#Art is a channel of expression and experience

[niuniente]

There's an important artist campaign in Twitter going on against the AI art bullshit. The theme is that art skills are skills anyone can learn. If they just practice enough, anyone can become a great artist. Talent has nothing to do with it.

While anyone can learn arts and practice, it's false that anyone can become really skilled in the arts if they just practice enough. You do need to have some natural talent to become really successful and good in art. Otherwise we all would be next Picasso, da Vincis or Yoshitaka Amanos. Just by practicing.

There was a rugby player who said that swimmers don't have that kind of a body because they swim. They swim because they have that kind of a body. He said that he has not obtained his own frame because of rugby but he is a rugby player because his natural body type is fitted for rugby.

We need to understand this also in art. You're not skilled in art because you are only practicing enough. You do art because you are, in a way or another, suited for making art. Perhaps you can see and understand colors better than others. Perhaps your geometric understanding is good. Perhaps you really understand anatomy easily.

Same with singing. Not anyone can become the next Big Star just by practicing singing a lot. You need to have some natural talent to it, same way as with the rugby player and the swimmer.

It doesn't mean you haven't practiced and put lots of work in your art. Sure you have! The same way as an Olympic swimmer has put effort on their development. Still, not everyone is ever going to reach the level of a professional swimmer no matter what they do or how much they practice. The same way not everyone can learn, for example, realistic painting. Or painting itself!

This narrative also forgets other art forms than realistic and semi-realistic styles. Or really gorgeous children book illustrations. Perhaps your aim shouldn't be in becoming a realistic painter but Miroco Machiko. Perhaps your skills lay in an abstract art or conceptual art. Perhaps you are a really talented storyboard artist.

So, just little something if you feel like you need to practice your ass of and you're not talented enough. Perhaps you aren't. I'm not myself either. I could never learn how to paint realistic stuff. Or sculpt, I'm horrible in sculpting. But it's OK. I can do other stuff, art in other ways and forms. I've drawn over 35 years and studied art and I'm not even near of many skilled people. But it's OK because I have fun with my own art. That is important.

Also, you don't need to aim for a professional level unless you wish to work with companies. Those who don't understand art, like big corporations, see art only as "How much of a photo this art looks like" as an only talent.

Not everyone needs to be professional or can. We all have a certain level in ANYTHING we do which we can reach, only. No matter what. Otherwise anyone could become professionals in anything ever with just practice

All skill levels are OK! All art styles are OK!

Ai art is not OK and that should die sooner than later. Here I though that at least art would be safe from the technology that takes jobs away from people...

[rickety-goose]

i. uh. tried something a bit different

[insertpinkchiphere]

drawing this dude’s boobs for the thousandth time 

[ivesambrose]

PAC: WHAT WILL BRING YOU JOY

Something we all could use a little more of 💕

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

You may have felt a sense of helplessness of late. As though certain events and circumstances have genuinely been out of your control. Might have gone through some betrayals that led to certain necessary endings or have been dealing with loss that may have impacted your mental health too. Certain things have been necessary and whether you're fully aware of it or not, you do feel lighter. You will feel much lighter in the coming months eventually. For most of you, I'm seeing dancing, performance arts as well as a retreat to somewhere open and green will bring you joy. You really really need to fill your lungs with fresh air. Some of you have been on the edge or rather anxious and sleepless too. You need to breathe. Being around or tending to animals will bring you joy too. Learning about health and wellness will also do you well. Some of you will find joy in painting with water colors or taking quiet walks late at night (stay safe please) some of you could also use a swim or take up swimming for yourself. You need to pause and appreciate the things you don't really pay attention to. Maybe even listen to your subconscious more and block the external noise out this could also mean decluttering your room and/or surroundings as well.

Picture 2

You may have felt out of place or felt as though you have lacked community or resources for yourself. You're very protective of yourself and your energy as well as whatever you've accumulated by yourself be it in matters of wealth or any other accolades. You have a creative fire within you that is supposed to burn bright enough to illuminate the way without burning you out. Writing, communicating, journaling, learning, nurturing yourself and others will bring you joy. Celebrate yourself and the smallest wins in your life. Your thoughts, ideas, words, your voice especially and your mere presence is immensely powerful and this mere gift that you possses will inevitably turn your life around when you least expect it. Explore the world ahead, you do posses the ability to manifest it. The only reason you think it's denied to you is because you're afraid of taking the leap of faith. But rest assured, when time comes, it will feel right and you wouldn't have to overthink it. Till then, work on channeling your emotions into something creative that feels meditative at the same time. You don't require external validation for this. Learn to regulate your nervous system and self soothe too. You may also end up being a part of or building a community of people who feel like family too.

Picture 3

You may have felt severely isolated and it's not a new emotion, it's been lingering on and off for quiet some time. You've gained necessary wisdom however and learned to feel safe and welcome in your own company. You've likely also felt extremely defensive and at wits end with the people you've encountered as well. You're craving change and will invite a major one soon enough. For you, self expression of any form be it experimenting with your aesthetic or even transforming yourself completely be it your physical body, the way you look or the way you see the world will bring you joy. Some of you are also born entertainers some of you might really be into makeup or cosplay too. Others of you simply need to blatantly romanticize your existence and life for your own sake, treat it as cinema and watch your plot unfold. You're meant to make an impact of some sort, use your influence well and wisely. You have massive will power and perseverance. But that doesn't mean you need to treat every day like an active battle field that you need to survive. Some of you need to know that, even if the past feels familiar you can't live there if you seek to expand your horizons. The world is waiting for you as much as you're waiting for the world. Erase the mental and emotional distance you have put between you and what you desire.

[fanaticsnail]

Shameless 3/3

Masterlist here. Part 1, Part 2

Word Count: 5,500+

Synopsis: You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. Ushered throughout the halls of the Polar Tang, you finally get to experience the raw, concentrated power of what succumbing to that type truly means.

Themes: Eustass Kid x afab!reader, p in v sex, eating, gushing, writhing, begging. Dom!kid x switch!reader, no gendered terms used, smut, nsfw, mdni, 18+ content warning, swearing, creampie, Platonic!Law x Crew!reader, "sunshine" used as a term of endearment, reader is a brat, Kid is obsessed.

Notes: And it's here! Third and final part to the series that was meant to be a one-shot because it was my first time writing for Eustass Kid. Thank you to @sordidmusings for being a saint and listening to me be very unhinged while I talk about this fic. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @sexc-snail

The grip of Eustass Kid’s right hand never left your hip. Ushering you throughout the halls of the Polar Tang to where he assumed your crew quarters were located. His face held an unreadable emotion you attempted to decipher with your mischievous gaze. 

His lips were knit into a thin line, tugging at the corners into a gruff grimace. His brows lowering their furrow against his forehead with his eyes wild with narrowed pupils. The smaller quiver in his top lip revealed his snarled emotion further to you, a soft rumble igniting within his chest. 

Cheeks tinted pink with ignited resolve and passion, he was glowing with growing vibrant frustration. Too proud to indicate he may be in need of assistance to find your room, you chose to bite your lip to stifle the rise of your smile further as you watched him fumble down the hallway. 

All that giddiness and prior longing for one another, all the passion and grinding against each other’s most sensitive areas, came to an abrupt halt by your captain by calling to you over the shipwide speakers. That lust for one another remained all through the commemorative meal, Kid perpetually holding his eyes on your body as he sunk his teeth into fresh meat. He tore his teeth into the flesh of the steak, all the while picturing what your body tasted like beneath your boiler's uniform. 

Noticing a small stagger in Kid’s steps, halting his strides as the corridor split into a narrow ‘T’ shape. Drawing your eyes up to the metal panel in front of you, you felt the grip of Kid’s arm tighten around your waist. 

You didn’t want to ask him if he needed help, refusing to utter a single word to the broody, aggressive man beside you. In fact, it was fun to watch him get angrier and angrier within his own frustration. You deduced: the angrier he got, the more likely he was going to channel that fury with reaching your joint ecstasy within the arms of one another. 

“You’re really gonna stand there in silence?” he growled in a low rumble, “Not gonna give me any guidance in finding your damn crew cot to fuck you in?” You attempted to stifle your rising smile by clamping your teeth down on your lower lip. 

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the ‘p,’ noticing this seemed to aggravate him further. In one swift movement: he lifted you up with his flesh hand, caging you beneath the metallic forearm of his artificial limb across your chest. He held your body firmly against the steel of the cool wall, bringing his agitated expression closer to your amused grin. 

“Just wanna see me get all frustrated, huh?” he spat, his aggressive agitation showcased within the vibrant hues of his auburn eyes, “Wanna see how far you can bend me before I snap?” 

All you could do was shudder out a whimper of lustful breath beneath the cool metal arm, a smirk drawing up to your lips as you avoided his intense stare by looking down at his exposed pectorals.

In response, he pushed his metal forearm firmer against your chest, the magnetic object caging your shoulders against the wall alongside the top of your breastbone. The discomfort you felt beneath his artificial limb elevated your anticipation and excitement for him more. 

“Answer me,” he growled, shoving you further against the wall, “You had so many words earlier. Where are they now, huh?” You drew your eyes up to his, half-lidded and full of adoration for the frustrated tinkerer-captain. As your softened eyes met with his, he was flabbergasted at your unwithheld adoration for him. 

“You don’t seem like the type to require help,” you whispered, drawing up your hand do brush your fingers against his jaw, “So I won’t help you...” you pressed your chest against his metal arm to test its strength and hissed out a further declaration, “...Unless you ask me, very nicely, to offer you my assistance.”

Kid bore his eyes into yours, his brow furrowing deeper on his forehead as you looked up through half-hooded lashes. Floating your eyes between his, you goaded him with your playful expression: daring him to ask you for aid. After several moments of careful contemplation, he finally spat out his venomous words. 

“Fine,” his eyes darkened, a furious twinkle engaged within his blown pupils. Where you expected him to cave, ask you begrudgingly which direction to be led in, he shocked you by his flesh hand reaching up to your chest, and prying open your boiler suit with a skillful tear in the front of the fabric, “You leave me with no choice but to fuck you in the hallway.” 

You squealed as he skillfully removed your sleeves from your arms with his right hand, forcing his hips to staple yours against the reflective surface behind you. His broad hand drew itself up to cup your left hip, grinding his half-hard cock against your needy core. You sighed blissfully as he began to rut against your body, your eyes fluttering shut against the feeling. 

He tore through the fabric of your top binding, exposing your chest and puckered nipples publicly in a single swipe. You mewled as he pinched, licked and sucked at your exposed chest; your body wriggling and grinding against his core. 

“You truly have no shame, do you?” He growled, his lips finding your jaw as he pressed himself harder against you. You relished in the feeling of his warm lips caressing your skin in open kisses, his saliva dampening your pores with each messy parting of his lips upon you. 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered through your unrestrained moan in response, opening your eyes to gaze into his own once more. When his eyes met yours, his lust was demonstrated in the soft flutter of his lashes, his pupils dilated into large circles and his painted lips parted in a shocked oval. 

You rocked your hips against his, the tight peak in his patterned pants raking over your rapidly dampening heat. He tore away more of your uniform, revealing more glimpses of your exposed flesh to his needy hands and greedy eyes. As you began to move your lips to expel your desires, a voice called above your expressions of wanton need. 

“Well, I'm ashamed of both of you,” your Captain’s bored and lazy tone spat with a soft grimace, “Couldn't even wait to get into crew quarters, Tinkerers?”

A joint shriek of shock expelled itself from your throats as your eyes snapped over to the darkened silhouette of Trafalgar Law. 

Your captain excused himself from the meal between the main course and dessert, claiming the excuse he needed to retrieve something from his office. What he was truly doing was checking in to see if you were alright with the attention you were receiving from Eustass Kid. He knew you were tough, and that you had a type, but he wanted to ensure the safety of his tinkerer. 

“Captain-!” you began, your voice drowning beneath the surprised grunt of Kid’s exclaim, “-Traffy!” Kid’s body hovered over yours, shielding the exposure of your chest from the eyes of your Captain. You almost pouted out a softened hum of awe at the larger man's valiance, but your attention remained captivated by Law's disapproving expression. 

As you both began to utter your verbalised defenses, you witnessed Captain Law’s smirk grow all the broader: feral and cryptid. Your eyes widened, watching as he raised his hand upwards, his fingers splayed out in hyper focussed concentration. 

“Unfortunately for the both of you, I refuse to allow such lewd acts performed in my hallways - no matter who is performing them,” he uttered in a low growl, prompting a blush to rise against your cheeks. 

Before a further explaination could be uttered in your defense, Law hastily spoke over your rising voice with two key words of his own. 

“Room,” he smirked, eyes darkening as you and Kid both felt at the mercy of your Captain demonstrating his raw power with his devil-fruit ability, “Shambles.”

Your surroundings went dark around you, your body feeling helpless within the trap of Law's displacement. Although you had experienced this method of transportation prior, the disassociation and frazzle of the world around, fading in and out, remained a difficult concept to comprehend and adjust to. 

Switching positions with two flecks of dust within your crew quarters by the will of your Captain, had your body falling unceremoniously atop Kid’s on the metal floor beneath you with a firm thud. A grunt at the contact alongside a huffed breath from your companion prompted a laugh to began simmering within your chest. 

“Well, well, well,” you managed to giggle out through your teetered laughter, “Looks like you didn't have to ask me nicely, after all.”

Kid huffed out a disapproving gruff growl, shifting your body away to take in the full view of your face above him. Although the crew quarters were lit by the hum of electrical lamplight, he strained to make out the outlines of your face in this switched position. 

Before he could adjust to exactly what was happening within the room, he was surprised at the shift of weight above him sliding down his body. As he moved his dizzying head to focus on your actions, he was surprised to hear a jingle of metal and the loosening of his pants. 

He snapped his eyes to witness the swirl of your tongue claiming the chorded strands of his pants within your mouth, skillfully tugging at the belt with your teeth to expose his briefs beneath. He sucked in his shock, hastily propping himself up on his elbows to get a more in depth look at your features. 

“F-Fuck,” he groaned, eyes unable to break his eyes away from watching you take apart his pants, “Y-You’re actually doing it with your teeth.” He whispered, reaching his right hand down to rake his fingers through your hair. You smiled, tugging one final harsh bite at his zippered fly to expel his clothed member beneath the parted split of his pants. 

“I would never mislead you,” you reassured him with a huffed chuckle, watching the small twitch of his rapidly expanding cock. The subtle damp patch of precum against the soft material of his briefs, “I despise those who go back on their word.”

With another small string of curses, Kid released your hair within his palm and lulled his head back on his shoulders as you circled your grip around his clothed shaft. Tugging it firmly beneath the material, his heavy balls began to fall beneath the elastic hem of his leg holes. 

You shifted your hands along his veiny cock. The outline of his perfect, mushroomed tip dipped in a divet within the strain against the material of the cotton fabric. His leg began to twitch as you straddled his thigh and teased the waistband of his briefs with the brush of your unoccupied fingertips. 

Reaching into his pants, you claimed his cock within your palm and attempted to circle your digits around it: the large girth having your fingertips barely brush together in their circumference. Flicking your thumb over the tip had a moan stifled within Kid’s lips. Huffing at the friction, he drew his head up to glance at you through half-hooded lashes. 

Brows knit in focus, your jaw hung ever slightly slack as you focussed on pistoning Kid’s impressive cock within your grip. The look of awe on your features as you exposed his member by flipping his waistband down had Kid’s ego swelling with pride. He smiled as you but back a moan of your own, taking in the full view of his incredibly large cock. 

“It's not going to fit,” you gasped, eyes glazed in a hypotonic, lustful trance. Kid smirked at your comment, panting at the attention you were paying to his sensitive knob and frenulum with your thumb. 

In one swell movement, he hastily flipped your positions and caged you beneath him. Your chest was fully exposed, your uniform hanging limply on your hips as his right hand dove beneath the waist of your undergarments. 

“It'll fit,” he moaned, his lips finding your clavicle bone, containing a perfect ovular circle he bit into earlier, and pressed his lips roughly against it, “Just gotta warm ya’ up first.”

He sought out your heat with his fingers, feeling the arousal he'd already caused earlier by his lips, teeth and grinding hips. His two middle fingers slotted between your walls, feeling the coat of slick over his knuckles as he spread your essence over your needy hole. 

Before he sunk his fingers into your core, he retreated back upwards to your awaiting, quivering clit. As his warm fingers began tracing delicate circles against your aching bud, he claimed your lips beneath his own. 

Your hands shot to his hair, grasping the red strands within your fingertips. Angling your chin up, you needily licked Kid's lips while whining at his ministrations. Everything was too little and too much all at once, your craving for him outweighing the need for him to make you ready to take his impressive size. 

Moans were caught within his painted lips, his own empathetic moans at your joy spread from his mouth into yours. As he swirled his digits expertly around your clit, he forced his tongue within your mouth to brush against yours. Sliding the muscle throughout your mouth, you arched your back as he continued using his hands and lips to bring you pleasure. 

Seeking out his cock, your hand grasped at every surface of his large muscles and skin on your journey downwards. Just before you managed to wrap your hand around the swollen head of his cock again, Eustass Kid’s metal hand shot down and claimed your wrist within his iron grip and pinned both hands above your head. 

Breaking his lips from yours, his fiendish smile grew wide. His teeth playfully bit your bottom lip as a wordless reprimand for your actions. You whined, your hands attempting to wriggle free from his iron grip to seek out his cock once more. 

“Not gonna let you touch me ‘til I make you cum at least once,” he laughed at you, slowly rolling circles around your needy bud. You arched your back and mewled for him as he raked his fingers down to your hole, then back up to your clit in skillful motions. 

“I let you take the lead while your Captain’s stupid devil fruit power made me dizzy,” he slunk down your torso, ripping your legs out of your pants with one swift swipe with his metal hand, “But now that my head's all clear, I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard, Sunshine.”

You were now completely exposed to him, your naked body lying vulnerable beneath his almost fully-clothed body. Only his cock was exposed to you; the rest of his larger form remained shrouded by his cloak, buckled holsters and pants. 

“P-please,” you whined for him, panting as he pinned your writhing hips to the floor beneath his forearm. He chuckled, hooking your knees over his shoulders and bringing your glistening core up to his face after releasing your hands from his metal arm. ��

“Quit ya’ squirming,” he growled, leaning his face down against your needy heat, “I know how you feel about goin’ back on your word.” He tested your reactions with a small flick of his tongue against your clit, laughing when you arch your back in reaction, “Wouldn't want you to despise me, now, do I?”

“Captain,” you gasped, feeling his breath cooling against your sticky walls as he hovered his lips over your oozing essence. He chuckled further, forcing your legs apart as he took in the sight of your arousal. His jaw shuddered at the sight, eyelashes fluttering as his smile rose up on his face. 

“I would never mislead you,” he mocked your earlier sentiment, prompting you to scowl at his taunting expression. Just as soon as your scowl appeared, it fled just as hastily from your face as he dove head-first into your heat. 

Kid's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sampled your sweet essence, rolling his tongue over your aching clit in slow, deliberate circles. You bit your lip to stifle your keening mewls, prompting Kid to groan into your glistening sex. 

“So cute,” he commented, bobbing his head as he swiped his tongue up and down, spreading your juices around your entrance and clit, “So fuckin’ cute.” 

Nodding against your heat, he became drunk with lust as you attempted to grind further against his face. He used his nose to add pressure to your clit as he dipped his tongue into your neglected entrance. Swirling his tongue, he lapped at your juices straight from the source, with grunts of praise growling from his messy lips coated in your sweet nectar. 

The coil in your stomach bound itself tight within the pit of your abdomen. You huffed into your wrist, clamping your eyes tightly shut as you had no choice but to take the tongue lashing Kid was forcing into your body. 

Your thighs began to shake as you strained against his extremely large hands, once again becoming aware of how big he was. At the mercy of the man above you, you began gushing into his mouth as the first wave of your erupting orgasm coursed through you.

“O-Oh fuck yes, that's it,” Kid's muffled voice praised you between your legs, “Cum on my face. C’mon, wanna feel it.”

“F-Fuck, Captain,” you cried out for him, tears beginning to well from the intensity in which you rode through the waves of your encumbering high. 

Attempting to writhe and wriggle out of his grip, he held you firmly in place and bullied your cunt with his face further. He dove in deeper, torturing your core with his tongue and lips as he continued to messily lap at your juices. 

“Nuh uh,” he chastised you, prompting you to sob at the overstimulation, “You're gonna take it. Go on, Sunshine. Cum for me again,” he chuckled into your tingling entrance when you screamed at the feeling of his tongue needily and aggressively lapping at you, “I know you can.”

