thought was cute to Facebook or Pinterest could cost an artist their job. Think about that.

So, tl;dr, keep this in mind: you need the artist's permission to repost or use their artwork. If you do not have it, it is stealing, even if you credit the artist.

I know this post is really harsh in places, but this is such an important thing for all artists, and there's so many misconceptions about art theft online. And I feel like one of the biggest problems is that when some people see posts on art theft, they ignore them, because they think they've never done it or would never do it, so that's why I worded this post the way I did. I'm not trying to hurt anyone--I just want people to understand what art theft is, how it affects us artists, and how you can avoid it. Thank you for reading.

#long post #psa #drawing #art theft

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enchanted-lightning-aes · 2 years

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A Guide to Deal with Content Draught

I had to make this post, simply bc i see ppl be like ‘oh no more content 😥😥😥’ when in reality there’s a lot of content (even if my following list isn’t too large)? i mean this is mostly for writing content but i guess it can work with other formats of media as well.

without further ado, a quick guide to deal with the thing called content ‘draught’:

if you’re putting off interacting with a post/reading a thing, now might be the time to do it. if a favorite writer of yours is on hiatus/busy/dealing with irl things, it might be a great chance to read their previous posts. sometimes, it would surprise the writer and make them happy. (trust me, i did this a lot and it helps to boost their works, ya know.)

if the writer has a masterlist of some sort, you can find a link for it to see what works to read or re-read. and you can check their writing tag in their archive on desktop. that way, you can see what works you might have missed out on.

actively actually search for ppl to follow? sure, you can make a post of looking for new writers but if you don’t get what you’re looking for. . . maybe search on your own. you don’t have to follow every writer there is just for following or whatever. just follow those whose works interests you.

accept that writeblr will have that time of the year when ppl aren’t going to be that active. i mean we all have irl things to do, which will get in the way of writing. or reading. and sometimes, it’s better to wait for a time for it to be active.

don’t rush into conclusions or be miserable at the lack of content. and don’t always rely on your dashboard or being on the tag-lists for something new. sometimes, there’s content all around you, and you’re just not looking at it. i’m just saying. \_(ツ)_/¯

if you want content, you gotta find it instead of waiting for it to show up. this way, it keeps a community up and running. 🍀🍀🍀

#writeblr #writeblr community #am writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing

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terushimooo · 3 years

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HTML GRADIENTS

Hello hello!! Come check out the secrets to HTML text gradients!!

You might ask, why are you sharing all your secrets, why not let the masses suffer — and why is all the text in blinding pink and blue?! Well, because I like it, and I wanted to. This website will be much better if it's all full of colour anyways!!

Honestly, I’m more than happy to help! Trust me when I say I spent HOURS trying to figure it out. (Where was this post when I was learning!!!) Even when I thought I got it perfect, I didn’t. LMAO.

We can all thank Daddy Bee (@.nectarous) for holding my hand and walking me through the very basics!

Also, before we get started, when you code — STORE EVERYTHING IN A GOOGLE/WORD DOC before saving (as a draft). There’s no guarantee your code will 100% always stay, and tumblr might be a b-word and take you out of HTML!!!

Don’t spend hours working on it without having a backup!!!

So, that being said, the first thing you have to do is make sure you’re on desktop in HTML — and STAY on desktop, in HTML!

DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT CROSS PLATFORMS!

As in, if you see a mistake or want to edit — make sure you do not edit on mobile!! Only desktop, and DO NOT SWITCH TO RICH TEXT, at any point in time. stay in HTML!

Once you’re in HTML, which you can find in the top right hand corner when you chick the little gear, you can add your basic text and coding.

Ex. This Code...

<h2> TITLE IN BOLD <h2>

wow look at this cool italicized text.

Will look like this...

TITLE IN BOLD

wow look at this cool italicized text.

(You can save this as a draft and see how it looks to make sure it’s formatted right!! Don’t forget to save in a google/word doc as well!!!)

Once you have your post formatted the way you want, you can then decide which words you want coloured. So, I usually go balls to the wall and make everything blindingly colourful, HAHAHA, but you absolutely can do whatever you want!! The easiest way I can show you how to this is with some sample code.

Before you do anything though, you need to choose your colours!! You can either do this by hand and decide your own gradient, colour by colour, OR pick your start and your end colour, and plug it into THIS* handy generator.

***** MAKE SURE YOU REMOVE THE SEMICOLON AT THE END!!! IT WILL STILL BE GRADIENT COLOURS AND LOOK NICE - UNTIL YOU TRY AND REBLOG!!!!! ( this is where daddy bee saved my life.)

So my code, without any links, looks like this...

(The thing in gradient is the title, and the paragraph is one solid colour.)

<h2> TITLE IN BOLD </h2>

wow look at this cool italicized text.

** IF YOU HAVE ANY SPACES IN YOUR TITLE OR THE WORDS YOU WANT IN GRADIENT, MAKE SURE YOU PUT SPAN STYLE OVER THAT SPACE. (I bolded this in my text). Otherwise, it WILL be an ugly BLACK/WHITE line IF you try to add a link over top.

And here is the result!

TITLE IN BOLD

wow look at this cool italicized text.

so there you go!!! That’s how I do the basic text gradients!!!

(If you haven’t already, save all your code to a google/word doc!!!)

It’s a little more complicated when you move into adding links, and I’m pretty sure I’m not doing it right, but hey - it looks good on the front end, and no one’s doing an inspect elements search - HAHAHA.

If you’re interested in figuring out how I do the links, you can keep reading, and if not, I hope his helped!!

ADDING LINKS

So again, to reiterate, I am not at all doing this right, and there’s way too many span styles in succession, but it looks nice on the outside soooooooo.... oh well, lol. If you can find a nicer, easier way to do this (daddy bee probably knows how) THEN GO FOR IT!!!!!

Otherwise, here’s what my code would look like to include a link.

Your website code is the same as always, for the sake of this example, I’m choosing google. This is what the website link HTML code looks like...

<a href=‘www.google.com’>whatever text you want to be linked goes in here</a>

Here is my example code...

TITE IN BOLD <h2>

wow look at this cool italicized text.

Here is the result!

TITLE IN BOLD

wow look at this cool italicized text.

(The title might not appear to have a gradient on desktop mode, but I promise you, it’s there!!)

TADA!!!!I hope this helped!!! Again, this example above, is a mess. But I really did try my best!!! If I don’t do it like this, the front letter in my text underline DOES NOT show the gradient. IT IS AN UGLY BLACK/WHITE.

Are there better ways to fix that, PROBABLY!!! But this is what you get lol.

I HOPE THIS HELPED!!! Shoot me another ask if you need anything cleared up!!

I kid you not, this took me HOURS to make... LMAO, I hate it here... Again, I hope this was helfpful!

Please, ignore any and all spelling mistakes, I'm dying.

#html text gradient help #(un)helpful lee #Lee AA #does AA stand for alcoholics anonymous or answering asks - maybe both #I really do hope this helps!#i spent a SUPER long time trying to gather up all my braincells in order to come up with this post #too long...#hours...#LOL #again - please try and ignore all my spelling and grammar mistakes

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

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Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333

Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜

“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”

Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.

“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”

“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.

“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”

“That is neither here, nor there.”

“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you’re acting dodgy.”

“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.

“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.

“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”

“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”

“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”

“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”

“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”

“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”

“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.

“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”

“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.

“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”

“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”

“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”

“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”

“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”

“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”

“She’s the only one who understands me.”

“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”

“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.

“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.

There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.

That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.

The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.

“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.

“Uncle Pads!”

Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.

“Am I coming to yours then?”

“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.

“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”

Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.

“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.

Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.

“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.

Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.

“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”

“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”

“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.

“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”

“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”

The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”

And fuck.

Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.

Damn it.

Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.

It’s totally fine.

That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.

“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.

“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.

“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”

“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.

“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.

“Knew that he is exactly your type?”

“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.

“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”

“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”

“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”

Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”

“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”

“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”

“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”

“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.

“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”

“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.

“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.

“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.

“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.

“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”

“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.

“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“

“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”

Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”

“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”

The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.

“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.

“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”

“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.

“I think it’d be cool if you did.”

And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”

Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.

“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”

“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.

That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!

“Mr Black, twice in one week?”

“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.

“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.

“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”

“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.

“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”

Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.

“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”

“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.

Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.

“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”

“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink

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sukifans · 4 years

Text

IT’S ALL LATIN TO ME

ZUKO X READER COLLEGE!SMAU

⏎ MASTERLIST // part VI « VII. just friends :) » part VIII

SUMMARY: you’re a premed student at BSSU and you thought it’d be a good idea to take a latin class, but you’re in way over your head here. good thing your buddy sokka knows a classics major in your section you can study with.

WARNINGS: language

She really, really tried not to show how nervous she was. It would be stupid to be nervous, after all — it’s not a date, regardless of what her friends say. Besides, they had hung out alone before, even if only to study Latin. Friends meet up and get dinner and see movies together all the time. Toph and Suki and everyone else were just projecting what they wanted to happen. Surely if Zuko had intended to ask her on a date, he would simply and clearly ask her on a date. Surely.

The car ride to the pizza joint near the theater they’d decided on for dinner was mostly music-filled silence punctuated by some awkward small talk. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how often she had to covertly wipe the sweat off her palms on her pants. He was anxiously tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel as he drove, wishing he could think of something to say to break through the palpable tension. Even as he racked his brains, nothing came up. He let himself zone out to the sound of her soft humming from the passenger seat and stole glances over at her every so often. Maybe by some miracle he’d be a master at the art of conversation by the time they made it to the restaurant. Unlikely, but not entirely impossible.

