The story in my head: The sound of tired footsteps padded slowly into the room, as their owner took in his bleak surroundings. From his tailored blazer pocket, he produced his magnifying glass - the one with the engraved handle: it reminded him desperately of the woman who gifted it to him. Slowly, he crouched down to the carpet, it’s musky smell filling his head as he looked through the glass, the small droplets of blood enlarging enough to be seen with the naked eye. “Fascinating,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with dehydration, “This could be bigger than we thought.”
The story on the page: The inspector inspected inspectorly.
Hello!! I saw that your requests were open and wanted to give it a shot! I love your works and I’ve been binging them lately. Please feel free to discard this for any reason.
Would it be okay to write about a male or gn reader who is in a very science related field (STEM, scientist, medical, engineering etc.) and loves their work immensely, but is revealed YEARS later on to actually have given up on an artistic dream? Like a reader who loved drawing/music/painting/etc. and was beyond headstrong about it for the longest time as a kid, all the way until they were in their senior year of high school and were hit with the reality of how difficult it’d be to gain the financial stability they needed in an arts career, versus the stem career…
And here they are, fast forward to the present.
I think characters like Kaveh and Aventurine have the best backstory to pair with this, but I’m more than alright with anything you’d like to try! If nothing else, thank you so much for putting your amazing writing here on tumblr for free!!! It’s creators like you that we all turn to at the end of the day to save us emotionally :D
Second Chances and Forgotten Dreams
Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Self-Discovery, Creative Struggles, Supportive Characters, Reconnecting with Passions, Emotional Growth, Healing, Gentle Encouragement, Character Development.
Warnings: Mentions of Regret (Over giving up an artistic dream), Minor Angst, Emotional Vulnerability, Implied Pressure from Career Choices, Healing Process, Possible Mild Self-Doubt.
A/N: Hey, thank you so much for your kind words! That honestly means a lot to me. I'm really glad that my work has been able to connect with you and make a difference—it's always the goal! It’s anons like you who keep me motivated too. Thanks again for the love! 🤭💖🫶
Kaveh had always admired your sharp mind. The way your eyes lit up when discussing equations, medical advancements, or structural integrity fascinated him. Yet, despite the success in your field, he always sensed something was missing.
He discovered the truth by accident.
A forgotten sketchbook, tucked away on the highest shelf in your office, filled with beautiful, intricate drawings. Architectural designs, character studies, and unfinished landscapes—each page held the echoes of a dream abandoned.
Kaveh ran his fingers over the pages, tracing the lines with a reverence usually reserved for the most breathtaking buildings. When you walked in and saw him holding the sketchbook, your breath hitched.
"These… these are yours, aren’t they?" Kaveh's voice was uncharacteristically soft.
You swallowed hard, already knowing where this conversation was headed.
"I loved art once," you admitted, exhaling as if saying the words out loud made the weight of your decision all those years ago more tangible. "I wanted to make a career out of it, but… I knew it wouldn't pay the bills. STEM was the safer choice."
Kaveh’s eyes, always filled with emotion, darkened with something between sadness and frustration.
"But safety doesn’t mean happiness," he said, flipping through the pages. "These drawings—they’re incredible. You could've—" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "You should still be creating."
You let out a bitter chuckle. "I don’t even know where to start again. I wouldn’t even know what to make."
Kaveh reached for his own notebook, the one filled with designs for structures he hadn't yet built, dreams he hadn't yet realized.
"Then let’s start together," he said.
That night, for the first time in years, you picked up a pencil—not to draft blueprints or calculate measurements, but to simply create. And beside you, Kaveh sketched alongside you, proving that art, once lost, could always be found again.
Aventurine had always seen life as a game of calculated risks, and you? You were one of the safest bets he’d ever made. Intelligent, hardworking, disciplined—exactly the kind of person who thrived in your field.
But when he saw you idly tracing shapes on a napkin one night, your fingers moving with absentminded precision, something about it made him pause.
"Didn’t know you were the doodling type," he mused, swirling his drink in his hand.
You stiffened before pulling the napkin away, stuffing it into your pocket as if it were something shameful.
That reaction? That was new.
So, being Aventurine, he started digging.
It wasn’t until weeks later that he found the old digital portfolio buried in your archives. Paintings, sketches, compositions—you had once been an artist. A real one.
When he confronted you, you laughed, but it lacked humor. "It was a childish dream," you said, waving it off. "STEM pays the bills. I made the right choice."
Aventurine leaned back in his chair, studying you the way he studied opponents at a high-stakes table. "Funny, I’ve seen people convince themselves of a lot of things, but that? That was the worst bluff I’ve ever heard."
You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.
"You don’t regret choosing STEM," he said, "but you do regret giving up art entirely."
He leaned in, resting his chin on his knuckles, his sharp eyes unreadable. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll make you a deal."
You raised an eyebrow. "A deal?"
Aventurine smirked. "Start creating again—just once a week. No pressure, no deadlines. If you don’t love it anymore, I’ll never bring it up again." He extended a hand. "But if you do? Well, then you owe me a private exhibition of your best work."
You hesitated before finally shaking his hand.
"Hope you’re ready for me to prove you wrong," you muttered.
Aventurine chuckled. "Oh, darling," he said, a knowing gleam in his eye. "I’m counting on it."
Ratio never dealt in half-truths. Logic dictated all things, and as far as he was concerned, you were a master of your field because you wanted to be. That was the only reasonable explanation.
So when he found the old violin case gathering dust in your storage room, he was… perplexed.
"You play?" he asked, examining the instrument with clinical curiosity.
"Not anymore," you replied without looking up from your work.
