#i think i reblogged their art sometime in the past

[nutzworth]

unsure if ive talked about this but my personal opinion on the kids coming to earth c is this:

they enter the new earth as normal. as the snapchats intended. daves like hey i can time travel us all to normal society. it happens. its earth. its normal. NO one remembers who they are

and then they just have to live as normal god damn people. they have no power unless they like run for president or something. im unsure about the nature of troll/human/carapacian/consort kingdoms but i guess they can stay. the gods go into their allotted kingdoms as the snapchats intended but they have to like get a job. and pay for rent and make new friends and awkward small talk with neighbors and coworkers

i could probably list out all the jobs i think theyd have but i dont want to do that right now. just know i have it all thought out. mostly.

[vigilskeep]

some of you are too fucking bold drawing zevran’s skintone actually

[deadtower]

fellow artists and writers what would we think about a discord centered primarily on engagement of your works? like … comment4comment, reblog4reblog, events where we all focus on/hype up a certain fic or art for the day, prompts every week to keep our creative juices flowing, etc?

there’s a real lack of actual engagement regarding our work and i really want to bring back that magic. people don’t understand how much that can do for your mental health as a creator and i want to facilitate a healthy and positive space we can all go to to get the attention we so rightly deserve

[vodscrapping]

it seems like people are interested people in the concisely edited video form that let's plays used to be for a game's progression and story. there are already probably better suggestions down here but i could also point towards what i'm personally familiar with.

alpharad who's main channel content is kind of too played up and skimmed down for my tastes has repurposed this side channel to be the sort of highlight videos he recognises a lot of people are still interested in.

tbh a lot of streamers still do edited down cuts of their highlight streams but they're hidden behind kinda lame and clickbaity titles and thumbnails so you might now be aware of it. they're catering to the mass audience okay, i can't really blame them even if i think they suck. try pushing through some of those thumbnails you see for creators you might vibe with, they could surprise you?

uhh yeah i know it's not easy to just slap anyone on and immediately vibe with their personality of the style of editing they might have in their videos but i figured i might as well try to toss something out there.

my general suggestion is to try giving some of the nonsense titles and thumbnails from personalities you already know you like a chance and see how you like their highlights. you might not like them, like i don't particularly watch a whole lot of them but that's because i'm vod biased as fuck, maybe this is what some of you are looking for? and if not, if you really yearn for a particular flavour of let's plays then i'm sure someone out there is making something adjacent to it!! support them!! or support someone you think has the potential and perhaps suggest to them what you think could better their work.

Remember let’s plays… men don’t want to make let’s plays anymore all they know is podcast and twitch stream. And lie

[fragglerockopinions]

.

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[blackkatdraws2]

I'm involved in a Stanley Reblog Chain and put effort into these drawings so I'll post them here too.

[The other characters belong to insomniphic / beartitled / and marionette-j2x]

[Just me rambling underneath!] ↓

Tumblr has a tag limit and it grates my nerves to no end to know that I can't ramble as much as I'd like to...

Stanley and the bad bitch he pulled by being a loser. Imagine having a hot babe deform reality just to be together with you because he sensed you were feeling lonely without him. [WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!]

It's funny because with the general vibe of their AU, it would make sense for him to show up in the most flashy but also unnerving way possible. The Narrator's [Black's] arrival has to grab people's eyes since attention and views are what he's all about.

I wasn't sure what type of characterization they had so I just played it safe and [tried to] draw how my characters would respond instead of blindly guessing how the others would talk or act around each other. [My Stanley is antisocial and an anxiety-ridden freak.]

Also, I've been wondering what their height differences actually were when I saw my Stanley have to look up at Marionette's Narrator [since this guy is pretty damn tall] so I did a bit of digging and this was what I found.

I had a lot of fun making this by the way. It's been a while since I've participated in any Reblog Chains that involved character interactions and making comics, so it's a real throwback to when I first started posting TSP art in 2023.

Stanley here is an absolute social shutoff teehee, but he does talk back when talked to. His responses usually leave no openings to continue the conversation though. He's the type of guy to stay on the corner and watch everyone else.

As for the Narrator [Black] he's a bit strange. He's proper in public, but he doesn't think the other people are special [or not as special as he is at least]. He just doesn't care to be honest, he keeps to himself [along with Stanley] and that's it. It's a miracle for Stanley to have even pulled somebody like Black considering their personalities are the type to clash with one another. [They love each other though, genuinely. Despite how deranged they can be towards each other sometimes, that development took a long time to be nurtured into something healthier for those two.]

Also, 4th wall breaking in action!!!!!!!!!!!

Black didn't want to interrupt this comic since it was made for Stanley but after the other three came in he lost reservations and came in as well.

[Copy and Pasting the tags of my other post because I am NOT re-writing all of this...]

These two would probably just stay in their own spot [somewhere quiet and more alone]. This place is a bit too crowded for their liking. But I would be very happy to jump on any opportunity to make my guys interact with the others!!!!! Don't be afraid to throw a bone [prompt] for me to bite on, okay?

[burinazar]

forgot to respond to this but: zozi by tagging me in an evocative hole post you reblogged from my mutual who posts a lot of evocative hole posts you risk creating a recursive Evocative Hole Post Ouroboros

Natalia Rybka - Jest więcej/There's more (oil on canvas), 2020

[breannasfluff]

Fanfiction Comments: Why Bother?

Genuine question: If ya’ll like a story, why not comment?

This question, born out of previous discussions and Discord chats, is one writers have been dealing with for a long time. Feedback/reblogs on art tends to be more common than on fics. Yet writers continue to beg for comments on stories. So what's stopping people?

Don't know what to say/an emoji/script feels too impersonal

Forgot to comment

Read everything and how do you pick out one part?

Rather give feedback personally

Feels like an expectation/I owe them

Send me a string of emojis? I love it. Send a single heart? I love it. Keyboard smash? I love it. Copy/paste a "thank you for writing"? I still love it. "I don't know what to comment or how to put my feelings into words." Then put that! That's a compliment! Can't think of anything to say, then "I don't know what to write but asgfdhgf I liked it." is fine!

