#yes because when i make an art piece and no one reblogs it it makes me want to throw up into a bin
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four eyes (more to love underneath the frames) — PT.1
HELLO!!! okok the prologue received some good reception so i will!!! be continuing the series :3c THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE NICE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND OHHHH MY GOD THE MOTHER OF NERD!MIGUEL @nymphomatique REBLOGGED MY PROLOGUE (i could die happy) ty for the food and the inspiration to start this series!!!
i’m still the process of setting up my tumblr because my ass made this my secondary blog (but idek if that changes anything… i don’t think) OH AND YES THERE IS NOW A TAG FOR THE SERIES! ALSO PLSPLSPLS DON’T BE AFRAID TO SEND THROUGH ASKS FOR DRABBLES OR REQUESTS OR ANYTHING REALLY!!! i’m more than happy to feed us both hehe
tw/cw: mmmm not any i can think of (FIXING ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AFTER POSTING BECAUSE I’M COOL)
PROLOGUE?! < <
“sorry students, the projector is currently out of order so i’d like for all of you to just go through the powerpoint on your own. feel free to come up and ask questions.” the professor sighs as he closes his laptop and settles down onto his desk, the chatter of other students and laptop keyboards create the perfect white noise for your 8AM lecture.
you weren’t really that keen on studying this period anyway so you’ll just get it done later but god he looked so much better up close. why did miguel have to be so fucking dorky and hot and cool all at fucking once? it bothered you that miguel has never spoken to you. ever. but with that in mind, no one would ever think of the effect this nerd had on you, not even the nerd himself.
“oi mate, mandem depending on you to pass this class.” you shake your head after you’re slightly shoved to the side of your desk by none other than your best friend bad influence. hobie, hobie, hobie… you groan as you look his way, legs propped up on the desk as if he’s completely unaware that he’s in an lecture hall. next to him is peter, trying to shove hobie’s legs off the table for fear of accidentally hitting miguel who was seated right infront of you.
peter and hobie were the angel and devil on your shoulder that manifested into your closest friends. it was so hard to make friends (partially because you weren’t interested in anyone aside from miguel) and that everyone in your class were already in tight knit friend groups, and it was clear they all wanted to keep it that way with the silent treatment and one-sided conversations. but that didn’t matter. what did matter was that neither of them were taking this class seriously.
hobie - for god knows what reason - just took the class for fun. well, hobie took it out of spite. he said and you quote, “it is my take on deconstructing the stereotypes and preconceptions of particular social groups alongside us punks that dictate that we lack the desire and strive for academic feats”. and you know what? for someone who likes to laze around and count the panels of wood used on the ceiling for half the lecture, his high grades put his narrow-minded folks to shame. oh and peter? although he couldn’t afford to skip his classes, he did anyway. mary jane, MJ - the mother to his children, as he calls her - is in the humanities elective they both share. and peter might as well skip that class instead of looking at MJ as if she invented humanities. you don’t know how watching you and hobie bicker was a better investment of peter’s time but no one was complaining. someone had to remind the both of you of operation miguel mutation, or in other words, get his gaze out of his books and onto your face.
“so much for wanting to prove the world wrong when you’re relying on someone else to do it for you”, you scoffed at hobie, pretending to brush dust off your shoulders. he chuckled, “i just wanted to know how it feels to be those good for nothing, narcissistic capitalists, is all”. you shoved him so hard it rattled your seats and you didn’t even realise you accidentally kicked miguel’s seat until his cold hard gaze towards you even made hobie look like an art piece in the middle of rendering.
“can i help you?”, fuuuuuuck off. he sounds so fucking hot. insanely hot.
his large pitch black frames could never obstruct how chiseled miguel was, he had angular features such as his nose, his jawline and even his cupid’s bow. but these features were softened with warm red eyes and wisps of his hair coming down to frame his forehead. o’hara’s face overall was slightly scrunched, his hand gripped onto the fold away desk while he faced you, his casual attire in sweats could barely hide his build. his mouth was slightly open, the very tip of his fangs making themselves known. he was definitely a specimen, a gorgeous specimen for lack of better word. you didn’t even realise you were staring at miguel until he raised his eyebrow and glanced over at hobie, then over to peter who was just happily content watching your unplanned, unconventional first meeting.
“oh. um, no?”, you were still confused why miguel (the man you’ve been trying to get the attention of ever since the first inkling of a feeling), suddenly turned around and spoke to you—
“excuse me, may i ask that you don’t disrupt your peers during class? i’m watching you too, brown.” if your teacher scolding you like a wack ass boy in year 9 wasn’t enough to make you embarrassed, your quick descent into realising that you quite literally pushed yourself - pushed miguel, rather - to make the first move. in the worst fucking way possible. you ducked your head a bit in an attempt to avoid the gazes of your classmates only to find your shoe jammed between the gap next to miguel’s seat, missing his elbow by a mere few centimetres.
you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
so much for devising a plan to properly introduce yourself by actually trying in class by answering the lecturers questions, to the point miguel can’t help but wonder that there is in fact competition. aware of his competitive nature, miguel would try to get ahead of you or widen that gap but then realise he was all wrong from the moment you’d tap his shoulder for a question you pretend to not understand, to look as if you’re struggling so much miguel can ignore his own studies for a little while to help you. men are stupid after all. miguel doesn’t apply here but being an outcast adjacent of the entire university has its benefits, in a way where it benefits your elaborate plan from stroking miguel’s ego by helping you, to ever so slightly become more and more interested in you. once you slowly ease into getting out of pretending to be an academic victim and miguel finds the joy in being academically challenged by the one girl who braved the odds and approach the mysterious mutant, he’d ask to you to meet at the cafeteria or the library. it didn’t matter. you would then, finally then, be in miguel’s line of sight.
“if this is your way of trying to get into my pants, i’m not interested.”
papers were stuffed into bags and the squeaking of chairs reverberated the lecture theatre. people were making their way to their next class while peter, hobie and yourself shared looks of disbelief, disgust, along with hobie’s infamous expression that scream the words i fucking told you so.
what the fuck? what the actual fuck was that?
o’hara didn’t miss a beat and swivelled around to start packing his belongings, completely unaware of how his response alone completely changed and destroyed all prior preconceptions about this man - or boy as you would now call him - turns out being smart never stopped anyone from being dickhead.
you felt like you just failed a quiz you didn’t know that was happening, despite being prepared to ace it.
it wasn’t like you to fail, however. especially not to him.
[ 🩷 — TAGS! @angelicful @lilipads @zaunsin @m4dyy @okkotszn @rhythmloid @cosmicbarstardust @thespaceinbetweennothing @cu1tvenus @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @ilovemuppets @loonalockley ] feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!
#🥽 — four eyes!#miguel o'hara#i love miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#atsv miguel#atsv#atsv x reader#spiderman#spiderman 2099#across the spiderverse#into the spider verse#GRRRR MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL#miguel fanfic#<nerd!miguel3
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Would you write a headcanon or even a blurb on mk1 Liu Kang having a crush on reader or falling in love with reader? I need more content with him so badd 😭 Please and thank you love ❤️
♡ headcanon :: how liu kang fell in love with gn!reader and their traits
mentions/warnings: none! just stupid writing errors (will be edited later)
babe pls i've been WAITING for someone to request him!! sorry for any typos or anything, i'm waiting on my laptop for the first time since my phone sucks with having music in the background while i write on here but here you go! hope you enjoy!! MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN YALL! & pls reblog thank you! ☺️💓
liu kang would be conflicted in my opinion, its a new world.. a new era and he is a god compare to you being in his earth realm defense, but nonetheless it did not wary the feelings he had for you.
what was the traits that he favored from you? well, you did easily best kung lao in one of his bets! (lowkey so did the rest favored you cause it shut up kung lao for a bit!)
but mainly, you were ambitious for earth realm's victory when titan!shang tsung had declared war on this timeline.
you had confidence in him despite being told your past lives in different timelines from geras, he had asked why and was met with a answer that tugged at heart in the most blossoming way. "the fates will always find a way and i'm most thankful for this one as i get to be by your side."
was this a confession reader??? 🤓
you would laugh at his jokes even though no one else would get them, (you didn't really find his jokes humorous but you adored enough him enough to put up with it.) he still appreciated it, even if it was the smallest thing from you
in trainings, missions and in other assortments.. being diligent was your main priority. making sure you and your comrades made it back all in one piece, sometimes plans weren't always followed through but you were clever enough to have a backup plan to ensure success.
liu kang would dote on you when both of you are alone, he'll compliment the way you did your hair, how your voice sounded when you sung (lets pretend you know how to sing LOL) this man was down bad i tell ya!!
at madam bo's everything you ate/drink was paid by him, he even would ask madam bo to make you off menu dinings
this made everyone jealous because you were receiving royal treatment on which you would tease them for when his back was turned
"have you tried this tea before? it helps to smooth your throat if you have a cold" "eat this dish, the flavors of the soup can help with the sickness you're going through."
YES liu kang would be that type of person to take care of you even if you show the rarest signs of sickness!
but how did he meet you in this new era? you were trained in combat, martial arts and amongst other things which made you the second best behind raiden to being earth realms champion
although not being chosen not to represent in the tournament, you exceeded his expectations and was humbled enough to not let your pride get the best of you.
to end this, liu kang was in love with you simply because you believed in his vision and strength all those eras ago. you were you, you were his.. in every lifetime.
#mk1 x reader#liu kang#liu kang x reader#liu kang fluff#mortal kombat#mk1#mk1 scenarios#mk1 headcanons#liu kang headcanon#mk1 fluff#mk1 liu kang#mk1 x gn!reader#liu kang x gn!reader#mk1 hcs#mortal combat 1
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You reblogged that starter list and before I even saw your message, this one SCREAMED Din to me:
❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be.
character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)
prompt: "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."
main masterlist • prompt masterlist
You looked up at the expanse of stars overhead and let out a soft breath. The slight sting of the night's chilled air nipped at your nose, but the way it filtered through your lungs felt relieving. This was the open air; it was much more freeing than the ship you had started to feel trapped within.
It was that ship's boarding ramp you were sitting on, and as you took a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw its owner watching you from within the cargo hold with a worried tilt to his silver helmet. Having been caught in the act, his armored chest rose and fell in a breath as he started to walk towards you. Your gaze returned to the sky above as you sensed his approach.
"I thought you were charting another course," you said as Din took his place alongside you. "We can't spend too much time here."
Din shrugged in your periphery. "An extra rotation won't hurt."
Your head snapped towards him as your lips parted in disbelief. "A rotation?"
Din's visor was stuck on the stars, but after a moment of you staring, he returned your disbelieving glance. "What?"
You chuckled and shook your head, returning your attention to the night sky. You closed your eyes as your heart began to beat more rapidly. The question you wanted to ask screamed within your mind, but it came out as a mere whisper. "Why?"
There was a pause before Din responded. "Why what?"
You reopened your eyes and kept them on the stars. Looking at Din would make you lose your resolve. "Why are you bending your rules?"
When Din remained silent for a long moment, you quickly glanced over at him. His visor was fixed on his gloved hands as he picked the orange-colored material on his fingertips. "We can afford the time, for now." When he continued, his modulated voice was even lower than before. "And you're happy here."
You furrowed your brow at him. "I'm happy regardless."
Din gave his helmet a brief tilt. "Sure. But..." he paused, as if musing upon something, "not like you are on planets like this one."
You didn't know what to say to that. The sweet inhale of the crisp air you took was enough to prove his words true. As you continued to stare somewhat dumbfounded at Din, he added more.
"You don't like being on the ship."
You instantly shook your head and willed the words to come, but they wouldn't. Your throat had closed up around your wildly beating heart as the truths you tied to each atrium and ventricle came closer and closer to freeing themselves.
Din took your silence as a much more disappointing reality. Even his modulator couldn't hide his hurt. "You don't like being with me."
"No." You couldn't have gotten the word out faster if you'd tried. "That's not true."
"It's okay. I understand." Din's arm rested upon his propped-up knee as he looked at the stars yet again. You watched his visor reflect them with fond admiration. "My lifestyle isn't meant to keep people around for long." He nodded, as if he was still convincing himself of such a truth. "I've grown used to it."
His words, a genuine and honest reflection of himself, shattered your heart enough to let the shards escape through the barrier your throat had attempted to create. Each beautiful truth began to spill out in a stained glass mosaic of the image you had crafted over the past few months. "Yet I'm still here."
That caught Din's attention. His visor found your gaze as you pieced your art together.