“You know I have to pay for your ticket now, right?” she said, eyeballing him as he added a tip and signed the receipt for the dinner he’d insisted on covering.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m paying tonight.”

“You don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to,” he assured, bumping against her side as they left the restaurant and headed in the direction of the theater. “Besides, princesses don’t pay for anything.” He grinned at the way her nose scrunched.

“You would know,” she quipped. He rolled his eyes to draw attention away from his nervous blush when she linked their arms together and leaned into him.

“Why do they call you that, anyways?”

She pursed her lips and willed the aggressive heat rising to her cheeks to settle down. “They say I’m high maintenance,” she lied.

He frowned. “That’s kind of mean. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re high maintenance.”

“Thanks, Zu.”

They continued to chat lightheartedly as they walked up to the theater building and, after a bit of arguing and shoving to get to the card reader first at the ticket stand, (Y/N) begrudgingly accepted that Zuko would not be letting her pay that night. She held out hope that maybe she could sneakily buy something from the concession stand before he noticed. As they approached the counter, an employee ringing people up caught her eye. He was familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. The feeling kept getting stronger as she and Zuko approached his register.

“Oh, hey, Zuko,” the guy said once she and Zuko were in front of him.

“Hey, Haru.” Ah, Haru! She and him had had a few classes together in the past and sent lecture notes back and forth. “How have you been?”

“The usual, work and school.” Haru shrugged. “You?”

“Pretty much the same,” said Zuko. “Do you know my friend (Y/N)?” Haru looked over to her and gave her a soft smile.

“Actually, yeah. We’ve been in a few lectures together. What’s up? Haven’t seen you this semester.”

“Oh, you know... the usual,” she chuckled nervously. “You and Zuko know each other?”

“We went to high school together,” he said.

“It seems like everyone at BSSU went to high school together,” she said and Haru nodded.

“Most people that went to our school ended up here, honestly. But hey, I don’t wanna keep you guys from your movie. Can I get you something?”

(Y/N) had nearly tackled Zuko in order to pay for their snacks before he could, making Haru laugh. When she met his eyes, she felt warmth flood to her cheeks.

“Thanks, Haru,” she said, looking away quickly.

“Yeah, for sure. Have a good time, guys.” As she started to turn away, he leaned forwards to catch her attention. “It was nice seeing you again, (Y/N); I’ve kinda missed you copying off my notes in class. We should go out for coffee or something sometime.”

Well... that was unexpected. She was so surprised by the request that she didn’t notice the way Zuko stiffened, muscles in his face flexing as he clenched his jaw. Haru did, however, and shot him a confused look that was met with narrowed eyes. Blinking quickly, she recovered and sent him a smile.

“Yeah, that’d be fun,” she said.

“Great!” Haru said. “I’ll talk to you later, then. See you guys around.”

“Have a good shift!” she chirped. Zuko merely grunted and nodded towards Haru in acknowledgement before walking towards the theater with (Y/N). Now she noticed the tension in his posture and nudged him with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure? You’re acting weird now.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” She frowned and stopped just outside the entrance to the theater. He paused too when he saw she wasn’t following.

“Do you not want to see the movie anymore? We can go home if you want.”

“No, I said I was fine. Let’s go.” He turned to leave and huffed when she didn’t move.

“Zuko,” she said pointedly and he felt his cheeks go pink. If he would’ve just plainly told her this was supposed to be a date, this wouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t her fault he was a jealous idiot.

He sighed. “I promise it’s nothing. It’s just a little jarring seeing people from high school because... well, I wasn’t a very good person back then. I don’t like to remember it.”

Her expression softened. “Sorry, Zu. I didn’t realize.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You’re right, I was acting weird.” He held his hand out to her and she took it gladly. “C’mon, we have a movie to watch.”

“If it means anything to you,” she whispered as they looked for their seats, “I think you’re a very good person now.” His pulse jumped at her words as she squeezed his hand.

“It means a lot, (Y/N),” he responded, giving her a small smile that she returned.

When they finally left the theater a few hours later, Zuko made sure their clasped hands were in plain sight as (Y/N) waved goodbye to Haru.

A/N: hi guys!! it’s been a while, i know :/ i was going through a big slump and this chapter was giving me a lot of problems for some reason. i’m still not thrilled with it, but i wanted to get something out for y’all! thank you so much for being patient with me as i adjusted to moving back to my college town and starting classes and work again, so many of you were so very lovely and supportive and it made the slump easier to worm out of eventually. and i made a gif! :D anyways!! hope you enjoyed this update and as always feel free to send an ask or reply! for tag requests i prefer asks so i can keep track of them easier without getting lost in my notifs :^) also sorry about no read more cuts, every time i try to add one on desktop it won’t let me edit my draft on mobile to fix the formatting :(

TAGS: @theblueslytherin @beifongsss @coconutsaiyan @5sos-wdw @silverreading @the-lva-way @cupofnctea @khaleesi-of-assassins @bloomkings @pyromaniac-olive @lil-lex1 @kyleewrites @cece-lives-here @coldlilheart @royahllty @astralsaf @damianwaynerocks @darkskin-buttercup @emogril @plutaars @duh-dobrik @harajukukitsune @kangaroobunny @harmlessoffering @rosetheshapeshifter @past-2am @welovediaaxx @dailytrashypanda @thenutellabreadsticks @sara5208 @whalerus @fanworrior @andrevvminyrd @travvestys @rosesandpines @cipheress-to-k-pop @lukessimp @justab-eautifulmess @mochminnie @whoevenfrickenknows @asianequation @booksandwonderlands @dekumiya @mothman-juicy-ass @spooky-titties @394pitterpatterpotter394 @rockinearthbending-marauders @kurt-nightcrawler @sifucuteness @degenerationarmy @songofgratitude

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tomaturtles · 4 years

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Some things for content creators regarding posting on Tunglr Dot Com

Hi hello this is just a small collection of notes re. Posting Things on this site for fellow content creators cause I know we’re all just trying to Get Noticed out here. Some are based on stuff i’ve read about and have been keeping to and some are based on my own experiences

Put in the relevant tags to search for your work first! Only the first five tags in a post were searchable for a while and I believe it’s been since updated to the first twenty tags, but regardless get the tags people might search for like fandom or characters out of the way first! And if you’re into tag rambling, save those for last.

Make sure your post actually ended up in the tags! Tumblr clowns a lot so it’s always good to make sure your post ended up in there. This is important so that anyone searching through the tags can see it; otherwise it’ll be limited to those looking at your blog or reblogs of the post. Look up one of the first tags on it, set the search to “most recent” and see if your post is there! (it helps checking the tag before you post so you know where your post would be)

You don’t have to delete the post and make a new one if it’s not showing up in the tags. Sometimes taking out or tweaking some the tags can fix it and make the post show up properly. I usually experiment with removing rambling or unnecessary tags and saving until the post ends up in the tags, and messing around with readding them until it continues to stick. Yes it’s still annoying, but it’s helpful if your post’s already gotten engagement by the time you notice it’s not in the tags. (i am specifically making this post cause i’ve been posting art here for 5 years and only found this out this week)

If your posts consistently don’t show up in the tags, there might be an issue with your blog on Tumblr’s end. Shadowbanned? Marked as explicit? I dunno what the problem is called, but if in addition to that you’ve noticed you can’t seem to search for anything on your blog and you don’t appear on the notes of posts you’ve interacted with, your blog might have been wrongfully flagged and it may be worth sending tumblr support a message about it. (it happened to me once and they fixed it!)

Linking to websites outside of Tumblr is iffy. I’m unsure if it’s been confirmed that linking outside of Tumblr always results in your post not appearing in the tags or if it’s a dumb luck thing, but it seems to happen a lot so better safe than sorry. Tumblr links are fine, so an option if you want to add a link is including it in a reblog of the post and linking to the reblog in the op!

Edits to the original post now carry over to its reblogs! Or at least that seems to be the case since a recentish update. If you’ve noticed a mistake in your post that’s bugging you but you don’t want to repost the whole thing, this is an option!

And lastly, for those who browse content this time: The mobile app and XKit on desktop both have a quick reblog option! On mobile it’s there if you long press over the reblog button, and on XKit it’s under the One-Click Postage extension. Both are handy to make reblogs speedier and share content you like.

These are probably varying degrees of well-known by most users but no harm in repeating for newer people, hope it helps someone out! If I missed anything feel free to add to this also

#art tips #art help #tumblr tips #artists on tumblr #for the one who made this post i have no idea what to tag this with huh #i typed this up on desktop so hopefully its not a giant brick of text on mobile #still losing my mind over the fact you can just fiddle w tags until the post shows up in the tags #then again ive been posting p niche content for a good while until i got into batman recently so i just didnt pay much attention to tags #i dunno if theres a science to why they dont show up sometimes or if its just random but who knows #ANYWAY hope i havent clowned on any of these and also hope thesell help fellow artists out yeehaw #toma talks

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intomymindspace · 3 years

Text

Video Games ✰ Tendou Satori

Video Games covered by The Young Professionals

tendou satori x gn reader

Through the Summer and the Fall // Haikyuu!! Songfic Series

a/n: hi everyone, I'm sorry for a posting a week late! I’ve been really unmotivated as of late for personal stuff but also because I'm lowkey still a little bummed that my Bokuto fic (definitely totally am not plugging it rn - totally do not click the link, ahaha 🥺) didn’t do as well as I hoped it would. But no matter! Here is the Tendou insert, as promised! It’s not the best, and I definitely have a bit of writers block and am behind schedule. I wish I could write his character and for him better considering how much I love him. Next will up be flattykawa 😌 and I will be posting it hopefully soon to help make up for last week’s missed post. I've also changed up this blog and have given it hopefully a better look - there is a new theme on desktop!