Seriously, I don't care WHAT you put, because it shows me you cared enough to take a few second to show that love. I recognize and look for my regular commenters, even the ones who leave just a heart or "extra kudos".

Forgot to comment? Leave the fic open on your phone or get in the habit of dropping SOMETHING right as you finish. If you had time to make it through the last 100 words, you can probably tap an emoji. It's likely more of a habit to build up than anything.

Read it in one go and it's all a blur? "I read this all in one go and it's a blur, but I loved it!" We don't need specifics; just tell us you loved it on the chapter you stopped on. That in itself is a compliment because Hey! You loved it so much you had to keep reading!

Personal feedback? Well, I'll never say no to friends gushing about stories to me! And it might not be the same for everyone, but if you stop commenting on AO3 and only tell me personally...my assumption is you don't like it enough to say it publicly. I've spent many a time wondering why people stopped giving that support and what I should do better. If it's a friend, try asking them which they prefer! We can go back and reread (and do!) AO3 comments. Much harder on discord/dms/etc.

Owing authors? Look, we put a lot of time and work into writing and providing content for free. Hours of idea planning, actual writing, editing, catering to requests, etc. My partner once said I have a second job, writing, but I don't get paid. If you read and enjoyed something that someone put a lot of work into, it's nice to take a few seconds and tell them that.

You don't owe authors comments. They also don't owe you free writing. Sometimes, you forget there is an author at all when you're reading. But there is. A real person put out a story hoping you'd love it, or connect to it. You'd see yourself in the writing and feel less alone, or cheered up when you have a bad day.

Writing is art, and all we want to do is connect with you. Comments help bridge that gap.

[elenthyaolyenths]

𝐌𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 "𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧".

This post is a little bit about me ranting, but mostly about education and how to appreciate fanarts on socials. Please I'm not trying to hurt anybody, I just realised today that, maybe, there are things we artists all need to say one day, and so it's my turn.

A very kind person (Thanks again, dear.) just told me that someone was reposting my art, without even naming me, on a public group on Facebook. I reported it to the admins, but I still don't know if they will do something about this problem, or if they'll do nothing about it or if they'll simply kick me out of their group so I won't be able anymore to see what they are doing with my reposted art. So, for now, I won't cite this Public group.

So. Hello, my name is Elenthya Olyenths, a.k.a @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist on Tumblr.

And my art has been stolen. Again.

Even if there was my signature on it, and a discrete stamp with my name right in the middle of the canvas. It's... awful to see. Because this time, it's clearly not from someone who doesn't know yet the basic "share and reblog but DO NOT REPOST" rule. And it's not someone who reposted my art crediting the wrong name either because they have found my art with the wrong name, in a illegal re-post on another social.

This time, it's someone who downloaded my art pictures, reposted it in the same order, and even copy-pasted my personal explanations (about my injured wrist!!). The stealing intention is quite clear.

(and please don't tell me it's probably a bot aka a programm doing it, because we will never know but it FEELS THE SAME AWFULLY WRONG and whatever, if it's a bot, someone DO has created this bot and so we need to talk about this and teach to people how to recognise a illegal repost.)

So, please, dear Good Omens fans, and my dear fellows from other fandoms.

I just want to kindly remind you all that seeing our art reposted, even with credits, even with our signature, is very hard to live for us artists.

Please, if you see an official artist post that you like, think about using the "share" functions (reblog on tumblr, "Share" on FB and Instagram, etc...), it helps us artists to see where and how our art is appreciated. And for me it's a wonderful way to bring back motivation to me and then to draw/write even more. 𝐒𝐞𝐞, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫f𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐧-𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬! *^__^*

And about reposting art but crediting the artist with the @ (like in here @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist):

Sometimes it's quite okay... but not so great in my own personal opinion. Because it still might be misunderstood by other fans that can't always see the @ and just repost the art with the reposter wrong name on it - or whitout any name at all, which is not better.

Signatures and stamps and watermarks can help us to avoid these problems, but reposting art whitout explicit and personal agreement from the artist is still a issue and in my humble opinion it's NOT RIGHT.

Reposting, even with credits, even made by trustworthy followers, is an issue. T𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 f𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, f𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨f 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 f𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧. It hurts, believe me.

And I alreay know that the current situation will bother me for several days, and it will make me struggle about my drawing schedule, and it will make me brainstorm about which huge and ugly watermarks i need to use again for avoiding such issues.

This is why I can't allow anybody else to repost my art anymore, except for a collab and only with my explicit consent.

Please. Thank you.

Have you all a happy timezone and a wonderful week.

Elen, aka Elenthya Olyenths, aka @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist

Thanks to the TNAN Discord for their amazing support and @itsscottiesstark for her kind advice on this text.

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet ; @naturallyteal

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[onlyswan]

hello everyone <3 i didn’t want to disappear out of nowhere so i’m letting y’all know that i’m taking an indefinite break from writing. the internet in general has just been very bad for my mental health. and i know you’ve heard this a lot haha but this app just isn’t the same anymore and the weird anons are throwing me off and i’m. exhausted. thank you for all the love and support for the past three years :] i hope i never lacked in showing my appreciation for that. each reblog, comment, and ask give me butterflies. i genuinely love all of you and i’m so lucky that my blog attracted such kind souls. i hope my works are something you still want to come back to every now and then. i hope atleast one cheered you up when you were sad. i hope atleast one made life seem a little better. i hope atleast one made you feel something in your heart, your gut.

i told myself i wanted to finish dreamboat atleast before i do this. i didn’t expect it to be sort of timely. if you could read it with a wider perspective i think that would be nice.

i will still check in every now and then ^_^ feel free to interact, send an ask, and dm me still. i just won’t be as active as before. i’ll try to hop back into writing when i feel better :) i love you all. please take care of yourself always and think of me sometimes <3 art is everywhere, no? :P

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You look at the grade on your quiz. It’s not the end of the world but it isn’t the best. And this course is negligible in the scheme of your degree, yet, you thought you were really getting this. It’s disappointing and you can do better. You will. 