Panic wrote itself on your face, you're cheeks running hot as your blood turned cold. Feeling the firm press of his hands against your hips, you truly felt helpless beneath the hulking figure of Eustass Kid.  He was going to hold you down and make you cum again, and you were going to have to take it. 

“This is whatcha get for being a brat earlier,” Kid leant his face away as he messily spat against your hole. Diving down immediately after, he lapped at your oversensitive heat and held your body completely at his mercy, “This is what me snapping looks like, Sunshine. Fucking take it.”

You whimpered, reaching your hands down and grabbing fistfuls of his hair within your hands. Attempting to tug his face away from you, he doubled down his efforts and elevated your hips with his strong and firm grip. He thrust your body backwards and forwards, grinding your sensitive cunt against his face as you felt him chase another of your intense highs. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh F-fuck,” you screamed, gushing your juices over his chin as another gushing orgasm snuck up on you. This was not as intense as the first one prior, but it stole the breath from your lungs and took the wind out of your sails. 

“There ya’ go,” he chuckled, grinding your hips against his face, “Fuck yes, cum in my face again.” 

He slowed down the intensity of his grinding, remaining in tempo of the rhythmic twitches of your orgasm beckoning him in with hypnotic pulses. Floating back down from your high, you collapsed onto the cool ground beneath you. 

You felt him come away from your body, fully expecting the larger man to immediately pummel his large cock into you and wincing in anticipation. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you looked down to notice Kid had raisen to his knees and removed his weighty cloak and straps from his torso. 

He smirked down at you, watching as you took in his body with your fucked-out, glazed-over expression. He tugged at the waistband of his underwear, moving the rest of his clothes down over his hips to free his balls and his legs. 

“Waitin’ ‘til you catch your breath,” Kid whispered affectionately while casting his boots, socks and pants aside, “I'm cruel, but I'm not that cruel.” 

In truth, Kid felt the approach of a premature untouched orgasm swelling in his abdomen the moment your cunt pressed against his face. It had been so long since he had taken a lover, especially one as enthusiastic as you were at the very notion of a sliver of his attention. 

You teased him earlier in the day with your unbridled lust, intrigued him with your devotion to your tinkering assignment, and had him completely smitten with your complete and utter shamelessness.

He was so completely riled up, he refused to be embarrassed by how quickly he was going to cum from the moment your cunt touched his twitching, engorged cock. He wanted to take his time, enjoy your company for as long as you were willing to share it with him. 

As your heartbeat slowed to a more forgiving pace, you beckoned him with your coaxing hands and pleading eyes. Smiling down at you, he hovered over your face and pressed needy and passionate kisses against your jaw with his lips and tongue. 

His red, fat tongue slithered against your chin, prompting you to turn your head and claim the organ into your parted lips. As soon as your mouth brushed with his, you felt the tip of his cock tap against your over prepared and glistening hole. You moaned against his lips as his tip began to split you apart, your walls moving in a wide stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. 

“I-It’s too big,” you winced against his lips, “Too big!” You cried out as he soothed you by pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, lips, temple, chin and jaw. 

“Y-You can t-take it,” he huffed, wincing at how tight your cunt was choking him, strangling him with your smaller core, “Just-... hah, fuck-... Just relax around it. You can do that for me, can't you? Relax and let me i-in.” His shiny tip pushed deeper into your cunt, his shaft twitching as he felt your fluttering walls adjust to accommodate him. 

You winced your brows up, breathing deeply as he caged your smaller body beneath him. Huffing out several strangled breaths, he fully slotted his shaft into you. Tufts of his red pubic hair ground coarsely against your swollen clit, a cry spilling from your lips the welcome he received as his cock encased itself within your warm, puffy sheath. 

“Fuck, you're so-... ngmmh-... so fucking tight,” he bit your shoulder as he buried his head within the crook of your neck. At every quiver your glistening core fluttered around him, he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“You're so fucking big,” you praised him with a hushed, needy whisper; mewling as he began to make shallow movements, pistoning his cock while remaining deep within your cunt. 

You felt yourself relax around him, the rocking of his hips enabled you to adjust quickly to his length and girth. You circled your arms around his shoulders, cradling his head against your shoulder as you felt him begin to pant. A flash of lightning hit your body as your lust hit you with its stricken intensity. 

“C'mon, big boy,” you cooed down at him with new motivation, “I know you can fuck me harder than that.” Kid snapped his head up, his eyes feral as he gawked at you. 

“You want me to fuck you harder?” Kid asked, a pink flush tinting his face as deep a scarlet as his vibrant hair. You laughed, your abdomen constricting his cock within you as you did. 

“Did I stutter?” You teased him, clawing at his shoulders before capturing his cheeks within the heels of your palms, “Harder.” Eustass Kid, who was not accustomed to be on the receiving end of orders, immediately began slamming his hips against yours in rough claps. You shrieked in joy, gyrating to match his quickening pace. 

The wet slaps of your cunt taking Kid's cock reverberated with your mutual moans throughout the crew quarters. You huffed out strangled pants as you ground your hips upwards to meet with his heavy-handed thrusts. His biceps twitched with every hard thrust against you, leaning up on his flesh and metal arms to get a glimpse of his cock disappearing within your gummy walls.

Cocking your head to the side, you noticed his brows were knit in focus, his mind still holding his body back from being too rough with you. You craved him letting go, the craving prompting you to hook your legs over his hips and lock your ankles together behind his lower back.  

“Harder,” you coax him, “Go harder, Captain. I can't take it.” As a gesture, you tug at his shoulders and cradle his body against you. He fell against you, his arms caging you once again beneath him. 

“I'm gonna break your fucking hips if I fuck you any harder,” he huffed against your cheek. He continued his rough pace, the lewd slap of his balls on your puckered ass causing you to cry out for him. 

“I serve on a ship full of doctors,” you prompt him, pressing open kisses against his collar and rocking your hips to his rhythm, “I can take it. C'mon, Kid. Fuck me like you want to.”

Kid halted his movements, his eyes immediately snapping up to meet with your own. He was immediately challenged by your utter audaciousness, searching your eyes for any hesitation for him to simply take what he wanted from your body. 

“Like I want to?” His growl sent a shudder from youd chest down to your cunt, stil containing his entire length, “You want me to show you how I want to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, biting and nipping at his cheek, jaw and neck as a further coaxing for him to propel himself harder, firmer and deeper against you. 

He broke your arms away from his shoulders, his metal and flesh hands immediately moving to the backs of your thighs and pressing them firmly up into your stomach. You mewled in shock, feeling the new depth his cock reached at this angle hitting and brushing against more of your core you never thought possible. 

“You want me to fuck you with my full strength? Feel me so fucking deep in your stomach it borders on painful?” He growled, pressing his stomach against your thighs as he allowed his full weight to sink down into you, “You want your bones to fall on the brink of shattering as I fuck into you, using you for my own personal pleasure?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed a little louder than before, following his movement with the rapid bounce of your hips in rhythm with his rough thrusts. You bit back a cry as he picked up his pace, your lower abdomen feeling the pinch of his tip kissing your cervix. 

He hastily drew down his hands, prompting you to hook your arms behind your knees to keep you fully exposed to his rough thrusts. As you held your legs back, he forced his right hand onto the pit of your stomach, pushing on the tip of his angular cock brushing against the spongy curvature of your G-spot. 

“Feel that? That's-... fuck, hhah-... how fucking deep I am,” he panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. You cried out muted sobs in desperation for him, feeling the approach of your third orgasm rapidly stampeding towards you. 

“Fuck you like I want to, Sunshine?” He growled, repeating your taunt back to you. His speed continuing to pick up as heavy thrusts as he pressed your thighs further into your chest, “Fuck you rough and deep enough to split you apart with my cock? Like I fucking want to?”

“Yes!” you cried out in confirmation, feeling the tight call of your orgasm begin to shake at your toes to your thighs, warmth spreading in your chest with the ignition of passionate convulsions. He groaned for you, panting as he felt the first twitches of his own approach pulsate through the base of his shaft, his balls sucked into the pit of his stomach and knob twitching deep within you. 

“Oh, fuck!” he barked, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he continued to pummel, bully, and bruise your cunt with his impressive, firm cock. He felt the first wave of your pussy beckoning him with your orgasm, his mind no longer his own as he gave into his primal urge to continue claiming you. 

“Fuck, Captain. I'm g-gonna-... f-fuck-... I'm gonna cum-,” you screamed, caged beneath his body as your walls began wringing circular pulses over his cock. Kid began to panic, overcome with the feeling of your pussy milking his shaft. 

“I c-can’t pull out, I can't pull out!” He begged and pleaded as his knob began to leak with the first spurts of unrestrained precum, “Too fucking good!”

“Cum in me, I need you!” you screamed in your haze, drunk on the feeling of this larger man splitting you open with his desperation. You bounced your cunt against him, matching the pace he set while riding through your all encumbering orgasm. 

“F-Fuck!” he roared, ribbons of white release splashing against your cervix and trickling down your thighs with your own juices gushing against him. Your beckoning thumps continued wringing Kid's cock with each pulse in unified bliss. 

Growls of strangled moans fled from Kid's lips as he claimed your mouth within his, deepening the angle he was slamming his hips down against your core and slowing his erratic pace. 

He released your thighs from his grip, choosing to thread his arms around your shoulders and elevate you to a sitting position, his cock still deeply sheathed within you. Rocking back onto his heels and calves, he continued pressing open and lustful kisses against your lips as the last few, teetered, aftershocks of his orgasm spent itself within you. 

Holding the back of your neck, he continued cradling you against himself. His kisses turned soft, sweet and almost loving, his lip paint now marking nearly all of your body with the scarlet hue. The subtle tang of your juices remained on his tongue as you welcomed more of him against your lips. 

As you motioned to break away from his lips to catch your breath, he needily held your neck firmly in place, continuing to pant through his kisses planted against your lips. He rotated his head, his lips entangling themselves sloppily against yours as you both finally fell back down to the harsh reality around you. 

“More,” he whimpered against you, still under the prior hypnotic spell your words and actions cast on him, “Need more.”

Smiling, you pressed several peppered kisses against his lips and face. He hummed through his nose, whining at how affectionate you were remaining to be after taking his aggravated and almost assaulting pace with his cock still inside you. You tested his still firm cock, rocking yourself on his lap which caused a choked whimper to flee from his throat. 

“How long are you staying with us, Captain?” you managed to ask him as soon as you broke away from his desperate lips. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands moving down to circle around your shoulders and waist. 

“Couple more days,” he confessed in a whisper, his eyes glancing down at where your bodies remained still as one, “Then we leave to go on our separate ways again.” 

You both clamped your eyes shut, feeling your bodies unified together as his cock began to soften within your walls. You raised your hands to cradle his cheeks, pressing a few sweet kisses against his lips as he hung his head back within your arms. 

“And after a few days?” you whispered your question, pressing your forehead against his once more with your eyes remaining shut to conceal your emotions from him, “Then what?” 

You felt Kid's right thumb begin tracing circles against your hip, his arms sliding down to claim both sides of your body beneath his broad hands. 

“Then, Sunshine," he scoffed, playfully licking your chin with the sharpened tip of his tongue, "Every time I meet with your captain and your crew…” he teased you, tilting your face with a subtle jab of his chin to force your eyes to open, as he uttered his final confession to you. 

“... we're gonna make it everyone's problem.”

As soon as you met with his rust-colored eyes, you were once again consumed with lust for him. His enchanting smile, his scarred cheeks, his smudged face paint, his wicked grin: all bewitched you to the point where you would agree to everything he could ever pose to you.

"I'm looking forward to being shameless and embarrassing with my open adoration and lust for you, Captain," you confessed in a whispered breath. He laughed at you smoothing over your hair with his hand, smiling as he drew his face all the closer to yours.

"I'm looking forward to being the object of your shameless fucking lust, Sunshine," he uttered before he claimed your lips beneath his once more in a lengthy, sultry kiss, "Let's get cleaned up, go a couple more times," you squeaked in joy at the notion, prompting a huff of laughter to expel from Kid, "Then I'll carry you up there to enjoy dessert, just like I promised."

[moonkissedvisions]

Pick an image: Your beauty + How you can express it˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

In this reading, you are going to remember what makes you beautiful! Remember that this is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Now, relax and let your intuition guide you to the right pile for you. ✨

(images from pinterest)

💄 Pile one

-your tenderness

-your emotional expression

-your loving presence

-your femininity

-your gentleness

-your soft features

-your calming aura

-your pure heart

-your empathy

-your compassion

-your slow, gentle movements

-your soft voice

-your sensuality

-your clear and beautiful eyes

-your consideration

-your creativity

-your glamour

-your hands and feet

-your art

-your shiny hair

-your sensitivity

-your patience

-your receptiveness

-your curves

-your resilience

-your success

-your thoughtfulness

-your independence

💄how you express it: stay away from toxic environments. go to the beach and connect to the ocean. learn to make decisions. if you have a tough time making decisions out of the fear of hurting others, remember that you are only deciding for yourself and others make their own decisions for themselves. seek masculine energy. dont compromise your own well-being just to help other people. protect your heart. dont be afraid to show your feelings. make loving connections. be around uplifting people. be around energy giving people. channel your creativity. wear lightweight fabric clothes that are soft and comfortable. moonbathe.

💄zodiac signs: libra, taurus, cancer, pisces, scorpio.

💄song: Temptation by Raveena.

"In my dreams I can feel your softness. Get lost in your head of curls. I tell you things I can´t tell my boyfriend"

💄potential style:

💎Pile 2

-your ethic

-your fair-mindedness

-your awareness

-your integrity

-your smile and laugh

-your detachment

-your darkness

-your symmetrical features

-your deep voice

-your mind

-your fitness

-your melancholic gaze

-your poised aura

-your deep thoughts

-your writing

-your eyebrows

-your persistence

-your charm

-your life experiences and stories

-your face

-your resilience

-your courage

-your ambition

-your strength

-your skin tone

-your fun personality

-your wisdom

-your hips

-your determination to push forward

-your relaxing and comforting aura

-your luck

-your endurance

-your mystery

-your reflectiveness

-your elegant style

-your success

-your carefree personality

💎how you express it: find a community in which you feel like you belong, participate in it. let go of the past. give help to those who need it. celebrate your beauty and your life. focus on gratitude. i got the vibe you are a survivor of something, so embrace your strength and share your story. be present. wear head/hair adornments. wear black and red clothes. journal. practice meditation. sports/exercise. you may be a conventionally attractive person or an underrated beauty. eye makeup. you probably look good in short and dark hair.

💎zodiac signs: aries, libra, sagittarius, scorpio.

💎song: Carmen by Lana del Rey.

"She laughs like God, her mind´s like a diamond".

💎potential style:

💅🏻 Pile 3

-your calmness

-your dreaminess

-your solitude

-your tranquility

-your simplicity

-your logic

-your responsibility

-your baby face

-your confidence

-your spirituality

-your contemplative gaze

-your reserved and aloof personality

-your knowledge

-your cute facial expressions

-your capacity

-your sleepy/big eyes

-your sense of duty

-your fairy-like beauty

-your powerful words and voice

-your potential

-your fierceness

-your healthy appearance

-your optimism

-your nice clothes

-your luscious hair

-your talents

-your confrontational and challenging nature

-your fearless personality

💅🏻how you express it: boosting your self-esteem. sharing and celebrating your achievements with people. affirmations. let others admire you and give you compliments. either a simple and basic style or a striking one flatters you. good quality clothes. resting and rejuvenating. use your alone time to boost your beauty. ask for help when you need it and stop taking on a lot of pressure. just take the weight off your shoulders. get massages often. improve your posture. learn a new hobby. pray and meditate daily. grow your hair/experiment with different hairstyles. be free of other´s expectations and projections.

💅🏻zodiac signs: leo, libra, sagittarius, aries.

💅🏻song: LEAVE ME ALONE by Kari Faux

"I like the truth and my clarity. I kneel and pray for my enemies. ´Cause hate would take up my energy. And i do not need that, mentally, so".

💅🏻potential style:

Thank you so much for being here! Hope I see you in another reading :)

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[keehomania]

nevertheless (알고있지만) – jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* 18+

attachment was a curious thing. it began subtly, weaving its tendrils through the fabric of your life without notice, like the first soft blush of dawn on a still, sleepy horizon. at first, it seemed innocuous, a delicate thread that merely tugged gently at the edges of your existence, a whisper of a presence that was easily overlooked.

yet, in its essence, attachment was a powerful force, beautiful and treacherous. it painted the world in vivid hues, each moment tinged with a significance that it otherwise wouldn't have possessed. the simplest actions—a smile, a touch, a shared silence—became imbued with profound meaning. your heart swelled, enraptured by the beauty of connection, and your soul reveled in the comfort of knowing and being known.

as the days passed, those gentle threads of attachment intertwined, forming an intricate tapestry. each shared experience, each memory, added a new thread, strengthening the bond and deepening the sense of unity. it was a masterpiece of human emotion, a testament to the power of connection that filled your heart with warmth and light. the world felt richer, more vibrant, as if seen through a lens that sharpened every detail and amplified every sensation. but attachment, for all its beauty, carried a darker undertone. like a vine creeping up the side of a grand old mansion, it began to strangle, its grip tightening imperceptibly. what was once a source of joy and comfort transformed into a source of anxiety and fear. the delicate balance between freedom and dependence tipped, and your heart, once light and free, grew heavy with the weight of expectation and longing.