Warnings: part 3 spoilers for jojo’s bizarre adventure that include character death, my bb tori being insecure about him and his body but I love him and his flat a$$ so much, and as always, we clown on flattykawa in this household but all in good favor

It was a rainy day, and Tendou was quiet and content as he sat on your bed, reading the new Weekly Shonen Jump magazine that he had just been mailed. He had let Ushijima read it earlier - but as always, he only read the advertisements. You sat beside him on the floor, his long legs dangled off the edge of your bed, his foot brushing your arm every now and then. You were playing the new otome game you had bought a week ago on your console. On days like this, the two of you often fell into comfortable silences when hanging out with each other - and today was no different. There was nothing to do other than school work and go to practice - but even then, it wasn’t necessary for the third years to attend anymore. Not since they lost in the finals against Karasuno.

He was pulled away from the panel he was reading when he heard you gasp - his crimson eyes flitting to your monitor to see what had happened.

“What happened?” You turned around to look up at him, an excited look on your face.

“Murasame Jinnosuke confessed his love for me! I didn’t expect it to happen so fast into the game.” He looked back at the screen to see a handsome samurai on your screen. Snickering, Tendou ruffled your hair.

“Good job, now just see if you can get a real guy to confess his undying love for you.” Squinting at him, you slapped his leg playfully.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, Tori-kun.”

“When am I not?”

Ever since you had taken the place of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball club manager two years ago as a first year, you quickly bonded with the strange amalgamation of players. It had been a running gag between the third year players to find out what type of guys you liked. You could always be found on your phone during breaks playing otome games - and that was the beginning of the years of playful torment from your fellow classmates.

It wasn’t that you weren’t attractive or that you didn’t gain attention - every Valentines Day you always received several confessions and chocolates, but you always rejected them as kindly as possible. For someone who played as many otome games as you did, they were surprised to say the least when you had always declined the advances of many classmates, saying that they just weren’t your type with a kind smile on your face.

It was Tendou’s turn to squint as he turned his attention back to your screen as you continued to play through the game. He scoffed at some of the things the fictional samurai said to you - what was so special about him anyways?

This is my idea of fun

Playing video games

Tendou shut his manga volume, and he noticed your curious eyes looking at the cover. Smirking playfully at you, he poked your forehead.

“Suddenly interested in pirates?” You sat back, rolling your eyes.

“Maybe. Who’s the character on the front?” He stared down at the covered, humming.

“Shanks. Say, I never thought you were one to go for a tough-looking guy.” He held a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Ha! Sure. Keep thinking that, Tendou.” He feigned a gasp.

“You used my last name too? With no honorific? No nickname? The rudeness! I’m so hurt!” You couldn’t help but egg your friend along.

“Hmm, maybe I should start watching One Piece if he’s in it…” But before Tendou could clap back, Yamagata slid into the seat next to you, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Ah, so that’s your type, huh? Tough-looking guys with scars?” You rolled your eyes at the libero. “I’m pretty tough too, aren’t I?”

“As if.” But it didn’t stop them from the teasing.

So what if you maybe did prefer more muscular guys? Tendou didn’t understand why the thought hurt his feelings so much. He may not have the bulging muscles, but he was just as strong. He sighed to himself, watching you from across the table as you shoved Yamagata playfully. Why would you want to like someone like himself anyways?

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

Tendou entered your dorm room unannounced as he always did - but this time he was surprised to see you in tears as you huddled in your blanket, staring at the tv. The first thing you usually did was banter with him about his bad habit of not knocking, but all he could do is stand shocked in your doorway.

Instantly, his gleeful eyes turned blood red. Shutting your door behind him, he quickly made his way over to you, his eyebrows furrowed, a scowl on his lips.

“Who do I have to beat up?” A million thoughts were running through his head - were you made fun of? Did someone reject you? Did you receive a bad score on an exam? He wrapped his arms around you the second your tear-filled eyes looked up at him.

“Who did it? Who hurt your feelings?” His genuine care and questions only made you cry harder into his chest.

“Dio.” You said, but it was too muffled for him to hear. Pulling back, he gave you a quizzical look. You pointed at the scene that was unfolding on your tv.

“Dio killed Kakyoin.” Tendou immediately smacked a hand to his face. His eyes flickered to the screen to see a tall, muscular character slumped against a water tower, a hole in his torso with text on the screen saying “Kakyoin Noriaki has died.” He couldn't help but laugh.

“You want me to beat up the mighty and powerful vampire lord and stand user, Dio Brando? For killing the guy who licks cherries weird?”

Slapping his arm, you pouted at him through your ugly tears. “Don’t make fun of me! I really liked him.” Tendou kept on snickering as he rubbed your back.

“I know, I’m sorry. But it’s just too funny to just not tease you.”

As ridiculous as it sounded, Tendou wondered if you would ever cry for him the way you cried for Kakyoin. He smiled to himself as he stared down at your face that was still buried in his chest - he hoped you wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating at the notion of you coming to him for comfort.

Maybe your type was animated men.

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tendou put his jump comic down and just watched your gameplay - he was too distracted by his thoughts of you to focus on the new chapter of My Hero Academia.

He couldn’t help but pine over you. You had been so open and kind to him from the first time you met him - he remembered that day with ease. You had looked so confident walking into the volleyball gym, introducing yourself to the players as their new manager.

He was genuinely surprised that you weren’t turned away by his quirks - and he was thankful that above all, you treated him just like you treated everyone else.

It seemed so easy for you to become friends with the other first years at the time. You found commonalities with each of them, and you even managed to break Ushijima out of his shell by the time you all first went to nationals. Tendou remembered the hours upon hours that the two of you spent together - whether it was hanging out in the dorm watching animes, giving him tips and encouragement on the court during timeouts, or quality conversations on long bus rides to and from games. If you had never joined as manager, Tendou would’ve never guessed that the two of you would become as close friends as you were now. And he had always been a good guesser.

As he stared at you, controller in your hand, he remembered why he realized he liked you so much - it wasn’t because you shared a strong love for manga and anime. Okay, well, maybe it was, but it wasn’t the commonality. It was because you understood and even empathized with escaping through these fictional stories.

He knew what it was like to want to escape - to want to find paradise away from everyday life. On the court, Tendou could sneak into the small slice of heaven that he visited when he played volleyball. Off the court, he wanted nothing more than to have you safe in his arms as the two of you escaped into the world of whatever show you had chosen to binge that day.

To him, you were just as heavenly as the defeated looks on his opponents’ faces that he craved to see - maybe even more.

Tell me all the things you want to do

I heard that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?

You squealed excitedly as you waved the game in front of Semi’s face after practice had ended.

“Semi-semi! Look what just came in the mail!” He pushed your hand out of his face, scoffing.

“I can’t see it if you’re rubbing in my face like that, idiot.” The setter had a smile on his face nonetheless, making you laugh as he took a look at the game. His eyes widened.

“No way, Castlevania Judgement?!?!” You nodded proudly, smiling at Tendou and Ushijima as they walked over to see what the commotion was about. The middle blocker gawked at the game you held in your hands - the third years had been talking about the release of it for at least a few months now.

“You jealous? If you want, we can play after dinner.” Semi quickly nodded, and you looked at Tendou and Ushijima for their answers.

“What, when have I ever said no to wanting to play video games with you?” To his reply, the captain simply nodded.

“Thank you for your invite. I am happy to attend as well.”

Tendou and Ushijima sat on the edge of your bed as you and Semi sat in front of your tv, switching the controller after every chapter of the game. Ushijima had no interest in actually playing the game - and Tendou knew he would get a chance to play with you later. Semi was more excited for the game than he was anyways.

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you gushed over one of the main characters, Simon Belmont. From the looks of it, he was a powerful fighter - and Tendou sighed once again - he was super muscular and tough-looking too. You were too invested in the gameplay with Semi, that you weren’t paying attention to the conversation Tendou sparked with Ushijima.

“I don’t get what’s so special about him anyways.” The redhead had a pout on his face, his arms crossed. Ushijima was very aware of the middle blocker’s crush on you - his friend often coming to the captain for his advice. While Ushijima had almost no experience and knowledge at all in terms of dating, he was always observant of the people around him, and was very blunt.

“Tendou-kun, if you like them so much, it would just be better to ask. It is pointless to be jealous over every fictional character they like.” He couldn’t help but gawk at the monotonous tone and the serious look on his captain’s face.

“I’ll raise you a better one. It’s pointless to ask because their standards seem to be so high anyways.” Ushijima couldn’t help but stare at his friend.

“And why should that stop you? They’re not real.” Tendou sighed, exacerbated.

“I get it, I get it! I know they’re not just going to pop out from the screen or anything.”

“But?”

“But that doesn’t mean those aren’t their same standards to people they prefer in real life,” Tendou admitted, and Ushijima knew he hit the reason why. Tendou may be tall, but he was lean and lanky. The muscle he had was nowhere near that of any of the fictional guys you crushed on. What could you possibly want from someone way weaker - someone like him?

“They are not the type of person to go completely for the way someone’s body appears. If that were the case, they should’ve confessed their attraction to either myself or Yamagata by now, based on your logic. Besides, they told me they liked you.” Tendou couldn't help but roll his eyes, placing a hand over his heart.

“Wakatoshi-kun, you wound me. Of course they like me - they wouldn’t be my friend if they didn’t. Couldn't you at least sugar coat your advice sometimes?”

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Before the prefectural qualifiers in the fall, Shiratorizawa managed to snag a practice match with none other than Aoba Johsai. While there was clear tension throughout the entire time, the teams kept interactions outside the court lines as light-hearted as possible. Seijoh managed to snag victory during the first match, but Shiratorizawa hit back just as hard, winning the second match.