As class lets out, you head down the centre aisle past the fleeing coeds. Most don’t stick around after the intense lectures. The whiteboard still shows the chaos of formulas as the professor closes his Mac. You approach nervously. 

“Professor Parker,” you greet. 

He turns and knocks over the cup of whiteboard markers. “Ah gee.” 

He rights the cup and you bend to catch the scatter that roll around your feet. He does the same on his side of the table. As you stand and slide them back into their place, he bats away a pesky curl form his forehead. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and gives a sheepish smile. You could cringe. He’s a professor and you just know he’s younger than you. 

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“No, no, I was just thinking,” he grabs the cup as he shoves the rest of the markers inside. “How’s it going?” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s good. I was just...” you stop yourself. “I think I forgot your office hours. I was just going to ask for a little help going over my quiz but I don’t want to keep you--” 

“No, it’s fine,” he rattles the cup of markers then makes himself still. “I can help you know.” 

“Oh, okay,” you lay your quiz on the table. “I think I did pretty good but 4a really messed me up,” you flip the page and point.  

He leans to look over your work. He gently pushes aside the pen cup and reaches to his ear. He frees the pen behind it and bends over the table. He puts his weight on one elbow. You loom over him, crouching to watch him. 

He reaches up to pat his hair then pinches the arm of his glasses and chuckles, “already on. Oops.” 

You realise he’d been looking to pull his glasses down to his nose. He reminds you of Cerise sometimes. Come to think of it, she might do with a prescription herself. 

“Okay, I think I see what happened,” he taps with the tip of the pen. “Missed a step here.” You focus on the ink scrawling over in his tight writing. “But you were on the right track.” 

You take in his explanation patiently. When he looks up at you, his brown eyes surprise you. They're almost sparkling. 

“Right, thanks, I get it now,” you say. “Next time I’ll go over my work twice.” 

“Never hurts,” he stands and flips the front page over. He lifts it and hands it over. “You’ll be fine. It’s second year. Got my engineering degree no problem after flunking a course. Just had to put in a summer course.” 

“Oh, I’m not an engineering student,” you say. “But I do need the elective.” 

“No? Pretty good for not an engineering student.” 

“Art,” you supply. 

“Art? Wow. Not what I expected.” He muses. 

“I know. I’m gonna be working at a Starbucks in no time,” you kid. 

“No, that’s not... fair,” he protests. “What kinda art? Like, er, do you paint or whatever?” 

“I like to paint. Sketch... working on clayworks in one of my studios.” You say, “actually, I think you’ll laugh.” 

You bring your bag up and tuck away the quiz as you pull out your notebook. You open it and show him that day’s note. The margins are full of aimless doodles. 

“Oh, wow,” he admires your careless scribbles. “Bet you make all sorts of cool things. I’m not very good at drawing.” He glances over his shoulder at the whiteboard, “don’t know if it’s obvious.” 

His writing is narrow and bit all over but it’s legible. 

“Not that bad,” you assure him as you close up the notebook. “I meant to ask, how’s your leg?” 

“My leg? Oh yeah. It’s healing. Can’t say the same for the khakis. Lost cause,” he sighs. 

“Oh,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “well, I’m glad it wasn’t worse.” 

“I swear, they built this place like a death trap. Too many stairs,” he clucks. 

You chuckle, “yeah, I could go for a bit less... but wouldn’t that be an engineer’s thing?” 

“Architects help...” He says defensively. 

“Alright, alright, I’m just kidding,” you haul your bag onto your shoulder. 

“Hey, I would argue we need some artists to pretty these things up. Buildings are so boring these days. You know, I went to Italy, all those marble columns and statues...” he says. “Not that I’m bragging. Just an observation I made. I went to some museums and saw paintings too. The DiCaprios... No Da Vinci! Oh god!” He slaps his forehead in embarrassment, “my brain is fried, I’m sorry.” 

“All good,” you assure him, “we’re all feeling it, I think.” You step back on your heel, “anyway, I think I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for the help.” 

“Any time. Everyone else runs away from me,” he says. “I’m still getting used to this ‘Professor’ thing.” 

“Well, you’re a really good teacher,” you assure him, “I should go.” 

“Right, see ya next class,” he says. 

“Sure, see ya then,” you give a tiny wave and retreat.  

You turn and climb the centre stairs to the rear exit. You open the door and glance back. He’s watching you. Caught, he coughs and turns back to the board and searches for the erase. He starts to wipe out the numbers and you leave him to his clean up.  

You have time before you can stop by the studio. Enough to eat something or get a coffee. It’s only week two and you’re wondering how you’re going to get through the rest of it. Especially with your overnight shifts in between. 

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 The Remarkable Machine Who Learned How to Love

♡ featuring: toji x f!reader

♡ cw/tw: none, a little angst but a whole lot of fluff! wc: 1.6k+

notes: i was thinking about this all day and decided to whip up somethin in a couple hours. hope u like :P art by manuel_juju on twitter! comments and reblogs are appreciated!

In a kill-or-be-killed world, Toji reached the top of the food chain—unfortunately, staying at the top is a thousand times harder than the climb. And when he looked down, there was no one to catch his fall.  

Before Toji met you, he was as aimless as a speck of dust, carried endlessly by an unpredictable tide of winds. He followed the cracked and crumbled path bespoken for lost souls like himself. Destined to be nothing but a vessel, a hollow man of sturdy muscle who worked himself to the bone, filthy jobs common men wouldn’t dare consider, because who was there to stop him anyway? Was there anything left for men birthed from hopeless circumstances, raised by broken homes to turn to lives of criminality? He couldn’t find an answer. He wasn’t equipped with the empathy to understand why guilt gnawed at his conscious; why whenever he ate takeout in his dimly lit apartment, it spilled out the chasm in his chest.  