"I've felt trapped, yes, but not by you or your ship." You exhaled and watched your hand as you set it on the metal of the ramp beside you. It was just inches from Din's own. "It's a feeling. One that consumes me, really. And while it's centered on you, it's not because of you that I feel so trapped. That's only because I know the truth. I know your guard has to stay up."
You huffed and shook your head at yourself.
"It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, honestly, but... you deserve to know." The corners of your mouth pulled up in a sad smile. "Even if there's nothing you can do about it."
Din's visor never left you as he sat in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, his visor lowered, his focus moving to his gloved hand as it closed the distance to your own. Only part of his hand covered yours on the boarding ramp as he spoke in the most beautifully honest tone you had ever heard from him. "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."
You shook your head, your gaze also fixed on your hands as you did so. "If you were any different, you wouldn't be the person I've grown such feelings for."
You were delicate in the way you laced your fingers through his, allowing him to pull away at any point if he so wished. He made no such move, instead letting his armored chest rise and fall in a careful breath as your hands became fully entwined. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke up once again. "I can learn."
You looked back up at his visor and hoped your expression wasn't betraying your strong glimmer of hope. Din offered a determined nod.
"I will learn."
Your smile couldn't be stopped as you looked upon him much more favorably than you ever had the stars. "Yeah?"
Din nodded once more, resting your entwined hands on his armored thigh. "Yeah."
#get you a man who wants to learn how to accept love on your behalf!!!!!!! (and give it ofc)#din djarin#the mandalorian#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#prompts#dindjarindiaries
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BE WARY OF ART STEALERS!
can’t stress this enough but I’m sure some of you have seen this person around lately
DO NOT LIKE OR REBLOG THEIR POSTS.
this account basically takes ninjago art (or what they think is ninjago art) from artists all around the internet without permission and posts them on their account in batches. When asked if the art was theirs, they said yes
This is a bold faced lie. Whoever this person was didn’t take the time to remove watermarks and it’s incredibly obvious they’re stealing other peoples work. Some watermarks are blatantly obvious.
One of them wasn’t even ninjago art, it was ATLA art I believe.
Included the full image for this one so y’all can see the account for proof (though honestly you could easily go to the account and find one with somebody else’s watermark within seconds) and also see how this person is gaining off of other peoples work. This stolen art should NOT have 35 notes.
Don’t support this person. Support the actual artists the art belongs to. Many of them can be found by the watermarks!
I recommend people block them, or if you want to keep an eye on the situation I recommend you always check the account posting the art before liking or reblogging right now. Going off of style or recognizability will NOT help you because they’re stealing from other artists with various art styles - and some of them are also here on tumblr.
I don’t like doing this and I don’t know how many people it’ll even reach but PLEASE be careful of who you support right now.
It also goes to show that you might want to do background checks if someone is acting suspicious! Obviously don’t make your judgement off of a vibe but if someone is posting with little to no words and just posting art at insane frequencies with watermarks or styles that don’t seem to line up, maybe you should look into it before supporting them. Of course, sometimes it’ll be a false alarm, but it’s better to be safe than sorry!
It’s not just this person, I’ve noticed other instances of art theft recently, so I would also like to remind artists to watermark their works!
My recommendation is to have an obvious watermark that people WILL see if it gets stolen by someone careless (I.e like this instance) and I recommend having it overlap with several different colors and shading and such so that it’s more difficult to edit out. I also might recommend hiding smaller watermarks inside your work that are less obvious so that if more careful people do edit out the first watermark, you can still have a fail safe.
UPDATE: Im pretty sure the main person behind the theft was either banned or deleted their account. I will be keeping this up for a bit so people can learn from this instance. While the original person is gone, art theft is still something that can and will happen. Let this be a reminder that you should always watermark any art you post to the internet if you don’t want it stolen! An unwatermarked piece of art is harder to trace back to the artist than a watermarked one. Even if watermarks can be removed, they discourage people from theft. If a work has no watermarks, people can and will try to get away with it, and the only way anybody will know is if they’ve seen the original artist post the work before. Of course, some people might not care while stealing, but it will tell people something’s up.
#ninjago#ninjago cole#cole ninjago#jay walker#ninjago jay#ninjago kai#jay ninjago#kai jiang#lego ninjago#ninjago zane#lloyd ninjago#lloyd garmadon#ninjago lloyd#kai smith#ninjago nya#nya ninjago#nya jiang#nya smith#important#art theft
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Nicest Thing Peter x Reader for 11. In joy? I really like that fic. I reblogged it on my old account. I feel like thats an underrated fic of yours (maybe bc it came out in 2022? Idk). Would love to see what happened to them!
It's still one my favs because it is just so...me?? Like if I had to chose anything that represented my personality perfectly, it would be Nicest Thing. Just a depressed, sad bitch who loves angst and Peter Parker and enjoys Kate Nash. I feel like I need another Kate Nash song for this "sequel" fic. I'll base it off her song Trash because these two are trash for each other.
You can read this as a separate, on its own Peter x Reader thing if you'd like or you can read it as a future piece to Nicest Thing.
Warnings: Smoking a joint and getting stoned
If porn bots can over take all the tags then I better not get flagged for these gifs.
Peter looked at her through blazed out, squinting eyes. A haze of smoke filled their bathroom as they passed the joint back and forth between them. They were seated in the unfilled tub, fully clothed, and facing each other. She had made him take the spot next to the faucet under the claims that sitting over the drain made her feel “icky” like she might get sucked in. He didn’t mind. Even if their leaky faucet kept dripping cold water over his shoulder.
“Do you remember the Rugrats episode when Tommy and Chuckie are afraid of getting sucked down the bathtub drain because Angelica tells them a story of some other baby who died that way?” He asked, handing her off the joint.
She placed it between her lips and he watched with a slow blinking, admiration for her. He loved her. She had been with him through everything. He owed his entire life to her. Without her in his life, he would no longer be here. She was everything important in the world.
She smiled, remembering, and let out the most beautiful laugh. She always got extra giggly when they smoked. It was one of his favorite sounds.
“Don’t they fill the drain with play-doh and shit? It’s a weird reddish, pink color. Why do I remember that specific color so much?” She replied, mystified.
Peter chuckled, “Because old school Rugrats was filled with some crazy ass imagery. It sticks in your mind.”
“Yeah but I remember thinking that I specifically wanted to eat that color...like maybe it would taste nice…like the imaginary food from Hook.” She passed it back to him, letting the smoke exhale in a little, circular puffs from between her lips.
“Do you want to get into a pretend food fight with me and see if anything appears?” He grinned.
Her red rimmed eyes squinted back at him as she laughed, “With the way these munchies have been hitting me the past few minutes, I think it might actually happen. I could imagine food hard enough to make it show up.”
His mind started to wander as a hungry smile spread across his face, imagining all the food he could eat, and he spoke with a dreamy whisper, “Pizza bagels.”
“What?”
“Let’s make pizza bagels. ‘M hungry. Starvin’. Gonna die if I don’t get some food in me.”
Her eyes glowed with excitement at the idea, “Pizza bagels. Yes, you’re a genius!”
“I know,” he giggled, it bubbled out of him without any self control. It wasn’t the weed that did it. It was her. He felt free when he was with her. He flicked out the joint against the ashtray balancing on the edge of the tub. “I really am. Smartest man alive, probably.”
She snorted, “Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. Get your ego in check, Parker, before I have to slap some sense back into you.”
He beamed at her, his love consumed him, feeling it outshine every other emotion rattling around inside of him. She was beautiful. Stunning. Picture perfect. He wanted to hang her up on his wall like an expensive piece of art so he could admire every day of his life.
Her shoulders shrunk up to her ears under the intensity of his gaze.
“Stop that,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me with those eyes or I’ll kick you. I’ve got a perfect aim for your crotch in this position.”
Peter shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I refuse. I can’t help it. You look…perfect. The nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
“You’re stoned.”
“Yes. Doesn’t change the fact that your lips look very enticing.” He winked at her and tried to scoot forward to get a taste.
Her socked foot landed against his chest, pushing him back in place, “I thought we were making pizza bagels, not kissing. Weren’t you just starving a minute ago?”
“Starving for you, maybe.”
“Peter!” She let out a loud laugh, keeping him at bay with her outstretched leg.
He was so in love. Completely enamored. Whipped. Head over heels. Trash for her. Whatever he wanted to call it. He belonged to her so wholly. His bleeding heart was in her hand for the rest of his life. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again.
“If you don’t let me kiss you right this very second, I am going to turn this shower on.” His hand reached over his shoulder to grip onto the shower knob with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
She gave a sharp inhale, “You wouldn’t dare.”
His eyebrows raised, taking on that challenge, “Oh really?”
She knew she fucked up the second before the shower burst to life. From his position in the tub, it shot over his head to spray directly into her face. She shrieked and fell back, sliding down the sloped edge of the tub until she was nearly on her back.
It was all the opportunity he needed to pounce. He leapt on top of her to the sound of her laughter and blocked the shower stream from her face with his back. His arms wrapped protectively around her head as he laid over her. Water pooled around them, warming their bodies, and soaking through their clothes.
They didn’t feel it.
All he could feel was the devoted love burning a hole in his chest where his heart used to be.
She giggled up at him, blinking water droplets from her eyes, and whispered, “You’re an ass.”
He laughed in response and crashed his lips over hers, mumbling against them, “You love me.”
She sighed in content. Her arms snaked around his neck to draw him closer, melting happily into his kiss.
“I do.”
#i will take every opportunity to stick this man in a tub or shower#andrew garfield#tasm#tasm x reader#peter parker#peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm peter#tasm peter x reader#tasm fic#tasm peter fic#tasm peter parker fic
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Songfell anniversary post, pt 2
Choo choooo here comes the second train of Songfell images I collected via posts and reblogs from this specific Tumblr, which means there's lots of video art not included. Kudos to @nuvex for the cutest cake-eater yes she is <3
(Part 1, Part 3)
Nuvie's other Frisk is frigging fantastic. I took embarrassingly long to notice the Delta Rune designs on the cover. I was focusing on her...lots of things, but I'm allowed to say "boobs" on my own blog. Anyway, picking back up chronologically:
This is Frisk's hobby: cleaning up blood and sending people to jail at two in the frickin' morning. I believe these were the first pieces we got from @marihem :3
@venelona takes us through storytime, where it is established that Kris was a little boy who is vanished the end
*humming "Memory" from Cats*
Studying things that need to be studied
Everyone went on about Dr. Serif being Snape, but I actually gave Catler1 a reference of Soren from Fire Emblem.
I think I've reposted this one like 15 times. Just look at all the details @sharkowskii put on the table ;_;
Someone doesn't like listening to humans apologizing for Frisk about how much they suck and making Frisk not be there where he can see her >:( @smolspoopy captured it quite effectively.
Speaking of capture: here Vene shows us one of Sans' biggest regrets in trying to ditch Frisk
...Speaking of regrets in trying to ditch Frisk
This has become one of my favorite reaction images. Thank u Mari
Not from the same point in the story, but @feelisia got the same feeling here
Now we are less >:o and a lot more DDDDD:
Yadda yadda assassin, and it turns out she cute :|
The wild, sexy shenanigans they get up to when it's just the two of them :3 Studying all night long~ (Thanks, @moonrosebunnie!)
Some of my favorite shenanigans: tiny lady getting in a giant monster's face because he's being a dick 🤬 Frisk is not into that kind of dick, thank you, sir (and Sharky)
And last in this batch, from @mambourin, is Frisk being courted by a dude with......no I refuse to make a "wingman" pun, partly because I'm pissed I didn't think of it earlier. Gotta remember that one.
#songfell#songfell anniversary post#still crediting people who aren't on the site or that blog anymore
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What do you think you add? Do you think you make a poignant post better when after scrolling down through it we see someone saying it's "official"?
I'm choosing to interpret this ask as a genuine question (albeit one that's been worded a bit rudely) instead of a hate anon, because I wouldn't want to tarnish people's dashboards with hate anons.
Now, to answer your genuine question... The "Discworld Heritage Post" tagline I add to the end of posts has as much validity as I have authority to bestow it: none. Do I think my tagline makes posts better? Of course not! And I certainly don't think I make them official, (and neither my url or my pinned post claim that I do so).
I don't know what reasons other people had to start their own Heritage Posts blogs for other fandoms, but I will gladly tell you mine: I got into Discworld. I discovered the Discworld fandom in Tumblr. And, one day, while scrolling down some Discworld related tags, the idea just popped into my head. After checking that there wasn't a Discworld Heritage Posts blog already, I decided to make one.