The boys were currently loading their bags into the bus as you supervised them, reminding them to triple check that they had everything. You were almost caught by surprise when a volleyball rolled towards you, hitting the back of your foot gently.

“Sumimasen.” You heard from several meters behind you, making you turn around. It was the Great King himself, Oikawa Tooru, that was slowly jogging towards you - it almost seemed like he was doing it in slow motion. Your fellow teammates heard the setter, their eyes sneakily following him as he got closer to you. They couldn't help but snicker at their so-called sworn enemy - it was obvious by the way that his aura sparkled around him and the smoulder on his face that he had rolled the ball your way to get your attention.

“I’m so sorry, could you get that for me?” You nodded, a polite smile on your face. The great Oikawa was definitely handsome, to say the least - and Tendou couldn't help the childish frown that filled his features. As you picked up the ball and handed it back to the setter, he flashed you a heart-stopping, pearly white smile.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the ball from you, brushing your fingers in the process. “You are the manager for Shiratorizawa, right? I didn’t catch your name earlier.” Oikawa ran a hand through his silky hair as you gave him your name.

“Wow,” he flashed you another smile, “such a beautiful name for someone just as gorgeous.” Semi couldn’t help but let a snort out at Oikawa’s compliment.

“Thank you.” You took the complement in stride, deciding it would be nice to say something back. “You played great today, Oikawa-san.” He laughed jovially.

“Thank you, you’re very kind. And cute. Would you be interested in catching boba with me sometime? I know a cute place that has good milk tea and milk bread.” Tendou rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s words. It probably was his plan all along - to try to bewitch the manager of Shiratorizawa. When Tendou saw a smile grow on your face, he couldn’t help but feel defeated. Were you actually going to say yes to him?

“I’m very flattered Oikawa-san. But I’m sorry, I must decline your offer.” Oikawa’s eyes widened in surprise. The Great King? Being rejected? “You’re not really my type.” You turned around, making your way onto the bus, leaving Oikawa with his jaw on the ground, the ace on Seijoh’s team as well as your teammates laughing their asses off at the scene that had just unfolded in front of their very eyes.

“That’s what you get, Crappykawa! You should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa!”

“Iwa-chan, that's not funny! I feel like my heart has been broken into thousands of pieces!”

“Well, if they’re gonna hit it, they better hit it til it breaks!”

“Pfft, I’m actually not surprised they didn’t say yes to him.” Semi commented, placing his duffle bag into the storage compartment. Tendou’s head quirked at the statement.

“Why’s that?” Reon asked, storing his things as well, making Semi and Yamagata snicker.

“Did you see how flat his ass was? I’m 100% sure their type is thicker guys. Like their ace, or something.” The three of them burst into laughter, Tendou only slightly laughing along as well. Ushijima only grunted in disagreement as he shut the compartment’s door.

“I believe their type is actually redheads.” All of the third years looked at their captain with wide eyes and dead silence - before laughing even harder. Semi slapped Ushijima’s bicep lightly, bending over. Tendou’s eyes widened - Ushijima was not the type to joke around, right?

“I didn’t think you actually knew how to crack jokes, Ushijima-kun!” The olive-haired man only looked down at his fellow third years in confusion.

“I am not joking. I simply just decided to ask them earlier, and I am only relaying the answer they gave me.” They couldn’t help but bend over, Yamagata even wiping tears from all the laughing.

“Stop! Your bluntness is only making it worse!” By the way the rest of his teammates reacted, Tendou believed Ushijima really must have been joking - in his own way. He had just picked a hair color different from Oikawa’s, right?

“Good one, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou let out a chuckle, giving his friend a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And baby, now you do

Tendou’s eyes widened as he relieved all the memories. Was Ushijima actually serious? He had never asked his friend about it - but perhaps it was because he was too scared to actually know the truth. Quickly, Tendou pulled out his phone and googled each of the characters - Shanks, Kakyoin, and Simon. The samurai was still on your screen, and he flipped through the tabs on his internet browser, trying to find the similarities.

Obviously, they were all built rather strong - but Tendou couldn’t get what Ushijima said out of his head. They were all redheads, after all. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? He looked back at you, your attention still on the otome game. Should he ask you? Would it be weird? Tendou thought about texting Ushijima, but he quickly decided not to. He already knew what his friend would say. Right after he called your name gently, you set down the controller and turned to look up at him.

“What’s up, Tori-kun?” He had never felt this nervous before - it wasn’t even like he was going to confess to you or anything either.

“Uh - what’s your type? Like, in guys? I promise I won’t tease you this time, I just want to know.” Surprisingly, you smirked at him. What were you thinking?

“You gonna brag to Eita and Yato that you finally found out after all these years?” The apparent blush on Tendou’s cheeks only spread further.

“What? No, I wouldn’t do that… Unless I had to,” he said, trying his best to come off as his usual teasing self. This only made you snicker at him.

“I’m surprised you guys haven’t beat it out of Toshi-kun yet. I already told him a few months ago.” Tendou’s eyes widened at what you said.

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t believe how casual you were about it. You were always so hellbent on keeping it from them - but perhaps it was because they made such a big deal out of it in the first place. Tendou didn’t exactly know how to respond to you - he was still trying to process the realization. So he had guessed wrong this whole time?

After sitting in silence for a couple of seconds, you gave him a playful smile. “Redheads,” you said, turning around and picking up your controller. Ushijima’s words echoed with yours in his brain.

Besides, they told me they liked you. Tendou let out a choked noise.

“I’ve made a mistake!”

You burst out laughing at Tendou’s exclamation. Setting your controller down once more, you stood up and turned, leaning your elbows against your bed. “You guys really are that oblivious, huh? Even Toshi-kun saw that I liked you. He went so far as to ask me about it too.” You propped up your head with your hand, staring at him. Getting past his initial shock, Tendou settled back down.

“How shallow of you,” he teased, leaning his head closer to yours. “I can’t believe the only reason why you like me is because my hair is red, yanno?” In return, you inched your face up closer to his as if you were challenging him.

“I know,” you said smugly, your eyes flickering down to his lips, “I’m such an awful friend. I’ll only break your heart once I replace you with another redhead.” He smirked as he noticed where your eyes had glanced. Tendou may have been oblivious, but he wasn’t called the Guess Monster for nothing.

“I’m guessing that you want to kiss me right now, hmm?” He asked quietly, dangerously moving closer to you - your faces now only mere inches apart. A blush crept onto both of your cheeks. You answered back, your voice nearly a whisper.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself, Guess Monster?”

Immediately, Tendou closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips were warm and soft, making him wish he had at least put on chapstick earlier. His heart was beating so hard inside of his chest that he was afraid you’d hear it, but you said nothing as the two of you pulled away. Saying nothing, he only smiled as he traced his fingers up your neck, cupping your jaw. Pulling you into a deeper kiss, he sighed contentedly as he felt your hands trail up his torso.

Kissing you felt like paradise.

As always, thank you so much for reading!! please like, reblog, and follow 🥺

~ Crystal

through the summer and the fall masterlist

blog masterlist

buy me a ko-fi! (but only if you want to and can)

BONUS

The following day, Tendou met you at your door to walk with you to lunch. With your hand in his, the two of you took your sweet time making your way to the cafeteria to meet up with the other third years. Today, Coach Washijo had asked for them to play a practice match against the Miyagi first years he was holding a training camp for. You decided to tag along since you had nothing planned to do for the weekend.

As you talked about a weird dream you had, Tendou couldn’t help but gaze adoringly at you - he couldn’t believe that you liked him, or that you were actually dating him now even if it had only been about twelve hours. The two of you waited in the lunch line, his chin resting on top of your head as he held both of your hands from behind you - it felt so natural to touch you. He could tell that people were staring - but none of it mattered when all he needed was the sound of your excited voice and the blatant look of love in your eyes.

Stepping away from your back slightly, he moved forward to gently place a kiss on your cheek - and that's when he heard the yells. The both of you turned to find your fellow third and second years staring at the two of you with wide eyes and mouths catching flies. Goshiki accompanied the team as well, his face beat red. Ushijima was behind the flustered first year, a rare half-smile on his face.

“Afternoon guys!” You had said it so casually as you leaned back into Tendou’s arms, allowing him to place a cheeky kiss on your temple - making Semi gag and Yamagata nearly tear up.

“I did tell you all that they preferred redheads.”

#tendou x reader #Tendou Satori x reader #tendou imagine #Tendou Satori imagine #tendou reader insert #Tendou Satori reader insert #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #through the summer and the fall #intomymindspace #tendo x reader #tendo satori x reader

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indomies · 3 years

Text

#showyourprocess

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag up to 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

sabrina @lanwangiji, my love, tagged me to share my process of making this typography edit! check out her explanation of her the untamed edit and her edit tag.

1. PLANNING

i once opened lyrics edit requests so i can learn and practice typography. this edit was a request as well. i asked them which lyrics they wanted to have and the colors they’d like. since i got several requests and it was hard to keep tabs on them, i made a trello board so i could organize everything. i’m still using the trello board for every edit idea i have, the board makes my life easier.

above is what i filled the card in the board with. basically just information of the requests.