It was much easier to complete the task, to trudge to a check cashing facility to retrieve money he couldn’t care less about. Perhaps he’d walk this earth alone forever, constantly watching over his back from a fear of daggers shooting from every direction, waiting to strike at his most vulnerable. It was only a matter of time.  

Or maybe he’d allow his sins to surpass him. Accept the peaceful release of death and pay the price of a vacant funeral service.  

It was all but irreparable, until he walked into his usual convenience store and encountered the new clerk at the register. It was past midnight, and Toji placed the quick meal on the counter. When his tired eyes panned up from those frozen noodles, his heart reset, a part he thought died amidst the torment. It skipped across his ribcage, stopped until a fleeting breath pulled him back to reality, to the intense fluorescent lights and your warm welcoming smile. There wasn’t a single altercation that stole the air from his lungs the way you did.  

Life hadn’t torn you apart yet.  

Your eyes didn’t break away, unexpected, as Toji was used to people hanging their heads near him. He’s aware of his threatening stare and intimidating stature; it’s what keeps him alive. And you were unbothered. You scanned his item, and flashed those pearly whites that sent a nosedive straight to his stomach, “I’m a big fan of this brand!”  

Toji remained tight lipped, unwilling to sift through difficult emotions and experience a feeling he believed himself to be undeserving of. He nodded, and somehow you continued, “Shouldn’t eat so late, though. Messes with your stomach.” A puff of wind pushed from his nose before he could stifle it. “Are you a doctor in the daytime?” You chuckled and bagged, “Sorry, slow day.”  

He arrives the same week, searching for a couple of beers to bring back to his apartment. You were in an obviously dangerous position, with one foot off the step ladder as you attempted to push a bottle of cleaner onto the highest shelf. It was a fight between gravity, and the opponent nearly won before his hand grabbed the handle. “Oh! Thank you” you smiled. It was sunnier than the last and reopened the stitches he’d been struggling to sew since that moment.  

Toji suddenly had countless excuses to go to the convenience store. Sometimes he’d enter for a snack, and you’d discuss your favorite chips, other times he pretended to need items just to hear your voice ramble about a niche topic you knew too much about. When his heart thrummed off kilter, and his mind became consumed with thoughts of the pretty night-shift cashier, a piece of him demeaned. How embarrassing it was, to be attracted to the scripted kindness of a service worker. Toji barely recognized he had favorites, let alone desires. So why did he have such an unwavering desire to see you?  

He’d snatch a pack of noodles one day, a subconscious grin at the joining of your eyes. It didn’t matter if the twinkle in your gaze wasn’t exclusive to him; for a second, it felt like someone cared, and it was fulfillment he couldn’t shake.  

You leaned over the counter on your elbows, “Did you know there’s over 35,000 ramen noodles restaurants in Japan?”  

“I didn’t, but that sounds like a lot of options.”  

“Mhm, you should try one. The real thing is way better.”  

“I’m sure. I don’t really go out to restaurants often, so…”  

“Me neither”, there’s a lengthy pause, and you finally blurted, “maybe we could go together!”  

He was stunned. Lost for words, really. It wasn’t possible, a girl as beautiful as you who wants to be seen with a stone-cold machine in public. It had to be a prank, a fabrication by fate to taunt him. You grew an anxious smile, “Hah, sorry, I overstep-“  

“I want to.” You stiffened, and he found solace in your shared nervousness. “O-oh! Great!” 

Toji’s first date with you had been a disaster, though. He’s heavy handed by design, and it’s no different in his daily life. His strength leads to instances of clumsy behavior. He expected you to be appalled, disgusted, or at least judgmental.  

You never shunned him. When he held your hand too tight, you slightly unclasped it. He wanted to retreat, to stuff them in his pockets and remain at a safe distance. But you interlocked hands and spoke soft, “It's okay, just try not to hold so tight.”  

He swung the door open for your entry and almost shattered the glass door on the opposite wall. “I appreciate your enthusiasm” you giggled.  

He was afraid to even hug you—he might underestimate his strength and crush your sternum. Toji walked you back to your place and turned to leave. “I’ll see ya around.” Despite that, you guided his calloused hands around your waist, slinked into his broad body, and embraced him.  Every aspect of you, foreign but comforting—little breaths fanning his shirt, fingers brushing along his back, sugary perfume wafting in his nose.  

It was heaven on Earth.  

Now years have gone by, and instead of bleached walls and silence greeting him as his eyes crack open in the morning, he smells the familiar scent of pancakes, pans clattering on the stove. He waltzes into the kitchen in a hazy state and admires the aching back of his very pregnant wife. You have a hand assisting your lower back and another on the wooden spatula scrambling eggs. 

Toji dropped his past for you after the engagement.  He cashed his last check and disappeared from the underground circle without a trace. He was aware if he continued the path he was heading, the result awaiting him was six feet under. The outcome was unimportant, however, you—the image of tears streaming down your face at his poor volition, your figure keeled over his gravesite under dewy grass and wailing for his return to no avail. He couldn’t stomach it. He had to protect you and commit to the next stage of his life. He’d never tell you about his previous work. It was for the best. He’d be selfish, just this once. 

One sock is different from the other, wearing loose shorts and a random shirt sitting above your massive belly. It’s his preferred version of you. Your stomach and thighs adorned in stretch marks, shaped like tiger stripes that declare your strength through each dip and curve; It's his greatest honor. You’d take on the complications, unending exhaustion, and hormone imbalances to bless him with a child. Toji hasn’t let you lift a finger since you got pregnant, opting to handle all the household tasks, borderline subservient to the mother of his child. So, his mouth twists when he sees you up so early.  

He stands behind you, hands trailing from your upper thighs to your stomach, then the small of your back. You lean into him while he massages circles and whisper a tiny “Good morning.” 