I personally follow a few Heritage Posts blogs, and my reason to do so is probably the same as to why many people follow this blog: I wanted to see that kind of content. Tracking tags and being up to date on the most popular posts of a fandom is doable, but doing so for the dozens upon dozens of media I'm into is impossible, so I like to follow some Heritage Posts blogs to get some of those posts directly into my dashboard (it's also worth mentioning that sometimes, some iconic posts are made when people comment stuff on them, and those don't appear in the search tags, so following blogs that post about a certain fandom is the best way to come across some of those collaborative posts, because otherwise you'd rarely get to see them). So yes, I created a blog that, had it already existed, I would have liked to follow. Also, while other blogs with this gimmick usually limit themselves to reblogging, let's call them the "greatest hits", I've said since the beginning that I didn't care about how many notes something had. Be it cool art or a funny or insightful post, if I like it, I send it to my drafts.
However, none of those reasons are the main reason why I made this blog. The main reason is that I did it for myself. After exhausting all the content that showed up in the Popular Posts tab, I couldn't help but think of all the gold and treasure that wasn't there, buried and hidden due to the way Tumblr's search engine works. If you're familiar with the Discworld concept of "lies-to-children", that's what the "top posts of all time" is in Tumblr. A 20k post from 2016 will not be there, but a six month old post with 400 notes will show up. Surely there had been amazing Discworld posts and art posted in 2015 and 2013, but I wasn't going to find most of them unless I expressly went looking for them. And this blog was the perfect excuse to do so. As of replying to this ask, there's nearly 600 posts sitting in my drafts, and if I didn't have this blog I would have never discovered 90% of them. And those are the ones I've seen. I still have dozens of places I haven't searched.
I know that if I reblog a month old post with over 2k notes, a lot of people in the fandom will have already seen it. However, a 2k notes post from 2014, or a drawing with 40 notes from 2012 is something that is less likely to have hit people's dashes recently, or at all. When you come across the "Discworld Heritage Post" tagline in a post, please don't picture me as an uppity monarch performing the Tumblr equivalent of a knighting ceremony, or a stuffy museum curator deigning a piece worthy of being included in an exhibition. Picture me as a kid enthusiastically jumping and flailing my arms around while yelling "holy shit guys check out what I just found!!", because that's how I feel running this blog.
Ultimately, whether one of my posts does better or worse is indifferent to me, because they aren't my posts, or memes, or drawings. I'm just the intermediary. That being said, of course it's not indifferent to me, because more engagement means that was a post many people hadn't seen before, or had forgotten about, and one of my goals was to run a blog that would allow people to find those hidden or long forgotten gems.
When all is said and done, Heritage Post blogs are just another one of Tumblr's gimmicks. If we're not your cup of tea, you're free to ignore or block us. If you want to reblog something and don't want the tagline, you can reblog it directly from OP (or from another reblog if OP has deactivated their account).
#long post#THAT BEING SAID#I've seen people being very exited about something they made showing up in this blog and calling it an honor and stuff like that#and to those people I say: I see you and your lovely tags and my heart warms when I read them#i might not have any real authority besides a self imposed gimmick in a nearly defunct social media platform#but if seeing your stuff here makes you happy and proud those feelings are valid and I want you to treasure them#a lot of things only have the meaning we ascribe to them and my tagline might not hold any official meaning#but it does mean something VERY IMPORTANT:#that I saw your post and I loved it and I reblogged it to make sure other people could also find it and love it#I need to come up with a tag for asks don't I? ok how about#asked and answered#dhp's asks#discworld
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grousing about ai art stuff
every time i open twitter (my mistake) there's a new thread on how to spot ai art or ai photos by finding all the mistakes in it, and like obviously this is useful and it's good to watch out because they kEEP SHOWING UP EVERYWHERE AHHH HELL WORLD HELL WORLD, but it's also a little depressing that we're training ourselves to nitpick all kinds of details within a piece of art.
like even before the artifically generated image boom randos on twitter would reply to fully finished illustrations with the most asinine unsolicited advice possible. art's gonna be flawed sometimes! i'll draw someone in a weird pose because of vibes! i'll wing a hand! i don't fucking know what a house actually looks like!!! like yes of course the way a human artist creates flawed art is different from the way an algorithm doesn't actually know what anything looks like because it has no mind. it doesn't know shit. so it's not that it's UNRELIABLE but it's like. it's like... i've been telling myself and others every time i'm struggling to make something look Just Right that actually nobody i going to be staring as hard at my art as i am while making it. if i don't point it out people aren't likely to notice unless they are going through it with a fine toothed comb BUT NOW WE ARE DOING THAT APPARENTLY. WHICH IS ANYONE'S PEROGATIVE AND FAIR ENOUGH! PEOPLE CAN LOOK AT MY ART HOWEVER THEY WANT IT'S FINE
but it's ALSO so depressing to consider having to analyse every single piece of art you come across like that my goddddddd i just wanna enjoy it!! i wanna enjoy art!!!! i mean the main reason i finally stopped going on twitter regularly was during the NFT boom and i got so tired of having to vet every single artist i came across to make sure i wasnt retweeting nft stuff. like that really ruined my previously enjoyable experience of LOOKING AT NICE ART ON MY FEED WITHOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE.
god another thing that happened during the dark nft times was how certain art styles tended to be nfts. and i don't mean the ugly apes and stuff, like of course there's those, but there were a lot of artists who sold their souls to crypto and there was just a certain Vibe to a lot of those styles. like i got a sixth sense for it, i would see a piece of art by an unknown artists and when i checked - yep, that was a crypto guy now. and you know what!!!! i hated that!!!! i hate that it ruined entire art styles for me!! AND NOW ARTIFICIALLY GENERATED IMAGES ARE DOING THE SAME!!!!! like what tends to tip me off is less because i spotted some wonky hand or a weird flap but because the style is a popular one for the ai bros to imitate. you know what i mean right!!!!!! it's kind of how the ai photos look a bit too clean and crisp and smooth in an unsettling way. it just pings the brain a bit.
ULTIMATELY the absolute main method i have for filtering away ai images isn't so much looking for mistakes, but by checking sources. it's the same way i check that i'm not reblogging from reposting accounts Because That's A Thing I Care About Too - if there's no description or the description seems off and i don't recognise the OP, i check the original post/blog to see what's up. if the image gives me a weird vibe, i check where it comes from and who posted it. oftentimes the comments on posts with ai images will point it out - they're not always accurate and there's definitely been times where people are a little too trigger happy to accuse art of being AI... but it can be a good lead or confirm suspicions. on one hand, i don't want to do detective work while im having chill scrolling time, but on the other hand - i already had this habit for other reasons, so it's less disruptive to me than the alternative. it also helps that it's very rare for ai shit to turn up in my tumblr feed. i don't want to keep looking over my shoulder!!
(also for anyone who wants a little bit of optimism in the middle of all this, here's an episode of Better Offline podcast that outlines how it's very unlikely for generative ai to actually get much better. here's the part two also.)
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☆°. — 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : ᴏᴄʜɪsɪᴀ
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, smut
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x fem!reader
𝐰𝐜: 10.1k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: big break up (👀), a bit of swearing, unprotected sex, implications of cumming inside, oral (f receiving), painful angst etc etc!! this is a LONG one and i hope you'll like it!! i eat up every bit of feedback!! the next chapter will be the final one so i wanna thank everyone already who has been reading and reblogging this series 🫶🫶
series masterlist | final chapter
You and Hyunjin were friends. The label all but feeling foreign to you now, everything but scary; a few weeks ago it would have been frightening. Holding stable contact with the man wasn’t a hard task if you’d call it one in the first place – not long after the first introductory words and small talk was done, when the basics of a persona had been revealed your conversation had flowed naturally, as though friends for decades. It was as easy talking, texting and calling him as it was when you had first exchanged numbers – when Hyunjin had looked up your number in his system, that is. You enjoyed time when it meant spending it with him, even if you didn’t meet up physically. Hearing his voice over the speaker was calming, often fun – Hyunjin bore a kind of humour that you deemed only came out when he found himself in comfort, not intentionally comedic, simply naturally witty; you never missed a day giggling about whatever with him.
Often it was relaxing. You weren’t always talking when on the phone. Sometimes your words would fade into a comfortable silence and the only sound you’d hear from Hyunjin’s end of the speaker was pencil on paper, or brushes against a glass of water to wash off the previous colours. You’d often ask about his art, whether he was an artist to show it around or one that shied away from the attention towards his pieces; if you could ever catch a glimpse at them. He had argued that, considering it his wanted career, he needed to be brave enough to showcase his work and to accept critique for it – so yes, he’d be ready to show you, if you only asked.
Moments like those, the ones you spent in silence, in a comfortable one that only established itself between good friends and over time, it seemed, felt the most sinful, though disguising as the most innocent. When you weren’t meeting each other physically, and when you barely talked – when in fact, it seemed like you shared the least amount of contact it felt utterly shameful. Because it was intimate. Because it was more than any physical connection could ever build, you thought. Because in moments like those you could be vulnerable, existing in each other’s presence, if only in thought. Allowing yourself for them to wander, allowing sole silence to settle between you. It felt worse than any physical cheating could ever feel.
But then again, it was platonic. You argued it was, internally. You have met once or twice in the store, unintentionally – you had both needed groceries, and had stayed a bit to chat. It had evoked nostalgia, when you’d remembered it was the first place of your meeting. You had talked like friends would when crossing paths without planning to, had laughed and paid at the register together before making your ways home. And yet you had a feeling within that didn’t mimic friendship, that felt somewhat foreign yet strangely and wholly familiar. It was comforting, rather than butterflies that swarmed in the lower pit of your stomach it felt like waves of soft waters, ones you’d lay atop on when visiting a beach. Every conversation with Hyunjin – the physical ones more than the ones when you called, or merely texted – felt like water carrying your body weightlessly; utterly calming, silent, longing. You often tried to ignore it to your best abilities whenever it evoked, but it was not deniable eventually that whatever was developing between the two of you was maybe, just maybe, more than what you’d call a sheer friendship. Because you truly shouldn’t feel as excited, as happy and curious about another man you claimed to be simply acquainted with.
Speaking of, you were everything but keeping Hyunjin a secret from Chan. Despite your situation, dilemma – however you wished to call it, certainly not an easy turn of events, surely – you didn’t have the heart to give up on Chan, not that easily. You had promised to try, and he had too – which all but meant a sudden careless relationship. Arguments occurred, still, ones you didn’t seem to grow out of. Over little things, over bigger things both of you deemed important – Hyunjin was a subject of said disputes, more often than not. You felt guilty, surely, for feeling as content with him as you did. Though you had often argued that you wouldn’t tolerate jealousy from Chan in that matter. You said there wasn’t a reason for Chan to grow protective if you were the very person to admit you and Hyunjin being friends; which in no way was forbidden, Seungmin and you were too, after all; you found it childish thinking of every member of the opposite sex as a potential threat to a relationship, which Chan reluctantly agreed on. You were aware that you weren’t fully honest, not truly, that you were sinning in one way or another – you weren’t cheating, were far from it, and you’d never stoop so low – before anything possibly developed, you’d be the first to break it off with Chan. Yet you weren’t lying when you had promised to try again, to not give up the year long relationship you had been building, had honest intentions in that matter – if anything, you were thoroughly conflicted. Staying with Chan to observe, to see if your bond would reconnect, yet befriending Hyunjin to yet grasp if he was a good match, a better than Chan maybe, altogether; it drained you, internally.
And faster than you could look, four weeks had passed since you had been in the library, since you had lent out the book you were supposed to bring in sooner or later. You had enjoyed reading, had remembered Hyunjin all the while – recalling he had read the book as well, wondering his thoughts on an impactful passage or a nice message you’d read. You enjoyed that you had similar taste – momentarily drawing the comparison that you and Chan could never bond over factors like these, your taste in literature and similar arts fundamentally different. It had never been an obstacle in your relationship, though having another person to enjoy the same things as you did was comforting, you couldn’t lie.
One o’clock on a Monday, and you were excited when you stood before the library, approaching the familiar wooden door. It looked heavy, was heavier when you pulled on it; it opened with a thick creaking, one that dared to disturb the entire quiet of such a silent space. The smell of books filled your senses momentarily, and though the place was utterly clean small particles of dust reflected in the rays of the sun and danced a dance you disturbed by walking right through. Hyunjin was sitting on his assigned desk, as promised working from twelve to six from Monday to Thursday – you had missed his face. You had missed seeing him, had missed observing him during work – not that you have done it often enough to truly miss it, yet excitement filled your body when he caught your eyes and smiled back at you. You’ve seen each other occasionally the last weeks so his smile seemed familiar, warm in nature and showing pearly teeth, and you had missed it. You had missed him. Deeply so – it didn’t scare you.