1.1 INSPIRATION

once i got the request, my first thought was to find the vibe the song/lyrics exude. “it’s an old curse” screamed witchy vibes to me, so i went to pinterest to find some inspirations. at first i was looking for witchy poster designs and i came across this. i liked how it has smoke-ish graphic and i thought the smoke suited the “old curse” lyrics. and tbh pinterest is a rabbit hole, they gave me suggestions after suggestions, like this and this which became my inspiration for the color palette (i added the gold from those pics) and the sun moon design gave me the idea to incorporate space stuffs too. i somehow landed on this too, and because i wanted to include space theme, i made a simple phases of the moon. ultimately the hero of this edit was the lyrics, i didnt want the graphics took the center stage. i was inspired to make a crystal ball and do this kind of typography but after several trials i couldnt get the the typography right, so i scratched that idea and went with the space theme instead.

1.2 PICKING COLORS

after i was feeling inspired enough, i went looking for the right colors. i usually just type “color name” and “palette” on pinterest. example “dark grey color palette” and i chose the one i liked best. when the request only asked for 1 color, i always searched for either a complimentary or contrasting color to give it a jushz, to add sprinkles. that’s why i added gold on top of the dark grey.

1.3 FINDING FONTS

this is the hardest part. the fonts play important role to the design. they need to convey the vibes of the lyrics, in this case witchy/magic vibe. i needed to find fonts or font just as magical and a bit whimsical. tho i hoard fonts... i like to use new font for every typography edit lmao sue me.

i highly recommend going to creativemarket free goods site, pixelsurplus font freebies and behance to search for fonts. i always use 100% free fonts, that means i can use it personally as well as commercially. creativemarket gives me desktop license for the fonts, which means i can use it for commercial as well. the reason i do this because i want to open an etsy shop someday, and i want to have the right license when i sell my stuffs. i almost never buy fonts bc they are expensive lmao.

the fonts in used are “Vintage” for the main typograpy (i think i was a freebie from creativemarket) and “Morganite” for the title of the lyrics and the name of artist.

2. CREATING

once i have my materials and ideas, i open my illustrator and hope it doesnt crash every 5 min.

for this kind of typography edits, i use 600x700 px. tbh i dont like using 540px, the suggested tumblr size, as the width bc to me it doesn’t look as good in quality, so i up the px. but more on this sizing later. i utilize the artboards function in illustrator, and i use 2 artboards.

i use illustrator (ai) bc i’m working with vectors. when i work with vectors, the graphics/texts or whatever im making in ai wont become blurry or lose its quality when i enlarge or shrink it. in compare to photoshop, i need to make for example the moon graphic very big, so i wont lose the quality when i reduce and enlarge it again. with vector, i can start small and when i expand it, it’s still as good as when it’s tiny.

2.1 GRADIENTS

i started with the gradients first. i created a rectangle as big as 600x700px and with the “freeform gradient” tool in ai, i played with the colors. below is the color palettes i used

2.2 LYRICS AND GRAPHICS

once the gradients are done, i worked with the lyrics and graphics right away. when i first doing this edits, i made typos a lot lmaooooooo. so i copy and pasted the lyrics on top of my artboard, so i wouldnt have any typos.

i had 3 layers in my ai. one for the inspo pics and the OG lyrics. the rest for the edits themselves. i broke up “It's an old curse/dreamers diving headfirst” into to parts, hence the 2 more layers

i almost always started with the lyrics first then the graphics. but for this edit, i made the smoke first so i can layout where my text would be.

tbh the process of making the lyrics is a trial and error. i tried bunch of different stuffs and i chose whatever the best. but i worked like methodically, i made sure i finished the first part of the lyrics first then i could move on.

i was lucky with this font “vintage”. the font offers me several glyphs like these

and i chose the one at the bottom. you’re very lucky if you find a font and they have glyphs.

excursion: glyphs vs fonts

glyph is an individual character. It might be a letter, an accented letter, a ligature, a punctuation mark, a dingbat, etc.

A font is a digital file which is used to display a typeface, which contains the entire upper- and lowercase alphabet as well as punctuation, numbers, and other special characters.

after i was finished with all the lyrics i added some graphics to make the edit pretty like small stars or dots. i added the song title and the artist too, sometimes at the bottom sometimes at the top. and i added my watermark put it as small as i could and made it a bit invisible but still can be seen.

2.3 EXPORTING

exporting! this is where i’m going to go deeper with the dimension of my work. in ai, i always choose to save with “export as screens” function. it automatically divides the artboards i have and save them separately. i always save as png, bc the size is smaller than jpg but can maintain the quality.

now the export tab looks like this

see the formats? i always scale up my edits, 2-3 times the original artboard size. reason is, to maintain the quality. i have tried to save it as original, 600x700 px, but it turned out a bit blurry. bc everything in ai is vector, when i scale up it doesnt lose the quality. BUT once i save it as png, it’s not a vector anymore, and when you zoom in until a certain degree it’ll be pixelated. that’s why i always scale up, to avoid it becoming pixelated when it’s just zoomed 1 or 2 times.

2.4 FINAL TOUCH

i opened my photoshop and also pray it won’t crash. import the png of my edits, add some grains/noise. the reason i use photoshop is, the noise filter is way better than in ai. it’s smoother somehow. and then i export my edits.

(i have a timelapse of how i made one of my edits, it’s not this one, but it’ll give you a better visualization. find it HERE

3. POSTING

now the hardest parts are done, we go to posting!

i uploaded the 2 posters on tumblr as photos then i wrote the captions. for this typography edit, i always chose another lyrics that i like from the same song for the caption. i bolded the lyrics, add link to all of my typography gradient edits.

i always use this link to color my caption. i usually choose 3-4 colors, and i took the colors from my edit. but this was not until recently lmao. before i just took a guess and looked for similar colors that match the edit, but then i thought “why didnt i just use the color in the posters lmao”

ok after i have my html code for the caption, i go to this site to replace the “;” with “ “ so tumblr can read the code.

i’m not one who puts their edits in draft, bc i just cant wait to post it. i have to option here, either i post it immediately when the time is right (i usually post between 4-8) or i schedule it, if im finished before 4.

i put all the necessary tags and click post! i am done finally!

i’m tagging:

@thetriangletattoo for this amazing series

@deludedandlostcause for this impressive gif

@half-lightl for this spectacular edit

@gayndrew for this stunning drawing

@thechampagnelovers for this cool collage

@cloudslou for this incredible edit

@heyangels for this incredible edit

#bacotan belle #showyourprocess

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insfiringyou · 3 years

Text

BTS - Going Solo (Part One) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks*

Set a few months following their scene in ‘Private Moments’, Ara is faced with a decision which will change the course of her future.

(Part Two will be uploaded soon, after a few fics focusing on some of the other members.)

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

‘Jimin,

We just spoke, and you asked if I was happy. I think I am. At least most days.’

Ara typed slowly. Her nails had just been manicured and were longer than she was used to. The sound of acrylics against the keyboard rang through the small hotel room.

‘When I’m with you I can feel really happy. You can be so sweet and loving and I appreciate you always check up on me - to make sure I’m okay. Touring is hard. You know it better than anybody else, and you tried to prepare me for it.’

She gave a soft sigh, knowing no one else would hear. The words were spilling out of her fingers before her brain had time to catch up, though she knew based on experience she would eventually work out what she was trying to say. The room was dark and the white glow from the word document was starting to make her eyes water. The contact lenses had been in all day and were getting on her nerves. Still, she persevered. She could remove them once she had finished.

‘I’ve been asked to renew my contract.’

She stopped typing, heart thudding, and realised she felt scared. Her hand moved automatically to her stomach and she exhaled slowly before taking a deep, drawn out breath. She had been practicing and it had gotten easier. At first she would panic, and find her chest rising and falling like crazy, on the verge of hyperventilation, but soon she learned the trick; it was her stomach which was supposed to be moving, not her chest. Her cheeks were a little warm and she knew it was shame she was feeling, not embarrassment. She hadn’t told him yet, despite having known for over a week. Tentatively, she continued, fingers picking up speed as she became used to the sensation of the new nails.

‘You remember me telling you the first was on a trial basis, based on sales. Well - whatever target they set for us, we must have hit it. Even you have noticed the increase in publicity lately...the T.V appearances. They’ve asked me to film a reality show. I don’t know what they’re expecting.’

Her brow furrowed, wondering...

‘I guess they might have asked you too?’

The laptop stayed silent for a long time and she rested her hands against the small, cheap desk as she gazed at the screen. Her mind suddenly seemed blank and she felt stupid. She would never send the document to Jimin, just as she hadn’t sent the ones she had written before; three month’s worth of unopened, worthless ramblings saved in some obscure folder on her desktop, trapped in the harddrive somewhere between her acoustic recordings and photographs of hairstyles she had saved from Pinterest. She often wondered why she even bothered to save them. Her counsellor had told her, time and time again, that keeping a diary would be helpful. She could record her mood swings and track her periods, along with keeping count of what she ate; wholegrains made her bloated, red food colourings brought out a rash. She sometimes worried she might be lactose intolerant, though could handle it in coffee. That type of thing. She kept it up at first; bashfully bringing the sparkly diary into the small office she visited once a month and reciting what she had written to the man opposite. He would nod sympathetically as she spoke, making a comment from time to time; asking how she felt about what she had put. But the company was paying him to do this; all the girls went, and she sometimes wondered if it was the food diary he was really interested in. If her manager was keeping track, making sure she and the other members were not overdoing it on the full-fat salad dressing and milky lattes.

The diary entries began to dwindle and, not long after her last week-long visit back to Seoul, the meaningless letters on her laptop started. They were usually addressed to Jimin, though she had written several to her father and one to her brother. She wasn’t good with words; she had been told that often enough at school when she would have to read out loud from the book of the week in Literature, or come up with an argument in Business Studies. Her mouth would stumble and she’d turn red, both ashamed and humiliated, until the teacher inevitably took pity on her and told her to sit back down. Writing in private was much easier, especially when she knew no one but her would see.