“Ya could’ve woke me up” Toji mumbles, kissing your temple. He wraps around to the underside of your belly, mindful of his muscle, and lifts it carefully. His respect for you increases tenfold with the heavy weight on his palms. You hum a pleased noise, sudden relief from your back. He carries it and smooths his thumbs over the taut skin. 

“You’re a late sleeper, and I haven’t made breakfast in a long time.” 

“Ya don’t have to do a thing, y’know.” 

“I know. But I wanna do this for you”, and he grins. It’s quiet, standing in the warmth of your bodies, sunshine glowing through the window to cast an angelic gleam on your face.  

Then he feels an imbalance of pressure along his fingers and mild wriggling within your tummy. Toji traces the movements, seeking to play a game with his unborn child. Sometimes it scares him, to bring new life into a world that almost smothered his light.  He worries that he’ll end up on the same road as him or he won’t be a good enough father. The journey of parenthood is a long, laborious one. You’re always learning, and Toji’s still processing the basics. It’s complicated, he trips and falters; yet you’re there to support him, through thick and thin, sickness and in health.  

What was he if not for you—his pillar, his source of happiness and comfort. You’d given him everything to wish for and infinite reasons to stick around. An iron criminal, bested by no mortal, chipped away by compassion and gentle hands. 

“You can let go if it’s too heavy.” 

I can stay here forever. 

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore"

artist! Joel Miller x florist!f! Reader

series masterlist | prologue | next | materlist

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: no warnings for now and age gap ( reader is 28 and Joel 36).

a/n: okay!! This chapter is out earlier than it was planned but is not a longe one so.. welcome haha. I hope you enjoy the first stop of this journey 👀 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. happy reading 💌 also remember, english is not my first language so if sometimes everything sounds stupid, blame my brain and the mix of three languages there

Bee or annoying bee. That’s how Joel had referred to you since the day he laid his eyes on you for the first time when he saw you surrounded by a thousand flowers. 

You arrived here on a Monday morning exactly four years ago. At first, Joel thought you were one of the cutest people he had ever seen in his then 31 years of life. Even when you were the complete opposite of him in every way. Meanwhile, Joel was organized, you were spontaneous and messy and people around town seemed to love you for it. You were nice to everyone, to Sarah, and even to his brother, but to Joel, you were completely closed off. Yes, you smiled at him weakly every once in a while or even asked him about his day, but your smile never reached your eyes, you were simply polite and everything else. So, since that day, Joel decided he didn’t like you.

He didn’t like the flowers you sent to his daughter on special days, neither did he like the flowers you sent to him every time he had a new exhibition in his art gallery, and he didn’t like it when your flower shop also became a little coffee shop for people passing by. He simply didn’t like anything coming from you. 

You made him feel weird in the stomach, and he didn’t like that feeling.

And now, Joel didn’t know why he was in this position. He wanted to slap himself once he told his ex or how he liked to call her, the woman who birthed Sarah, that you were his girlfriend. In his defense, he was desperate at that moment He wasn't thinking straight and you were the first person who came to his sight at that moment. He only knew he didn't want the woman who abandoned him with a tiny baby years ago, back into his life.

So, once you were left speechless at the "This is my girlfriend" statement, he reached for you immediately with the promise he was going to tell you everything, so you left the gallery in peace but not without sending daggers at Joel.

After that, Joel invited Lauren into his gallery, desperately trying to find a way to convince her that he had moved on from them. He wasn't the same naive person he had been back then. But she was determined to rekindle their relationship and see Sarah in order to become the family they were meant to be, and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Joel, I understand that you've moved on with your life. But Sarah deserves to know her mother, and I want to be there for her."

Joel nodded; his heart heavy with the weight of their shared history. "I want what's best for Sarah too," he said, "but it's not that simple. You broke my heart when you left us alone.” 

Lauren reached out and placed a hand on his arm, a gesture of reconciliation. "Joel, I'm not asking for your forgiveness right now. I just want a chance to be a part of Sarah's life” she said. “And maybe now that we’re both grown adults, we can make it work between us.” 

“I told you I have a girlfriend” he lied again, trying to escape from this particular situation.

“The one who left?” she scoffed “You need a woman, Joel. Not an annoying girl” 

Joel didn’t utter a word, but for the first time since he met you, he felt the need to stand up for you.

A few hours later, after the crazy events from earlier in the morning, Joel found himself standing outside your flower shop, feeling a deep sense of humiliation. He knew he had some explaining to do, and he hoped you would at least hear him out.

As he entered the shop, the familiar sweet scent of flowers enveloped him, you were behind the counter, arranging some bouquets of flowers, pretending you were too focused on your work to even acknowledge his presence. 

"Bee" Joel began cautiously, "we need to talk."

You didn't look up from your flowers as you spoke: "Oh, what do you wanna talk about, my dear boyfriend?” 

Joel winced at the reminder of the lie he had told.

“You’re such a baby” you continued “Pretending I’m your girlfriend in front of... whoever that woman was?"

"Sarah's mother. I know it was a terrible thing to do, and I'm sorry. She showed up out of nowhere, and I didn't know how to handle it. I panicked."

At that piece of information, you finally looked up, locking eyes with Joel's. "So, what? You just decided to drag me into your mess?"

"No, it wasn't about that," Joel replied quickly. "I don't want her back in my life, and I thought if she believed I had moved on, she'd leave. I don’t really know.”

Your anger seemed to soften slightly as you listened to Joel's explanation, but still, you remained guarded. "That doesn't excuse your actions, Joel. We’re not friends” you said. As a matter of fact, “You can’t just use me like that.”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know we haven't exactly been friendly neighbors here, and I take responsibility for that. But I promise you, this was a desperate move, and I didn't mean to involve you like that."

You continued to arrange the flowers, with delicate movements. "Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"

“What truth?”

“The one that you are so fucking annoying you can’t even keep a woman by your side” 

Joel's response was sharp, filled with resentment. "Like you could keep a man with you," he scoffed.

The words hung heavily in the air, making the tension between you two grow into a battle, a bitter word exchange. 