Eager steps carried you to the man, your shoes clacking softly against the wooden floor and echoed through the tall room of the library. Hyunjin fit into this place like a glove, you though – you could see the appeal it drew to him, could see how someone like him – someone quiet, someone sensitive and life-loving – would enjoy a beauteous, nearly sacred place like this. That he enjoyed typing away on his working computer and listening to the keyboard’s melody as he did, undisturbed and silent room around him, or that he liked grabbing a book or a pencil to kill time while work was slow – it fit him, in the best way it could fit.
“Hey.”
His voice like honey, and you have missed that, too. His voice, you have noticed the first time around, bore soothing fruits that melted on your tongue and got you hooked when you as far as tasted it. Anything about him had such effect, you couldn’t lie, but it was his voice that you learned to enjoy so much over the past weeks. You had missed it, deeply so.
You responded, watched as Hyunjin’s eyes softened at your word, took out the book you had not forget to pack and return. A bit of small talk around it, mutual asking about certain passages, about the ending or the characters and warmth coursed its way through your limbs – it certainly was nice to have someone with similar taste, someone who thought and felt close to the way you did. Chan rarely did, not about literature or arts, anyways.
“Oh, I’d love to see your stuff at some point…”, the conversation had shifted to Hyunjin’s very own art – ever since the party you had wondered what kind of paintings he created, ever since the party Hyunjin had told you you’d be welcome to stop by any time. “…do you like, have studio?”. A shy approach to invite yourself without actually doing so, without seeming pushy, interested instead. Yet you hoped Hyunjin would get the hint.
“Oh, no- not really, I mean. I’ve always wanted an atelier, but I can’t afford it right now…”, a glance up to you, reading your face, wondering if inviting you would be too much at this stage. Risking it anyways. “…I do have a home studio, though. You know, if you want… I’m free in an hour here.”
An exchanged smile, relief from both sides after you agreed and said you’d grab a book to read while waiting for his shift to end. Mutual giddiness bubbling in your chests and you all but could concentrate on whatever novel you picked from the various shelves – in thought already at Hyunjin’s place. You hadn’t expected, hadn’t particularly planned to be invited home to him. Your intentions had been pure, you hadn’t lie when you said you were interested in his art – though you couldn’t lie over the face that being within his own four walls rope a sort of anticipation inside you. Ones home was utterly intimate, felt like a new step to your friendship – a step you should probably be wary to take, one you maybe shouldn’t take altogether. Though you weren’t able to mind it, in all honesty.
Minute by minute went by and an hour felt like an infinity. You’d read barely twenty pages, having to go over paragraphs more often than not in your lack of absorption, until Hyunjin stood before you, finally. Bag thrown over one shoulder, single strands of hair fallen out his ponytail framing his face, soft smile dancing across his lips – he was a sight comforting to look at, and if there’d been any guilt left – about waiting an hour for the man your boyfriend was most jealous of, about visiting said man in his very own home, about taking more interest in his life, his art, his passions than in your boyfriends’ – then it was all gone by now. You didn’t mind anymore, didn’t care. Had decided maybe in that particular moment, with Hyunjin standing before you in all glory, so cautious since aware of your unavailability, yet a promising look in his eyes, one telling to simply choose him, leave your gone love behind and find happiness in a new one, that whatever was left with Chan was long over. Was barely worth fighting for, if not for sheer comfort and habit. That you in fact would stop fighting, for you’d been the only one doing so, after all. That though Hyunjin was yet a land foreign to you, yet to be discovered and explored he was a land of most promising and ripe fruits, of most beauteous nature and sight, of most comfort and secureness.
“You ready?”
___ . ꫂ
Hyunjin had played down the state of his home studio severely — it was as good as an actual atelier would be, to your knowledge anyways. The apartment he shared with his roommates — all gone now, stuck in classes or blowing raspberries at work — bore an extra room too small to be a bedroom and too spacey to work as a simple storage room, and Hyunjin had quickly taken the chance to claim ownership over the space. It’s walls and floor were littered in various combinations of cold and warm colours, stains Hyunjin was likely unable to remove for the overall state of the room was a clean one, despite being the one of an artist – you didn’t know any artists personally, yet had always imagined them to be on the chaotic side. Hyunjin’s studio, stains aside, brought nothing of such – brushes and paint kits stood under a rough system, seemed clean and neat in their position. Yet the studio carried the aura of pure artistry nevertheless — canvases piled up on each other or against the walls, unfinished and breath-taking sketches revealing themselves the longer you laid eyes upon the room, new mystery revealing itself with every closer look you took. There was art everywhere you looked, warm and comforting art you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired upon seeing. Art that made you blush, naked bodies piling upon each other, wondering if Hyunjin ever took live references, art that made you think, canvases filled with so much abstractness, so much variation in colour and texture that it needed you a minute to understand what you were looking at altogether.
You wanted to never leave this place again.
“You made all that?”
Stupid question expectant of stupider answer, though Hyunjin merely chuckled, his cheeks darkening, his fingers fiddling suddenly.
“Yeah... I mean, some of it is like super rough and not really good but... you know, inspiration comes and goes.”
The man gave you a look shy, one you wanted embedded behind a lock within your heart for an eternity – it was pureness, it was innocence that laid in his eyes when he looked at you like this. It was salvation, spoken with a pair of orbs, freedom offered with a single gaze.
And it was art that revealed itself to be a person, laying eyes on Hyunjin, art prettier than pencils and colours could ever create. Looking at him as though your entire world, looking at him as though he was the answer to everything you’d been looking for.
“Oh, shut up, nothing in here is ‘not really good’, I love every single piece…”, exchanged shy look, reddened faces the both of you, and you continued quickly, “I mean, I’m no artist but looking at your paintings makes me, like… feel something. I guess that’s a compliment for an artist, no?”
You chuckled, made your way into the depths of his atelier – it wasn’t anything but, as modest as Hyunjin chose to be about it – and let yourself flood with emotions he had converted onto paper and canvas, allowed yourself to discover colours and shapes, to give them a meaning only guessable – you truly weren’t an artist nor in any right of a good critique, though for Hyunjin you felt ready to learn it all. To understand theory and technique and profession, to dive into a world so unknown to you before, so beauteous you found yourself unable to resist.
A chuckle from him, then; “Yeah, you’re right… thank you.”
Hyunjin wasn’t following you through your journey across his works, stood by his most current piece near the window of the room – he had explained before that natural light was the best to paint with, so grateful the room happened to face the west side. He stood and watched you, enchanted by your interest in him, in his most vulnerable thing, nervous if you’d end up liking it altogether – art was insanely subjective, and while Hyunjin never took it personally nor illy if people and critiques reacted negatively, he needed you to be of an opinion positive. He needed you to like whatever you saw, to maybe understand even, inspiration and emotion, thought-process behind pieces and paintings. Though maybe that was too much to ask for, maybe to greedy of a wish to make. So Hyunjin stood watching you by the open window, hoping for simple contentment with his works from your side. Simple liking, nothing more. Because your validation was all he viewed necessary, from person least knowing of the subject yet of most important value.
Eyes meeting his, and you chuckled out, catching Hyunjin by surprise.
“You don’t talk much, huh?”
Catching Hyunjin by surprise anew – you were impossible to figure out. Admittedly, he had been silent from the moment you started making your way through his works. While he could have explained his inspiration behind certain ones he decided to refrain from it, letting you – hopefully – enjoy the silent satisfaction art brought. He was merely watching you – if maybe because in awe, though you were right, surely. He didn’t talk much, ever, truly.
“Yeah. I don’t really have much to say, I guess.”
Surprised look from your side now, and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I don’t know. Your paintings say otherwise.”
And with that you kept looking, and left Hyunjin utterly perplexed. It was a statement so base yet so determined in its character, and Hyunjin nothing but blushed at it.
He kept watching your eyes widen at certain works, when you liked the colours or when you did, after all, reciprocate thoughts and feelings, watched as you walked carefully, cautious not to nudge or bump against still wet canvasses and drying paint. Watched and shied when your gaze met his, when you decided to explore him instead of the art all around – and Hyunjin wondered if you felt the same. Ever wondered if the tension he still felt when around had dissipated for you already, if you had gotten used to the pulling and urging and longing your bodies fell into whenever near each other. No doubt that you had felt the same yet wondering if it was still the case, or if he was the one needing to hold a grip of himself – his body plucked by yours in the smallness of the room was unbearable, nearly, made him lose himself if he wasn’t careful enough. Needed constant reminding to not lose himself in the sight of you fully, converting his eyes for a second or two, collecting composition, regaining control. Control you so loved to take away from him, were so eager to steal right through the holes in his heart.
He damned your boyfriend — if it wasn’t for him, Hyunjin would have long made a move, despite his shy, his careful character, would have long spilled out his hearts’ desires for it took his body every last nerve to resist you, the whole of you. As you made your way through his paintings, through his emotions, through the soul of his Hyunjin’s body urged to be with yours, his heart desired your very own.
“You’d be beautiful to paint.”
Words past Hyunjin’s lips, gushing out too fast as to catch them from being heard. Far louder in the small room that he had intended them to be, for he hadn’t intended them at all. Hyunjin hadn’t even finished the thought before the words had materialized into the room – they simply appeared, as much to your surprise as his, and they bathed the both of you with a shower of fluster, of speechlessness. Exchanging looks, though faces burned hot converting eyes wasn’t in neither of your strengths to do – you simply looked at each other, purified disbelief dripping from within your eyes and onto your faces, standing like two idiots caught red-handed; because that was the first time thoughts had been spoken out aloud. Thoughts too secret, too forbidden to share, thoughts nearly sinful, bashful to even think, really. And they occupied your minds entirely – and Hyunjin was the first to admit to them. Though not wanted yet he did, and you’d been scared of the consequences. Scared to move because that would mean realness, scared to shift gaze because that would mean shyness, similar-mindedness; sin.
“I’m – oh my god, I’m sorry. I just mean --- you’d be a good reference, that’s all. I-”
Words a waterfall, and you shook your head, back in the studio after having felt lost, floating somewhere above the room, brought back the voice of his. And roughly, so.
“No, no… don’t apologize… uh- thank you…? I’m sorry, uh, thank you, really.”
Voice as trembling as you felt, and you shook your head all the while speaking, huffing out in attempted amusement, though it came out as a snort and ended up awkward; which made your heart beat faster and your face paint darker, and you cursed Hyunjin for saying those five words, so short a sentence, so small a promise and yet enough to shake your word. Walls you built so carefully before stepping into his home crumbling in their place, any sort of shield around your heart, regardless of its material, shattering into pieces to let free the feeling you had been trying to suffocate beneath layers of pretend. Allowing your body to be pulled by his, allowing the string that connected your hearts to tighten, to bring you closer, to connect you. To truly connect you, because now his word was spoken, now his promise was made. As small a promise as it was, and there was way to go, but it was irreversible.
And he knew it, too. Felt the threads, felt the needle in his arteries poking deeper, felt the fine fibre pulling him towards you and you towards him, felt your heart sink altogether, felt your crumbling composure. Knew even, maybe, entirely what you’ve been thinking – though not a master to mind reading he swore he knew what was going on in yours, felt your thoughts as though they were his own.
“I… actually… I haven’t really painted you, per se, but…”, though shy, resistant, Hyunjin let his mouth speak, as though a stranger to his own words, with no control over his mouth, his body. But the moment called for honesty, and he was ready to grant it to you. Ready to cross boundaries if he needed to – he hated your damned boyfriend, and if the last thing he did was being the reason for your end then so be it. He’d be ready to die on that hill, he’d be ready to die on any hill, if it was for you. Pathetic, because unsure if you felt the same, though not embarrassed, never ashamed. Hyunjin decided maybe in that very moment that he’d fight, as long as you let him. That, as long as you visited him, the library, his studio, or merely your voice at night over the hushed speaker of his phone, when your boyfriend worked his life away, unapologetic of your own, that he would fight for you. For your love. For your heart.
“I made this. And you… were the inspiration, I guess. More like, the feeling I have… when I’m around you. The feeling we both had, I think… when we first touched at that party… God that sounds so stupid.”