In this duality lay the true peril of attachment. It was a slow, insidious poison, sweet in its initial taste but deadly as it coursed through your veins. The same connection that brought life and color could, in an instant, become a noose, choking the very essence of the self. Your mind became consumed with thoughts of the other, every moment apart a silent torment, every slight perceived as a dagger to the heart.

you loved attachment. you loved love. the depth of your emotions was a wellspring of inspiration, each feeling a stroke of color, a line in a sketch, a form in a block of clay. you embraced your emotions, delving into their depths because they breathed life into your art. sculpting and painting were your lifelines, your way of interpreting the world and expressing the inexpressible. you found beauty in every raw edge, every shade of shadow and light, every curve and angle that made up the diverse tapestry of art. art was your sanctuary, a realm where diversity reigned supreme. each piece, whether a painting or a sculpture, told a unique story, resonated with a distinct voice. you loved the freedom it granted, the way it allowed you to channel your deepest feelings into something tangible, something that could be seen and touched. the fluidity of art mirrored the fluidity of your emotions, capturing the fleeting, the ephemeral, and the eternal in one breathtaking sweep.

what you didn't love, was attending your boyfriend's opening art show to show your support, only to find yourself standing in front of what he deemed his masterpiece. the centerpiece of the entire exhibit was a sculpture of you, rendered in painstaking detail, nude, in a scandalous position. the marble gleamed under the gallery lights, every curve and line of your body exposed for the world to see. jackson saw it as a pinnacle of his artistic achievement, a celebration of your form and your intimacy. he looked at it with pride, his eyes shining with the fervor of creation. but to you, it was a betrayal, a public humiliation. every whisper, every gaze, felt like a thousand needles piercing your skin, stripping away your dignity layer by layer. the room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing inward as the weight of judgment and exposure crushed your spirit.

you couldn't breathe. the air was thick, suffocating, filled with the murmurs of the onlookers and the indifferent hum of the gallery. your chest tightened, panic rising as your eyes darted around for an escape. you felt the sting of tears, hot and unforgiving, blurring your vision. without thinking, you turned and ran, the murmurs growing louder, more accusing, as you fled the gallery. you ran until your legs burned, until your breath came in ragged gasps, until the noise and the lights of the gallery were far behind you. you stumbled onto a set of stairs, collapsing onto them, your strength spent. the world around you faded into a blur, and you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body.

the cold stone of the steps pressed against your skin, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. you cried for the trust that had been broken, for the exposure you hadn't asked for, for the art that had turned against you. you had loved attachment, had loved love, had embraced every emotion because it allowed you to create. but in that moment, it felt like those very emotions were tearing you apart, leaving you raw and vulnerable, exposed to the harsh judgment of the world.

your tears flowed freely, each one a testament to the pain and the betrayal you felt. the love you had cherished, the attachment you had valued, seemed like cruel mockeries, twisting the knife deeper into your heart. you had poured your soul into your art, into your relationship, only to have it thrown back at you in the most brutal of ways. and so you cried, the steps becoming your sanctuary, the darkness of the night offering a cold, indifferent comfort as you wept for the love and the attachment that had led you to this moment of utter despair.

jackson trailed behind you, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the cold night air. when he found you on the steps, crumpled and broken, he paused, his silhouette stark against the dim streetlights. for a moment, he simply watched, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you crying, your body wracked with sobs. the indifference in his gaze was chilling, a sharp contrast to the tenderness you had once believed existed between you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “causing a scene like that in the middle of my show?” you looked up, your face streaked with tears, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “you humiliated me,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “you’ve shit all over my reputation.”

his eyes flashed with anger and disdain. “you have no idea what art is,” he spat. “you’re clueless. that sculpture was a masterpiece, a celebration of you, and you just made a fool of yourself and me.” his words struck you like physical blows, each one harder than the last. you struggled to find your voice, to make him understand the depth of your hurt. “it wasn’t art,” you whispered. “it was a betrayal. you exposed me to everyone, without my consent, without even thinking about how i would feel.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. “you’re overreacting. you always do. that piece was about beauty, about vulnerability. you’re just too blind to see it.”

with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you alone on the steps, your tears flowing freely once more. the echo of his footsteps faded into the night, leaving a void where his presence had been. you felt as if the ground had opened up beneath you, swallowing you in a chasm of despair and betrayal. you knew what art was. art was your lifeblood, your passion, your way of making sense of the world. you understood its power, its ability to evoke emotions and provoke thought. nevertheless, in that moment, you realized you had forgotten what love was. love wasn’t supposed to feel like that. it wasn’t supposed to leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable, abandoned and broken.

the steps were cold and unforgiving beneath you, a cruel reminder of the harsh reality you found yourself in. the night pressed in around you, its silence a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your heart. you had loved him, had believed in the connection you shared, but now it felt like a cruel joke, a painful illusion. you sat there, your face buried in your hands, trying to piece together the fragments of your shattered heart. the art you had loved, the emotions you had cherished, all seemed tainted now, twisted by the betrayal you had experienced. you had thought you understood love, had believed in its beauty and its power, but now it felt like a distant memory, something you couldn’t quite grasp.

and so you cried, the tears falling silently as you tried to make sense of the pain, the betrayal, the loss. you cried for the love that had turned into a weapon, for the art that had been twisted into something cruel. you cried for the trust that had been broken, and for the heart that had been shattered. in the quiet of the night, you felt the weight of your emotions, their depth and their intensity. you had loved deeply, had felt every emotion with a fervor that fueled your art. but in that moment, on those cold steps, you felt the sharp sting of love’s betrayal, and the emptiness it left behind.

the night wore on, the stars glittering coldly above, indifferent to your pain. and as you sat there, alone and broken, you realized that while you understood art, you had forgotten what love truly was. it wasn’t the grand gestures or the passionate declarations. it was the quiet moments of understanding, the gentle touch of reassurance, the unspoken bond that held two hearts together. you had forgotten that love was supposed to heal, not hurt. it was supposed to uplift, not tear down. and in that moment, you vowed to remember, to never let anyone make you forget again. the tears continued to fall, but beneath them, a resolve began to form, a determination to reclaim the love and the art that were rightfully yours, to find the strength to rise from the ashes of your heartbreak and create anew.

the club was a throbbing pulse of music and light, a sanctuary for those seeking to drown their sorrows or celebrate fleeting moments of joy. you found yourself there, the need to escape the pain and humiliation driving you to its neon embrace. the air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and anticipation, each beat of the music resonating through your body like a heartbeat. you made your way to the bar, ordering a drink to numb the ache in your chest. the liquid was a fiery solace, burning down your throat and spreading warmth through your veins. one drink turned into another, and another, as you tried to drink the night away, to forget the betrayal, the hurt, the sculpture that had stripped you bare in more ways than one.

but as the air grew tighter and the room spun slightly with the haze of alcohol, you felt the need for a moment of clarity, of fresh air. you stepped outside, the cool night air a contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the club. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a box of cigarettes, your fingers fumbling as you searched for your lighter. It was gone, lost in the chaos of the night.

“fuck,” you muttered quietly, frustration boiling over. as you looked up, you saw a man standing nearby, a smile playing on his lips as he flicked his lighter open. the small flame danced in the darkness, casting a warm glow on his face. “need a light?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm, like a balm to your frayed nerves.

you nodded, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “yeah, thanks.” he stepped closer, the flame catching the tip of your cigarette. you inhaled deeply, the smoke curling into your lungs and bringing a strange sense of calm. as you exhaled, he cracked a joke, something about fate bringing a cigarette and a lighter together. you laughed, the sound surprising you with its lightness.

he lit his own cigarette, taking a drag as he turned slightly, giving you a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of his neck—a butterfly, delicate and intricate, its wings poised as if ready to take flight. “that’s a beautiful tattoo,” you said, your eyes tracing the lines of the butterfly. he glanced back at you, a faint smile touching his lips. “thanks. i like butterflies. got a few of them at home.”

“they’re beautiful,” you admitted, the honesty in your voice surprising even you. “especially monarch butterflies. there’s something about them that’s just mesmerizing.” he didn’t respond immediately, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out a marker. taking your hand gently, he began to draw, the marker’s tip gliding over your skin. when he finished, he held up your wrist, showing you the butterfly he had drawn there—a monarch, its wings spread wide in a silent declaration of beauty and freedom.

“now you have a butterfly of your own,” he said, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of warmth. “to remind you of their beauty.”

you looked at the butterfly on your wrist, a smile forming on your lips. it was a small gesture, but it held a world of meaning, a moment of connection that pierced through the haze of pain and alcohol. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the city’s distant hum. he nodded, a silent smile on his face, before turning and walking back into the club, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the butterfly on your wrist. the night seemed a little less dark, the weight of your emotions a little lighter.

as you stood there, the cigarette burning slowly between your fingers, you felt a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, beauty could still be found. the butterfly was a symbol, a promise that you could find your way back to the love and the art that had always been your sanctuary. you took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke swirling around you like a protective veil. the club’s music thumped in the background, a distant reminder of the chaos you had escaped. but in this moment, with the butterfly on your wrist and the memory of a stranger’s kindness, you felt a small but significant shift within you.

the next day, you found solace in the familiar embrace of your studio. the room was filled with the quiet hum of creativity, the soft scraping of tools against clay, the muted whispers of students deep in their work. your hands moved deftly over the surface of your sculpture, the tactile sensation of the material grounding you, offering a brief respite from the emotional turmoil that still lingered from the night before. your fingers traced the curves and lines, each motion a silent meditation, an attempt to channel the chaos inside you into something tangible, something beautiful. the sculpture began to take shape, a reflection of your innermost thoughts and feelings, an expression of the vulnerability and strength that intertwined within you.

as you lost yourself in the rhythm of your work, the studio door creaked open, and your friend poked her head in. jihyo was a vibrant presence, her energy infectious, and her smile always managing to brighten the darkest of days. “hey, you,” she called, waving you over. “let's step out for a smoke. you look like you need a break.”

you hesitated, your hands still covered in clay, but her insistence was hard to resist. with a sigh, you wiped your hands and followed her out, the studio door closing softly behind you. the fresh air was a welcome change, and the courtyard was quiet, a peaceful oasis amidst the bustling campus. jihyo handed you a cigarette, and you lit it, the familiar act bringing a semblance of calm. she leaned against the wall, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. “alright, spill it. what’s bugging you?”

you took a drag of your cigarette, the smoke curling around you. “jackson and i broke up,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. her eyes widened in surprise. “what? when? what happened?”

you recounted the events of the previous night, the betrayal and humiliation still raw in your mind. as you spoke, her expression shifted from shock to anger.

“he did what?” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “that sick son of a bitch, how could he think that was okay?” you shrugged, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “he called it art. i called it betrayal. we saw things differently.”

jihyo shook her head, her anger palpable. “you deserve so much better than that. he had no right to expose you like that.” as she spoke, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the man from the previous night. he was walking by, his posture relaxed, but his eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. the recognition in his gaze mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment you had experienced.

he seemed as shocked as you were, but he recovered quickly, a smile tugging at his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, the memory of his kindness a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. “hey, jihyo,” you said, nudging her gently and nodding in his direction. “do you know who that is?”

she followed your gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of him. “oh, that’s jeon jungkook. he works in the building department. total slut, though. you should keep your distance.” her words were blunt, her tone dismissive, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity. jungkook glanced back at you once more before continuing on his way, the smile still lingering on his face. you watched him go, the memory of his smile and the butterfly he had drawn on your wrist vivid in your mind.

you nodded absently, still watching him from a distance. “yeah, sure. i’ll keep that in mind.” as the two of you finished your cigarettes and headed back to the studio, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was different from the way jihyo described him. there was a gentleness in his eyes, a quiet kindness that intrigued you. you didn’t know what the future held, but for now, the memory of his smile and the butterfly on your wrist gave you a small glimmer of hope, a reminder that beauty and kindness could still be found, even in the most unexpected places.

back in the studio, you lost yourself once more in the clay, the rhythm of your movements a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. each touch, each stroke of your tools, was an act of creation, a way to channel the tumult of emotions into something tangible. the world outside the studio faded away, leaving only the quiet hum of creativity and the comforting solidity of your sculpture.

the creak of the door barely registered in your focused state. it wasn’t until you sensed a presence directly in front of you that you looked up, your hands pausing mid-motion. there he was, jeon jungkook, the man from the night before, sitting casually on a stool, his eyes bright with curiosity and amusement. he smiled, a warm, easy smile that seemed to light up the room. “you work with such intensity,” he remarked, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. “it’s really impressive.”

“thanks,” you replied, your mind flashing back to jihyo’s warning about him. you tried to keep your expression neutral, though his unexpected presence had thrown you off balance.

his gaze drifted to your wrist, where the butterfly he had drawn still lingered. “the butterfly is still there,” he noted with a hint of satisfaction. you looked down at the delicate sketch, a small smile tugging at your lips. “yeah, seems like she likes it there.”

“she does,” he agreed, a playful glint in his eye. “but i think she’d like a drink more. would you wanna grab one with me?” for a moment, you hesitated, jihyo’s words echoing in your mind: ��total slut, though. you should keep your distance.” but there was something about him, something that intrigued you. his easy confidence, his unexpected kindness from the night before—curiosity got the better of you.

“sure,” you said, nodding. “i'd like that.” his smile widened, and he stood, offering his hand to help you up. his touch was warm, steadying you as you wiped the clay from your hands. the studio felt different now, charged with a new energy, as you left with him, the door closing softly behind you.

as you and him left walked, the conversation continued to flow effortlessly between you. the city lights cast a warm glow on the streets, and the night air was crisp, a perfect backdrop for the unexpected connection forming between you. “so, why have i never seen you around before?” jungkook asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as you walked side by side.

you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “i’m usually in the sculpting department. it’s a bit tucked away, not many people venture there unless they have a reason to.” his eyes lit up with interest. “sculpting, huh? that’s pretty cool. i’ve always wanted to try it, but my parents insisted on something more practical. hence, the building department.”

you glanced at him, curiosity piqued. “you should chase your own freedom,” you said earnestly. “do what makes you happy.” he chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. “all i chase is freedom. it’s a problem, really. but it’s why i resonate with butterflies so much. they’re the ultimate symbol of freedom and transformation.” you walked in comfortable silence for a moment, contemplating his words. jungkook’s outlook on life was refreshing, a stark contrast to the rigid expectations that had been imposed on you by others.

as you approached the bar, the lively atmosphere enveloped you. jungkook led you to a section of the room dedicated to dart throwing. the area was bustling with energy, the sound of laughter and friendly competition filling the air. “ever played darts before?” he asked, picking up a dart and spinning it expertly between his fingers. you shook your head, feeling a bit out of your element. “no, i’ve never tried it.”

he grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “well, it’s time you learned.” he turned to the dartboard, aiming with practiced ease and throwing the dart. It hit the center perfectly, a bullseye. “show-off,” you teased, impressed by his skill. he laughed, handing you a dart. “come on, give it a shot. i’ll help you.”

you took the dart, feeling a bit unsure. jungkook moved behind you, his presence close and comforting. he placed one arm gently around your waist, guiding your hand with the other. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. “just relax,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “focus on the target.”

with his guidance, you raised your arm and threw the dart. it flew straight, hitting the middle of the board. you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. there was a shared moment of triumph and connection, your heart fluttering at the intensity of his gaze. “see? you’ve got it,” he said softly, a proud smile lighting up his face.

you couldn’t help but smile back, the feeling of accomplishment mingling with a growing sense of attraction. for the rest of the evening, you played a few more rounds, each throw bringing you closer, both physically and emotionally. the drinks flowed, the conversation deepened, and laughter punctuated the night. as the night drew to a close, he insisted on walking you home. the streets were quieter now, the city settling into a peaceful rhythm. when you reached your doorstep, he turned to face you, his expression tender.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said, his voice sincere. “thank you for joining me.”

“me too,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you. “i’m glad i came.” he stepped closer, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. the simple gesture was filled with warmth and affection, sending a rush of emotions through you.

“good night,” he whispered, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. you watched him walk off into the night, your heart fluttering in your chest. the evening had been unexpected, a whirlwind of emotions and connections that left you feeling both exhilarated and introspective. as you turned to enter your home, you couldn’t help but smile, the memory of his kiss still warm on your skin.

the morning sun filtered through the trees as you walked to your campus with jihyo. the campus was beginning to stir with activity, the hustle of students preparing for the day ahead. the air was filled with the familiar sounds of footsteps, chatter, and the distant hum of city life. jihyo made sure to get a headstart, indulging in her morning vape, the sweet aroma curling around you as you walked side by side. she passed the vape to you, and you took a slow drag, savoring the fleeting tranquility before the day's demands took over. you exhaled, the vapor mingling with the crisp morning air.

as you continued your walk, you recounted the events of the previous night, your voice animated as you described jungkook’s unexpected kindness and the enjoyable evening you had shared. she listened intently, though her expression remained skeptical, her brows furrowing in concern. “and then,” you finished, handing the vape back to her, “he walked me home and gave me a kiss on the forehead. it was really sweet.”

she took a long drag, her eyes narrowing slightly. “it sounds like you had a nice time, but—” she exhaled a cloud of vapor, “—you’re playing with fire, you know that?” you raised an eyebrow, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice. “come on, ji. you’re being way too judgmental. he's not like that, he's different.”

she gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. “i’m just saying, be careful. you don’t know him that well yet.”

you were about to respond when you both froze mid-step. your gaze followed jihyo’s, and you saw him up ahead on the sidewalk. your heart skipped a beat, but this time, he wasn’t alone. he was walking with another girl, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. they seemed at ease with each other, sharing an intimate, comfortable closeness. jihyo glanced at you, her expression a mixture of sympathy and concern. “well,” she said softly, “i guess i wasn’t wrong.”

you stood there, feeling the weight of her words. the sight of jungkook with someone else was a jarring contrast to the warmth you had felt the previous night. it was as if the bubble of the evening’s enchantment had burst, leaving you to confront a reality that you had momentarily ignored.

the girl beside jungkook looked at him with a smile, and he responded with a tender gaze. it was a simple, yet intimate exchange that spoke volumes. the contrast between last night’s connection and this morning’s reality was stark, and you felt a pang of disappointment. jihyo’s hand rested gently on your shoulder, her voice comforting. “i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to rub it in. i just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

you nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “i know. it’s just, i thought there was something real there. maybe i was wrong.” jihyo sighed, taking another drag from her vape. “you weren’t wrong to feel what you felt, just be cautious. sometimes people aren’t as straightforward as they seem.”

you watched as jungkook and the girl walked further down the street, their figures eventually disappearing from view. the sight had left you feeling unsettled, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. the confidence you had felt the night before now seemed fragile, overshadowed by the uncertainty of this new revelation.

as you and jihyo resumed your walk, the campus loomed ahead, its familiar buildings a reminder of the routine and responsibilities awaiting you. the conversation shifted to other topics, but the weight of the morning’s encounter lingered, a reminder that even fleeting connections could carry unexpected complexities. you couldn’t help but reflect on his words about freedom and butterflies, wondering how they fit into this new, unsettling reality. the morning had started with promise but had given way to a reality that was less clear-cut, leaving you to navigate the delicate balance between hope and caution.

the studio was a sanctuary of focused energy and creative chaos. you found solace in the rhythm of your hands working the clay, shaping it with deliberate precision. each stroke was a meditative practice, allowing you to channel your thoughts and emotions into the art before you. jihyo, her boyfriend, and his sister had settled nearby. minho was absorbed in his own project, while jihyo and minyoung chatted softly, their voices a comforting background hum. the three of them had a natural camaraderie that brought a sense of ease to the studio. minyoung’s laughter rang out occasionally, a bright and cheerful sound that contrasted with the solemnity of your own concentration.

as you sculpted, your thoughts drifted back to jungkook. the image of him walking with another girl played over in your mind, like a record stuck on repeat. the warmth of last night seemed distant now, replaced by the chill of reality. you tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the form taking shape in your hands. minyoung’s voice broke through your reverie. “hey, we’re planning to head over to ji’s place tonight for a little get-together. we’re gonna have some drinks and hang out with a few friends from campus. you should come.”

you looked up, momentarily distracted from your work. “that sounds fun,” you said, though your voice betrayed a hint of reluctance. the idea of socializing was appealing, but the thought of seeing jungkook again—especially in a group setting—left you feeling unsettled. jihyo noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring smile. “come on, it’ll be good for you. you’ve had a rough couple of days. a change of scenery might help you feel better.”

uou nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, i guess you’re right. i’ll come.” minyoung’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “great! it’ll be nice to hang out and unwind. we’re all looking forward to it.”

as the conversation shifted back to other topics, you tried to immerse yourself in the rhythm of sculpting once more. the tactile sensation of the clay beneath your fingers was grounding, a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions. despite your efforts, your mind kept returning to Jungkook. the casual intimacy you had witnessed, the way he had interacted with the girl—every detail seemed to replay itself in your thoughts. jihyo and minho were absorbed in their conversation with minyoung, their voices a blend of excitement and lightheartedness. Occasionally, jihyo would glance over at you, her expression a mix of concern and encouragement. her presence was a reminder of the friendship and support you had, even when things felt uncertain.

the minutes ticked by as you worked, the sculpting process a meditative balm for your frayed nerves. each detail you added to your piece was a small victory, a way to reclaim a sense of control amidst the emotional turbulence. when the end of the class approached, you felt a mixture of relief and anticipation. the prospect of the evening’s gathering offered a potential escape from the weight of your thoughts, a chance to immerse yourself in the company of friends and let the worries of the past few days drift away.

jihyo and minho packed up their things, and you followed suit, feeling a sense of camaraderie as you prepared to leave the studio. minyoung chatted animatedly about the evening’s plans, her enthusiasm infectious despite the lingering doubts in your mind. as you walked out of the studio and headed toward the campus exit, jihyo fell into step beside you. her presence was comforting, a reminder of the support you had. “remember,” she said softly, “tonight’s about relaxing and having a good time. don’t let your worries overshadow it.”

you nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped into the vibrant energy of the campus. the evening ahead held the promise of distraction and connection, a chance to shift your focus and enjoy the company of friends. as you walked alongside jihyo and minho, you tried to embrace the hope that tonight might bring a welcome reprieve from the storm of emotions you had been navigating. the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the campus as you made your way to her place. with each step, you hoped for a sense of relief and a chance to momentarily escape the complexities of your thoughts.

the evening's promise of relief and distraction dissolved like smoke as you stepped into jihyo’s house. the warmth and laughter that greeted you were abruptly overshadowed by the sight of jungkook among the group of people already there. the room was buzzing with energy, the clinking of bottles and the murmur of conversation filling the air.

jihyo’s cheerful greeting faltered as her gaze locked onto jungkook. she snapped her neck to minho, a look of surprise and irritation crossing her face. “i didn’t know you’d invited jungkook too,” she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge. minho raised his hands defensively, a sheepish grin on his face. “i had no idea there was tension. i thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

you stood there, frozen in the doorway, feeling a chill seep into the warmth of the room. jungkook’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a silent acknowledgment of the situation. his smile faltered slightly when he noticed your lack of reciprocation, the tension between you palpable.

jihyo guided you into the room, her demeanor shifting to one of concern. whe led you to a circle on the floor where the others were already settling in. minho produced bottles of soju, his enthusiasm for the evening evident as he set them down and suggested starting a drinking game. the game began with a lively energy. the group’s laughter and teasing filled the space, but you found it difficult to engage. as the rounds progressed, the questions and challenges became increasingly daring. mina, one of the other girls, challenged jihyo to either take her top off or drink. just as she was about to comply, minho interjected, suggesting she down an entire bottle instead. the room erupted in laughter, a sound that felt distant and hollow to you.

jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching for a reaction. you met his gaze briefly, your own expression unyielding. the game continued around you, the atmosphere growing more frenetic and less comfortable.

jihyo’s eyes sparkled with a new idea as she turned to him, her voice carrying a playful tone. “jungkook, your turn. kiss the prettiest girl in the room or take a drink.” the challenge seemed to electrify the room. his eyes flickered to you once more, his expression a mix of resolve and anticipation. he reached for the bottle of soju, his fingers brushing its neck, before setting it down with a decisive motion. without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the room erupted in cheers, the sound washing over you in a wave of unwanted attention. jungkook pulled away, his smile radiant and expectant, but you remained unmoved. your eyes were cool, indifferent. the kiss, meant to be playful or provocative, felt hollow and forced. the jubilation of the room contrasted sharply with your own feelings. you took a swig from the soju bottle, the liquid burning as it went down. the alcohol did little to numb the sting of the evening’s events. with a heavy sigh, you excused yourself from the circle and walked toward the door.

as you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you with a sharp, refreshing clarity. the sky above was dotted with stars, a serene contrast to the chaos you had just left behind. you fumbled with your cigarette box, fingers trembling slightly as you retrieved a cigarette. with a practiced motion, you lit it and inhaled deeply, the smoke curling around you in a calming haze. the solitude of the outdoor space provided a temporary refuge from the din inside. uou leaned against the wall, the cigarette between your fingers a small anchor in the storm of your thoughts. the kiss from jungkook had left you unsettled, and the evening’s veneer of camaraderie had revealed a deeper undercurrent of discomfort and disconnection.

as you stood there, lost in thought, the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party inside seemed faint and distant. the cool breeze carried away the heat of the moment, leaving you with a sense of clarity and resolve. you had come seeking relief, but instead had confronted a reality that was as complex and unpredictable as ever. the cigarette burned down slowly, the embers glowing softly in the night. you finished it with a deep, contemplative drag, savoring the quiet before re-entering the fray of the evening. with a final exhale, you flicked the spent cigarette away and prepared to face whatever the rest of the night might hold.

the night air had a crisp bite to it, a contrast to the clamor of the party inside. you were about to step back into the house, hoping to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, when a shadow fell across your path. you looked up, only to find jungkook standing there, his presence as sudden as it was unexpected.

he leaned down slightly, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. his smile was disarming, and his voice carried a playful tone as he spoke. “why’ve you been so cold to me?” he asked, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

you scoffed, the earlier tension bubbling back to the surface. “why don’t you ask your friend from this morning?” you shot back, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

his laughter was soft and warm, cutting through the chill of the night. “soel? oh, she’s just a friend. nothing more,” he said, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand. his words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned and silent. the embarrassment of your earlier jealousy washed over you like a tide, coloring your cheeks with a faint blush. he seemed to sense your discomfort and offered a reassuring smile. “don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice gentle. “jealousy looks good on you, by the way.”

your heart skipped a beat at his comment, a flush of heat spreading across your face. the candidness of his words, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made it difficult to maintain your composure. flustered, you looked away, struggling to regain your equilibrium. before you could fully gather yourself, his presence at your side felt oddly comforting. he matched your pace as you turned back toward the house, trailing behind you with a casual, easy stride. the sound of the party inside grew louder as you approached the door, the energy of the gathering spilling out into the hallway.

the night’s revelry had left you intoxicated and unsteady on your feet. the laughter and music from downstairs seemed to blend into a distant hum as you made your way up to jihyo’s room. the stairwell wobbled slightly under your steps, each ascent feeling like an effort as you navigated the dizzying effects of the evening’s drinks. when you finally reached her room, you stumbled through the door and collapsed onto her bed. the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a gentle light across the space. the bed felt like a comforting refuge as you sank into its embrace, your head spinning pleasantly from the alcohol.

as you rested, the door creaked open, and you heard the shuffling of footsteps approaching. your hazy vision slowly made out jungkook’s figure as he stumbled into the room, equally inebriated but with a purposeful gait. he looked around, his eyes finally landing on you with a mix of concern and amusement.

“what are you doing here?” you managed to ask, your voice a bit slurred. the question hung in the air, mingling with the scent of alcohol and the faint scent of perfume. his smile was lopsided, his gaze soft as he settled down on the bed beside you. “i came to check on you,” he said, his voice carrying a soothing warmth that contrasted with the cool night air.

your heart fluttered at his words, a sensation that felt both thrilling and disorienting. as he sat next to you, his presence was comforting and reassuring, an anchor amidst the swirl of emotions you were feeling. he looked at you with a gentle smile, his eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance.

“you’re just as pretty drunk as you are sober,” he said, his tone affectionate and teasing. the compliment made you blush deeper, and you instinctively raised your hands to cover your face. “my makeup must be a mess,” you mumbled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. jungkook shook his head with a soft chuckle, his movements deliberate and careful. “makeup is just art, and you can't mess up art,” he said, his voice tender as he leaned in closer. his face was inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. his fingers gently traced the lines of your face, his touch light as he began to wipe away the smudges of makeup from under your eyes.

the intimacy of the moment seemed to stretch and contract, a space filled with a growing anticipation. jungkook’s gaze held yours, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that matched the softness of his touch. the distance between you closed, the world outside the room fading into insignificance.

when his lips finally met yours, the kiss was hot and heavy, a potent mix of desire and need. it was a kiss that spoke volumes, expressing the unspoken feelings and the intoxicated passion that had been simmering beneath the surface. his lips moved against yours with an intensity that made your heart race, the kiss deepening with every passing second.

as the kiss deepened, the rest of the world seemed to dissolve into a blur. the music from downstairs, the laughter, the people—it all became a distant echo compared to the closeness of his embrace. the kiss was a shared moment of escape, a brief interlude where nothing else mattered but the connection between you and him. “if we continue,” he murmured, his hot breath grazing your lips. “i won't be able to stop myself.”

his eyes searched yours for consent, and even though you were tipsy, you knew exactly what you were doing. with a nod, you let yourself indulge in it, the anticipation building with every step. the room was dimly lit, with the occasional flicker from the candle casting shadows on the walls. the smell of the candle, something sweet and exotic, filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne. jungkook closed the door behind you, and in that instant, the outside world was forgotten.

once on the bed, your bodies became a tangled mess of limbs and passion. his hands were everywhere, tracing the lines of your body with a hunger that was almost desperate. you felt his tattoo flutter against your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled at his shirt, eager to feel his bare skin against yours. the fabric gave way, revealing his toned abs and the tattoo that was inked into the flesh at the base of his neck—a delicate monarch, its wings unfurling in an intricate dance.

his mouth found yours again, and the kiss grew more urgent. your hands fumbled with the buttons of his pants, and he groaned when you finally slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hard length. he reciprocated, tugging at the hem of your dress, eager to explore what lay beneath. as the fabric was pushed aside, his eyes widened at the sight of your lacy underwear. “fuck,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. “so fucking dirty.”

his words were a heady mix of praise and demand, sending a rush of heat to your core. your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. the coolness of the room hit your skin, making your nipples pebble with excitement. his eyes roamed over you, and you felt exposed, but in the best way possible. his hands followed the path of his gaze, cupping your tits and gently rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. a soft moan escaped your lips, and he took it as an invitation to lean in and suck one into his mouth. the sensation was electric, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

his hands moved down to the waistband of your underwear, and with a quick motion, he slid them down your legs. you felt a moment of vulnerability, but it was quickly overshadowed by the desire coursing through your veins. jungkook kissed along your stomach, making his way down to the apex of your thighs. his tongue flicked out, teasing your clit, and you gripped the bed sheets tightly. “oh, god,” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper.

his eyes never left yours as he positioned himself over you, his own pants discarded on the floor. he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on. even in the dim light, you could see the intensity in his gaze, the raw need that mirrored your own. “are you sure?” he asked, his voice gruff with lust.

you nodded, and it was all he yearned for as he entered you. the feeling was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping. he paused, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move. his thrusts were deep and slow at first, his eyes never leaving yours as he whispered filthy words in your ear, urging you to let go.

you did, moaning his name as you wrapped your legs around his waist. your hands dug into his back, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he moved. your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that had been searching for their match. the bed rocked gently under you, the rhythmic sound mixing with your ragged breaths and the slap of skin on skin.

you lost track of time as you both chased the high of climax. his dirty talk grew more intense, and your responses grew louder. it was a dance of dominance and submission, each of you pushing the other closer to the edge. when you finally reached it, your body convulsed around him, and you called out his name like a prayer. jungkook followed shortly after, his dick twitching as if it was his first time.

the morning light filtered through the curtains with a muted glow, casting a soft, hazy light across jihyo’s room. you stirred from sleep, the warmth of the bed a stark contrast to the chill of the previous night. as you slowly regained consciousness, your eyes fell upon the scene beside you. jungkook laid there, his presence so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. the shocking realization hit you as you took in the sight of him naked beside you.

panic surged through you as fragmented memories of the night before flickered in your mind. the kiss, the heat, the intensity—all of it came crashing back. the vividness of those moments left you feeling both disoriented and mortified. with trembling hands, you scrambled to gather your clothes, hastily dressing as you tried to make sense of the chaos.

in a frantic rush, you stumbled out of the room and down the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. the house was still quiet, save for the soft murmurs of the early morning. wgen you reached the bottom, you were met with jihyo’s intense gaze. her expression was a mixture of concern and exasperation, a look that made you feel like you were about to face her wrath. “i could strangle you right now,” she said, her voice sharp and laced with an underlying tension. the threat in her words was softened only by the lack of her morning smoke, a ritual she hadn’t yet indulged in. you stood there, feeling a knot of fear tighten in your stomach. the scolding began, a tirade of reprimands that blended into a blur of guilt and embarrassment.

the weight of your actions pressed heavily upon you, and though you tried to focus on her words, your mind was elsewhere. the guilt of the night before, the uncertainty of what you had done, and the unanticipated consequences all swirled together in a disorienting mix. during class, her scolding continued, her frustration evident. you sat there, trying to stay composed as the minutes ticked by. the lecture on art and technique seemed distant, a backdrop to the internal turmoil you were experiencing. it was only when a familiar face appeared that you were jolted from your reverie.

the girl who had been with jungkook the previous morning walked in and took a seat with you and jihyo. she greeted you with a polite smile, and as she settled in, she mentioned needing help with her sculpture. you gave her your notes, watching her as she began to work with the clay, your mind still reeling from the events of the night. as she sculpted, your gaze inadvertently fell to her wrist. there, clearly visible, was a drawing of a monarch butterfly.

the sight of it sent a jolt through you, your stomach twisting in a sickening churn. the connection hit you like a physical blow, and the room seemed to spin around you. you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from the drawing that mirrored the one jungkook had drawn on you. unable to stay any longer, you excused yourself, the rush of emotions and physical discomfort becoming too overwhelming to ignore. you hurried to the bathroom, the need to escape the situation pressing heavily on you. once inside, you leaned over the sink and, overwhelmed by a combination of betrayal, hangover, and emotional turmoil, you began to vomit. each heave felt like it was ripping something deeper inside of you, the physical pain amplifying the emotional distress.

as you clung to the sink, the cool porcelain against your forehead offering a small comfort, you were consumed by a storm of conflicting feelings. the events of the night had left their mark, and now, the stark reality of the situation was unfolding with cruel clarity. as you stepped out of the bathroom, the heaviness in your chest felt almost tangible. the earlier discomfort was still fresh, and you were hoping for a moment of peace. instead, the moment you emerged, you heard a voice calling for you. you turned, only to see jungkook walking towards you with a grin that seemed far too bright given the situation.

“running out without a goodbye kiss? that’s pure evil,” he said, his tone light and teasing. but as you met his gaze, you saw no trace of irony or humor—just a genuine, unfaltering smile that made your stomach churn once again.

you forced yourself to look him in the eyes, trying to steady your emotions. “i just talked to soel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “she has a butterfly tattoo on her wrist. the same one you drew on me.”

jungkook’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he seemed unfazed by your revelation. “oh, that? i draw that on all my friends,” he said nonchalantly. “why does it bug you?”

the casualness of his response left you reeling. you stared at him, feeling a cold wave of betrayal wash over you. “is that what i am to you? just a friend?” his reaction was almost mechanical. “yeah,” he said, shrugging slightly. “is that an issue for you?”

the simple, matter-of-fact way he spoke was like a punch to the gut. you were stunned, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. the realization that you had misinterpreted his intentions, that your emotions had been tangled in a misunderstanding, left you feeling hollow. without another word, you turned away, your heart racing and your mind clouded with a storm of betrayal and shock. you walked briskly, your steps echoing with a sense of finality as you left jungkook behind. the turmoil inside you was a jumbled mess, each step away from him only amplifying the confusion and hurt.

the campus was bustling with the usual midday energy as you joined jihyo, minho, and minyoung for lunch. you sat down at the table with them, the usual chatter and laughter around you feeling like a distant echo. as they talked animatedly about their day, you remained silent, the weight of the morning’s events heavy on your shoulders.

minho finally broke through the silence, noticing the way you said nothing. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle but concerned. the question was like a dam breaking. you tried to hold back the tears, but the effort proved futile. they spilled over, each drop a mix of frustration, sadness, and disappointment. the raw emotion that had been building up inside you was finally released, and you found yourself unable to stop the flood.

through your tears, you recounted the events of the night before—the drunken mistake, the disheartening conversation with jungkook, and the sting of betrayal. your voice trembled with each word, the hurt and confusion palpable as you shared your story.

as you spoke, you could see the shock and horror on their faces. minho’s eyes widened with disbelief, and minyoung’s expression turned to one of sympathy. but it was jihyo’s reaction that truly struck you. her face darkened with anger, and her eyes blazed with a fierce resolve. “might actually fucking kill him,” she said with a steely determination, her words delivered in a low, dangerous tone. the promise was almost soothing in its intensity, a sign of her fierce loyalty and anger on your behalf.

you shook your head, feeling a fresh wave of guilt wash over you. “no, don’t,” you managed to say between sobs. “it’s my fault. i was too trusting. i should have seen it coming.”

her expression softened as she reached out to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “don’t blame yourself,” she said firmly. “you didn’t do anything wrong. he’s the one who failed you. focus on yourself and your work. you deserve better than this.” but despite her reassurances, you found it difficult to shift your focus. jungkook’s smile, the way he had looked at you, the crushing realization of his indifference—all of it was still vividly etched in your mind. the pain of the betrayal felt like a persistent ache, a constant reminder of your misplaced trust and the emotional turmoil it had caused.

as lunch continued, you struggled to engage in the conversation. your mind kept drifting back to him, replaying the moments and words that had shattered your sense of stability. the comfort of jihyo’s words was overshadowed by the persistent sting of your own emotions. the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, the echoes of your thoughts louder than any external noise. the distraction of the campus environment did little to ease your turmoil, and the weight of your feelings continued to anchor you in a state of unresolved pain.

in the solitude of the studio, the air was heavy with the smell of clay and the faint traces of your exhaustion. the sculpture in front of you was nearly complete, a painstakingly crafted representation of a woman’s head—her expression a haunting blend of serenity and despair. the piece symbolized a submission to love that consumed and overwhelmed. her eyes were hollowed out, the sockets deep and dark, conveying an intense and tragic devotion. the gouged-out eyes were not merely a detail; they were the very essence of her surrender, the ultimate sacrifice for the one she loved.

your hands trembled slightly as you made the final adjustments, the weight of your own emotions interwoven with the piece. you took a step back to admire your work, your heart heavy with the sense of completion mingled with the burden of what it represented. the sculpture was a mirror to your own turbulent feelings, capturing the essence of devotion and its potential for destruction.

the quiet of the studio was suddenly disrupted by a voice behind you. “where are her eyes?” jungkook asked, his tone inquisitive yet casual. you stiffened, momentarily frozen by the intrusion. your gaze remained fixed on the sculpture, trying to compose yourself. “she gouged her eyes out,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of the sculpture’s meaning. “simply because her lover wanted her to. she would do anything for him.”

jungkook’s footsteps approached, and you felt him come closer, his presence a palpable force in the room. he stood behind you, his gaze fixed on the sculpture as he admired your work. “it’s a beautiful piece,” he said, his voice sincere but carrying an undercurrent of something else.

you kept your back to him, your attention focused on the sculpture, trying to ignore the effect his presence had on you. but then, you felt him press closer, his body nearly touching your back. he leaned in, his breath warm and tickling your ear as he gently pushed aside your hair. “are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper. you struggled to maintain your composure, the tension between you palpable. “i have no reason to be,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

you felt him smirk against your skin, the touch of his lips sending shivers down your spine. his kisses, light and teasing, trailed down your neck, each touch intensifying your internal conflict. “we shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured, your voice wavering. his breath was hot against your ear as he replied, “that’s what makes it so fun.”

your resistance wavered as he continued to kiss your neck, the pleasure mingling with your sense of guilt and confusion. You knew it was wrong, yet the allure of the moment was powerful. finally, you turned around to face him, the decision made despite your inner turmoil. you allowed him to kiss you, the contact both electrifying and disorienting.

the kiss was intense, a clash of emotions and desires that left you breathless. jungkook’s touch was both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the complications that had arisen between you. as you surrendered to the kiss, the studio’s quiet solitude seemed to collapse around you, leaving only the swirling mixture of passion and regret. in the midst of the embrace, the sculpture remained a silent witness, its hollow eyes a stark reminder of the emotional sacrifice and the consuming nature of love. the art piece and the reality of your feelings intertwined, creating a poignant reflection of the complicated interplay between desire and devotion.

his hands found their way to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you closer to him. you felt his arousal pressing against you, and despite your inner reservations, your body responded instinctively. the attraction was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to have a will of its own. his kiss grew deeper, more demanding, as his hands began to explore your body. your own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the muscles tighten beneath your touch. the fabric of your clothes felt like a barrier to the connection you both craved, and without a word, jungkook began to remove them. the anticipation grew as each layer fell away, revealing your skin to the cool studio air.

you found yourself bent over the sculpting table, jungkook’s hands tracing your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he whispered dirty words into your ear, his voice thick with desire, and you felt your knees wobble. the reality of the situation washed over you—the illicitness of it, the raw need you felt for each other—and you realized that this was what you had been craving, despite the guilt.

his fingers dipped lower, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped into his mouth. jungkook’s touch grew more insistent, and the sculpture beneath your palms seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your heart. you were no longer the artist—you were the art, being shaped and molded by his desires.

his hand slid away, and you heard the sound of his belt buckle. your heart raced as he positioned himself behind you, the tip of his erection teasing your entrance. “are you sure?” you managed to ask, the tremor in your voice betraying your nerves. “do you want me?” he replied, his voice a challenge. your body answered for you, arching back, begging for him to fill you. and with one powerful thrust, he did.

the sensation was overwhelming—his bare skin against yours, the heat of his body surrounding you. his grip tightened on your hips as he began to move, the rhythm punctuated by your moans and the slap of skin against skin. the intensity grew with each stroke, the pleasure a wildfire that consumed every rational thought. you could feel his breath on your neck, his voice a gruff whisper of praise and desire. your eyes closed, and the sculpture, the studio, the world outside—it all faded away, leaving only the two of you and the primal dance of your bodies.

his thrusts grew harder, deeper, as he claimed you from behind. the sculpture was forgotten, a symbol of a love that was now a tangible reality in the form of this explosive union. you reached back, your hand finding the base of his cock, and you felt his body tense with pleasure. the air was thick with passion, the scent of sex and clay a heady mix that intoxicated you both. jungkook’s movements grew erratic, and you knew he was close. with one final, powerful push, he reached his climax, his warmth filling you as he groaned your name.

you collapsed onto the table, spent and trembling, as jungkook leaned over you, his breath ragged. for a moment, there was only silence, the two of you trying to find your bearings in the aftermath of the storm.

but the quiet was broken by the sudden sound of the studio door opening, and you both froze. your eyes widened with panic, and jungkook’s grip on you tightened. “we can’t get caught,” you whispered, your heart racing with fear and excitement. he smirked, his eyes dark with mischief. “we won’t,” he assured you, his voice low and seductive. “not until we’re finished, anyway.” the tension grew as the footsteps grew louder, and jungkook began to move again, slower this time, his strokes long and deliberate. the game of hiding in plain sight was thrilling, a dangerous edge to the passion that had overtaken you both.