You clenched your jaw, your eyes narrowing as you met Joel's gaze. "Don't pretend you know anything about my life," you retorted, your voice tinged with anger.

Joel's expression hardened as he shot back, "I know enough to see that you're all smiles and sunshine to everyone else, but you push everyone away, especially me."

The words cut deep into your ego, and you felt the frustration arising. "Maybe I pushed you away because you're so judgmental and closed off," you fired back, not willing to back down. “Now, get out of my shop you will kill my flowers with your stinky mouth” 

“No,” he stated.

“What?” you asked, sending daggers at him.

“I won’t go because I need your help”, his voice almost a plea. 

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Joel's tone. "You've got to be kidding me," you exclaimed once you realized what he meant, the frustration in your tone was evident. "After all this, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

Joel's expression was one of desperation as he replied, "I know it's a lot to ask, and I understand if you don't want to do it. But I promise it's just one more time, and I'll make it up to you somehow."

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot on the ground "Joel, you've already pulled this stunt once today. Why on earth would I agree to do it again?"

Joel took a step closer, looking earnestly into your eyes. "Because this is important to me. Lauren is not someone I want back in my life, and I need a way to convince her to leave for good. Please, just help me one more time."

“But it is not important to me!” you exclaimed, making Joel stop his rambling “You are not my friend. I don’t own you anything” 

Your words cut through the tension, and for a moment, Joel was reminded of just how much you two didn't get along. He felt a pang of guilt for dragging you into his mess and into his life. 

Once you finished with the flowers, you set them aside. She leaned against the counter, studying Joel carefully. "You know, you’re ridiculous, right?” fakely smiled at him. “You’re a 36-year-old man fake dating a girl” 

Joel winced at your words. He knew he had acted irrationally and put you in an uncomfortable position, but hearing your frustration made it all the more stupid.

"I understand if you're angry," Joel admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I never should have involved you in this mess. It was unfair to you, and I'm truly sorry for that."

You let out a sigh in annoyance at Joel's request "Fine, I'll do it, but with one condition."

Joel's face lit up with hope. "Name it."

“You cannot fall in love with me,” she said, in a completely serious tone. 

Joel scoffed…I mean, there is no way he could possibly love you in that way. 

Joel chuckled, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Bee, trust me, the last thing on my mind right now is falling in love with anyone. Especially you" he placed his hands on the counter, almost touching your fingers “I could say the same about you. Don’t fall in love with me, baby” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his response, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, don't worry, Joel. Falling in love with you is impossible," you retorted, matching your tone with his.

Your expression became serious; locking eyes with Joel "I mean it, Joel. No matter what happens during all this, we can't let it go beyond pretending. We both know we can't stand each other, and that's not going to change."

Joel nodded in agreement. "I couldn't agree more, Baby. After this is over, you’re back to only being a pain in my ass and the most insufferable person I know.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again, but you still offered a small smile. "Uh! that isn’t a nice thing to say about your girlfriend”, she pouted. 

Joel chuckled with a playful smirk "Ah, yes, how could I forget? My lovely girlfriend”

With the agreement in place, both of you understood the boundaries you had placed before doing this act. It was a peculiar arrangement, born out of necessity rather than desire. After all, it would last a few days or maybe some weeks. But Joel would do everything for his own and Sarah's sake, and you were willing to play along with it because, after all, you were a people pleaser.

As the tension eased, you continued to arrange more flowers, and Joel looked around your shop. Every single part of it held pieces of you. From the scent to the colors, it suited you. 

"I appreciate your willingness to go along with this, Bee" Joel said sincerely, breaking the silence "It means a lot to me, even if we can't, you know, stand each other."

You gave him a small nod. "I hope that from now on, you stop ruining my flowers.” 

Joel smiled "Promise” 

Joel raised his hands to shake hands with you, in a gesture to seal the agreement. You accepted his hand, and for a brief moment, your skin met his in the handshake. There was electricity sparkling at the touch, one that neither of you had anticipated. Swiftly, both of you let go of each other's hands, leaving an odd feeling lingering in the air.

“See you around,” Joel said, trying to cut the tension left in the air.

“See you” you answered, this time without meeting his eyes as you felt the blood rushing into your cheeks.

Joel turned and headed back to his gallery, with that strange feeling he hated so much settled in his stomach.

a/n: Okay this is the first official chapter of this story, this is more like an introduction of their agreement, but more is coming. I really feel inspired because last week spring began here so..flowers and more flowers. i have so many ideas for this one so i hope you like the story and the following chapters. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, please. Take care and see you soon.

p.s for those who read my other fic. I promise the next chapter will be posted by the end of this week or during the next one

tag 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42

[rinachains]

picture perfect [pt.1]

synopsis: in which you partner up with geto and he discovers a little secret of yours.

wc: 2.3k

contents: drabble; no-curses au, high-school au; geto x gn!reader; implied stalking, reader is a bit....unwell, but both of them are pretty questionable; ig this counts as dark content (?)

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

“Sorry, we all already have a partner, but maybe another time!”

Sorry smiles and exaggerated pouts grace the faces around you. A more than familiar sight accompanied by more than familiar words.

How many times have you heard this sentence before, in different variations?

“Oh, it’s fine”, you mutter, voice not betraying any emotion, not wanting to draw in unnecessary attention.

You knew from the moment your art teacher announced a partner project that it would lead to this. It’s almost like a routine; everyone immediately finds their partner and you are the odd one out, standing around awkwardly until your teacher either allows you to work on your own or forces another poor student to partner up with you. What would it be this time?

There’s something wrong with you. There’s no point in denying it, you know it and everyone else seems to know it, it is simply a fact. It’s not as if you’ve done something outrageous – in fact, you try to stay as far in the background as possible, never making a scene, but it appears that whatever is wrong with you is visible even to the closed eye.