He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
You hesitated, fingers tightening around your pen. "Because," you said finally, "passion doesn't pay the bills."
For the first time in a long time, Ratio was at a loss for words. You were one of the most driven, intelligent people he knew. He couldn’t fathom you abandoning something you once loved so much.
"You still think about it," he noted, voice quieter than usual. "Don't you?"
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Sometimes."
Ratio wasn’t sentimental. He wasn’t the type to push people toward emotional revelations. But facts were facts.
"You are not simply a scientist, nor are you simply an artist," he stated. "Denying one part of yourself does not make the other stronger."
You frowned. "And what do you suggest? That I drop my career and start composing again?"
Ratio shook his head. "No. But I suggest you stop pretending that your love for art was irrelevant."
He pushed the violin case toward you.
"Indulge in both," he said. "Because denying something you love for the sake of practicality is, in itself, the most illogical decision one could make."
You stared at him for a long moment before reaching out, fingers ghosting over the violin’s worn surface.
Hey friends!
Lately I’ve been a bit low on energy, and I haven’t been able to draw comics.
A big reason is the anxiety of not knowing whether anyone will actually read them.
Drawing a new comic takes a lot of time, and I never know if other people will find it interesting.
I guess I’m a little scared of getting hurt, and that fear has made it hard for me to start drawing again.
✧・゜: how i'm learning to trust my creative intuition :・゜✧:・゜✧
hey lovelies! ✨
i've been thinking a lot about creative intuition lately, that quiet inner voice that nudges you toward certain ideas or projects. for the longest time, i was absolutely terrible at listening to it. i'd get these little sparks of inspiration and immediately talk myself out of them. "that's been done before" or "you don't have the skills for that" or my personal favorite: "who do you think you are?"
sound familiar? thought so.
the thing is, i've slowly been learning that my intuition actually knows what it's talking about. those random ideas that pop into my head at 2am or while i'm in the shower? they're not random at all, they're my creative compass trying to guide me toward what truly lights me up.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ recognizing intuition vs. fear ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
the first big challenge was learning to tell the difference between my intuition and my fear. they can sound weirdly similar sometimes!
my intuition tends to feel like excitement mixed with certainty, like "yes! this!" even when it makes no logical sense. it feels light and expansive, like opening a window in a stuffy room.
fear, on the other hand, feels heavy and contracted. it comes with a lot of "shoulds" and worrying about what other people will think. it's the voice that compares my chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20.
i started keeping track of when these different voices would speak up, and slowly got better at recognizing which was which.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ creating space to listen ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
intuition doesn't shout. it whispers. and in our noisy, constantly-connected world, those whispers can get completely drowned out.
i realized i needed to create actual space to hear myself think. for me, that looks like:
morning pages: three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing before looking at my phone
solo walks without podcasts or music (just me and my thoughts)
intentional boredom: staring out windows, lying on the floor, letting my mind wander
reducing input before trying to create output (no scrolling before creative sessions)
it's amazing what starts to bubble up when you're not constantly drowning it out with other people's voices and ideas.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the "stupid idea" notebook ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
one of the most helpful tools has been my "stupid idea" notebook, a judgment-free zone where i write down every creative impulse, no matter how ridiculous it seems.
the name is intentionally silly to remind myself not to take it all so seriously. some ideas truly are stupid, and that's perfectly fine! but some turn out to be the beginnings of something meaningful.
the rule is simple: write it all down, evaluate later. this creates a safe space for intuition to speak without immediately being shut down by my inner critic.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ small intuition experiments ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
trusting your intuition is like building a muscle, you start small and work your way up.
i began with low-stakes creative decisions: which color to use in a drawing, which topic to write about in my journal, which route to take on my walk. when something felt intuitively "right," i'd go with it, even if i couldn't explain why.
gradually, i started trusting my intuition with bigger choices: which project to pursue, which opportunities to say yes to, which creative direction to explore.
with each small win, my confidence in my inner guidance grew stronger.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ embracing the "wrong" turns ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
here's the thing about intuition: sometimes it leads you down paths that seem to go nowhere. i've followed creative impulses that resulted in projects i never finished or ideas that didn't work out.
but i'm learning that these aren't failures, they're necessary detours. every "wrong" turn teaches me something i needed to learn or leads me to connections i wouldn't have made otherwise.
intuition isn't finding the most direct path; it's finding YOUR path, with all its twists and surprises.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ letting go of external validation ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
perhaps the hardest part of trusting my creative intuition has been detaching from external validation. when you follow your intuition, you might create things that don't immediately resonate with others or fit neatly into what's trending.
i'm still working on this one, honestly. but i've noticed that my most intuitive creations... the ones that felt most aligned with my inner voice, are ultimately the ones people connect with most deeply, even if the audience is smaller.
⋆.ೃ࿔:･ a gentle practice ･:࿔ೃ.⋆
trusting your creative intuition isn't a destination, it's an ongoing practice. some days i'm better at it than others. sometimes fear still wins. but each time i choose to listen to that quiet inner knowing, it gets a little louder, a little clearer.
if you're struggling to trust your own creative voice, start small. create tiny spaces of silence. write down the whispers. follow the sparks of excitement. and be patient with yourself when you forget.
Man sometimes I wonder why I’m not getting ideas for my story, but it’s like… I’ve written so much in such a short time??? Of course it’s gonna need a bit of time in my brain-oven. Those ideas need to bake and percolate at least a little before I regurgitate it onto the page.
the desire for Thing to be done is there, but the motivation to make Thing so it can be done is not. in conclusion: I need Tom Nook to give me a DIY kit for a bridge.