‘I don’t know how to feel.’

The cursor hovered, blinking at the end of the last line. There was a heavy knock at the door and Ara jumped, hands automatically reaching for the laptop lid, before a familiar female voice called out.

“Ara? Are you coming?”

She quickly gathered herself, clicking the save icon at the top of the screen. The company had arranged a group meal in the restaurant downstairs, though she had forgotten, her mind distracted by more pressing thoughts.

“In a minute…I just need to change my lenses.” She called back, moving her finger against the touchpad as a pop-up appeared. She selected the save button once more, mouth twisting as she read the title in the little window: ‘Untitled #12.’ She wondered if she would ever get around to renaming them properly.

***

“Your hair has so much texture. I wish mine were thicker.”

Ara murmured in reply before catching the young stylist’s reflection in the mirror and realising how rude she must have sounded. Da-eun had come to the company some months before and was undeniably sweet. Too sweet, Ara sometimes thought, for the business she was in. The other makeup artists and hairdressers loved to keep one ear to the wall, in case there was a chance of promotion or, she rather cynically suspected, a way to increase their pay by selling gossip, but Da-eun didn’t seem like that. At least not yet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ara smiled into the glass at the figure behind her. “I’m glad I have you to do it for me. The roots are a nightmare!”

Da-eun returned the smile and seemed to relax, but a curious expression still played on her features as she ran the straightener gently across the dyed tips of hair. “Are you tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Ara confirmed, briefly closing her eyes. Da-eun knew not to press her, but she couldn’t help but worry the younger woman might know more than she was letting on. They had shared hotel rooms in the past and, perhaps it was the stylist's instinct, used to paying close attention to detail, but she always seemed to tell when something was amiss. It was frustrating sometimes.

“I looked at the schedule. You’re not going on set until last so you’ll have time to rest before you go out.” Da-eun murmured helpfully. Ara nodded, relieved. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Da-eun should quit while she could; while she was still young and hopeful and kind.

“I just don’t have the energy right now…” Ara sighed as she felt her hair being released. The younger woman finished working the ends and unplugged the device from the dressing room table.

“Did you sign the contract yet?”

Her voice was inquisitive and a little optimistic. Ara had never asked, but there was always the chance that Da-eun’s contract was somehow tied to her own; that if the group were to disband, she might lose her job. Ara shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Da-eun raised an eyebrow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I just haven’t had time to read it properly.” She said, truthfully. “It’s come around sooner than I thought…”

The stylist moved forward, reaching for the set of hairbrushes on the counter, before selecting the biggest. She teased through the ends of hair with her short fingers before brushing lightly along the bleached roots, smoothing the locks.

“There’s been rumours.” The younger woman said, voice suddenly low as though she were worried about being overheard. A thick curtain set apart the dressing room from the photography studio, but it was always possible someone was listening.

Ara blinked, tensing a little. “What?”

Da-eun smiled gently. “That you’re making a solo album.”

“Oh…” The older woman wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this news took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She shrugged.

“That’s a relief.” Da-eun beamed with a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to going home soon. Aren’t you?”

Ara opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she was going to say, but the curtain beside them drew apart suddenly; startling them both.

“Oh! Costume change…” Da-eun exclaimed, setting down the brush and turning to accommodate the older woman who had just entered. Mimi was a year older than Ara and usually less prone to accidents, but the leather strap on her camisole suggested a wardrobe malfunction which needed attending to at once.

“Sorry to interrupt…” The other woman murmured apologetically, gesturing to Da-eun. “Could you fix this for me?”

“Sure.” She nodded, stepping away.

Ara’s phone had vibrated against her thigh twenty minutes before but she hadn’t wanted to risk opening the text, especially with someone standing over her shoulder. As Da-eun seated Mimi in the rotating chair on the opposite side of the room to take a look at her costume, Ara took the moment to slip the device from her pocket and flick through the recent notifications. Unsurprisingly, it had been Jimin who had texted and she read the sentence a couple of times before returning it to her pocket.

‘Two more weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s been too long.’

***

Ara sipped from the glass, the cool water clearing her throat and offering a much needed refreshment from the events of the day. Her voice had become raspy from singing, but luckily she didn’t need it to type.

‘Jimin,

I was cleaning my closet before we went on tour and found the dress I was wearing on the night we met.’

She found herself smiling, a little longingly, at the memory, a strange anecdote coming to mind.

‘It still has a Daiquiri stain on the hem and it’s too big for me now. I don’t know why I’m saving it.’

The thought made her sad, somehow.

‘I wonder if you remember that night as clearly as I do. I didn’t want to leave. I knew you were with someone else, but I didn’t care.’

A deep frown played on her otherwise gentle features.

‘Does that make me a bad person?’

It wasn’t until she read the line back, she realised the thought had never occurred to her before. Not once in five years. She wondered why it suddenly seemed to matter. With a sigh, she continued, committing her trail of thoughts to the page.

‘You told me it was over the next time we met, and I believed you, but part of me wondered if you’d go back to her, once you knew how inexperienced I was. I guess I know how you feel sometimes. The whole thing has taken me by surprise as well. I never felt like anyone would want me.’

Her chest ached as she typed the final sentence; overwhelmed by emotion. It was true that the compliments and flirty glances she often received were met with an automatic but fleeting sense of glee. It felt novel, after so long of feeling like she didn’t deserve it. It sometimes still felt that way; back in the hotel room, after the cheers of the crowd had faded. She had brought the subject up with her company counsellor who had laughed it off, explaining that everyone suffered with imposter syndrome from time to time; she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On the matter of flirting, she had kept that one to herself. It felt too personal and she was sure it would come across as vain. Occasionally it was unwarranted; the older mens’ eyes moving down her legs when she took to the stage in a short skirt back in Seoul, or the way she jumped in alarm when someone once slipped their hand down the back of her jeans while she stood tightly packed in an elevator in Osaka. But other times she found her heart racing and stomach churning; not thinking of Jimin until she tucked herself in bed at night. A pretty, tall waitress brushing her hand as she handed over the bill in a Thai restaurant, or the hotel doorman who had helped her move her luggage earlier in the week and smiled kindly at her in the lobby. She knew Jimin, of all people, would understand. She had seen the way he played the audience, like he had a secret to share with them all. Early in their relationship it had made her crazy; the way he seemed to flirt with anyone he came into contact with, often without even realising. But now the tables had turned. He would understand; but she wasn’t sure he would accept it.

She glanced a warily at the shadowy corner of the room where an oversized bouquet of red roses sat on the dresser. They had arrived earlier to the hotel room, along with a postcard sized letter from her manager. He had been unable to make the trip to Taiwan but was waiting for her in Tokyo; the contract was ready, whenever she was ready to sign. The flowers seemed like a bribe; the gesture leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered if the other two girls had received any, or if the privilege was all hers.

The sound of her ringtone, a chirpy, summer tune, alerted her to the fact that an hour had already passed and it was getting late. She quickly swiped the screen and raised it to her ear, not wanting to wake up the neighbours.

“Hello?”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke. “How are you?”

“Good.” She squinted at her watch with a frown. “What time is it there?”

“2am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, a little baffled. He hadn’t called her this late in a while.

“I only just got in. There was a company dinner.” He explained. “What are you up to?”

She hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He laughed, softly mocking her. “Just thinking?”

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Oh, it’s nothing…I was drying my hair.” She lied, fingering the ends of the bone-dry locks in an automatic response. “Da-eun dyed the tips purple for the photoshoot.”

“I liked the pink.” He groaned, a little sulkily.

“They thought purple would fit better with the concept photos.” She mumbled deflatedly. “It’s not really my choice.”

“You could change it when you come home.” He said hopefully. She heard the flirtatious grin in his voice and could picture his smile on the other end. “They can’t do anything about it once your contract has ended.”

“Maybe.”

She sounded distant and he noticed the change at once.

“Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes tightly, temporarily blocking out the glare from the laptop screen. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Did you take a look at the brochures I emailed you?”

“I haven’t had time. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” She knew she sounded a little irritated but was unable to mask it. The weight of the day suddenly seemed to dawn on her and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was moving house.

“I’d really like you to help.” He argued lightly. “There’s a three bedroom going for sale on the Han River. Yoongi says it’s a good deal.”

Ara sighed. “I’m sure he’s right.”

A pause.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wish you’d stop asking.” She pleaded, feeling on the verge of tears. Jimin seemed to hear the tremor in her voice and thought for a long moment before he spoke, tentatively.

“Maybe you should ask the doctor to change your medication again.”

Ara clutched the phone tightly. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “I’m feeling much better, just tired.”

“Is that a side effect?”

He sounded concerned and she nodded to herself, though she knew full well she hadn’t taken the time to read the little leaflet properly. “Probably. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Okay.” He agreed, though she sensed his trepidation. “I’d better go then.”

He sounded disappointed and Ara felt guilty once more. “I’m sorry Jimin.” She apologised softly. “It really was nice that you called. It’s just these time zones…”

“I understand.”

She wondered if he did. Her eyes felt damp beneath her heavy, false eyelashes, making them itch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

***

She had forgotten her contact lenses and had to rummage through her Birkin to retrieve her reading glasses. They felt strange on her nose and she wondered how she had ever made it through high school wearing them. At least she had been given a moment’s peace to read through the contract. The office overlooked Ueno Station and the rush of traffic below would be too distracting had someone also been watching her.

‘As a permanent member of the label you should not bring the company into disrepute…’

She read carefully, though the paperwork seemed much larger than the last one she had signed. Some of the phrases looked familiar, such as the declaration of her dedication to being a ‘brand ambassador’, but others were definitely new. Her gaze hovered over one line:

‘...should not jeopardize future success…not limited to personal relationships, controversial thought or opinion including strong ties to political associations, ideologies or groups.’