He mumbled; you nearly asked him to repeat himself. Though the very moment you laid eyes upon the canvas every thought ceased to exist within you – you had never seen a painting, a work of art as delicate as the one he showed you, brought up from behind a pile of abstract looking pieces. It were hues upon hues, oranges and blues, light and dark composition, moulded together in a way you wondered how was humanly possible. Where one colour ended the next began, mixing where they met each other, connecting in strokes articulate, almost. As though the painting bore the ability to speak, telling you of its thoughts, of its longings and desires, of its love. Of Hyunjin’s love, ultimately – for he was the one who brought the painting to life. With you in thought, with you behind the lids of his eyes, with you before his very being.
And you knew from maybe that moment that it was him. That it had always been him, the empty space within you, the wishing part of you, the one asking for contentment, for delicateness, for love within your life. That it had been him before you ever grew to know him, that it had been him before you’d been placed on this earth, before you had walked the planet, altogether.
___ . ꫂ
“You have no right to be angry at me, and you know that.”
Not screaming though you weren’t too far from it at that point, trying to collect voice because volume surely wouldn’t help.
You had come home, step light and head high, Hyunjin and the past hour occupying your mind entirely – until you had reached your entrance door, made your way into it, and had met Chan on the sofa, angry, upset.
“You have forgotten our date.”
Words as simple as that, and they had made you furious. Furious because he was unbelievable – missed chances from his point and it was fine, the moment you gave him a taste of his own medicine, bitter and unpleasant he reacted. It was unfair on you, and he was crazy not to be seeing it. His hypocrisy, his idiocy.
And you had been impatient. Had nearly not wanted to fight or argue because you saw no point within, knowing your boyfriend well enough to predict no outcome would leave the both of you satisfied. That compromising throughout your relationship, throughout the time you’ve spent together could only do so much, could only work for as long as it has. That you have reached a breaking point, surely, finally.
“You have no right to be angry with me. I can’t even count on fingers how many you have missed and I won’t let you ride my dick for the one that skipped my mind today!!”
You and Chan stood opposite, so far away from each other, and it didn’t feel like enough. You wanted to get away, needed to, because he was suffocating. Suffocating and impossible, loved so dearly once and now hated all the more. You didn’t want to; hate was a word so strong it nearly scared you, though love was as well. The flame with Chan, if there’s ever been one, had burned out, had used out every last match it could find, every last piece of rotten wood it could burn. Left was a cold bundle of ash, asked to be taken out, to be thrown away, to be abandoned. To be finally left alone, because it was tired, exhausted of the constant tries of starting a fire, of getting it to burn again. Pained from the constant nagging, from the fruitless effort, from the overripe dejection.
“I am angry though!? We’ve promised to start to make an effort, and I’m really fucking trying here, I’ve cleared my fucking schedule for you, I’ve cancelled important meetings and appointments I needed to attend and I did for fucking you!? Fucking hell.”
Words intended to make you feel bad though you failed to. Couldn’t, not with a right mind. Though Chan wasn’t wrong in theory, you couldn’t bear the heart to truly feel bad for him; you long stopped to, should have long stopped pretending to. You looked at him, through eyes cold, senseless. You’ve lost all hope with him, all hope for him. There was nothing left within you to feed the love you’ve so carefully tended, nothing that would make you regret your thoughts, doubt them, demonize them. You looked at him and he was furious, shouting words meaningless to you. Telling you to speak, to explain to him, to make him understand. If this was the moment where it was over, where you’d part ways. Where you’d give up. It was nothing but meaningless to you. Didn’t feel bad for Chan even when you saw tears daring to stain his cheeks, his shirt. When his fingers ran through his hair, noticing how thin they’ve grown. Couldn’t feel bad for him when his body sank to the ground, missing the sofa by inches, making contact with cold hardness beneath him instead, letting head fall into hands, chocked sobs emerging from within him.
You couldn’t feel bad for him. Couldn’t because it had been you on that same spot by the sofa countless of times, the reason him, always. You who would choke sobs past your throat, embarrassed of how they sounded through the echo of the apartment, an apartment so lonely you had wondered if it was shared, in the first place. Apartment so lonely you had doubted you had a partner altogether, maybe only a fraction of your imagination, a fabrication of your deepest wishes. To be loved, and to love – you had been missing that even though committed, and you had decided now, watching, listening to your lost love cry, that it was the last time you would miss it. That this point, the breaking one, should have enrolled far longer – though now you’d make the best of it, with what you had.
“It’s over.”
Words so disturbingly loud you jumped at your own voice, jumped at Chan’s reaction to them – his head shot up momentarily, glistening eyes boring into yours, brows furrowed and lips quivering impossibly. He was furious, confused. Started begging, screaming. Seated in his space, not moving an inch from the spot by the sofa. Stayed screaming at you, begging right after, apologizing frantically, crying fat tears that rolled heavy down his cheeks. You couldn’t feel bad for him.
He stayed crying at the spot by the sofa when you started moving, finally, letting your body get used to the sensation, feeling heavy, feeling as though you stood a statue of stone by the kitchen counter, not as much as blinking. You moved towards your shoes, grabbing a jacket as you went, slipping into the right, then the left. Motions automatic, robotic. You couldn’t care about him. Grabbing keys, listening to his pleading, to his cries of your name, to his apologies. Words you’ve heard so very often you feared to grow null towards them, emotionless, careless. Words worth gold though Chan reduced them to mere dirt, nothing more than. Words you now heard behind you, hand on the handle, opening the door to welcome the cool from outside, before it engulfed you whole, before it consumed you fully and never bound to let you go, not for tonight.
___ . ꫂ
He was in love with you. When you had left his apartment, Hyunjin feeling a useless fool, corners of his mouth from eye to eye, the pounding in his heart had never seemed to stop. He had prepared himself dinner, had put on a show he didn’t pay the least attention to, he washed the dishes with a carelessness he never laid upon chores – and then his phone’d chimed up, ringing in a tone familiar, and his heart had nearly made its way out of its confines, snugly laid within the ribcage beneath his skin when he saw your name, a text from you. Maybe she felt me thinking about her, he thought, naively, and cringed at his very own theorization.
00: 18 >> hey, are you free? right now?
Questioning look on Hyunjin’s visage, and he’d responded he was, yet asking whether there was a problem – it was a bit after midnight, and though Hyunjin would welcome you with open arms regardless how late, regardless the reason, he worried. He knew you shared a place with your boyfriend – scoffing at the thought right as he had thought it, body flooding with dislike the very moment – and there was seemingly no reason for your search for Hyunjin, not after having spent half the day in company.
And then hope filled his being, occupied his lungs with so much weight it felt heavy to breathe, made his soul bloom in flowers most delicate, most spacious he was at risk to lose sight of all else – you had texted him in the middle of the night, though it was your supposed boyfriend you ought to be with at such hour. Him who you had come home to, in all likeliness – him, or the traces of him, the loneliness he left the thing you fled from. To Hyunjin, instead. To the guy you surely walked on eggshells around, the very guy your boyfriend must be hating insatiably. And yet you had texted him a little after midnight, and had rang his doorbell.
“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, I just- I’m so sorry, oh my god.“
You stumbled into his apartment after Hyunjin had opened the door for you, apologies gushing past your lips like mantras. Reassuring you, offering you a seat by his sofa – the apartment was yet empty, roommates having texted they would stay over at their friends’ or partners’, and Hyunjin had been giddy about having the place for himself for a night, not remembering the last time he had had the chance to – yet he was giddier now that you joined his lonesome, though worry overshadowed any excitement Hyunjin could have bared.
You weren’t crying, though the puffiness of your eyes, the red around them, your bruised up lips revealed that you had been before reaching Hyunjin’s place. He knew the reason was the boyfriend, though he didn’t allow his jealousy, his messed-up mind to start a conversation – you would explain if you needed to, wouldn’t if you didn’t have the strength to. Hyunjin would wait it out either way, would grant a listening ear or a simple companion – he’d be whatever you needed him to be.
“God, I should have called Seungmin… I would have called him, I just- I felt like I needed to see you.”
Your voice frantic, though less now than before. Hyunjin sat beside you on the soft cushions, keeping a fair distance though it wasn’t possibly enough – your distraught heart pulling him forward, and he shifted to create more space – he would touch you if he didn’t, would lay a comforting hand on your shoulder, would embrace you in a hug. Figuring it was the last thing you needed he regained control against the waves of pressure your body shot his way, waited simply for your words to take on form, to start making sense.
“No… it’s okay, don’t worry about it… are you okay? Are you hurt, did something happen?”
Soothing words and far more soothing voice, and it nearly shot another heat of tears right past your eyes and onto the wetness of your cheeks. You felt bad, guilty for disturbing Hyunjin’s night, guiltier to come crying by his doorstep. Though there wasn’t an ounce of reluctance within him, it seemed, welcoming you as though it was a normality, as though it was a given for him to take you in. And maybe that made it all the worse, his kind-heartedness, his demeanour, his readiness for you. His drastic difference to you boyfriend – your ex –, his wholly different character, kinder, calmer, softer.
“No, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just… I ended it. With Chan. I couldn’t take it anymore, Hyunjin.”
Silent tears down your eyes, glistening against your skin like flooded rain in pavement cracks, tears as you materialized what had happened prior, as you made real a tragedy so relieving. Hyunjin shouldn’t be happy, oh did he feel bad for wanting to flip over the world in feeling of newly gained strength and energy, of satisfaction so grand he never thought possible. Felt so very bad for not feeling bad for you, not in ways one would think – it hurt his heart that you were pained, understood that despite his despise it was a relationship your own heart had been invested in, so all the more painful now that it was over. And yet he was relieved. For your very own sake, because he was aware of the hardships a one-sided love must have brought, undoubtedly. Screws in his brain rutting, and Hyunjin realized he must offer a place of comfort, despite his flawed thoughts, despite his evil mind. He only hoped you couldn’t read the relief in his eyes as you locked in his gaze with your teary one.
“Fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry. God, you must feel horrible, wait… let me give you a water, are you thirsty? If you have no place to stay you can sleep here, by the way, all the others are gone… you can have my bed and some clothes, just… feel at home… wait, let me give you that water—”
And you started sobbing. Tears gushing out as fast as Hyunjin’s words were, words of utter comfort, of compassion, of kindness. You damned him for it. Damned him for your fragile heart, for the way he was so easy to shake it. Damned him for making his way into your life so unknowingly, so quietly you hadn’t noticed the point where it’s been too late. Damned him for loving him as much as you did, for seeing him when thinking of deepest desires, of love in its very being. Looking at him, eyes milked up yet looking at him. He stared back, perplexed, halfway to the kitchen though stopped in his tracks at the sound of your cries, at the sight of your eyes, your face – he stood looking at your pain, unsure gaze meeting untempt one, seconds feeling like days, entirely too long while anticipating an answer or an explanation altogether, for sudden outburst, for sudden tears at act so kind.
“Stop… just stop being so nice to me.”
Standing up from your seat, legs feeling weak as they moved around the room. Heavy steps towards Hyunjin, careful not to get too close, not to meet his tide, a tide so strong you’d be pulled into wholly if movements grew too risked.
“Please stop being so nice to me, I- I’ll fall in love with you even more.”
Words cutting into every layer of tension that had laid itself upon the room, breaking every damn either of you had built tediously, shooting right through every wall, through every measure of safety you had kept around your hearts. You had taken the knife and stabbed times a million where it was most sensitive, had cut out oxygen from where it was more necessary. And you were close. Too close to him to feel at ease, too close to Hyunjin for his blood to pump in speed it would be healthy – mind and body racing, part of his brain encoding the meaning of your very confession, of your impossible words. Words so powerful it knocked him off his feet, words he never believed to be lucky enough to hear. You were wholly insane, and he was utterly in love.
Stepping closer to you, space between you buzzing, hissing, lighting up as though bodies were electrified, as though highest volts were coursing your veins, your skin. Stepped closer to watch your face paint in agony, so close he was tempted to wipe off the tears grazing your eyes. His hand raised, inches away from your cheek. You shifted, tilted your head to escape his touch. He stayed in position, arm raised, eyes boring into you.
“I can’t.”
Your voice so quiet he had to lip read, his hand ever in position, ready to soothe if you only gave the word. More and thicker tears rolled down the curve of your face, the perky bone, down the plush and onto the dip by your collarbone. He watched it, wished to kiss it away.
“I can’t get into a relationship right away. I know there’s… something… here…”, you let your hands sway through the space between your bodies, your hand breaking through resistance so strong you didn’t believe there was nothing than mere air between your bodies. Had to be something more, something deeper, “but me and Chan, it was so exhausting.”