the newcomer to the studio called out a greeting, and his hand covered your mouth, muffling any sound you might make. you bit down on your lip, stifling a moan, as he continued to fuck you with an urgent need that seemed to defy the danger of being discovered. your heart hammered in your chest, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the fear of being caught.

his movements grew more deliberate, his hips grinding into yours with a silent rhythm that matched the beat of your racing pulse. you could feel the eyes of the sculpture on you, the hollow sockets seeming to judge you even as you writhed in pleasure beneath his touch. the footsteps grew closer, and his grip tightened. he leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispered, “be quiet, baby. come for me.” the words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you did as he asked, your orgasm building like a crescendo.

just as the person entered the room, you reached the peak, your body convulsing around jungkook’s cock. he groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your neck, and you clamped down on his hand to keep from crying out. the wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and exposed. his strokes grew shallower, his cock still hard and pulsing inside you. the footsteps stopped just outside the partition that separated the main studio from your makeshift private corner. the tension was unbearable, a tight coil of excitement and fear that made every nerve ending in your body feel alive.

his eyes locked with yours, and you saw the challenge in them. you knew he was enjoying this as much as he enjoyed the sex itself—the risk, the danger, the thrill of the secret. your breathing was ragged, your body still quaking from the orgasm that had torn through you, and yet you remained silent, waiting. the person in the room spoke, their voice muffled by the wall of clay that separated you. jungkook’s thrusts grew more gentle now, almost tender, as he slowly pulled out of you. you felt the warmth of his seed inside you, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

you both waited, your breaths syncing as the footsteps grew fainter, moving away from your hiding spot. once the room was empty again, jungkook leaned down to kiss you, his lips brushing yours with a softness that seemed at odds with the ferocity of your encounter. “see?” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “no one will ever know our little secret.”

you pushed him away gently, sitting up and adjusting your clothes. your mind was racing, a whirlwind of emotions—shame, exhilaration, fear of being found out. but there was also something else, a dark satisfaction that seemed to hum in the air.

the sculpture loomed before you, the woman’s expression now a reflection of your own complex feelings. jungkook pulled on his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. “we can’t do this again,” you said, the finality in your voice unmistakable. but as he zipped up his pants, the smug smile on his face told you that he didn’t believe you. and deep down, neither did you. the line had been crossed, and the taste of the forbidden was too sweet to ignore.

his eyes held a promise of more to come, and despite yourself, you felt your body respond. the next chapter of this illicit story was already being written, the plot thickening with every shared glance and stolen touch. and you knew that no matter how much you tried to resist, you would be drawn back into the tumultuous dance of desire and deceit that was your relationship with him.

as jungkook stepped out of the studio, his silhouette fading into the dim light of the hallway, you were left alone with the echo of his departure. you hastily pulled your clothes back on, your hands trembling uncontrollably. each movement was a struggle against the storm of emotions raging inside you.

the studio, once a sanctuary of creation, now felt like a cage closing in around you. the quiet was oppressive, amplifying the shattering of your composure. you fought to hold back the tears, but the effort proved futile. they began to fall, each drop a release of the turmoil you had been trying to suppress. you sank to the floor, your body trembling with the force of your sobs. the statue stood before you, its eyeless gaze a haunting reflection of your own despair. the sculpture, a representation of sacrifice and devotion, seemed to mock you now. its hollow eyes, gouged out as a symbol of surrender, mirrored the emptiness and heartbreak you felt inside.

unable to bear the sight, you were overcome by a furious, anguished energy. the intensity of your emotions erupted uncontrollably. you launched yourself at the statue, your hands and feet flailing as you knocked it over. the crash of clay against the floor was loud, a jarring sound that matched the violence of your grief. you kicked at the broken pieces, the fragments scattering across the studio floor. the destruction was cathartic yet devastating, a physical manifestation of the chaos within you. as the statue lay shattered, the pieces symbolized the fragmented state of your heart. each kick was a release, each broken shard a representation of your pain.

exhausted and overwhelmed, you slid down against the wall, the tears still flowing freely. the destruction of the sculpture had not lessened the weight of your sorrow. instead, it left you staring at the remnants, the once-beautiful work now reduced to a broken mess. you continued to cry, your body wracked with sobs as you gazed at the ruined statue. the eyeless gaze of the sculpture, now in fragments, seemed to reach out to you in a final, tragic understanding. the intense emotion of the piece was mirrored in your own shattered state. the studio, with its scattered pieces and your anguished cries, was a poignant testament to the overwhelming pain and anger you felt.

the contrast between the beauty of the sculpture and the violence of its destruction spoke to the raw intensity of your emotions. the studio, once a space of artistic expression, had become a stage for your most profound heartache. as you wept, the remnants of the statue lay around you, a somber reminder of the intricate connection between art, love, and the devastating effects of betrayal. in the end, as your sobs quieted and you sat amidst the broken pieces, the sight of the ruined sculpture served as a haunting reflection of your own emotional wreckage. the tears continued to fall, mingling with the clay fragments, a final, tragic testament to the depth of your despair.

as you gathered your belongings, the weight of the night’s events clung heavily to your shoulders. the studio, once a place of solace and creativity, now felt like a space of ruin and disillusionment. your hands moved mechanically, shoving your scattered materials into your bag. each motion was devoid of purpose, driven by a numbing emptiness rather than intent.

the soft sounds of your packing were abruptly interrupted by distant noises—low grunts and muffled groans—emanating from the studio down the hall. the sounds were raw and unsettling, a contrast to the quiet destruction you had left behind. your curiosity and dread compelled you to investigate, despite the turmoil within you.

you approached the door to the neighboring studio, its glass panel offering a distorted view into the dimly lit room. peering through, your heart sank as you recognized the scene unfolding inside. jungkook was there, engaged with a girl you couldn’t identify. the sight of them, entwined in an intimate and brutal display, was a dagger to your already fragile heart.

the cold reality of the moment was a sharp contrast to the warmth you had briefly experienced with him. you were paralyzed, unable to tear your gaze away from the scene before you. each grunt and moan was a reminder of your own vulnerability and the painful contrast between the connection you had felt and the stark betrayal unfolding before you. the sight of him with another, the passion and disregard apparent in their movements, left you feeling hollow. you had no tears left to shed; the emotional reservoir had been drained dry by the night's turmoil. the image of their bodies, entwined and fervent, was seared into your mind—a brutal symbol of your own sense of abandonment and betrayal.

turning away from the glass, you felt an eerie emptiness consume you. the world seemed to blur as you walked down the hallway, your steps heavy and unsteady. your mind was a void, a blank slate where thoughts and emotions once swirled with intensity. the encounter had left you drained, each step echoing with the weight of your disillusionment.

the cold air of the hallway seemed to press against you, a stark reminder of the isolation you felt. as you made your way home, the world around you was a distant haze. the vibrant life of the campus and the remnants of your art—the shattered statue, the chaotic emotions—faded into the background, leaving only the crushing emptiness of your thoughts. each step felt like a journey through fog, the clarity of the night’s events slipping away with each movement. the betrayal, the emotional wreckage, and the raw intensity of the moments you had witnessed had left you numb. you walked forward, but within, you remained frozen—trapped in the silence of your own heartache.

the sun rose reluctantly on the campus the next day, its light casting a dull glow through the classroom windows. you stumbled into your class, exhausted and hollow-eyed from a night spent in sleepless turmoil. the world outside felt distant, its vibrancy lost to you as you trudged through the motions of daily life. your movements were mechanical as you took your place among the scattered students. the studio, once a sanctuary of creativity, now felt foreign and unwelcoming. the empty canvas in front of you was a glaring testament to your lack of inspiration. the urge to sculpt, to create, was absent, replaced by a void of emotional fatigue and despair.

jihyo tried her best to offer comfort. her words were gentle, her presence a constant reassurance in the face of your turmoil. despite her efforts, the pain within you remained insurmountable. her attempts to console you seemed to fall short of reaching the deep chasm of your heartache. the betrayal and the haunting images from the previous night left you adrift, unable to focus or find solace.

the professor’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, announcing a new student would be joining the class. you barely registered his words, your mind elsewhere, wandering through the fog of your sleepless night. it wasn’t until you heard the shuffle of footsteps and the murmur of surprise among your peers that you looked up.

your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with the new student. it was jackson. the same jackson who had once been a part of your world, now standing before you with a familiar, if unwelcome, presence. the shock of seeing him in this context, amid your already tumultuous emotions, was almost too much to bear. he met your gaze with an expression that was a mixture of apprehension and resolve. the smile he once wore with ease now seemed strained, an acknowledgment of the shared past that had ended in such distressing terms. the air in the room felt charged, the atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. his arrival was a jarring reminder of old wounds, reopened with his unexpected reappearance.

you forced yourself to focus, trying to ignore the way your heart raced and the way your mind spun with fragmented memories of him. the professor introduced jackson, guiding him to a seat, and the room’s atmosphere shifted. the familiar face was a painful reminder of a time when things had been different, when trust and affection had colored your world.

jihyo, noticing the way your gaze lingered on him, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. you offered her a weak smile, her concern evident in her eyes. yet, despite her support, the emotional storm inside you remained uncalm. you felt as though you were caught in the eye of a hurricane, where the calm was an illusion masking the chaos within.

as jackson settled into his new spot, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. the familiarity of his presence, combined with the unresolved issues from your past, created a sense of disquiet. you tried to refocus on your work, but the blank canvas before you was a stark reminder of the numbness that had consumed your creativity. the rest of the class droned on, his presence a silent but heavy weight in the room. every glance in his direction felt like a step back into a storm you had barely escaped. your hands remained idle, the sculpting tools untouched as you struggled to regain some semblance of normalcy.

the day dragged on, each minute a reminder of the fractured pieces of your recent past. as the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the class, you gathered your things with a sense of resignation. the encounter with him had been a jarring disruption, but it was also a harsh reminder that the echoes of past relationships often resurface when least expected. you walked out of the classroom, your mind still clouded with the weight of your emotions. the campus, with its usual bustle of activity, felt distant and surreal. the familiar paths and faces seemed altered, as though you were navigating through a dream that had turned unsettlingly real.

the day seemed to drag endlessly as you walked out of the classroom, feeling the heavy weight of jackson’s unexpected reappearance. the campus, once a place of refuge and creativity, now felt like a labyrinth of memories and unresolved emotions. you walked with a purpose, desperate to escape the lingering sense of disquiet that his presence had stirred within you.

as you moved through the crowded hallways, lost in your thoughts, a voice called out to you, breaking through the fog of your mind. you turned slowly, your heart skipping a beat as you saw hin standing a few steps away. his expression was earnest, eyes filled with a mix of regret and hope. for a moment, you felt paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the reluctant desire to hear him out.

jackson took a hesitant step towards you, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist. the touch was light, almost pleading, and you could feel the warmth of his skin through your thin sleeve. his eyes were filled with an apologetic softness that seemed to convey a depth of remorse you hadn’t anticipated. “what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. you struggled to keep your emotions in check, the memory of the sculpture and the pain it had caused still fresh in your mind.

his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before he looked up again, his eyes meeting yours with a sincere gravity. “i wanted to focus solely on my work,” he said, his voice laced with an honesty that was both surprising and unsettling. “it’s been difficult since you left. i lost my muse.”

the words struck you with a sharp edge, stirring a storm of conflicting emotions within you. the image of the sculpture, the public humiliation, and the way he had dismissed your feelings—all of it came rushing back. you remembered the pain and betrayal that had clouded your heart.

“you don’t get to just come back and pretend like everything’s fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “you can’t erase what you did.”

his face fell, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “i know,” he said quietly. “and I’m sorry. i had the sculpture removed. i understand that nothing will ever be the same. i just wanted to let you know that, if nothing else, i’d like to be your friend.”

his words were both unexpected and profound, offering a semblance of closure that you hadn’t anticipated. the notion of friendship, after everything that had transpired, felt both distant and comforting. you stood there, absorbing the gravity of his apology and the genuine regret that seemed to hang in the air between you. for a moment, the chaos inside you quieted, replaced by a fragile sense of peace. his offer of friendship was an olive branch, a gesture that acknowledged the hurt while striving for something different. yet, the wound was still fresh, and the idea of moving past it was daunting.

“i need time,” you said finally, your voice steady but tinged with a quiet resolve. “i can’t just pick up where we left off.” he nodded, his expression a blend of understanding and sadness. “i know,” he replied softly. “take all the time you need. i just wanted you to know i’m here if you ever want to talk.” with a final, lingering look, he turned and began to walk away. each step seemed to echo with the weight of the past and the uncertain promise of the future. you watched him go, your mind awash with a storm of emotions—anger, relief, and a bittersweet sense of closure. as you stood there alone in the corridor, the bustling noise of the campus seemed distant, as if you were enveloped in a cocoon of introspection. the conversation with jackson had stirred up old wounds, but had also offered a glimmer of resolution.

lunch on campus was always a comforting routine. the sun was high, casting dappled shadows through the leafy canopy above. you, jihyo, and minho had claimed your usual spot at a worn wooden table, the comforting hum of student chatter surrounding you. jihyo animatedly recounted her latest project, while minho nodded, occasionally chiming in with his dry wit. you were halfway through a bite of your sandwich when you saw him—jackson. he passed by with his characteristic easy grace, a slight smile playing on his lips as his eyes met yours. respectfully, he sat on a separate bench a few feet away, not wanting to intrude.

jihyo's eyes narrowed, her conversation with minho faltering as she followed your gaze. “why is he here?” she muttered, her voice barely audible but dripping with disdain. you stood up, your decision made in an instant. as you approached him, his smile faded slightly, replaced with a look of concern.

“is everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, yet tinged with uncertainty. “come sit with us,” you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

“are you sure?” his hesitation was palpable.

you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. with a grateful nod, he followed you back to the table. minho raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but it was jihyo's reaction that was most striking. her eyes widened, and she sat back, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“jackson, this is minho,” you introduced, and he gave a polite nod. “and this is jihyo.” jackson extended his hand to her, but she simply stared him down, her gaze icy. “she may have forgotten what you did, but i sure haven’t,” she said, her voice like steel.

he withdrew his hand slowly, nodding in acknowledgment. “i understand,” he replied softly. you placed a comforting hand on jihyo’s arm. “he came for a fresh start,” you explained, your voice calm and steady. “he even got the sculpture taken down.” jihyo’s skeptical glance lingered on him, but she didn’t press further. the tension in the air was almost tangible, but his presence gradually began to feel less intrusive.

he smiled at you, a look of genuine gratitude and perhaps a hint of hope in his eyes. you smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth and relief. the past might not be easily forgotten, but in that moment, it felt like a step towards something better, something new. as the conversation slowly resumed, you couldn’t help but feel that this lunch, under the sunlit canopy, marked the beginning of a significant change—a moment of reconciliation and new beginnings.

unbeknownst to you, a familiar figure stood in the background, having noticed your whole ordeal. jungkook, leaning casually against a nearby tree, had been chatting with his friends, their laughter mingling with the warm air. but his attention had been subtly drawn to you the moment jackson appeared. his dark eyes followed every movement, every gesture you made. the way you approached jackson with a calm demeanor, the soft reassurance in your voice, and the unyielding kindness in your eyes—it all piqued his curiosity. his friends were engrossed in a lively debate about the upcoming exhibition, but he found himself only half-listening, his mind occupied with the scene unfolding at your table.

he watched as you led jackson back, noticed the tension between him and jihyo, and observed the way you mediated with such grace. jungkook brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, trying to focus back on his friends' conversation. yet, the feeling tugging at his heartstrings was undeniable, a peculiar mix of curiosity and something he couldn’t quite identify.

the laughter of his friends brought him back to the present moment, and he forced a smile, joining in their conversation. but his eyes betrayed him, darting back to you occasionally. he noted the genuine smile you exchanged with jackson, a smile that seemed to light up your entire being. he couldn’t put his finger on it. was it admiration? perhaps a touch of jealousy? he shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. after all, he had no reason to feel this way. you were just another girl, albeit a talented one, whose work he respected. yet, there was something in the way you handled the situation that stirred something deep within him.

back in the studio, the familiar scent of clay and the quiet hum of creativity enveloped you. the light filtering through the tall windows cast an ethereal glow on your workspace, illuminating the clay sculpture taking shape beneath your deft fingers. you shuddered, recalling the tumultuous scene you had caused, the emotional outburst that had led you to destroy your previous work of art.

determined to push back any thoughts of jungkook, you focused entirely on the clay before you. each movement was elegant, deliberate, as your hands moved with a grace born from years of practice. your mind, however, raced with a whirlwind of emotions—freedom, butterflies, liberty, independence. the sculpture was coming to life beneath your touch: an extended hand, its fingers gently curved, and a string of butterflies, delicate and intricate, laid one on top of the other. they seemed to be chasing the freedom they so desperately desired. yet, as you worked, their wings began to wither, the fragile clay starting to crumble under your touch. they had flown for so long, yearning for independence, before finally finding solace in the palm of a hand. it was a poignant realization—that the only thing they needed more than freedom was the touch of love.

you were so absorbed in your work that you barely noticed when jackson entered the studio. he said nothing, simply standing and watching you. his presence was quiet, respectful, and he observed as you caressed the butterflies, shaping each one with meticulous care. “it’s a beautiful piece,” he finally said, his voice soft, breaking the silence.

startled, you looked up, your eyes meeting his. you hadn’t realized he was there, so engrossed in your work. “jackson,” you breathed, your hands stilling. “i didn’t see you come in.”

he offered a gentle smile, stepping closer to the sculpture. “i didn’t want to disturb you. you looked so focused.” you glanced back at the sculpture, the extended hand and the fragile butterflies. “they’re chasing freedom,” you explained, your voice thoughtful. “but their wings are falling apart. they’ve been flying for so long, seeking independence, but they realize that what they need more than freedom is love.”

jackson studied the piece for a moment, nodding slowly. “you have a way of seeing the world, of expressing it through your art. i was wrong. you know art better than anyone.” his words were sincere, and they touched you deeply. you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. as he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture, it struck you—you knew art, its nuances, its depth. nevertheless, you didn't know love. that was a realm you had yet to truly understand.

the studio felt different now, not just a place of creation, but a space where emotions, complex and raw, intertwined with every sculpted form. and in that moment, with jackson's reassuring presence and the delicate clay butterflies, you realized there was more to learn, more to feel, beyond the confines of your art.

his eyes, warm and curious, met yours. “what has you so fascinated with butterflies?” he asked, his voice soft yet probing. you paused, your mind inevitably drifting back to jungkook. the memory of the monarch tattoo on the back of his neck was vivid, a symbol of his own desperate need to chase freedom. the thought made your blood run cold, a shiver running down your spine. you forced a smile, trying to push the unsettling thoughts away. “i admire them,” you said, your voice steady but distant. “they chase their own freedom, rather than love.”

his gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes. “everyone deserves love more than anything,” he replied gently. you said nothing, the words lingering in the air between you. the silence was filled with unspoken emotions, a depth of feeling that you couldn’t quite articulate. “especially you,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment felt fragile, delicate like the butterflies you sculpted. before you could respond, the door to the studio swung open, and jihyo walked in, her presence breaking the intimate silence.

“hey, you two,” she called out, her tone light and cheerful. “the group's going out for drinks. you’re both welcome to join.” you hesitated, the weight of the day’s emotions still heavy on your shoulders. the idea of socializing felt overwhelming, but before you could decline, jackson spoke up.