She expected no less, particularly after Mimi was caught on camera reading a Betty Friedan book. The first part was more complicated and she wondered if Jimin’s management had asked something similar of him.

With a sigh, she continued down the page, skimming the text now but picking up on key words which seemed important, ‘Maintain a visible and transparent social media presence….Agree to the screening and management of said accounts with the view of protecting our artists and their wellbeing.’

By the time she reached the end, it did not seem to matter and there was a strange comfort in realising this. The past three years had been carefully planned, organised, operated; her future written for her from the moment she stepped foot on stage for the first time. The moments of quiet between shows, or during her increasingly short stays back in Seoul, only seemed to complicate things further. Her thoughts were a mess whenever she stopped to breathe for a moment, and maybe it was easier to shut them off altogether; to give over all control and decision-making to someone else than to try and deal with them all herself.

The fountain pen was heavier than she expected as she picked it off the table. It had the company brand embossed on the side in gold-leaf which seemed to reflect the fading light outside as the sun set below the concrete structure of the art museum to the West. Slowly, she signed her name on the final page; the ink blotting a little as she moved aside the bound file and repeated the motion on the second copy. The second attempt was neater as she grew used to the feel of the pen in her hand. There was a knack to it; just like many of the things she had grown to learn in her adult life; underwear should be washed on the delicate cycle, t-shirts should be turned inside out before they are ironed, glasses should not be left in the sink too long, should they smash. She had an assistant to do those things now, and her clothes were mostly dry cleaned these days.

She neatened the piles of paper and put the lid back on the pen, so the ink wouldn’t dry. The first contract had been signed in black Biro, which hadn’t come with such demands. Reaching down, she picked up her black handbag and carefully folded her personal copy, slipping it between her lipstick and glasses case before adding the pen. She had probably paid for it anyway; in her own way. The green light on her phone was blinking and she slid it from the pouch in the lining. The text had arrived while she was in the meeting, which is why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Her thumb paused over the messenger button for a moment, before she tapped the screen lightly; Jimin’s name and picture coming into view in the little window above the text.

‘One more week! :)’

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

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blinder-secrets · 4 years

Text

Patching Up - Arthur

‘I would die for you.’

arthur x fem!reader, 3,300 words

prompt list

ao3 link

The betting shop is empty, cold and filled with that pale, blue light that only the moon can give. If it weren’t for Arthur, pilfering through the forms and sheets on Polly’s desk, it’d be silent. Instead, his grumbles fill the space. His careless searching cushions the room with enough noise to make it feel busy.

‘A fuckin’ mess,’ he says, to no-one. His rings catch against the wood of the table as he discards another folder. ‘Where the hell is it?’

When he can’t find what he’s looking for, he sighs heavily and collapses into the chair behind him. His feet go onto the desk, crossed at the ankles, and his hands go under it, reaching for something that will be found. Something that’s there every time. He grabs the neck of the bottle and Pol’s wine is brought to the surface, uncorked and at his lips before he’s even paused to read the label. It’s sour, fortified, and it stains his tongue but does the job. Makes his efforts seem somewhat worthwhile. He leans back in the seat and sighs again, sitting the bottle on his stomach. The desk’s a mess after him, but he tells himself it was like that before, she won’t know any different. He straightens the paper nearest to him like that’ll guarantee it.

As he takes another drink, there’s the sound of the door, the fall and creak of it opening and shutting again. Then his name, barked and rounded in John’s tongue. His footsteps chase him as he moves through the shop. His voice is nearer when it comes again.

‘Arthur? You ‘ere?’

‘Yeah, John,’ he drones, talking through the catch of wine in his throat, ‘am here.’

John appears in the doorway, coat open and out around him like it’s only just caught up. He frowns at the sight, at his brother reclined in Polly’s office, drinking Polly’s port, but blinks it away again. ‘Right,’ he says, ‘you better come see this.’

‘What is it?’ He gestures outwards, bottle in his palm like it’s stuck there. ‘I’m doing… stuff. Things. Work, John.’

‘It’s [y/n]. She’s lost it, Arthur.’

‘Ay?’ That’s caught his attention. He drops his feet to the floor, heels slapping against the boards, and sits upright. ‘Lost what?’

‘Lost it. Pissed out her head.’ He’s panting between his words; he’s run the whole way. ‘She’s in the Garrison, saying she’ll burn it down before you’re back again. S’fucking messy, Arthur, I couldn’t get her to stop.’

‘Alright, alright.’ The bottle’s abandoned on the desktop, his hands reaching to smooth his hair back, and then back again. ‘Alright,’ he repeats.

‘Fucking madder than Danny whiz-bang.’

‘Shut up, John.’ He stands, the chair rocks back on two feet. ‘You make her bloody worse,’ he scolds. Then he’s in motion, around the desk and past John through the shop, only pausing to grab his coat and cap from the stand by the door.

‘It’s not like with you,’ John warns from behind, ‘it doesn’t come from nothing.’

He doesn’t get a response. Arthur shuts the door before he can follow him out.

It isn’t raining but it may as well be, the noise behind his skull fills the street, smothers his ears from the inside. Static like sheeted-rainfall. He isn’t built for mending, for putting things together. He can barely keep his own strings tied. All it takes is one edge to fray, and then he’s unwinding, spiralling and twisting ’til he’s unrecognisable. When she goes, she takes him with her. It’s hard to stay whole when someone’s falling to pieces beside you.

It’s something he’s had to learn, though. She’s needed it from him. Since they got back, she’s been different, and he’s adapting to it still. He doesn’t like it, and he’s not the best at it, but if he manages to calm her without losing it himself, it’s a victory. A battle won is a battle won, no matter how small or how local.

He sets his cap in place and dips his chin as he walks. His gait is quick enough to disturb the surface of the road, grit spitting behind every time he lifts his foot. If she was drunk enough to send John running, he doesn’t have long before it gets out of hand, before she’s too worked up to come down again. Under his breath, he curses her — for picking him to rely on, for being too like him to pick anyone else. For expecting him to come back from France whole. She’d wanted him and she’d gotten this, these pieces, this tarnished copper. That’s what had set her off, left her fraying like he is. If he didn’t feel responsible for it he wouldn’t be on his way to her now. There’s loyalty in heartbreak, a kind that can’t be shaken.

When he reaches the Garrison, the outside’s quiet. The street’s dark, and light glows through the mottled windows, but he can’t hear anything that he shouldn’t, no raised voices above the hum. At least she hasn’t started any fires yet. That’s one thing, one threat that was empty and wasted. Pace unfaltering, he pushes on, opening the double doors with both palms extended. Meeting the warmth with the same steadiness he intends to keep.

————————————————————————

You’re barely conscious when you hear your name, loud and rattling into the pub. The bar is cold, topped with copper, or brass, you don’t know, don’t care. It’s cold and so your cheek is against it. Your eyes are closed but if you opened them you’d be looking straight along it, through the glasses and the ash trays. Over hands and owed-money. Your gaze would go right to the end and into the wall where there’s nothing at all.

‘[Y/n].’

It’s your name again. You know who’s saying it, but you can’t face him yet. Too loud, he is, too loud and too right about everything. You just want to wait, and rest, and let your eyelids be as heavy as they like. The barkeep was angry before, but he hasn’t said anything since you sat and put your head down. What harm could it do to stay a little longer.

‘Mr. Shelby,’ he says, from somewhere near the top of your head, speaking from outside the buzz. ‘I think she’s asleep, sir.’

He’s chosen to betray you, then, to point you out. It only takes a minute for his decision to ruin your peace. He says it and then you aren’t alone anymore, and the bar isn’t cold against your face because there’s a hand on your shoulder, dragging you upright. You go to complain but it comes out as a whine, sticky and clinging to your throat.

‘Nah,’ Arthur says, ‘not sleeping, are you, love?’

‘Trying. Wishing.’ You’d shrug him off but his hand is glued to your jumper, you think. Or your shoulder’s too lazy to listen to your brain. ‘Go please. Go, go.’

You may be upright, but your eyes are closed still, and he’s talking to you like you’re there. Like you’re conscious enough to answer him.

‘What’s this I’m hearing, ay, about you wanting to burn down my pub?’

Your head drops to the side, away from him like he pushed it. When you don’t answer, he hums and shakes your shoulder. You wince. Your brain rattles against itself.

‘Get us a water, Harry.’

‘Don’t want water,’ you say. You’re ignored. Of course you are, you hear the glass clink as it’s set down in front of him.

Before you can argue again, it’s in your face, cold and fresh and dripping down your cheeks. Your eyes open and the brightness hurts, and the water stings, and Arthur is staring at you with the empty glass in his hand.

‘What the fuck?’ You stretch your sleeves over your wrists and dry your face, limbs moving quickly in the unwelcome burst of sobriety.

‘You weren’t listenin’,’ he states, setting the glass down. ‘Now you are.’

‘I was, I just wasn’t talking.’ Once they’re dry, your cheeks are hot again. Flushed, like the water had wiped a layer of drunkenness from you, just to reveal another beneath. ‘You’re so fucking…’ You don’t finish the sentence, you just wipe your eyes with the heels of your palms.

‘So, what have you got against my pub, eh?’

You scoff. If you’d said it, you don’t remember doing so. You don’t remember anything past John telling you to drink, then telling you to stop, then telling you that you had to grow up. That you had to stop complaining about fucking love, and fucking futures, and fucking Arthur. That it all had to stop, ‘cause it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your thing to complain about.