A choked sob and you regained control, eyes losing his for only a moment before holding gaze anew – his own didn’t wander, every of his senses glued onto you as though you’d break apart if he only as though looked a different direction. He stood listening to you, aching heart and far more aching soul – he was willing to gift you anything, to morph into the very person you needed most this very moment, to become whatever you now desired. Understanding you and waiting to take him as he was, because he was willing to get hurt if it was for you. Tears wettening your shirt, apology staining the room – and Hyunjin’s hands engulfed your face, one big hand on either of your side, palms dampened in tears. The feeling that shot through your bodies was one neither of you could ignore, eyes softening, limbs stiffening, minds short circuiting – it needed Hyunjin a moment to find his words, though sure of them the sensation of touch, your skin against his had knocked out remaining rationality.
“I need you however you’ll let me have you.”
Blinking, his words like sweetest venom in your ear. His eyes expectant, his palms providing warmth, soothing touch to disrupted skin, to torn up heart. You tended to it, tended to him.
“Will you let me hurt you, then?”
And then your lips met. Hyunjin’s answer his mouth on your own, his hands in your hair. Your own finally brave enough to reciprocate touch – you had never sensed him before, not really. Had never sought out to find his touch directly, never actively, so. It was a sensation like no other, a million light bulbs, uncountable fireworks popping in colour underneath your skin, just where yours met his. Fingertips on his neck, by the back of his hair, by the perk of his shoulder. A million fireworks in blue and red and purple and green, sounding through your ears as though going off in this very room, in this very apartment, place so lonely, filled with two lost souls that had found each other finally, though maybe in the wrong moment. Two souls connected the way two snap hooks were, sealed within each other.
Hyunjin lead you through it. His mouth opened to a kiss of teeth and clatter, and you allowed him to, sunk into the feeling of him, his lips on yours, his hands on the vastness of your body. He wasn’t greedy with his moves, needy though as he stopped before his tongue protruded into mouth of yours, asking for permission silently until you granted allowance – only then he continued forward, wet muscles enchanting in a dance addicting, warmth spreading through the entireties of your bodies. You stood in place and kissed each other, a kiss so long awaited it might have been a dream, altogether. A kiss so surreal Hyunjin had to pull away or a moment quick, looking at you, looking at the whole of you – your blown out eyes, pleading, scared. Your lips red, your hands on his chest, his own by the curve of your waist. He had dreamed of this very moment throughout countless nights, when it was only him and his thoughts, and you within them. Had dreamed to kiss you under different circumstances, yet kiss you altogether; and it was sweeter, softer, better than any dream could fabricate.
Staggered breath from both of you as you took the other in, locking blown out eyes and holding trembling bodies, tending running minds, with as much as a look, a touch. And then lips found lips again. As though instinctively, as though it was the very thing, the only thing you’d been born to do. To wrap mouth around mouth, to allow tongues within, to graze upon teeth, to bite down on lips. Softly, experimentally, and then again, when wanted reaction followed.
Hyunjin started backing against the soft of the sofa as your hands made their way through his hair, messing up the softened locks to your liking. He let you, gratefully, toy at him as you wished. Let you explore his body as he explored yours, bunching up clothes in fists, so impatient, so eager. Because this has been all you’d ever wanted, the both of you, everything and more of what you’d desired, since the very moment you’d seen each other in the small of the convenience store, entirely unfamiliar then yet strangely connected. The embrace of the other, lips dancing in sync as though meant to be, hands dancing across body as though born to serve that very purpose.
Hyunjin crouched down, motioning your body softly, swiftly, so you sat on the edge of the couch, his body hovering above yours, darkening your view against the dim light of the living room. His lips never tore apart from your own – the sounds of wet against wet filled the small of the room, joined by softest sighs and gasps for air; you were left speechless, thoughtless with every additional touch, with every further exploring, the both of you. Hyunjin crouched down further, face to face with you and he went lower, yet, pulling your head with him, leaving you to be the one above him after he settled on his knees between your own. Hands on either of your thighs, caressing the plush, groping at the flesh when your fingers pulled against his darkened roots – you quickly discovered him to like it when you did.
Hyunjin broke the kiss, reluctant to let you go, meeting equally reluctant eyes, your lips chasing his for a moment until he connected them to the curve of your neck, minimally dampened in sweat – you must have walked to his place, only now he figured, feeling even deeper discontentment with your ex; until he remembered he was the one kissing you this very moment, his mouth the one attached to the softness of your neck, to the bit behind your ear, to the hollow part of your collarbone. He was the one whose hands steadied themselves on your waist, squeezing to his liking, kissing down to meet your chest. He was the reason you squirmed in his hold, in between his hands, on his couch, in his home – it was him, and Hyunjin would be a fool to grow salty, to let you go. To miss the opportunity, the way your ex did – Hyunjin wouldn’t possibly be so dumb, would give his heart to treat you the way you had deserved to be treated, the years passed. Would show you what love could be like, if it was him you were with.
You grew desperate. Loved the way Hyunjin’s mouth lapped at your body, loved his hands exploring it – but you needed more. Needed the very thing his whole demeanour pointed towards – his body caged between your legs, his hands on your thighs, moving closer to your sex, his face inching nearer towards it. Though he was taking his time. Sweet time to dote on you, to tend you, to love you. Hands only going as far as pulling your shirt high enough to litter your lower stomach in kisses most sweet, and you couldn’t take any more.
“Hyunjin... please.”
Your words as though brought him back to reality, if he had forgotten his surroundings before, merely focusing on you and your body, on the way you sounded, smelled and felt to the touch he now was grounded again, finding himself on his knees before you, finding your eyes looking at him with so much plead, so much desire he might just implode. He understood, your words of impatience, and he mumbled a quick apology, wasting no time now to jumble up the hem of your shirt, to busy his hands with the button of your jeans, hook his fingers into the waistband of your attires. Sliding off pants and underwear in one go after an approving look, and Hyunjin feared that truly, his heart would simply shoot up in a million tiny pieces and out of his body. The sight of you, hovering on the edge of the sofa, body leaned against the back of it, arms working as a prop behind you — lower half exposed, sinfully so; you were glistening in soft wetness, excitement lacing your features, the entirety of you body. It was better than Hyunjin could have ever dare to dream of. This very image having haunted his nightly fantasies ever so often, guilt in the pit of his stomach as his hand had lowered to ease himself every single time — and now he lived it, would no longer have to rely on his mind to fabricate most eager sceneries, wouldn’t need to rely on solely his hand to grand him sweetest release. You lay before him and in flesh, and his eyes glazed over with a sheen of adoration, with a hint of disbelief, maybe.
“So pretty. So, so pretty.”
Words leaving mouth quietly as his lips connected to the plush of your thighs, your body jumping at both the compliment and the sudden contact of warm lips to warmer skin. It felt foreign yet all too much familiar, too known a feeling to be strange, and your lids fluttered close, neck giving in, head lulling to the side. Hyunjin didn’t keep his eyes off you for a moment – watching you intently through deep lashed as he bit and sucked on the flesh of inner thighs, learning most sensitive zones, most erogenous spots. Mouth moving closer to your heat and your legs opened wider at his antics, feeling his lips on the bone connecting leg and pelvis, and your hips rolled forward – minimally yet enough to drive Hyunjin insane, seeing, sensing your need a matter unbelievable to him – you wanted him as much as he wanted you, and he everything but stayed calm at the mere thought alone. A feeling of increased ego, or simple relief – the both of you had walked on eggshells around the other, ever since the day at the store. Had felt feelings reciprocated yet had never been entirely sure, because too cowardly to ever ask – knowing surely now, the desire was of mutual nature – Hyunjin felt utterly helpless.
Mouth attaching to your slit, wetness covering him whole momentarily, hum leaving his throat and sending vibrations right through you, making your back arch into him this much more, your neck throwing back now, eyes shut and hand entangled in coloured hair. Pulling on it slightly to get soft sounds to leave his lips, to feel them against the sensitivity of your clit, to hear his satisfaction in satisfying you. His tongue lapping up your every bit, humming at the taste of you, at your smell. At the sight of you basking in his ministrations on you, focused and determined, wanting nothing more than to please you, the way he’s been dreaming of, imagining too many times to count. It was working, seemingly – shy whimpers leaving your mouth, self-conscious of being too loud, yet unable to deny the feeling Hyunjin provided you, gifted you with. Tongue dancing in kitten licks and sucks against your clit, or prodding at your entrance, and you’ve lost yourself further and further into him, both waiting for release, anticipating it yet dreading it, because the moment would be over, then. Wanted to bask in the impossible feeling of satisfaction that would never be enough only to not let the moment end, altogether – yet Hyunjin didn’t stop, kept driving you to said release, with licks against your slit, with kisses against your sensitivity, detaching only to litter wettened kisses against the vastness of your thighs. Your following whines of protest in loss of touch made Hyunjin chuckle and he went back to bask you in sweetest pleasure, fingers toying at your entrance, sliding into you when your hips bucked to allow him in, when impatient hands grabbed for his wrist, pleads rolling past your tongue in sheer holiest mantras.
Hyunjin was driven, wrist sore from curling up against the spot he had found after moments of searching, knowing he had when your back had arched so violently it had nearly scared him, jaw clacking in overuse though he was the last to care about any of it. Driven to drive you to where you needed him to, until you’d see white, until his very name would be the last thing on your mind, the feeling of him on you the very last feeling you’d die to feel. He watched you as your hands pulled him closer to your middle, as your hips rolled against his face, until you started clenching around the girth of his fingers, relentless pleasure in the way they never missed the softest spot so deep within you, until you started seeing stars. Only mumbling nonsense, utterly lost in the feeling of him, thighs contracting beside his head, your mind free from the frustrations of previous moments – wholly focused on your release that came in waves heavy, stormy, washing over you as Hyunjin sat careful to ride it out, not stopping movements until you told him to, until you squirmed in his hold in overstimulation. Your breath staggered, your chest heaving, your legs tired. Your eyes finding his in a moment of realisation, hearts skipping a beat as you fell back to reality – Hyunjin’s pupils were impossibly blown out, outlined erection visible even through the fabric of his worn-out sweatpants, breath as staggered as yours was. You ought to scream at the top of your lungs at the lust, the desire he watched you with – knowing he wanted you as much as you did, knowing he had felt the same about you the previous weeks where worry’d been all that’s been on your mind, worry about lost love, worry about the risks of finding a new one – he had been there and he had been feeling the very same you had, and you urged to kiss him at mere thought alone.
Pulled him up by his chin so your lips could meet in a kiss passionate, wet and laced with your release, drowned in your contentment, teeth clashing and hands groping wherever they could reach. Sneaking beneath shirts to pull them off seconds later, leaving you wholly naked, Hyunjin in only his sweats. And the kiss was never enough. The moment you wanted to pull away for air, or to ask Hyunjin for more, for his pants and underwear to be gone you simultaneously felt reluctant to, seemingly unable to break the kiss, to detach your lips from his. Having waited to have him like this for far too long it now seemed impossible to let him go for even a moment, if it meant burning with emptiness and desire a little while longer.
Though your bodies could only take so much. Hips longing for friction, yours as much as his, the confines of his pants only paining him, his impatience. And you didn’t let him hurt for too long. Started reaching down his body, tracing lines of abs and soft muscles to hook your fingers into the waistband of his undergarments, pleading for him to take them off, eyes anticipating, hands wanting. He complied gratefully, pulled off sweats and boxers in one go, adding them to the pile of carelessly tossed cloths before his eyes were back on your own – only looking, exchanged gaze as you waited for someone to do the crucial move, the one that would bound you as one for the remaining of time. Both of you too cowardly, hot breath hitting faces, sweat forming to dance on flushed skin.
“I can’t- I can only give you this much. I can’t give you want you want, not right now. I want you to know that, this is- this is the only thing I can give you.”
Voice on the verge of breaking, quiet in your throat, eyes filling with agony. You didn’t want to hurt him, wished to be able to love him the way he wanted you to, the way he deserved it. Wished that Chan wouldn’t have settled into your very being as persistent as he did, making him the only reason for your heart to be reluctant, scared to open up as wide anew.
Hyunjin’s thumb caressed the high of your cheek, head leaning closer, giving a peck to bruised up lips to lean his forehead against yours a moment later. Intimacy dizzying the both of you, closeness and proximity making it heart to reach for air.
“Then it’s enough for the time being. I’ll wait for you, I promise.”