“you deserve a break,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring smile. “come on, it’ll be fun.” with a sigh, you nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and gratitude. his encouragement gave you the push you needed. the prospect of stepping out of the studio, even for a short while, seemed like a small reprieve.

as you gathered your things, the studio’s comforting hum faded into the background. you cast one last look at your sculpture, the extended hand and the fragile butterflies, and felt a renewed sense of purpose. perhaps, amidst the chaos and the quest for freedom, there was room for love too. walking out with jackson and jihyo, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting, a subtle change in the air. the evening stretched ahead of you, filled with possibilities, and for the first time in a while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

the walk to the bar was filled with a mixture of anticipation and unease. the streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows that danced with each step you took. jihyo walked ahead, her laughter echoing down the empty street, while jackson stayed close by your side. as you approached the entrance of the bar, a sudden chill washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you couldn't quite place the feeling, but it was a foreboding sense that something was about to happen. the moment you walked in, the dim lighting and the low hum of chatter enveloped you. But it was the pair of dark eyes that you locked with immediately that sent a jolt through your entire being.

it was him, it always seemed to be him. he was sitting at a table with a few friends, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense. your body tensed involuntarily, and jackson, ever perceptive, noticed immediately. he placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “ease up,” he whispered in your ear, his voice calm and reassuring. “i’ve got your back.”

you finally broke the gaze, nodding at jackson, and made your way to a table as far from jungkook as possible. jackson's arm remained draped around you, a steadying presence in the storm of emotions brewing inside you. the two of you indulged in drinks, jackson leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “just so you know,” he said with a playful grin, “i’m a lightweight.” you laughed, the tension easing slightly. “i know,” you whispered back, your smile widening.

despite your attempts to ignore him, you could feel jungkook’s eyes on you the entire time. he downed his drink, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he watched you with jackson. you could almost feel the intensity of his thoughts, wondering who jackson was and why you were with him. minho’s voice broke through the haze of tension. “how about a round of darts?” he suggested, his tone light and carefree.

your mind immediately flashed back to playing darts with jungkook, the way he had stood behind you, guiding your hand, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered instructions. the memory was sharp and painful, and you shook your head. “no, thank you,” you replied politely, trying to keep your voice steady. jackson noticed the flicker of emotion in your eyes. “i’ll play for you,” he offered, a confident smile on his lips.

you nodded, grateful for his support. jackson stood up, heading over to the dartboard, and jungkook’s eyes narrowed. his fuse had blown, the thin veneer of calm shattering. “i’ll play against you,” he announced, his voice low and challenging.

the room went quiet, the tension palpable. your face went pale, and you glanced at jackson, who scoffed, clearly unfazed by his challenge. “fine,” he said coolly. “let’s play.”

the game began, and the atmosphere was thick with tension. each throw of the dart was accompanied by backhanded remarks, the words sharp and biting. “nice throw,” jungkook commented, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “didn’t know you had it in you.” jackson smirked, his eyes never leaving the dartboard. “you’d be surprised what i can do,” he replied smoothly. “unlike some people, i don’t need to show off.”

jungkook’s eyes flashed with anger. “careful,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “you might bite off more than you can chew.” jackson shrugged, his expression unfazed. “i think i’ll manage,” he said, his voice steady. the game continued, each round more intense than the last. finally, with a final, precise throw, jackson won. he turned to you, a triumphant smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but hug him congratulatory. his embrace was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the cold glare jungkook sent your way.

his gaze never left the two of you, his eyes dark and stormy. the tension in the air was almost suffocating, but in jackson’s arms, you felt a sense of safety and support. the night was far from over, but for now, you allowed yourself to bask in the moment, grateful for the small victories amidst the chaos.

the tension inside the bar had become suffocating, a palpable force that seemed to press down on you. excusing yourself, you made your way to the door, needing a moment of solitude to clear your mind. as you stood up, jackson placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips warm and reassuring. “hurry back,” he said softly, his eyes full of warmth. but you didn’t miss the way jungkook’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenching as he watched the small exchange.

you stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome relief. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a cigarette, the flick of the lighter breaking the stillness. as you took the first drag, the smoke curled around you, its familiar scent grounding you in the moment. your peace was short-lived, however. a voice broke through the quiet, low and unmistakable.

“is that your boyfriend?” you didn’t turn around. instead, you scoffed, exhaling a plume of smoke. “he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

jungkook’s tone was unreadable as he remarked, “you two seem close.” you took another drag, the cigarette glowing softly in the darkness. “we have history,” you replied. “we might even make up at some point.”

he laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “don’t even think about it,” he said, his voice hardening. finally, you turned to face him, anger flaring in your chest. “what does it have to do with you?”

he took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “the sight of you with another man makes me unreasonably angry,” he confessed, his voice low and intense. you were silent, your heart pounding as he stepped even closer. his presence was overwhelming, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension. without breaking eye contact, he reached out, taking the cigarette from your hand. he brought it to his lips, taking a slow puff, a small smile playing on his lips.

“mind your own business,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “we’re nothing but friends, according to you.” he took another puff before leaning in, his gaze never wavering. in a swift motion, he pulled you in for a kiss. for a moment, you kissed him back, lost in the familiar warmth and intensity. but reality snapped back, and you pushed him away, anger and confusion swirling inside you.

“i have no interest in playing your games anymore,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. he was taken aback, his expression one of surprise and hurt, but he stayed silent. you stepped back, your eyes meeting his one last time. “stick to your usual players,” you told him, your voice laced with finality.

turning on your heel, you walked back into the bar, leaving jungkook standing alone in the night. the door closed behind you, the noise and warmth of the bar enveloping you once more. jackson looked up as you returned, concern flickering in his eyes, but you gave him a reassuring smile, trying to push the encounter from your mind. as you rejoined the group, the weight of the moment lingered, a heavy reminder of the complicated web of emotions you were entangled in. the night carried on, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

the night blurred as you indulged in the haze of alcohol, the edges of your reality softening with each drink. jungkook had returned to the bar, his presence a sharp contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. he made a deliberate effort to ignore you and jackson, his attention directed toward the girl beside him. she was a stranger to him, her name unimportant as she pressed kisses to his neck and traced her fingers along his collarbone.

you hadn't planned on drinking as much as you did. but when you caught a glimpse of the butterfly on the girl's wrist, the sight stung like a needle, memories of jungkook's monarch tattoo flooding back, memories of your own cherished drawing flooding back. you stared at the bottom of your glass, realizing you had lost count of how many times it had been filled and emptied.

jihyo noticed first, her eyes filled with sympathy as she took the glass from your hand, ignoring your feeble protests. jackson, his expression a mix of concern and exasperation, leaned in close. “you've had too much,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. you wanted to argue, to push away his words, but the truth of them settled heavily on your shoulders. you felt too relaxed, your movements sluggish and your thoughts muddled. jackson announced to the group that he was taking you home, his tone leaving no room for debate.

that was when jungkook's attention was drawn back to you. he watched, his eyes darkening with an emotion he couldn't name, as jackson helped you to your feet. jungkook's heart twisted painfully as he saw the way you clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. he wanted to intervene, to take you in his arms and carry you home himself, but the weight of his own pride held him back. all he could do was watch as jackson guided you out of the bar, the girl's touch losing its allure entirely.

the walk home was a stumbling journey, your words slurring together in a drunken rant about what an asshole jungkook was. jackson did his best to console you, his voice soothing even as a pang of jealousy tightened in his chest. the sight of you in pain, tears glistening in your eyes, was almost more than he could bear.

when you finally reached your front door, he paused, his hands gentle as he steadied you. “seeing you cry was one of the worst experiences of my life,” he confessed, his voice low and earnest. “any man who makes you cry doesn't deserve you.” you looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through the fog of alcohol. he leaned in, pressing a final kiss to your cheek, the touch tender and bittersweet. “take care of yourself,” he whispered before turning to leave, the weight of his unspoken feelings lingering in the air.

you watched him go, your heart heavy with the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. the night was quiet now, the world around you still as you stood on your doorstep, the echo of jackson's words ringing in your ears. inside, the emptiness of your home seemed to mirror the void in your heart. you stumbled to your room, collapsing onto your bed, your mind replaying the events of the night. the taste of jungkook's kiss still lingered on your lips, a reminder of the complicated web of feelings you couldn't untangle. as sleep finally claimed you, your dreams were a tangled mess of memories and emotions, a reflection of the chaos that had become your reality.

the next day dawned with a dreary sky, the clouds heavy and swollen with impending rain. the rhythmic patter of raindrops against your window was a somber lullaby, pulling you from the clutches of a restless sleep. you groaned, the pounding in your head a relentless reminder of the previous night's excesses. forcing yourself out of bed, you prepared for the day, each movement deliberate and slow, as if the weight of your thoughts had seeped into your very bones.

the campus was a blur of umbrellas and hurried footsteps, the rain a persistent curtain that blurred the edges of your vision. you pulled your jacket tighter, shivering as the cold droplets kissed your skin. as you made your way to your morning class, a voice called out, stopping you in your tracks. “wait! could you come with me to the office?”

you turned to see one of the teachers, her expression unreadable. nervousness clawed at your insides, but you nodded, falling into step beside her. the walk to the office felt interminable, the walls closing in as a sense of dread pooled in your stomach. once inside, she gestured for you to sit, her demeanor serious. you complied, the anxiety almost unbearable as you waited for her to speak.

“the school’s program sends ten students from different departments every year to japan,” she began, her voice measured. “they spend a year at our sister art academy to strengthen their future as artists.” you nodded, your heart pounding. “i’m aware.”

she leaned forward, her eyes intense. “your sculptures have caught the eyes of many. you’re the top candidate. would you be interested?” the words hung in the air, your mind reeling. excitement surged through you, momentarily banishing the remnants of your hangover. “yes, absolutely!”

a smile ghosted across her lips. “you’ll need to create one more simple piece, something that speaks to you. can you do that?” you nodded, your thoughts already racing. “yes, i’m on it.”

“good. finish and present it as soon as possible.” you left the office, the rain still falling in relentless sheets. the excitement that had bubbled within you was quickly overshadowed by a gnawing hesitation. the reality of what the opportunity meant settled in, heavy and unyielding. you would be leaving everything behind—your friends, your school, and jungkook.

the thought of leaving him sent a fresh wave of uncertainty crashing over you. despite everything, despite the confusion and the pain, he was a part of your world. the idea of being an ocean away from him was almost too much to bear. you found yourself wandering aimlessly, the rain soaking through your clothes, each step feeling heavier than the last. your mind was a tempest, torn between the excitement of a new adventure and the fear of the unknown. the prospect of creating another sculpture loomed before you, a task that now felt monumental under the weight of your emotions.

the memory of your last piece resurfaced, the butterflies chasing freedom only to realize they needed love. the irony wasn’t lost on you. as you trudged through the rain, you realized that this new piece had to encapsulate everything you felt—the excitement, the fear, the longing, and the love. you headed back to the studio, the familiar scent of clay and plaster a strange comfort. as you began to work, the world outside faded away. your hands moved almost of their own accord, shaping and molding, each touch a cathartic release of the turmoil within. the rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows, a melancholic soundtrack to your efforts.

hours passed in a blur, your focus unbroken despite the emotional storm raging inside you. the sculpture began to take shape, a raw, unfiltered expression of your heart. it was a simple piece, yet it spoke volumes—a delicate balance of freedom and love, the very essence of your struggle. by the time you stepped back to admire your work, exhaustion had settled into your bones, but there was a sense of accomplishment too. the piece was a part of you, a fragment of your soul made tangible.

as you stepped into the bustling café where you had arranged to meet jihyo and jackson, the atmosphere was charged with the soft hum of conversations and clinking coffee cups. the light rain that had persisted throughout the day drummed gently against the café’s windows, adding a soothing rhythm to the scene. you were greeted by their warm smiles as you took your seat, the weight of the day’s revelation still heavy on your shoulders.

jackson leaned forward, his eyes alight with genuine enthusiasm. “you know, this opportunity is amazing. your talent has always been evident, and this chance in japan is well-deserved. i’m so proud of you.” jihyo nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the same pride and encouragement. “you’ve worked so hard. this is the kind of break you need to truly shine. i know you’re feeling hesitant, but remember how much you’ve accomplished. this is your chance to take it to the next level.”

you smiled weakly, your excitement mingling with apprehension. “i definitely plan to take it. it’s just, everything’s happening so fast, and i’m not sure how to let go of everything I’m leaving behind.”

jackson reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on yours. “your art is the best thing about you. it’s not just a part of you; it’s a reflection of who you are. anyone who gets to experience it, anyone who gets to know you through your art, is incredibly fortunate. you’re meant for great things.”

“thank you,” you said softly, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with unease. it was then that you noticed a familiar figure through the café’s window. your heart skipped a beat as you saw jungkook sitting outside, his presence an unexpected jolt to your already fraught emotions. your breath caught in your throat as you observed him with another girl, who sat comfortably in his lap. they were sharing an intimate kiss, the tenderness of the moment starkly contrasting with the chaos swirling inside you.

the sight was a knife to your heart, the image of their closeness slicing through your resolve. you felt the world around you narrow, the laughter and chatter of the café fading into a distant hum. every beat of your heart seemed to echo with the impact of what you were witnessing. the gentle curve of jungkook’s smile, the way he held her—it was a brutal reminder of what you were losing. struggling to maintain composure, you excused yourself with a shaky voice. “i think i need some air. i’ll walk home.”

without waiting for their response, you stood abruptly, the café’s warmth feeling stifling against the cold storm brewing inside you. you pushed through the door, the crisp rain and cool air a sharp contrast to the suffocating emotions that had taken hold. each step felt heavy, the rain drumming against your skin a harsh, unrelenting reminder of the turmoil within.

as you walked, the image of jungkook and the girl replayed in your mind, a relentless echo that seemed to drown out all other thoughts. your heart felt like it was being pulled in a hundred directions at once—toward the excitement of your new opportunity and the painful reality of what you might be leaving behind. the rain continued to fall, mingling with the tears that slipped down your cheeks, unnoticed. the world around you seemed to blur, your thoughts a chaotic whirl of feelings and memories. the prospect of the future was overshadowed by the haunting present, and the weight of your choices seemed almost unbearable. you trudged along, the journey home a silent testament to the internal struggle you faced. the thought of him and his effortless connection with someone else was a harsh reminder of the emotional complexity you had to navigate, and the path ahead felt uncertain and fraught with both hope and heartache.

the rain fell in heavy, unrelenting sheets as you walked home, each step a painful reminder of the emotional weight you carried. the sky was a somber gray, the clouds a reflection of the storm raging inside you. your body felt frail, your legs weak, as if the very essence of your being was being drained away. the weight of what you had seen, the raw pain of feeling worthless, clung to you with an almost tangible heaviness. jungkook had meant the world to you, yet now it seemed that even that precious world was slipping through your fingers, leaving nothing but a hollow ache.

you trudged along the empty streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the pavement blending with the chaotic rhythm of your thoughts. the cold rain soaked through your clothes, chilling you to the bone, but it barely registered against the emotional frost that had settled over your heart.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out. the voice was distant, but unmistakable. you recognized it instantly. it was him. you kept walking, trying to push the sound away, as if ignoring it could somehow make it disappear. but then, you heard it again, more urgent, cutting through the rain-soaked night. your steps faltered, and you turned around, your heart sinking as you saw him running towards you, his figure becoming clearer with each stride.

jungkook was drenched, the rain pouring down his face, mingling with the anguish that seemed to be etched into his features. his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. he reached you, breathless and soaked to the skin, but his presence was like a burning beacon in the storm.

“don’t go,” he said, his voice breaking through the relentless roar of the rain. you stared at him, confusion mingling with the pain in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

“i heard about japan,” he continued, his voice raw and pleading. “don’t go. please.”

the words struck you like a blow, but you fought to keep your composure. “i have no reason to stay,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain firm. to your surprise, jungkook took your hands into his, his grip warm and desperate. “i need you here,” he said, his eyes filled with a pleading intensity. “i need you to stay.”

the tears that you had been holding back began to well up, blurring your vision. you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your voice cracking as you spoke. “i need to be as far away from you as possible. i like you too much, jungkook. i care for you, but i can’t give you the freedom you want. i need to chase my own freedom.”

you turned away, but his grip was swift and unyielding. he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, his fingers digging in with a desperation that matched your own inner turmoil. you could hear the ragged breaths escaping from his lips as he clung to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “please, just stay. don’t go.” you tried to pull away, but he held on, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close until your back was pressed against his chest. his embrace was both comforting and agonizing, a paradox of warmth and sorrow. you could feel his heartbeat against your back, a rhythmic reminder of the pain that was being shared between you.

he whispered into your ear, his voice trembling with emotion. “i need you. please don’t leave me.”

the tears streamed down your face uncontrollably as you remained silent, the weight of the decision pressing heavily upon you. his pleas were a bittersweet melody that tore at your heart, the pain of leaving him and the freedom you sought intertwining into a tormenting dance. with a final, wrenching sob, you pulled your arm away, turning to face him one last time. his face was a picture of heartache, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you, his expression a mixture of longing and devastation. the sight of him, so vulnerable and broken, was almost too much to bear.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you turned away once more. the rain seemed to pour harder, as if the heavens were weeping for the love you were leaving behind. you walked away, each step feeling like an eternity, the pain of leaving jungkook and the promise of your future battling within your heart. the finality of your decision was a heavy burden, but you knew that you had to forge ahead, even as the sorrow of what you were leaving behind threatened to consume you.

the night had been a long, dark tunnel through which you stumbled, your steps muffled by the weight of your sorrow. the rain had pattered relentlessly against your window, a haunting lullaby that matched the rhythm of your tearful sobs. you had cried yourself to sleep, each tear a silent testament to the heartache that coursed through you, mingling with the cold emptiness of the night. the warmth of your bed was of little comfort, overshadowed by the turmoil that roiled within your chest.

as dawn broke, its pale light filtered through your curtains, casting a somber glow over the room. the sun’s early rays were a stark contrast to the storm inside you. you rose, your movements slow and weary, the exhaustion from the previous night clinging to you like a second skin. with a heavy heart and leaden steps, you prepared yourself for the day ahead—the day of your presentation.

the studio was quiet, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. you walked to your piece, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. the sculpture you had created—a delicate representation of butterflies and an outstretched hand—stood in the center of the room, bathed in the cold light of morning. the clay had been shaped with painstaking care, each butterfly a testament to your emotions, each wing a silent echo of your heartache.

you gazed at the sculpture, your breath catching in your throat. the butterflies, which had once been a symbol of your freedom, now seemed to mock your sorrow. their fragile wings, once vibrant and hopeful, were now a muted reflection of your internal struggle. the hand beneath them was extended as if in an eternal gesture of solace, yet it seemed to grasp at something forever out of reach. the piece was a paradox—a representation of the freedom you yearned for, coupled with the love you were leaving behind.