You've always had a hard time connecting with others. Something holds you back, that something remaining unknown, unidentified to you, and you can’t free yourself from its tight grasp, no matter how hard you struggle against it. You once overheard a classmate say that you’re off putting, that something about you freaks them out. (Of course they referred to you as ‘this one person, the one that’s always alone’, not caring enough to learn and remember your name.)

But what can you do about it? What can you do about this something when you don’t even know what it is?

“Partner up with me”, a low, more than familiar voice suddenly comes from behind your shoulder, startling you. As you turn around, you are met with purple eyes that make your own widen.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, Geto apologizes sheepishly, his hands raised and a soft grin gracing his handsome face.

“Oh- no, it’s alright”, you manage to press out, your brain trying to register whatever is happening right now.

Geto chuckles lightly, the barely audible sound passing from his mouth through the distance between you until it reaches the left side of your chest, leaving behind tickling warmth.

“So, want to partner up?”

“Uhm, aren’t you going to partner up with Gojo?”, you ask carefully, confused by his unexpected request. As you peek behind him, you find Gojo with another student, pouting and with crossed arms, throwing a heated glare at Geto’s back.

“Gojo is hopeless at art and I don’t really want to fail, so I thought you would be a better choice”, Geto explains, shrugging. “Not to sound like I’m using you for a better grade, I would generally be interested in working with you. It’s good to sometimes switch things up.” 

You clasp your hands behind your back, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you think over what he said. Gojo’s lingering glare makes you hesitate. The last thing you want is to feel Gojo’s wrath, especially since you managed to fly under the radar and avoid becoming a victim of his teasing the past two years. You don’t really feel like changing that, sometimes remaining unknown being better than that something inside and outside of you becoming known.  

“Is this really okay?”

Geto sighs, apparently aware of Gojo’s silent tantrum. “Of course. Don’t mind him, he just can’t take not being a priority for once.”

You nod slowly, unclasping your hands from behind your back. “Right. Well, yeah, we can work together. I’m fine with that.” Your voice is more steady this time, hoping that you sound collected and unaffected by the whole situation.

Not like I have another choice, you add bitterly in your head.

“Great.” His smile widens at your agreement, the palm of your hands clamping at the sight. “Can I join you then?”, he nods his head toward your desk, already reaching out to grab an empty chair for himself.

“Yeah, sure…”

You observe as he puts the chair in front of your desk and sits down, your body following and carrying you to your own seat, guided by an invisible force. His scent coats you once you face him again, it’s nothing overpowering, actually subtle, but it’s all you can smell in that very moment. Woody, something fresh akin to mint, a lingering scent of the green tea that he prefers to drink during break.

Sometimes your mind would drift away during class and you’d sit here, chin rested on your fist, consumed by thoughts of your dark-haired classmate. Sometimes you’d imagine gently caressing the black, silky locks through your fingers, playing with it, relishing its softness, and helping him put it up in his signature bun.

It happened a few times that one of the girls would attempt to touch it, but Geto always swerved smoothly away from their grips, not giving anyone an actual chance to feel it. Not even Gojo. What if he allowed you to do it? To be the exception? You’d picture him leaning into your touch, half-lidded eyes fluttering as a purr comes out of his chest. But that’s all it is at the end; an image, blossoming from the deeply rooted loneliness inside you and spreading its roots through your body.

Sitting in front of Geto, glancing at him with widened eyes, makes you realize once again just how beneath him you are, despite being eye to eye. There was always a distance between you, a well guarded, endless bridge that seemed impossible to cross, and you wonder if maybe today you would be able to take a step on it, even if it’s just a singular foot landing on it cautiously.

It’s no wonder that girls and boys swoon over him – he has a natural elegance and smoothness to him that simply can’t be replicated. You aren’t an exception to his charm, and you have a feeling he’s well aware of it. His smile knowing, his eyes keen – nothing truly escapes him. Perhaps that’s what draws you to him; he sees everyone, including you.

It also doesn’t help that he’s polite and helpful, especially in comparison to Gojo. Sometimes you wonder how he can put up with his white-haired friend, but whenever you examine them together you notice how Geto would become more carefree and playful, a teasing glint appearing in his eyes, subtly joining in on his antics.

His voice is usually gentle, even when it’s laced with frustration or tiredness whenever he scolds Gojo. You ask yourself what it would be like to see him lose himself, for him to actually lose his composure, and raise his voice. So unlike his usual self, revealing an ugly side. Although, you’d never find it ugly - you don’t believe you could ever consider anything concerning him as less than perfect.

“So, do you have something in mind?”, Geto brings you out of your thoughts. You blink. He looks relaxed as always, his back slumped against the chair and arms crossed against his broad chest.

“Well…”, you begin, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you stare at the desk. “I’m not sure yet.” That's actually not a lie. You would describe yourself as a creative person, someone who has various thoughts running through their head every second, and normally you would have had a few ideas by now - but when you have Geto in front of you, your brain stops working and renders you frustratingly useless. Even if you tried to concentrate, you'd surely get distracted by him again, every little thing interrupting your thought process.

He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips. “You can tell me your ideas, you know? I’m pretty sure you can come up with something.”

Is he being condescending or supportive? You can’t really tell, but a part of you also doesn’t care as blood inevitably rushes to your cheeks. You’d take and bask in his attention, no matter how wretched it is. Perhaps you should feel embarrassed and ashamed at how desperate you are, but deep down you are long past shame.

“Mhm, you’re good at taking pictures, aren’t you?”, he muses then, spreading his legs wider to make himself more comfortable. “We could do something with that.”

Your lips crack open, a few seconds pass before they can form proper words. “I guess…they’re nothing special though”, your voice cracks slightly at the end, making you visibly cringe. Geto stares at you intently as the corners of his lips tug up, as if he found something endearing or entertaining, or perhaps even both.

“No need to down play it, we can make use of your talent.“

Talent. When did someone ever, except for your teacher who was way too pushy for your likening, refer to your work as talent? (When did someone ever pay enough attention to you to even notice your work?)

“You didn’t even see any of them”, you counter weakly, your hand coming up to rub your collarbone.