A sigh out of your lungs and a nod, and Hyunjin started lining up with your entrance, precum and your wetness enough for his sinking into you to be utterly painless, for the stretch to be one of unbelievable pleasure. Fireworks setting off in your bodies anew, and only now the relentless pulling seemed to have faded, had turned into a feeling of passion, of pleasure in measures unknown to you times previous. You whimpered out momentarily, reciprocating Hyunjin’s deep groan against your ear, his stuttering hips as he bottomed out within you, so deep your body felt as helpless as they came. All five senses entirely focused on him, on the way he filled you – though for the very first time, you yet felt nostalgia rushing through you, as though this very moment had happened in a past life, as though your bodies, your souls had loved each other the very same way long before you had known it yourselves.
Setting a slow rhythm, embracing each other, holding your bodies close. Chests flushed, heartbeats in sync, hips meeting somewhere in the middle, where your cores connected. Sweat a sheet across your fleshes, breaths hitching in your throats, confessions spilling past kiss-bitten lips – it was connection you had craved for years on end, connection so deep it dared to scratch your heart. And in this very moment, one you’ve anticipated behind closed doors, in most private fantasies, you weren’t man and woman having sex, you were two people, two souls loving the other. Because it were your souls that loved, not your bodies. When you kissed, when you touched, when you let lips and hands dance across bodies where it was most desired your bodies expressed the love your very souls felt, because your souls themselves couldn’t possibly reveal such feelings. So, you took your bodies as a vessel, as a messenger for your love, your desire, your longing. Materialized what souls were feeling – and you grunted against the other, bodies growing more frantic, more feverous, reaching closer the point you so badly wanted to reach, together, in unison.
It didn’t take you much longer – one thrust, a second and a third until you whined out, letting Hyunjin know how close you were, through gritted tears and teary eyes, until he nodded and agreed, telling you, begging you to let go, for you were with him. And you did at the sound of his voice, waves of pleasure gushing over you before they took over Hyunjin, whines filling the stuffiness of the room, confessions following right after. Collapsing on top of you and staying within the hold of your arms – another dream he’s had, so all the more unbelievable, impossible now that he was living it. Shifting on the sofa so you lay comfortably, never letting go of bodies, holding close to warmth. Careless about your stickiness, your sweat covering the whole of you – careless because this moment, you were everything that mattered, Hyunjin was.
“I don’t wanna sleep yet. Because then this moment will pass.”
Chuckling in his hold, and you felt no different. Basking in the feeling of him, laying on his sofa, heartbreak and suffering so far away now you wondered if the last hour had even occurred, or if it was a fabricated memory for your mind to play with you, to hurt you. It was all gone in Hyunjin’s arms, with his body so close to yours. The pulling, the string that had seemed to be connecting your hearts, your bodies wherever you went, from the moment in the store had tightened the two of you together for eternity, finally, eventually. At it was a feeling good, of utter contentment. One of relief, because the matter had been sitting on your shoulders for far too long, for your own good, for your own health. Your hearts had finally found each other, rightfully so, like they were intended to before your bodies walked this earth – and you fell asleep to Hyunjin’s soft snoring, you in his heart and him in your own, ought to be bound with nothing to tear you apart.
@beomkiz @iwannabangchan @hwangful @whatudowhennooneseesyou @inkybird @seungminluv3 @skzddicted @berryblog @beautifullywrecked-aeris @moonlightcandy00 @hyynee @nightrayseishina @shrub31201 @snowwy-night @aemondsrhaenyra @hyuneisbae @lovhyunj @ladytrbl @danyxthirstae01 @someoneinlovve @lili-kims-blog @rachagen @koorminii @good-soup3023 @shiru-chan @blahbluhblahbluh @laryisthinking @knisterlicht @studyingthemind @ppiri-bahng @septicrebel @channiesfavoritebrownie @midsoulz @foivetimesacharm @daceyena @yoonguurt @lovingeaglepeanut @hyuneyeon @therealhyunjingf @llunapastell @dreamstarsandskz @baeksofty @143hyunes @fandems @junebug032
#hyunjin smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin smut#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz angst#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids angst#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin x reader#🪔— twin flame
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We were specific… but now… we are multiple…
Welcome to the Multiple Elements Character Tournament!!
This is a tournament for characters who can use 2 or more elements!
Rules:
Remember, this is a tournament about fictional characters so please! be nice! I don’t want any hate or bigotry (racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, stuff like that) here.
No real people! That includes streamers and MCYT! I’m fine with most things but will ban certain characters/media depending on how much unnecessary discourse they will create and how much we can separate the art from the artist. So HP won’t be allowed if you want a metric.
You can submit as many characters as you want, but please submit them one form at a time.
Do NOT submit the same character over and over again!
Make sure you spell the name of the character and piece of media they are from correctly please.
The character doesn’t necessarily have to use magic to get in. A character could use a flame and water sword and they would still be eligible for the tournament.
Characters who are more proficient in one element are allowed, but the character has to use other elements somewhat frequently. The other elements shouldn’t be an afterthought essentially.
I will allow media if they have their own unconventional “elements" in. Elements that weren't necessarily featured in the last tournament (Water, Earth, Fire, Air, Electricity, Ice, Vegetation, Metals, Light, and Darkness). What I mean is that, yes, the fighting type from pokemon and almighty skills from megami tensei are considered as elements in this tournament.
That being said, power systems like the hunter x hunter nen system won’t count. This is because Nen is more like using different techniques not actual elements. While the aura types for nen are more like categorizations for a character’s abilities. It’s kinda like the quirk categorization (emitter, mutant, and transformation) in my hero academia for a more simple comparison.
The Demon Slayer breathing styles are NOT allowed! They’re not actually summoning elements, it’s a visual metaphor.
When it comes to Pokémon, they are allowed, but under specific circumstances. Either: their ability changes their type (protean, multi type, etc), have a wide and diverse move pool regarding types, if a pokemon is a dual type, and/or if a pokemon has a gimmick that meets the prior criteria (think the rotom forms or the ogerpon masks). I’m not including Terastallization as an excuse for any Pokémon who don’t meet the prior criteria because it feels like such a cop out using a gimmick, that most likely won’t appear in later gens, to include certain Pokémon.
Trainers from Pokémon are allowed! As long as the pokemon they use are diverse in their typing and/or fit any other criteria listed above.
I might add more rules later on if necessary.
Also, if you want a list of "unconventional elements" that I'd most likely allow, please look at the "Elements and Their Associated Powers And Traits" tab on the "Elemental Powers" TV Tropes page.
I made totally different form for pokemon due to how many submissions I anticipate to get from that franchise. So submit characters from pokemon to that form please.
I’m gonna try to shoot for a 128 character tournament, but idk how many characters from the same franchise will be allowed in. Probably around 2-5 characters depending on what the submissions are like.
Going to shut the forms down on April 6th or at around 700 submissions. The last tournament was 1,530 total submissions and that was a lot, so I’m going to cut this one down a bit.
Blogs I’m tagging under the cut (Not forcing y’all to reblog this post, I just want some fresh eyes on this tournament)
@tournament-announcer @fefuckability @favoritepokemontournament @best-kirby-character-tournament @foundfamilyadoptionagency @doyouknowthischaracter @haveyouplayedthisgame-poll @weeb-polls-with-pip @ultimate-blorbo-bracket
#multiple elements character tournament#rules#announcement#submission form#tournament#character tournament#tumblr tournament#tumblr polls#tumblr bracket
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CREZZ⭐STAR
( do not reblog. this is just a pinned post.... )
20 + | Cancer | Artist | INFJ | Devil May Cry ( Nerologist ) | ONE PIECE ( Zorologist ) | ENGLISH / FILIPINO / (bits of basic) JAPANESE
Greetings! I'm Crezz! I DRAW WHAT I WANT and what I love and give me inspiration. I found myself drawn to Isekai fantasy genres lately! I also love sparkles, color gold/yellow, cats and DMC's NERO, very very much! ✨✨✨✨
I like games / manga / anime / comic though I do have my favorites that will be stated below:
✨ Devil May Cry series ✨
✨ Final Fantasy XIV ✨
✨ ONE PIECE✨
✨ Detective Conan ✨
Hazbin Hotel
Final Fantasy VII Crisiscore
Kingdom Hearts series
Final Fantasy XV
Tate No Yuusha no nariagari
MARVEL
I like to draw on my own pace as i do not like pressure nor being hired with a deadline.
I work best when i'm taking my time because I find inspirations to fuel me to make the piece exquisite.
>> Also NOTE: I like a chill environment and time so I am very much the fiction is and only remains fiction type of person, meaning i'm PROFICTION / PROSHIP, and thus can tell the difference, and DOES separate IRL from fiction. Meaning I can handle seeing most dark themes as well. Although If there's things I do not like, I tend to ignore / mute or block it to avoid it. So i'd recommend you do the same if there's things you don't like that i draw / like / make or plainly of me being proship. Because I am not anyone's online babysitter. This is my blog and YOU came here. Don't act like you own me or control what I make. You don't, so don't go acting entitled.
>> Also 2nd NOTE: Pairings / shipping wise I have top / bottom positionals preference for very few particular characters. That being firstly DMC Nero (top only) and Roronoa Zoro (top only). While there may be times I like art that depicts them as the opposite, its more of appreciation to the art and skills of the artist itself. Nothing more.
>> Also 3rd NOTE: anywhere I go, which ever social media account. I block people. It can be the stuff they make (fanart of pairings i don't like) /say makes me uncomfortable or I see them agreeing or even doing cyberbullying and doxxing of others themselves. It's nothing personal. I just want to vibe and have a good time and avoid terrible people so I use block ( or mute ) . Especially on X where I go on blocking spree sometimes, block chain, to keep my timeline peaceful and thus peace of mind.
>> Also 4th NOTE: any anons planning to send hate in my ask box. don't even think about it. You will only make yourself look like really terrible laughable ( in a bad way ) clown because I will just delete your ask and block you. ( yes even when you are anonymous, there's an option to block, which if i recall correctly, it's your ip that tumblr blocks instead. ) save your energy. Because AGAIN in case you missed it. I DO NOT HOLD BACK IN BLOCKING. Use your energy on things that makes you happy rather than hating on people.
I hope you enjoy your stay!
May the stars shine your path to a sparkling future!
----------------------------------------------------
LINKS
Gank ( with monthly art rewards )
X ( twitter )
Twitch
BLUESKY 🔞🪦🕊🔞
facebook page
pixiv🔞 🪦🕊🔞
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the thing about “oh, likes are useless, they don’t do anything” is -- yes, they do? They tell you that someone saw the thing you posted and wished to convey to you their enjoyment or approval. Why is that valueless to you? “Well but likes don’t boost visibility and reblogging does” but visibility is just... people seeing your work and possibly enjoying it. If someone reblogs the post, other people may see it and like it -- but likes are useless! it doesn’t matter if those people enjoyed it, unless they reblog it so their followers can see it, but those followers’ pleasure is also useless and they need to pass it on and where does it end? Is there some minimum number of degrees of separation before it starts to matter that someone liked a thing you made? Is the purpose just to be passed on and passed on and passed on with no end in sight? What are we after here?
This is particularly baffling to me when it’s like, “oh kids are coming from Twitter and TikTok and only liking posts and it’s going to RUIN THE SITE and Tumblr will become EMPTY OF CONTENT” -- okay but. why. you’re still getting more attention and notes -- more people are letting you know that they enjoyed your work -- than if these people didn’t make blogs at all and nothing changed. you’re coming out ahead. why are we comparing everything to what you MIGHT have gotten if people were The Ideal Consumer instead of the actual people they are? why is every reality measured against the theoretical maximum? are you really going to stop drawing or writing or photographing or composing or playing music because the response to it increased but not as much as it might have?
Like. I do get it. It’s discouraging to work on something and get crickets chirping in response! It really is! You want people to like what you make! And I’ve been lucky enough to have a few things that I worked hard on happen to catch a zeitgeist and get a lot of attention by my standards, but by some people’s standards those are still chump change. I’ve also had stories - since then - get a bare pittance of attention, by my standards. And by some people’s standards my pittance is a wealth. And the thing is that that experience really confirmed two things for me - which, admittedly, I’d known intellectually before then but hadn’t really believed in the same way, but they’re still true -
1) it really is about being the right thing in the right place at the right time, as much as luck
2) there is no number of kudos or reblogs or notes or comments or bookmarks or anything that will earn you a Real Adult Good Competent Artist Card that makes you stop feeling insecure. There isn’t. That insecure fearful hollow inside of you is not something you can fill with achievement or attention or praise; it will open up again and again, because the next one might not be as good, because it might be too different, because it might not be different enough, because making art is taking a piece of yourself out of you and putting it into the world for people to see and that’s a fundamentally terrifying leap of faith. You can pour thousands and thousands and thousands of notes or hits or likes or kudos into that hollow and it will just keep draining again and again. The only solution I’ve ever found, the only solution that I’ve ever heard of anyone finding, is a mixture of faith and of learning to work through the fear.