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your teacher’s voice, cutting through the silence like a lifeline. “everyone's waiting,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. the words jolted you into action, and with one final, reluctant glance at your sculpture, you lifted it with trembling hands. the weight of the piece felt like an anchor, dragging you toward the theatre room where your presentation awaited.

as you entered the room, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. the space was filled with an array of faces—jihyo and jackson, their supportive expressions a stark contrast to the tension that gripped you; the professors from japan, their keen eyes scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation; and jungkook, who sat among them, his presence a palpable ache in your chest. he looked worn, his face haggard as if the night had been a battleground of its own. when the room fell silent, you began your presentation, your voice wavering as you started to speak. your gaze frequently flickered to your piece, but it was jungkook’s eyes that held you captive. the connection between you was electric, a silent conversation that spoke louder than words.

you began to explain your sculpture in intricate detail, your words a poignant reflection of the emotions you had poured into it. “the butterflies,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion, “represent the pursuit of freedom. they chase after an elusive goal, their wings a delicate dance of hope and struggle. eventually, after chasing freedom for so long, their wings began to wither. fall apart. they become weak, as they search for solace from the hand that awaits them,” each phrase you uttered felt like a resonating dagger piercing through jungkook’s heart, each description a painful reminder of what you were leaving behind.

the room’s ambient noise faded into a background hum as your focus remained solely on jungkook. the intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe, and despite the precision of your words, you could not hide the tears that brimmed in your eyes. the sculpture, which you had hoped would be a beacon of your artistic achievement, was overshadowed by the rawness of your feelings. as you concluded, your voice cracked with emotion. “all they’ve ever known was freedom,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, “nevertheless, all they ever needed was love.”

the professors responded with polite applause, their approval a distant echo to the tumultuous storm of your emotions. Your heart was focused solely on the sight of jungkook, whose eyes were fixed on the sculpture with an expression of profound sadness. a single tear slid down his cheek, tracing a path that seemed to embody all the words left unsaid between you.

he turned abruptly, his face a canvas of heartbreak, and you watched as he walked away, your eyes following the path of his butterfly tattoo. the symbol, so intricately tied to your shared history, seemed to pulse with a haunting resonance. it was as if the butterfly was an echo of the love and freedom you both had chased, now left fluttering in the storm of your separation. the finality of his departure was a bitter pill, and as you stood there, the weight of the moment pressed heavily upon you. the sculpture, the presentation, and the love you were leaving behind melded into a poignant tableau of loss and longing.

the presentation room, once filled with the fervor of evaluation, gradually settled into a subdued murmur as the professors gathered their thoughts. their voices, though hushed, carried an air of reverence. one of them, an elderly man with a sharp gaze softened by years of experience, approached you with a warm smile. “your work is extraordinary,” he said, his voice rich with genuine admiration. “the way you’ve captured the essence of freedom and love through your sculpture is nothing short of brilliant.”

another professor, a woman with a commanding presence and a graceful poise, nodded in agreement. “indeed,” she added, her eyes sparkling with approval. “your piece speaks volumes. the subtlety and depth of emotion conveyed through your butterflies and the extended hand reflect an understanding of art that goes beyond technique. it’s a rare gift.”

you stood there, feeling their praise wash over you like a gentle tide. despite their words, a hollow emptiness lingered within you, a void that seemed impervious to their accolades. they continued, “we are pleased to inform you that the academy in japan has reviewed your work and welcomes your arrival as soon as tonight.”

the words were a formal acknowledgment of what you had anticipated, but they did little to stir excitement within you. you simply nodded, your face an impassive mask that concealed the whirlwind of emotions brewing beneath. your teacher, who had been a silent witness to the exchange, gave you a supportive pat on the shoulder, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and empathy.

as you prepared to leave, jihyo and jackson were by your side, enveloping you in heartfelt congratulations. “you did it!” jihyo exclaimed, her voice a mixture of joy and sadness. “this is such a great opportunity for you.” jackson joined in, his embrace firm and reassuring. “we’re so proud of you,” he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. “this is your chance to shine, to make your mark on the world.” yet, amidst their praises and supportive words, you felt a profound emptiness. the accolades, the approval, even the opportunity felt distant, overshadowed by the weight of your own emotional turmoil.

just as you were about to leave to pack, jackson’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “wait,” he called softly. you turned to face him, curiosity mingled with trepidation in your eyes.

he took a deep breath, his expression a blend of melancholy and resolve. “i knew it would never be me,” he began, his voice steady yet laden with unspoken emotion. “when i saw your work, and when i saw jungkook’s tattoo, i understood that this was something i could never be a part of.” his words were an acknowledgment of the deep-seated truths that had been woven into the fabric of your shared experiences.

his gaze softened as he pulled a sleek black box from his pocket. “i have something for you,” he said, holding it out with a tender gesture. “jungkook asked me to give this to you.” with a final, gentle kiss to your forehead, he wished you a safe journey, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and resignation. “i’ll always be waiting for you,” he said softly.

you accepted the box, feeling the weight of it in your hand. as you turned to leave, the heaviness of your heart seemed to magnify with every step. the box felt like a tangible piece of the emotions you were grappling with, a silent witness to the complexity of your feelings. once you were home, the task of packing your bags seemed almost secondary to the allure of the box. you set your belongings aside, your gaze fixed on the small, unassuming container. the anticipation was almost unbearable as you slowly opened it.

inside, nestled in a bed of soft black velvet, lay a silver necklace. the pendant was an exquisite butterfly, its delicate wings capturing the light with a subtle sheen. the craftsmanship was impeccable, every detail of the butterfly’s form rendered with a delicate precision that took your breath away. your hands trembled as you lifted the necklace, the weight of it feeling like a physical manifestation of the emotions you had been suppressing. with a mixture of reverence and sorrow, you clasped the necklace around your neck. the cold metal brushed against your skin, and you could feel the butterfly resting over your heart.

as you fastened the clasp, the floodgates opened, and the sobs that had been building up erupted uncontrollably. the tears streamed down your face, each one a reflection of the anguish and longing that had been bottled up inside. the necklace, a symbol of love and departure, seemed to echo the pain of leaving behind the things and people you cherished.

you sank onto your bed, the weight of the necklace a bittersweet reminder of jungkook's affection and the heartbreak that had marked your journey. the room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a space where your emotions were laid bare, each tear a testament to the complexity of your farewell. the necklace glistened softly in the dim light, a silent witness to your sorrow and the new chapter that awaited you. as you lay there, the tears slowly subsiding, the butterfly pendant against your skin felt like a fragile promise—a delicate symbol of the freedom you sought and the love you had to leave behind.

the airport buzzed with the ceaseless motion of travelers, each with their own stories of departure and arrival, but for you, it felt like the world had stopped. every step toward the gate was weighted with the gravity of what you were leaving behind. the butterfly pendant lay cold against your chest, a stark reminder of the connection you still felt to jungkook, its delicate form pressed close to your heart.

the evening was draped in a shroud of melancholy, the terminal lights casting a pale glow over the bustling scene. you walked through the throngs of people, each stride a battle against the urge to turn back, to run away from the decision that tore at your soul. the departure board loomed ahead, and you searched for your gate, the numbers and letters blurring together through the haze of your emotions.

when you finally reached your gate, your heart sank. the moment had come, and the reality of your departure hit you with a force that nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. the weight of your chest was unbearable, the ache of leaving everything behind more than you had anticipated. your mind swirled with thoughts of jungkook, the memories of your time together interwoven with the pain of parting. just as you were about to resign yourself to the inevitable, you heard your name being called. it was a voice you would recognize anywhere, even amidst the cacophony of the airport. you turned slowly, your breath catching in your throat. there he was, running toward you with an urgency that mirrored the turmoil in your heart.

you stood frozen, unable to move as jungkook reached you, his breath ragged from the sprint. his eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and love, locked onto yours. “don’t leave,” he pleaded, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. the tears were quick to follow, faster than your words could form, streaming down your cheeks in a torrent of unspoken pain. he continued, his voice trembling. “i don’t just need you,” he said, his hands trembling as he reached out to cup your face with a gentleness that broke your heart. “i love you. i can’t bear the thought of you being so far from me.”

the background noise of the airport faded into nothingness as you sobbed, your vision blurred by the flood of tears. his touch was a balm to your aching heart, his words a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. he repeated himself, his voice steadying with conviction. “i love you.” in that moment, the world around you ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing at the precipice of a decision that would alter the course of your lives. you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold metal of the necklace against your skin.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the sobs that wracked your body. the admission was a release, a catharsis of the emotions you had held back for so long. you clung to him, feeling the strength of his love envelop you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. but even as you surrendered to the moment, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered the harsh truth. you knew it wasn’t love, not in the way that was meant to last. it was a tempest of passion and pain, a connection born from the shared scars of your pasts and the unspoken longing that had drawn you together.

as you stood there, entwined in each other’s arms, you knew that this love, however flawed and fleeting, was all you had ever wanted. it was the reason your heart ached, the reason your soul soared, and as you buried your face in his shoulder, you made a silent promise to cherish this love for as long as it lasted, no matter how brief or bittersweet. no, it wasn't love. nevertheless, you were in love with him.

✧.*

a/n: if there's one thing i'm gonna do it's add jackson wang as a random side character...this was inspired by my favorite horror kdrama aka nevertheless

[astroeleanor]

😴💤YOUR 12H SIGN: How You Fall Asleep and What Puts You To Sleep 😴💤

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Why is the 12H connected to sleep?

The 12th house is associated with the subconscious mind, places of confinement or isolation, and activities that involve withdrawal from the external world.

When we fall asleep, our conscious mind becomes dormant, allowing the subconscious to take over. This state enables our hidden emotions, thoughts, and dreams to surface as we enter the oneiric realm.

During sleep, our minds process and integrate experiences from waking life. This process requires isolation, withdrawal, and relaxation, resonating with the themes of the 12th house. Additionally, our dreams often serve as a pathway for unresolved issues, hidden fears, and repressed thoughts to manifest. Dreams act as a space where we confront these hidden aspects of ourselves, symbolically connected to the themes represented by the 12th house.

Knowing this information, you can tap into your 12th house sign to improve the quality of your sleep and to gain greater insight as far as what activities make you doze off.

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ARIES

- Unwinding and releasing energy with physical exercise, such as going for a walk, working out, running, or doing yoga earlier in the day. (Mars rulership and its connection to physical activity)

- Stretching before bed. (Engaging in exercise before bedtime can be counterproductive; therefore, stretching can be a great alternative)

- Doing controlled breathing exercises like box breathing or diaphragmatic breathing. (harnessing Mars energy to unwind)

- Practicing grounding exercises or engaging in a grounding guided meditation before sleep. (Can balance the restlessness of the fire element)

TAURUS

- Creating a cozy and comfortable sleeping environment, investing in high-quality bed sheets like silk or velvet, using scented candles, drinking herbal tea, and using essential oils with calming scents. (Indulging in comfort, Venus rulership emphasizes sensory experiences)

- Watching ASMR videos that engage the senses.

- Listening to a guided sensory meditation that encourages focusing on each sense individually (feeling the softness of the sheets, the taste of the herbal tea, the smell of the scented candles, etc.)

- Having a predictable bedtime and nighttime routine. (Taps into Taurus’ need for stability)

- Receiving a massage, eating a tasty home-cooked meal, lighting scented candles before bedtime. (Stimulation of the five senses)

GEMINI

- Journaling or reading before bed. (Mercury rulership + Air sign, can help empty your mind before falling asleep)

- Listening to a podcast or watching YouTube videos to fall asleep. (Mercury rulership, these activities stimulate and relax the mind, they can help quiet intrusive thoughts as you fall asleep)

- Engaging in breathwork before bed or progressive muscle relaxation to calm the body and mind. (Gemini’s rulership over the lungs and the mind)

CANCER

- Taking a warm bath or shower before bed. (Using the water element to soothe yourself)

- Listening to frequencies or soothing music to create a gentle atmosphere. (Cancer is connected to creativity, creation, and birth - hence its link to music and art.)

- Cuddling to promote relaxation. (Moon rulership, connected to comfort and emotional nurturing)

LEO

- Listening to soothing music or watching a movie as you fall asleep. (Art and performances fall under the domain of Leo)

- Painting, writing, playing an instrument before bed. (Sun rulership, these activities promote self-expression and help channel creative energy into relaxation)

- Practicing grounding exercises or engaging in a grounding guided meditation before sleep. (Can balance the restlessness of the fire element)

- Creating a regal sleep sanctuary by incorporating luxurious elements in your bedroom, such as rich textures, comfortable bedding, soft lighting. (Sun and Leo govern royalty and kings)

VIRGO

- Journaling or reading before bed. (Mercury rulership, can help empty your mind before falling asleep)

- Listening to a podcast, meditating, or watching YouTube videos to fall asleep. (Mercury rulership, these activities stimulate and relax the mind, they can help quiet intrusive thoughts as you fall asleep)

- Engaging in activities that anchor you to the earth element, such as grounding meditations, yoga, deep breathing exercises.

- Tidying up your room before falling asleep. Organize your bedroom, declutter, and keep a clean sleeping space. The less clutter or mess in your room, the better. (Virgo promotes order and cleanliness)

LIBRA

- Listening to music or frequencies before and as you fall asleep. (Venus rulership, the planet of beauty and art governs music)

- Beautifying your sleeping environment with candles, silk sheets, soft colors, beautiful decor. (Venus rulership, connection to beauty)

- Indulging in a relaxing skincare routine. (Venus and Libra’s rulership over the skin)

- Reading poetry, a romance novel, watching a romantic movie, aromatherapy with calming scents like rose. (Highlights Venus’ connection to love, relationships and its rulership over roses)

SCORPIO

- Watching crime documentaries as you fall asleep. (Scorpio is connected to investigation, crime, and horror)

- Taking a warm bath or shower before bed. (Using the water element to soothe yourself)

- Journaling to promote emotional release before you fall asleep. (Scorpio rules emotional transformation and release, engaging in these kinds of activities can be helpful to clear your mind before you fall asleep)

- Engaging in progressive muscle relaxation to unwind. (tapping into Mars’ rulership over physical activity, which targets the muscles)

- Creating a private sleeping environment with dark curtains, locking your door, etc. (Leaning into Scorpio’s need for privacy and secrecy)

SAGITTARIUS

- Listening to a podcast, watching educational videos, documentaries, studying, or reading inspirational books before falling asleep. (Sagittarius' link to knowledge and wisdom can mean that you can improve your sleep quality by engaging in activities that expand your mind’s horizon before going to bed)

- Practicing grounding exercises or engaging in a grounding guided meditation before sleep. (Can balance the restlessness of the fire element)

CAPRICORN

- Having a structured bedtime routine that promotes a relaxing sleeping environment. (Saturn rulership, promotes order)

- Engaging in activities that anchor you to the earth element, such as grounding meditations, yoga, deep breathing exercises.

- Indulging in a relaxing skincare routine. (Saturn’s rulership over the skin)

AQUARIUS

- Journaling, reading before bed, listening to a podcast, meditating, or watching YouTube videos to fall asleep. (Air sign, these activities stimulate and relax the mind, they can help quiet intrusive thoughts as you fall asleep)

- Having a structured bedtime routine that promotes a relaxing sleeping environment. (Saturn rulership, promotes order)

- Indulging in a relaxing skincare routine. (Saturn’s rulership over the skin)

PISCES

- Listening to gentle sounds, calming frequencies. (Tapping into Pisces sensitive nature)

- Reading a fantasy novel or watching a fantasy movie. (The activities lean into Pisces rulership of the ethereal and otherworldly)

- Taking a warm bath or shower before bed. (Using the water element to soothe yourself)

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Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge. Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely.

• 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :)

• 🗡️ BOOK A READING with me to navigate your life with more clarity & awareness.

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[starhoppin]

pick a picture; your next soul lesson

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「pile one」

[the lesson]

pleasure (cb: temperance, queen of pentacles rv)

the next soul lesson that you will experience is that you are meant to open yourself up to the good things in life. while i was channeling your energy, i was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and stress - i think that is your current energy. there is a message that you're lacking balance in your life; all work and no fun. you may have a tendency to overwork yourself but don't necessarily reap the benefits of what you earn.

[what you are meant to learn]

life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured. you are meant to find the balance between work and play - but right now, you're being encouraged to focus on fun!

[advice]

creativity, invention

indulge in creative outlets. whatever you are called to - music, art, writing - do not worry about if the product is not perfect. simply focus on creating!

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

「pile two」

[the lesson]

self-esteem (cb: nine of cups rv, six of wands rv)

your next soul lesson is rebuilding your self-esteem. i think there was a recent event in your past where you suffered from a significant loss or failure. regardless of what it was, it significantly impacted the way you view yourself. i keep hearing the words "ego death." you may have lost sight of what you wanted to do in life or simply just suffered from a loss of confidence in yourself because of this event.

[what you are meant to learn]

you are meant to learn that outside opinions do not matter. trust yourself; relying on others for validation or approval will only leave you feeling empty when they are not willing to shower you with it. stand up for yourself and your beliefs - you are not meant to abandon yourself in favor of winning the approval of others.

[advice]

grace (cb: the hierophant rv, queen of wands)

it's okay to go against the grain. you're meant to stand out and shine; do not let others dim your light. i heard "give yourself grace." feel your feelings, but do not let doubt or shame consume you. oftentimes when people are openly judgemental, they are simply jealous that they can't be as open and confident as others are.

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

「pile three」

[the lesson]

deprivation (cb: nine of cups, death rv)

i think that there is something that you are ignoring in your life. i get a strong feeling that you are putting up a confident facade that everything is okay in your life - almost like if you keep telling that to others, you will eventually believe it too. i think you are depriving yourself of feeling your feelings and consequently, you are prolonging this cycle in your life. while i was trying to channel your energy, i kept getting distracted by random things. i believe you may be filling your time with countless distractions since you are afraid or unwilling to be alone with your thoughts. i see an image of someone scrolling on their phone while simultaneously watching T.V., as well as someone blaring music through their headphones to drown out their thoughts.

[what you are meant to learn]

invention (cb: six of wands rv, four of swords)

your next soul lesson is that you are meant to allow yourself to rest and feel your emotions. you cannot move past this pain or failure by simply ignoring it. pain demands to be felt, it will not disappear until you acknowledge it. although this isn't the advice section, your guides/universe/spirit are encouraging you to use your preferred creative outlet to express these emotions.

[advice]

devotion

you're being called to spend time in nature. connect back with the earth and take in the natural beauty of the world. it will help.

if this reading resonated with you, please consider leaving a tip!

tarot decks used in this reading: ask your guides oracle deck, and the linestrider tarot.

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think the new division of Cartoon Network Studios will end up exploiting and abusing AI to make new cartoons of their old properties?

I wouldn't put it past any studio to do this.

We're at the end of The Animation Industry As We Know It, so studios are going to do anything and everything they can to stay alive.

The way I see it is:

AI "art" isn't actually art. Art is created by humans to express ideas and emotions. Writing prompts allows a computer to interpret human ideas and emotions by taking other examples of those things and recombining them.

Just because something isn't art doesn't mean that humans can't understand it or find it beautiful. We passed a really fun prompt generation milestone about a year ago where everything looked like it was made by a Dadaist or someone on heavy psychedelics. Now we're at the Uncanny Valley stage. Soon, you won't be able to tell the difference.

It's not just drawings and paintings that are effected, but writing and film. It's every part of the entertainment industry. And the genie is out of the bottle. I've seen people saying that prompt-based image generators have "democratized" art. And I see where they're coming from. In ten years, I can easily see a future where anyone can sit down at their desk, have a short conversation with their computer, and have a ready-to-watch, custom movie with flawless special effects, passable story, and a solid three act structure. You want to replace Harrison Ford in Star Wars with your little brother and have Chewbacca make only fart sounds, and then they fly to Narnia and fistfight Batman? Done.

But, sadly, long before we reach that ten year mark, the bots will get hold of this stuff and absolutely lay waste to existing art industries. Sure, as a prompter I guess you can be proud of the hours or days you put into crafting your prompts, but you know what's better than a human at crafting prompts? Bots. Imagine bots cranking out hundreds of thousands of full-length feature films per minute. The noise level will squash almost any organic artist or AI prompter out of existence.

AI images trivialize real art. The whole point of a studio is to provide the money, labor, and space to create these big, complicated art projects. But if there are no big, complicated art projects, no creatives leading the charge, and no employees to pay... what the fuck do we need studios for? We won't, but their sheer wealth and power will leave them forcing themselves on us for the rest of our lives.

The near future will see studios clamp down on the tech in order to keep it in their own hands. Disney does tons of proprietary tech stuff, so I'm sure they're ahead of the game. Other studios will continue to seek mergers until they can merge with a content distribution platform. I've heard rumors of Comcast wanting to buy out either WB or Nick. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. The only winners of this game will be the two or three super-huge distribution platforms who can filter out enough of the spam (which they themselves are likely perpetuating) to provide a reasonable entertainment experience.

400,000 channels and nothing's on.

I do think that money will eventually make the "you can't copyright AI stuff" thing go away. There's also the attrition of "Oh, whoops! We accidentally put an AI actor in there and no one noticed for five years, so now it's cool."

One way or another, it's gonna be a wild ride. As the canary in the coal mine, I hope we can all get some UBI before I'm forced to move into the sewers and go full C.H.U.D.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why does it comfort some people or bring them joy/excitement to imagine their favorite characters in terrible situations and being hurt physically or mentally? wouldn’t you want your favorite characters to be happy and safe?

I’m sure I’ve seen this exact ask being sent to another writing blog before, so seeing one in my own inbox was a little surprising. but anyway, I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind saying it again because lots of people seem to still be confused about this; the enjoyment of imagining or seeing fictional characters in terrible situations in which they are hurt and/or scared is called whump. people who enjoy whump tend to express their interest through art, such as drawings, writings, etc. whump has a community on several online platforms, as well as here on Tumblr. we are simply known as “whump community”.

moving on to your question, “why does it comfort us to imagine our favorite characters in agony?” — there is no definitive answer to the question, because different people enjoy whump for various, different reasons, and all of these reasons are valid. however, what I can give you is some examples of the reasons why people enjoy whump

reasons why people like whump:

some people use whump as a reflection of what they’ve been through, and they let their trauma out by channeling the trauma through fictional characters. to make it as simple as I can, some people use whump as a coping mechanism to help them heal from any traumatic events in their lives.

while whump is indeed about pain, it can also be about the comfort (the healing process) that comes after the pain. I personally known several people who heal by writing whump stories in which their favorite characters went through and survived terrible things that happened to them. the comfort part of the whump was used as a symbol of hope for these people, in the sense that they hold on to the idea that if these fictional characters can survive horrible things that happened to them, they (the writers) can survive and heal too.

some people use whump as a way to let out their frustration, trauma or pain. an abuse victim may fantasize about hurting their abuser back by creating a fantasy world in which their favorite character was hurt, but later healed and/or get their revenge.

it’s also worth mentioning that one doesn’t have go through their own trauma in order to be able to enjoy whump. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they just Want to Hurt These Little Guys. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they like the part where their favorite character gets comforted and is nursed back to health after they are rescued.

whump that’s followed by comfort (whump with a happy ending) is valid.

whump that has no comfort (whump without a happy ending) is also valid.

because whump is a genre, just like how lots of people like horror movies just for the sake of liking them. 

the term whumperflies is used to describe the euphoric feeling a person experiences while watching, drawing, writing or reading a whump scenario that hits right in the feels. for lack of better comparison, some people experience whumperflies that come close to an orgasm, whether or not whump is a sexual thing to them (some may enjoy whump as a form of kink, while some may enjoy whump for reasons that aren’t sexual at all). for some, whumperflies are these tingling sensation in the chest and/or the stomach, for someone else, whumperflies is like when you ride a rollercoaster and the ride is going down from its highest stop. there's no wrong way to experience whumperflies, as different people describe and experience them differently.

so, yes, some people may enjoy whump just for the euphoria whumperflies bring. and some people — myself included — can’t get whumperflies unless the character that’s going through pain is their most favorite character; it’s like… because you love this character so much, you’re so connected to them, you're so emotionally invested in them that you can only get whumperflies if it’s them going through the torture, meanwhile other characters just don’t make you feel half as strongly.

and that’s explain why people in the whump community prefer their favorite characters to be the ones going through hell.

and again, just like how movies have different genres, whump is a genre — people who like whump aren’t “freaks” or “red flags” in real life, even if they like whump for reasons that aren’t about coping mechanism. whump is a genre and a form of art, and most importantly, whump is fiction. it’s not real.