‘He started it,’ you say, under your breath so he might not hear.

‘Started what, hm?’ His voice is loud. Close. Accent round and familiar and nice, but annoying. So annoying when your head’s where it is. ‘Why am I fucking here?’ he asks.

Because John starts arguments he can’t finish. Because you got drunk, and then drunker, and then everything was fast and blurred. And problems started climbing over each other to get out of your mouth, to spit into the air at anyone who’d listen.

‘You can’t keep doing this,’ he says. ‘How does it look, ey, to have you shouting up the pub every week?’

‘Oh, who gives a fuck about reputation, Arthur.’ You turn to him scornfully. He’s inviting them up again, the words that sting as they escape. ‘As if anyone fucking comes here expecting grace. As if I don’t fit right in with the rest of you.’

His hand drops from your shoulder. You hadn’t realised it was still there. ‘It’s a fucking business, love. Can’t I hope for a little improvement?’

‘Only if you start with yourself.’ You watch his jaw tense then look away. There’s a glass to your left, half-full with something clear and inviting. You reach for it but he stops you, pins your wrist down, leaves your fingers curled and yearning for it.

‘You’ve had enough,’ he warns. He’s above you slightly, standing to lean across and keep you still.

’Are you here to help?’ you ask sweetly. Falsely. ‘Or to make my night worse?’

‘I’m here,’ he starts, lifting your wrist and bringing it back as he sits again, ‘cause John said you’re like Danny whiz-bang.’ He puts your hand down in front of you, close to yourself, and not the alcohol.

You tut, shaking your head. You want to abandon the conversation. They don’t get it and they won’t, no matter how many times you go over it. No matter how loud you shout it.

Arthur drops his head, finding your gaze and keeping it, holding it with that stare he has. ‘What fucking war have you got to go bang over?’ he asks, harsh like he’s whispering, loud despite it. ‘What is it? Cause I can’t fuckin’ get in there to find out.’

He’s pointing a finger to your temple; you wave it away. ‘Ask John,’ you quip. ‘He knows everything, apparently.’

Arthur scoffs, rocking back in his stool. ‘Like fuckin’ kids, you are. Bicker worse than Tom and Ada did.’

You watch him sigh. Watch him wipe his brow, and flatten his moustache, and smooth the crease from his pant-leg. Watch him attempt to brush away the stresses before dealing with you again.

‘You’re sick of me, aren’t you?’ you ask, though accuse is a better word for it. ‘Y’know, I didn’t ask for you to come. I told him not to get you.’

‘Sick of ya?’ He wants to laugh, but he looks confused. His eyebrows pinch. ‘What the fuck goes on in your head, lass? Eh?’

He hums, like he expects you to answer, like he wants a concise list of it all.

‘I’m fucking here for you,’ he says, ‘always.’

‘And when you weren’t, gin was.’ You face him, turn your body so it’s matched to his. ‘Whiskey was. I never drank before you—’

‘So, it’s my fault.’ He nods. It isn’t convincing, and he doesn’t mean it to be. ‘Yeah, yeah, alright, you tell yourself that, love. See how it helps ya.’

You drop your head back, let it fall slack between your shoulder blades so you can stare at the ceiling. It’s always the same conversations, over and over. It was all he did, all any of them did. They’d rather talk in circles before they go anywhere else. Before sense is made, before things are heard.

‘I’m not. Fucking. Saying that, Arthur,’ you groan. Your words go up and then down again. From your lips, into the air, then back into your throat. They meet the liquor and strengthen. ‘Am I not allowed to be fucking frustrated? Ever? Can I not just be mad and then stay mad?’

‘Depends,’ he grumbles. ‘I don’t even know what you’re fucking mad about.’

You sigh, heavily, and the breath catches a whine as you set your head straight. ‘You honestly don’t see it?’

He shakes his head. You’ll have to spell it out for him. You’ll have to pick apart the stitches, and lay it all flat, right here, right in the fucking Garrison.

‘When you went to France,’ you start, slipping from the stool to stand in the small gap between you. ‘When you went, you were in love with me, and when you came back you weren’t.’

’S’not true,’ he says, his answer too quick to be a considered one.

‘You only want me when it suits,’ you say. Your finger hits his shoulder, your voice raises and twists bitterly. ‘Only pay attention when I’m being too loud, or too drunk, or too fucking—‘

‘Alright,’ he barks, grabbing your wrist. ‘That’s enough.’

A laugh comes out of you but nothing’s funny. Nothing invites it. ‘That’s my fucking point, Arthur. You don’t even care. You don’t even let me explain.’

‘I care.’

You scoff and tug your arm but he doesn’t let you go.

‘I care,’ he repeats. His eyes are soft, like he might cry, but his voice is sharp. Striking. ‘I would die for you,’ he says, ‘fucking die. Alright?’

‘That’s all you know, Arthur, everything’s death. How to die, how to kill.’ You pull away again and this time his fingers break apart like worn-leather. His hand falls into his lap, you leave it there. ‘What happened to love? Where did that go?’

His chin drops. You know you should stop but you don’t, your words are slick, boozy. Honest but too cruel for him.

‘Do you even remember it?’ you ask. ‘How we were?’

‘Course,’ he answers. ‘Course I do.’ He’s holding his voice tight, quiet, close to his chest. If you were anyone else he’d be shouting. He’d be drunk and falling apart like you were, wanting people to listen like you did.

‘I just…’ You sigh but it feels like a whimper. ‘What did I wait for? What came home?’

It wasn’t him, not as he was. Wasn’t love as it had been. You knew to expect it but it still stung. It still made all the longing and the worry feel useless, pointless. Terrified of losing a man that had already gone. Every time you remember it, every time you think about how he used to be, and how he used to care, it gets too much for even the gin to cover. You don’t want to go off like a whiz-bang but there isn’t anything to wet to fuse. All you have is Arthur to gather the ashes.

‘I miss us.’ You force the confession weakly, push it through the cry that’s waiting to come out. ‘I really miss us.’

His head lifts slightly. He finds your hand to squeeze it. ‘I know, love. I know.’

‘I know it’s hard for you,’ you babble, words sad and tumbling now they’ve caught momentum, ‘and John says it isn’t fair for me to whine about it, but I can’t say nothing.’

‘Don’t listen to him.’ He shakes his head. ‘He dun’t know what helps, just says things and hopes.’

You sniff, and nod, attempting to will the tears back from your waterline. John never means what he says, you just have be sober to realise it. ‘What if he is right, though?’ you ask. ‘I didn’t go to war.’ You stayed home and they went instead. All you had to do was wait, and welcome them back, and love and care and keep going in all the places they’d given up. Surely, that’s the easy job. Surely you can do it better than you have.

Sighing, Arthur stands, and you’re already chest to chest before he puts his arms around you. ‘It weren’t just us,’ he says. Then he pulls your head to his shoulder, his hand flattening your hair, and you let him. You sink into him like you’d begged for it.

‘It’s all learning, alright. We’re all learning.’ He rubs circles on your back. You want to tell him you had enough time to learn, but you know it’s a lie. You know he won’t hear it. ‘Let’s get back, ay?’

‘You’re working,’ you mumble, losing the words behind his lapel.

‘Nah.’ He pushes you back and then brackets your face in his hands.

You’re weighted, fixed down and lazy. Alcohol sagging you now the fire’s gone out. You look at him, blinking, bleary-eyed from it all. He takes it in; checks you over and finds peace in the wreckage. How he does this time and time again, you don’t know, you can’t work it out. It should scare him off but he stays anyway. His hands drop from your face to rub your arms, pushing comfort into the cotton.

‘Bloody work,’ he says quietly, ‘I’ve had enough for today.’

‘I know you care,’ you answer, like he’d asked for it.

He smiles but it doesn’t show past his cheeks. ‘No more alcohol, alright, least not as much. Not when you’re sad, love.’

You nod. You’re always sad.

‘What are we like, hm?’ His hand touches your cheek. You want him to kiss you but he doesn’t. ‘Too bloody similar,’ he says, and you don’t disagree.

————————————————————————

Afterwards, Arthur takes her home. He wraps her in his coat and pulls her, lagging, to Watery Lane, to his house, to his bed. She’d burnt out by the time he’d got to her. It feels selfish to admit it, but he’s glad she did. He wouldn’t have lasted otherwise. He would have fought her and hated himself for it, or maybe hated her for it. It was better not to know.

When they get back, she’s quiet, and she lets him put her together again. She doesn’t complain when he offers her water, barely comments when he warns her of the headache she’ll get in the morning. They change, and wash, and he does all the things he wishes someone would do for him when he’s bad. He knows she would, but then he never lets her see him like that. Not since the first time.

After it’s all done, they go to bed. He puts her there ‘cause it feels safest, furthest away from the things that worry her, close enough to him to make them both feel easy. He reaches for the lamp on the bedside, turning the dial so the light dims. So it feels like just them.

‘Arthur,’ she starts, gently, softly. ‘Are you sure you aren’t sick of me?’

He’d thought she was asleep. She’s lay down already, curled on her side. Now her body pulls around him as he sits on the edge, her knees against one thigh, her chin against the other. Her eyes are closed like she’s dreaming.

‘I’m sure, love.’ He puts his hand to her head, running a thumb across the cheekbone he can see. The other’s hidden against the mattress. ‘Couldn’t ever be sick of you,’ he tells her. He’d only ever get sick of himself.

#Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #we love a bit of arthur dont we gorlies #prompt fic #this was soooooooooo angsty and self indulgent lmao #melodrama perhaps?#also really fluffy at the end #ALSO i tried something knew and flitted between POVs a bit so.... hope that goes down well #anyway enjoy love you

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