Geto raises a thin eyebrow. “Actually, I did, a month ago at the exhibition.”

Surely he can’t mean the exhibition that was held together by the photography and the art club, right? You, of course, took part of it, presenting a few of your own photographs, albeit reluctantly. How the hell did you miss him there?

“Oh”, you breathe out, trying to process the information he just casually threw at you. “Sorry, I don’t think I saw you there.” You would have never guessed that he would even be there in the first place, so even if you did unknowingly catch a glimpse of him, you probably have told yourself that you were mistaking a stranger for him, that you were too far gone in your delusion.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t there for a long time anyway, I left after seeing your pictures”, he lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, an action so simple but so graceful at the same time. 

“What? Why?” Your voice comes out louder than intended, immediately making you recoil when some of your classmates around you turn their heads to you. God, why can’t you just act cool?

A soft, honeyed laugh leaves Geto’s mouth, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons and his bang swinging against his face. You swallow as your mouth suddenly feels awfully dry. You don’t think you can compare this sight to anything you’ve ever seen, anything you’ve ever caught with your camera before.

“Well, I overheard our teacher praising you, so I thought that I should see them for myself. I definitely wasn’t disappointed.”

He averts his stare to the ground, his head tilted to the side which allows you to let your eyes wander alongside the smooth, pale skin of his strong neck.

“Honestly, I don’t know as much about photography as I’d like to, but I really enjoyed looking at your pictures”, he pauses for a moment, a contented expression taking over his face. “The way you capture everything – it’s like nothing escapes you.” Geto then looks up to you again, purple hues swirling with a strange, captivating glint. He finishes in a joking tone, “I hope I’m not freaking you out right now.”

“No”, you rapidly shake your head as you choke out a response. “No, of course not. I’m just surprised…”, you halt, trying to scramble together words to form a sentence. “I didn’t expect anyone to know about that. I never really speak with anyone about my photography.”

He clicks his tongue. “Ah, that won’t do. I guess I need to praise you more then.” Beneath your bashfulness, he catches the way you perk up, reminding him of a puppy that got praised by its owner, an imaginary wagging tail appearing behind you. He has to hold himself back to not let out a coo and reach up to pet your head. Aren’t you just so easy to appease?

“Since we’re doing this together, I want you to speak up. It’s only me after all, so we should be comfortable with each other, right?”

“Of course”, you say, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”, your tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, his eyes discreetly following the movement.

“I think you know that I’m not…used to this.”

He hums. “I’m aware. But it’s something we can work on, don’t you think?”

“…Right”, you agree, voice almost coming out like a whisper.

“I’m glad then”, he nods, amusement tangled in his gentle tone. “And stop apologizing when there’s nothing to apologize for. You’re doing just fine.”

“Right, I’m sor-“, you stop yourself, realizing what you were about to say again. You rub the right side of your face, a strained chuckle escaping you. “I guess old habits die hard.”

Geto’s eyes flicker back and forth between your face and your body, taking in the way your back is slightly hunched, making yourself smaller than you actually are, and how one of your fingers now restlessly taps against the old, wooden desk.

And what you – usually so attentive, so observant – don’t notice is how his eyes then drift to your opened bag, revealing all the books, papers and other little belongings of yours. One item in particular catches his eye, calling to him like the apple to Eve in the Garden of Eden, promising his doom. He has to surpress a pleased chuckle – it’s a picture of him, on a day where he was out with Satoru in the city, checking out a newly released game after Satoru relentlessly begged Geto to come with him. Satoru is cropped out of this photo, the focus lies entirely on Geto.

You truly manage to capture everything, don’t you?

[cotl-flower-crown]

Going on hiatus*

*Well, kinda.

Hey, I'm gonna start this post with "omg, this blog has more than 2 followers, what the fuck?? That's crazy!". I don't usually look at numbers, because I don't want it to be a focus on my platforms, but just know that I appreciate every single one of you and I hope that you all enjoy what I'm doing here. Like at the moment of writing this there is 2277 people that decided they want to look at my art more and it makes me very happy, thank you! ^^

So uhh yeah, hiatus.

Not gonna lie, the past few months has been stressful for me and I have reached the point where my chest and stomach are in pain and I can't get enough sleep because of it, among other things (damn you mosquitoes!!!). It's something that happened before and it might take me months to recover from it. So I suppose you could say that this hiatus is mainly for the health reasons.

Though it's also because my gut is telling me that it's time to move on from this fandom to do other things.

Hear me out. It's not that I hate COTL now, far from it, I still love this silly cult game and I will follow what MM has to offer for this game in the future. I am just kinda not keeping up with myself when it comes to posting. I've been trying to post about my favs at least once a week, but honestly it's been a struggle to pump out anything at all lately. It's not that I don't have anything to post, I'm just tired and burned out.

So yeah, I think it's time to put this blog on hiatus for the time being. What I mean by that is I don't want this blog to be the top of my priorities and I want to take it easy.

I don't want it to go completely silent though. I'm planning to open my ask box again, because I miss interacting with everyone. However I will not do any art requests or draw anything for the asks in general. If I do, it will most likely be poorly drawn or it will be something related to character design, since that's what I'm most comfortable with, but I would prefer not have to draw at all. Though I am open for writing. I also wish to draw sometimes, so maybe I will post some artwork when I feel like it. I'm just not gonna post as often as I used to. It might take like a month (maybe two, maybe three, etc) before I decide to make anything.

What's the future of this blog? I am not sure yet. There is a chance that eventually I will abandon this blog entirely OR I could repurpose it for fanart in general. To be honest I'm leaning towards the second option at the moment, but that is a future me's problem.

I think that's all I've got to say right now. Again Thank You everyone who decided to follow, reblog and like my art and leave comments, I appreciate it all, and thank you to my moots and friends that I made along the way, I love you all (plat/non parasocial) and I hope this will work out.

TLDR: I'm going on hiatus, but not completely silent, also ask box open, but no requests