I do understand why people who aren’t into whump tend to be confused by the concept of whump, and I do understand why these people think being a fan of a fictional character only means wanting said fictional character to be safe and happy, which is why whump is not for everybody, and that’s okay too.

the thing is there is no wrong way to be a fan of something that’s fictional, you can like this fictional character so much you want to see them cry and covered in blood for whatever reasons, and that’s okay. as long as you’re not hurting anybody in real life.

there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who enjoy whump, just like how there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who like horror movies. it’s fiction and it’s a form of art. and I believe everybody is allowed to express and enjoy their interests through art in whichever way they want, as long as they’re not harming anybody in real life.

[genericpuff]

(You can delete this ask if it makes you uncomfortable) Do you think I should give up on my dream of being a webcomic artist? It's been what I'd been wanting to for years yet from what I'm hearing, it's hard to get money and an audience and that the mainstream webcomic hosting platforms don't treat their creators well. It doesn't help that while my art is decent, I don't really know how to create webcomics beyond like really short 4-5 panel comics even though I'd been drawing for many years. There's also the issue of my ADHD making it difficult to commit to stuff but then again at least that can be hopefully fixed once I get medicated. So, now the career of a webcomic artist sounds like a pipe dream at best. Is it worth pursuing, even if I don't make much money with it?

"Do you think I should give up on my dream of being a webcomic artist?"

And this isn't just for you, anon, this is for everyone who follows my nonsense here.

Yes, it's hard to build an audience.

It's even harder to make money.

You should still make webcomics if you really want to do it.

The only practical piece of advice I can give you from the perspective of someone who's been doing this for years is to manage your expectations. Because that's the biggest mistake a lot of webcomic artists make (and I too, made this mistake) they go into it setting the bar that it HAS to result in them making a living off it, getting famous off it, etc. when that's unfortunately only the reality for the 1% who get lucky or have an advantage that the other 99% don't have. And then, of course, failing to meet those ridiculously high expectations makes the fall hurt that much harder if you fail, especially with odds like that stacked against you. That's not to say you shouldn't set a bar for yourself, but you have to set it in a place that's reasonable. Especially if you're an artist with ADHD (same, mood), we have a REAL bad habit of setting the bar unreasonably high for ourselves when we're still learning and getting our feet wet (it's why we're always taking on new hobbies after getting inspired by musicians or crafters and then getting immediately discouraged when we're not suddenly able to do the thing with that same amount of skill).

Set the bar in a reasonable place with reasonable expectations, and then when you MEET that bar, you'll have even more motivation and confidence to aim higher. What won't give you confidence is setting the bar alongside the pros who have been at this for years, because not only will it take way too long to hit that for you to see results, you might give up before you even come close because of how far away the bar is.

A career as a webcomic artist is about as guaranteed as making a career out of Youtube. But being a webcomic artist, period? You can do it. Anyone can do it. I'm still doing it in spite of everything. Like, I cannot even fully express to you just how much of what I do here is the culmination of a long list of failures. My art, my writing, the stuff I do here is built on the corpses of my failures. But those failures were still important, they had to happen to make me into the person and artist I am today. That person is STILL making mistakes, and that artist is STILL not rich LOL Failure is scary, but fear of failure is the true killer of joy and growth.

Do not tie the merit of being a webcomic artist to how much money you can (or can't) make out of it. Just like with starting a Youtube channel, you shouldn't go into it expecting money and fame right out the gate, but there are equal amounts of joy and experience you can gain by doing it. There's a reason people say you have to do it out of love and passion first because ultimately that's all you'll have to keep carrying you through if and when you fail to meet your goals. You don't have to be sure if you'll still want to do it a year from now or five years from now, none of that matters. If you want to do it now, then do it.

Make your 4-5 panel comics if that's what you enjoy doing. Make whatever tickles your fancy. Acknowledge your fears and doubts, thank them for their opinion, and do it anyways. "What if it ends up being a waste of time?" The time will pass anyways. Worst case, at least you'll be able to say you did it. That's better than never trying and regretting it in the end.

[robfinancialtip]

💖✨Juanita and Marlon, a committed couple, share their inspirational journey as artists delving into the delicate balance of following their passion for acting and navigating the practicalities of life. Their story unfolds with Juanita's Colombian roots and Marlon's upbringing in Long Island, illustrating how their diverse backgrounds shaped the pursuit of their shared passion. Despite initial obstacles and lacking support in their hometowns, they express gratitude for the opportunities propelling them. Attending prestigious acting schools and becoming members of renowned theater companies became milestones in their journey. They highlight the relentless hustle required to support themselves while fully pursuing their artistic purpose and emphasize the powerful impact of mutual support, particularly Juanita's consistent encouragement, which strengthens their shared commitment to the trade.

🧠💪The duo frankly explores the inherent fears associated with pursuing acting in a city rich with outstanding talent. They acknowledge the internal battle against thoughts of inadequacy. Despite these hurdles, they send a strong message of resilience, highlighting the need for tenacity and self-belief in overcoming self-doubt and external pressures.

🔍🎭Marlon explains his decision to pursue acting after first studying criminal justice in college, recalling a watershed moment when he chose to audition for a play and later apply to acting schools. He highlights the need to take risks and bet on oneself, especially in the face of doubt from others, as well as perseverance and self-belief in attaining one's goals.

💫🎬Juanita's acting goes beyond ordinary performance; it becomes an inspirational outlet and a channel for profound self-expression, allowing her to fully honor her identity and experience the whole range of human emotions. On the other hand, Marlon tells his motivational transformation story, describing how acting drove his transition from reluctance to vulnerability and empathy. His story highlights the craft's transformative ability to promote emotional growth and human connection.

🎨🌈Despite obstacles, Juanita and Marlon find tremendous joy in their artistic activities, whether on stage or mentoring the next generation of performers. Their shared worldview sees art as more than a profession but a powerful tool for self-discovery and societal empowerment. It aims to inspire people to find their voices and accept their truths via creative expression.

🌱🚀As they traverse the ups and downs of their careers, Juanita and Marlon stay consistent in their dedication to the artistic journey, understanding its intrinsic value beyond traditional measures of success. Their shared goal is not only celebrity or financial gain but also establishing meaningful connections, cultivating curiosity, and preserving a culture of authenticity and inquiry in themselves and those they touch. In sharing their experience, they hope to inspire and motivate budding artists by demonstrating that with perseverance and belief in oneself, even the most difficult barriers can be conquered to attain one's aspirations.

[schizoidvision]

5 Reasons Why Schizoids May Choose to Attract Attention

Schizoid personality traits are often characterized by a preference for solitude, emotional detachment, and a limited desire for social interactions. At first glance, it may seem paradoxical that individuals who value their alone time and privacy would choose to engage in exhibitionistic behaviors to attract attention from others. However, there are several psychological mechanisms and reasons behind this seemingly contradictory behavior. Understanding these can provide deeper insights into the schizoid personality.

1. Intellectualization as a Defense Mechanism

Intellectualization is a common defense mechanism used by schizoids to distance themselves from their emotions. This involves viewing emotions from an analytical or logical standpoint rather than experiencing them directly. In the context of exhibitionism, a schizoid might make a conscious, intellectual decision to perform or showcase certain behaviors or talents. This allows them to engage with the world and express themselves without emotionally investing in the process. By intellectualizing their actions, schizoids can maintain emotional distance while still participating in social activities.

2. Controlled Visibility

Schizoids often seek to maintain control over their interactions and how they are perceived by others. This concept, known as controlled visibility, enables them to manage the attention they receive on their own terms. By choosing when, how, and in what context to attract attention, they can ensure that their interactions are planned and deliberate. This controlled approach allows them to engage with others without the spontaneity that might otherwise provoke anxiety or discomfort due to their emotional detachment.

3. Expression Through a False Self

Many schizoids interact with the world through a "false self" system, presenting a persona that conceals their true inner self. This persona can be used effectively in exhibitionistic behaviors, serving as a mask that protects their true identity. By putting on a show or performance, schizoids can reveal aspects of themselves that they feel comfortable sharing. This helps them manage social interactions while keeping their true self shielded from external scrutiny.

4. Creative Outlets and Emotional Detachment

Schizoids are often highly creative and may use their creativity to engage with the world in a way that feels safe and controlled. For some, this might involve careers or hobbies in the performing arts, such as acting, stand-up comedy, or music. These activities provide a structured environment where they can express themselves and receive feedback without emotional entanglement. The detachment they experience allows them to perform without the self-consciousness that typically accompanies genuine emotional expression.

5. Managing Risk and Emotional Distance

Despite their preference for solitude, many schizoids do not wish to be entirely invisible. Engaging in exhibitionistic behavior can be a way to establish a presence in the external world without requiring deep emotional involvement or social connection. This can sometimes lead to risky behaviors, as their emotional detachment might prevent them from fully connecting with the gravity of certain situations. However, their defense mechanisms and propensity for intellectualization often help them navigate these risks.

Summary…

Understanding why schizoids might choose to attract attention involves delving into their unique psychological makeup. By using intellectualization, maintaining controlled visibility, expressing through a false self, leveraging creative outlets, and managing risk and emotional distance, schizoids can engage with the world in ways that align with their need for emotional detachment and solitude. This approach allows them to interact socially without compromising their intrinsic need for privacy and emotional protection.

Video From My YouTube Channel: Schizoid Exhibitionism Explained

[aixeko]

❣ " Your Strength Won't Die With You. The Torch Will Be Carried On… By Me. " ❣

| Starring | Scout!Arlecchino x Scout!Reader

| Setting | AOT Alternative Universe 

| Scenario | [ DRABBLE ] ANGST! Hurt no comfort.  Pronouns are not used. Mention of Clervie. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ]

× Since I haven’t posted in a while might as well. Maybe once I’m done with work then I will probably turn this into a oneshot.  × I imagine Arlecchino as Levi Ackerman and the reader as Hange Zoë, like it’s so right to me. Levihan, my beloved doomed couple.  × Please bare with the quality, I'm writing this half awake at midnight 😭😭

[ Word count: 2009 ] | Art credit: Anko on Twitter

The sun hung high in the azure sky, no longer obscured by the thick roiling clouds, casting the world in its muted, almost sickly warmth. The haze once clouding the environment now reveals the onslaught accursed by humanity's exterminator, known as the Titan. Your comrades, individuals with a name, a family, and a lifetime of histories, are now nothing more than indistinguishable pieces, the Titan's mnemonic of their victorious reign over humanity.

You stand tall in front of a headless comrade, your expression unreadable, yet the heart telltale a great difference. You have been doing this for years; yes, you have seen your ally die in dedication to their heart to push forth humankind for a chance at advancement, but the experience does not account for the hardship the mortal heart has to endure.

You crouch down and wrap their head in a blanket, preserving all that remains to honor their life with a proper burial. One of the scouts came to retrieve the corpse from you, a solemn expression displayed on his face, exactly mirroring the rest of the regiment.

In the corner of your perception, you observe a hint of pink. Your eyes soften ever so slightly at the familiar identification of the fallen scout. So that's why that Titan is beaten hollow. You thought, your gaze turning to the carcass of bones and to the slaughterer of said carcass.

Arlecchino? The first time her name rolled off your tongue, it was with an inquiry rather than a declaration. It was an unfamiliar hesitation as if in fear of mispronunciation, leaving an unwanted first impression.

She was a new addition to the scout regiment, someone from the lowest part of the three divine walls separating humanity from its destructor, the underground. Arlecchino had come with another, a pink-haired girl by the name of Clervie. The duo had ill intentions to assassinate the scout regiment commander in exchange for gaining citizenship in the wall farthest from Titan territory and the most extravagant of the three.

In turn, the outcome of the attempted extermination led to this: Clervie's unfortunate death and an outraged, newly reawakened Arlecchino. It was pitiful, really, to harbor such confidence in one's own ability with such lackluster experience in Titan territory; their fate was always bound to end in tragedy.

You perform the same repetitive, heartfelt action you've carried out on hundreds and thousands of fallen soldiers. A blanket wrapped around their cadaver, a funeral to release their soul, and a flame carried on by the living.

You give the body to a scout, and with Clervie's cloak in hand, you make your way to the living corpse that is Arlecchino.

"Welcome to the life of the Survey Corps."

At the feeling of the cloak dropping onto her lap and the reverberation emitted from your voice, Arlecchino's head slowly tilted up to gaze at you. The intensity of those unique crimson-marked eyes is fuming with seemingly all of humanity's rage, and you can't help but admit the overwhelming predatory and prey-like dynamic in the air.

"The loss of the one dearest to you is the tragic reality as humankind hopes. The scout regiment has long lived with losses since the founding of its creation, but does that result ever dwindle the flame? No, it doesn't."

Your hand lifts from its position and outstretches in a proposition for her acceptance.

"Losing is all we ever know, and those who brave through it are the ones to continue igniting the flame of the passing and the living. Become the strongest," the corner of your lip curves upward in a smile, "and lead your comrade to a victorious battle; that's what they lived and died for; that is what she would have wanted for you."

Arlecchino The second time her name left your lips, your tongue rolled with expectation for the capabilities the woman held in those limbs of hers and for the beginning of a profound bond between soldiers.

A lifetime seemed to fly by before there was some sort of reaction or action. Arlecchino wraps Clervie's cloak around herself and goes onto her feet without accepting your hand.

"Fine. I will follow you," she says, standing beside you, her once-lowered head now raised to the sky. "Foolish, suicidal bastards."

Like second nature, your posture straightens, a widening smile stretching all over as you clench your right fist and strike your chest just above your heart with firmness.

"Dedicate your heart."

Arlecchino made a sound of disapproval, a clear indication that she did not resonate with the Survey Corps salute. She moves from her position and makes her way to her horse. You shake your head with the smile still on your face; soon enough, you follow suit onto your own horse, making your way back to the safety of the divine walls' protection.

Days, months, and then years passed by since that day; you both aged together in the weak and strength, the mature and the experiences. Death scythes had struck many times at the both of you and each time survival was granted, an invisible thread seemed to tighten around the two of you, especially in the most vital and fragile part of the human body, the heart itself. If it ever dared to break, then the consequence of its utter annihilation would be so great that death would be a gentler fate.

It was meant to be another mission, a normal and non-risky one; nothing should have gone wrong according to the commander's calculations.

You're mounted on your horse alongside your fellow soldiers, and beside you is your partner, Arlecchino, the strength to your weakness and vice versa. You wave to the awing citizens, awaiting the gate of the wall to open so your expedition to survey outside can begin.

"You see that, sister? The crest on their cloak—those are the wings of freedom! It shows that they are our saviors; I want to be like them when I grow up!"

Your gaze softens upon overhearing the conversation between a young boy and his sister. Oh, how pure and innocent a child's mind is; if only they knew the nightmare that each member of the scout regiment has to endure every expedition.

The gate lifted up, and every soldier turned their attention to it, and simultaneously, every horse began building momentum to charge out.

"Isn't that Captain Arlecchino? They say she's worth more than hundreds of soldiers; if only there were more of her, then our taxes wouldn't be wasted on dead corpses."

Your eyes furrow at the backhanded compliment as you pass by the gossiping citizens. You shake your head in disapproval, and it seems Arlecchino has heard it too; sharing the same displeasure, she mutters a distasteful comment about their words. You turn your head to her, a knowing smile stretched upon you; in turn, she gives you her usual nearly unreadable expression; at least to everyone else, it's unreadable.

"You achieved what you sought; are you not satisfied with the compliment?"

The gate fully opened, and the commander's voice boomed in announcement of the beginning of the Survey Corps expedition outside the wall. Soldiers roared, and horses soared in determination.

"You're one to talk."

Arlecchino sprints past you, making you let out a laugh as you follow behind her. The outside wind blows against your hair, and your eyes are set forward, shining with hope and perseverance.

It was meant to be a normal and safe mission, so why did this happen?

ARLECCHINO The third time her name slipped past your lips, it was an involuntary one, sparked out of fear and anxiety for your closest ally's life—feelings that you hadn't truly felt in a long time.

With your two blades in hand, you strike the nape of the Titan looming over Arlecchino. A hint of relief flashes, and I'm grateful you weren't too late. You retrieve your omni-directional mobility gear [ ODM ] and land beside the injured Arlecchino.

"What happened? Can you move? Is it your arms, your head, or your legs?" Questions spur out at an inhumanly rapid pace, faster than you have ever talked. You were scared; you were so scared.

Arlecchino placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"My legs, but it will be fine. A horde of Titans came my way; other groups came to help me and tried to fend them off, but unfortunately couldn't. What about your group? Where are they?"

You were going to answer her with the same regrettable answer; your entire group had also been completely wiped out, but your words would forever be left in the void because the next thing you knew, Arlecchino shoved you away.

A sound of pain is produced from your mouth as your body makes contact with a tree. Your hand clutched your chest as you tilted your head upward from the ground. You're left gaping as a 15-meter titan has its foul mouth clutch around Arlecchino's hand. Without thinking, a sudden phenomenal rush of adrenaline submerged you against all logic; you used the last ounce of strength left in you and charged with your broken ODM straight at the titan's nape. Due to the malfunction, your ODM wasn't fast enough, and because of this nonstrategic decision, you served yourself on a silver platter to the beastly abomination.

"Idiot," Arlecchino grumbled under her breath.

With only a single available hand, she manages to strike the Titan's nape, releasing you from its grip. Arlecchino crumbles to the ground as her bleeding intensifies at a substantial rate. Sweat and blood bead on your face; you push yourself and slowly drag your battered body to Arlecchino. You wrap a hand around her in a protective manner; the very moment your eyes set on hers, tears stream down your face. With great speed, you scan for the purple signal flare, a smoke indicating an emergency of some kind.

"Stay alive for me—okay...? Help will be here soon, please- I.."

Before you could say anything more, Arlecchino fired the purple smoke signal for you.

"Take my gear; yours is damaged. You can still save yourself."

"What-?"

"You know better than anyone else that my injuries are too grave. By the time we reach the wall for help, I won't be alive."

Your eyes meet hers; no longer does it share the same characteristics as the one you saw all those years ago. No longer were they fuming with rage equivalent to humanity, but rather a reflection of tranquility and delicacy as that of a hare.

"Don't do this to me... please Arle-"

She brought a hand to silence you. Her gaze softened, and following along, there was a small smile.

"My real name is Peruere," she uttered in a hushed tone.

A wider smile spread across her parched lips. With her fist clenched, she struck your chest, exactly where your heart is located.

"Dedicate your heart."

With a final, whispered breath of your name, the weight of her eyelids, burdened with exhaustion, at last forced her eyes shut. The realization finally dawned on you at her modified version of the Survey Corps' salute.

Peruere. The last time her name escaped your lips, it was a cry of anguish and betrayal soaring through the dimming sky. The grief gnaws at your fragile heart from the crushing fact that you failed to protect and save one of the only people who ever genuinely mattered to you. The sting of betrayal scorches your soul because she will never get to experience the entirety of your life while you get to live through every moment of hers. Soon enough, the memory of her eyes, her features, the memories, everything, will be lost to the world, haunting you forever, a thorn in your side at the price of freedom that came with the loss of your love.

And in the end, the only solace you have is the weight of her absence, one that echoes louder than words ever could. All that is left is emptiness, a void that can never be filled by anyone else.

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ] × Originally, I didn't intend to kill Arle but rather the reader. It just came to suddenly and since I couldn't decide I spun the wheel lmfao.