And yeah, no amount of confidence or faith is going to make it stop being a bummer when something flops. It feels bad! You put all that work into something and you want it to be appreciated; you want it to matter! All of that makes sense! But it’s really not going to help you to castigate the people who like your work for not liking it The Right Way. people don’t like being told that their enjoyment is useless. and it’s certainly and emphatically not an attitude that’s going to help you have a good relationship with your work.
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i think those posts that talk about how The Fandom Turnaround (tm) has gotten much much shorter in the past years & how the sharing of fan-made content is on a steady decline have a point, but they've also rung hollow for me for quite a while and i've just realized why:
oc artists have been living like that this whole time. and i myself am an oc artist— an amateur, for sure!!! i am not nearly as talented as nearly all of my friends when it comes to the visual arts, but i am improving and my work still deserves to be acknowledged.
i get trapped in these little echochambers where i wonder if my art is the scum of the earth, or if people just aren't reblogging it because it isn't directed at a specific fandom.
take my voidfish cosplans. that was a once-in-a-blue-moon fandom post. and it was a sketch. it took me all of an hour to make, and it blew up to a hundred notes because it's fandom content.
my oc art takes me much longer, and it's a miracle to even get half as many notes as that. my oc art usually gets anywhere from 15 to 30 notes:
[ID: three screenshots of the notes on some of my art posts. the first has 24 notes, the second has 18, and the third has 30. end ID.]
and this includes all of my self-reblogs and, of course, likes, which i'm sure we all know by now don't do shit. one of my most recent pieces i spent nearly 40 hours making, and as of writing this post, it sits at 24 notes. taking into account self reblogs and likes... yikes!!
most people whose oc work gets popular does so because they were either popular fanartists beforehand or the work displays insanely good technical talent (or, rarely, they just get very lucky). and good for those people!!! but i also put a lot of work into my oc content, and so do a lot of my friends. our work also deserves recognition. supporting fanartists is not the end all be all. independent artists who aren't heavily tied to fandom often get discouraged because no one is interested in the work they create. it's really sad to see.
so support oc artists!!! scroll through "my ocs" "my characters" tags on tumblr!! yes the sorry excuse for an algorithm here sucks but you never know!!! you might strike gold!!! support your mutuals that you already have!!!! support small artists and beginners!!! enthusiasm for more independent artists' work can and will only foster an attitude that will help both fandom and non-fandom creative settings, but don't leave non-fandom work behind.
feel free to drop the urls of oc artists you know in the notes :]
#I WILL BE SELF REBLOGGING THIS BECAUSE I AM ACTUALLY VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS!!!!#OC ARTISTS BE ANNOYING IN THE TAGS ADVERTISE YOUR ART BLOGS AND YOUR COMMISSIONS#YOU DESERVE IT. LORD#the void sings#art
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okay don't mind me just gonna ramble for a second haha-
(this was originally going to be under the drawing, but it got too long, and i can't add it in a reblog because both things are on queue, so separate post it is)
i just love how every time i start a drawing im like "well alright, just a quick sketch yea? no color, maybe some gray to white gradient and that's it, okay?". and then i start drawing (and obviously it takes longer than i thought because duh) and i go "okay but- i gotta at least do the flat colors, right? just the flats- maybe even some random colors to not spend too much time on it--". and then. of course. i do the flats, and im pretty happy with the result yeah? looks simple but not too simple, like it has some color some personality to it, but its not over the top so. so, i leave the drawing i go to get some water and start on an actual piece, and when i come back and take a look at what i drew its like, "well. listen. listen-- yeah im still pretty happy with how it looks but, but. it could be a little better, yea?" and then i sit down, put my water down, put my other drawing to the side, and i sit there making this quick sketch look better. "oh i don't like the colors anymore! but its all on one layer now so i can't exactly change them, plus i still like the idea, so maybe some filters? yeaj some filters on top will do!" (and of course its a yellow shade filter, because im original like that and 90% of my drawings don't also have it on). and then i add them filters and i think" well maybe some bounce light now? surely it already looks better with the filter but its kinda flat, and i want to bring *a little bit* of the original color in" so i add the bounce light, but now it looks out of place! shocker! so i decide that surely i can maybe add some grass at the bottom to hide the edge of the drawing a little. and well, alright, grass looks good, but its too dark, brings a lot of attention to it! and i can't exactly make it lighter, so, the logical choice would be to make the characters darker too, bring some contrast into the thing! and lets just do all the values while we're at it, why not! patterns to the horse, make the pants and skin darker, yes yes. and, oh- but now the eyes are lost because there's more dark hues! gotta make a new layer on top and make them eyes a little bit darker, maybe also color the bandana red and not brown so it looks special, hm? oh and! while we're on this top layer, lets also fix up the hair a little, maybe add some blush... oh and the straps of the saddle look weird, gotta fix those too! oh man and not that i look at it-- the head is too big! lets merge all the layers together and start that same thing over again! yes yes make the head a little smaller, yeah looks much better now! oh, better add some fading as well, to make it fit in the background a little, oh and some glow, suuure sure, and some lights in the eyes, and-
(and now that im looking at it, i realize that i somehow didn't save the final version????? like, i did a lot more to the thing, fixed up the saddle and that awkward shade oh his knee, and the grass-- i wont fix it now because NOW im too lazy to do it for some reason, but yeah, a bit unfortunate u_u)
anyways, point being, love art, art is pog, wish i cared a little less about it sometimes, but it also turnes this into this (imagine me pointing at the drawings as i say that, overly dramatic and sounding a little annoyed with myself)
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Writing Is The Loneliest Art...
A couple of days ago, this piece of art with a Neil Gaiman quote flickered across my desktop, and it made me think, so longish post about writing, mental health and human connection ahead..
The actual quote says:
The hardest part of being a writer is that you get lonely. It's just you and the stuff in your head and nobody else can do it for you.
I used to be a performer. I spent a good 10 years of my life in theatres and on stage. That can be lonely, too, but in very different ways. You find a "family" for a short while, and then the show is over, and you all disperse to heaven-knows-where again. Some of these friendships last, others don't, but even the ones that do are hard to maintain because of the nature of the job (if you a very lucky, your paths may cross again for another show).
But the difference, to me, was that I had a physical outlet. That's also stressful in many ways, and being a performer is hard and emotionally taxing (plus, the industry sometimes makes you want to vomit). But it is a very different feeling to channel creative energy into something that is physical.
When I write, I only have the words in my head and the blank page; if I am lucky, the words will come out in a way that stops the page from being blank. And although I wrote "Writing Is The Loneliest Art" as a headline, I imagine this must be quite similar for visual/graphic artists.
I was a writer before I was a performer. I came back to my first love, and I wouldn't want it any other way. Writing always was, and still is, the most truthful form of creative expression for me. I am also lucky enough not to have to earn an income with it (although I do) because I have a job that takes care of that (and thankfully one that comes in handy for character development and world building). But it is very easy to become trapped in your head and thoughts, to stop engaging with the life that is out there. And that life is important--for inspiration, for self-care, for human connection. To break these connections, knowingly or unknowingly, is a real issue for many writers. If I am not careful, it happens to me, too. I have a family, and I am constantly teetering on the edge of spending time in my head or with the blank page when I should be present with them. I can snap myself out of it, but it is not always easy to do, and most writers can probably relate. Because thoughts are thoughts and ideas are ideas. They don't care when they pop into your head, and they will try to claim space, whether the moment is "right" or not.
I have a self-care routine in place to prevent myself from getting trapped in my own head (that's maybe for another post), but it takes effort and constant reminders to get up from my desk, get out, get fresh air and move. Because I'd rather be in my head and write. I am an introvert, like many writers, but that's not a big blanket permission to stop connecting with life. Introversion and loneliness are not one and the same, and writers (everyone really) need to understand the difference. You need to pick up that phone, see people and surround yourself with humans from time to time for your own sake. Not just through your job. You need humans around you whom you truly connect with.
But back to different art forms: As a performer, I had the direct interaction with my fellow performers, and with my audience. I cannot stress enough how important the latter is, and I have said this on here many times: Art comes alive through interaction and communication. It connects us through shared humanity. And there are art forms out there that take care of that connection by default--I have felt the difference, and it is profound.
Yes, we can still write or create art as a form of processing emotions, and from a psychological viewpoint, this is healing and helpful.
But art needs to be both created and experienced. Every art ultimately becomes meaningless without the viewer/reader/audience. Art is never a one-way street.
Writers tell stories, but these stories don't exist in a vacuum. They exist because we can't help writing them, and we would always do it anyway, but they also exist because we want you to read them. And it means something to us to know they moved you, made you laugh, made you cry, made you find out something about yourself you didn't know yet, or they just helped you forget about the troubles you are going through for a little while.
So if you appreciate art forms that don't have direct audience interaction, let the artists know you did. It is not annoying us. We are happy about it. Most of us want that communication. And writers probably need it most...
#neil gaiman#writers#writing#writer life#writer problems#writerscommunity#writeblr#writers of tumblr#writer self-care#writers and poets#writing community#author#writers on tumblr#let your writers know what their stories mean to you#writers mental health#artist struggles#artist problems#artist mental health
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HAVE YOU EVER DRAWN THESE GUYS?
Sooooo idek where to begin with this. I'll start by saying that yes I contacted Rebornica/Bones/Voltergeist and bought two of their old FNAF au designs. Those being Scott/Phone Guy and Jeremy. Before I get into anything I feel like I'm obligated to address Volt's past and let it be known that I do not Care about a mentally ill teenager faking other disorders or aggressively yelling at people to stop copying them or whatever other overdramatic thing they did like a decade ago and I don't think buying from them is anywhere near comparable to "supporting problematic people" compared other designers who are like homophobic or whatever the fuck else, and I'm not here to talk about or argue about "the ethics" of me giving Volt money. So jot that down before you even start typing.
I'm here to ask if anyone here has drawn art of Scott/Phone Guy and Jeremy so that i may save it and add it to their toyhouse galleries. You'll see they both currently have like 100 pieces in their galleries right now but I know that's not even scratching the surface. Theres just so much of it It's overwhelming to look for. Theres also issues of these designs being so popular to the point of people making their Own personal redesigns of them. And it starts to muddy up which art belongs to me or not. This isnt toooo much of a big deal with Jeremy as the giant "?" on his face makes him pretty distinct and easily recognizable as The Guy That I Own. But this becomes a problem with Phone Guy specifically. He is... pretty much The design that everyone draws him as regardless of if they intend for it to be Rebornica fanart or not. People use this design in their own AUs, people use this design as their own OC. Theres so so so so so much art of people labeling their art as "heres my phone guy design!" and its just the Rebornica design. And I don't feel comfortable or really have the heart to save anything that people consider to be theirs even if its literally the design that I own x__x It's just a bit hard when you own a design that is considered canon enough to a real video game to the point where people just. Take him. and there's nothing I can do about that. And it's not something that upsets me tbh because I knew this was an issue when I Bought him. Literally all I want to know is what art I can or can't save and upload to their archives lmao. So I figured asking people to send me their art directly would help reduce the chance of me just taking someone else's art that they didn't intend to be My phone guy. Not even counting the fact that a popular FNAF fan game called Dayshift At Freddy's has their own version of phone guy that ALSO had the red rotary phone head but wears a black business suit. So, any art of That One isnt mine.
But anyway yeah! And just know i'm looking for literally anything involving these guys. Digital art, traditional art, gifs, animations, physical/irl art, doodles, comics, fanfic, cosplays you made, even weird misc stuff like ponytown designs for them, literally anything and everything!!
also because i keep getting asked about it, Vincent, shadow vincent, mike, vendetta, mahogany, faith, captain, vex, sheriff, fritz, hocus, and boss have also all been sold and multiple different people own these guys now. and for vincents owner specifically, i will not be giving out their username as they Do Not Want To Be Contacted About It.
im cross-posting this on multiple websites so feel free to reach out anywhere where its most convenient for you. reblogs are appreciated for reach
twitter: straitjacketzz
discord: straitjackets
toyhouse: straitjackets
#fnaf#rebornica#rebornica au#phone guy#jeremy fitzgerald#five nights at freddy's#voltergeist#night terror#vincent bishop#purple guy#fnaf au
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