#my art is how i process my emotions and anxieties

[soldier-poet-king]

Mmmmm reading systems collapse and the deep persistent ache abt murderbot and ART's friendship. Btw. If u even care.

[not-terezi-pyrope]

Ok. It's pretty clear you are more welcoming of AI, and it does have enough merits to not be given a knee jerk reaction outright.

And how the current anti-ai stealing programs could be misused.

But isn't so much of the models built on stolen art? That is one of the big thing keeping me from freely enjoying it.

The stolen art is a thing that needs to be addressed.

Though i agree that the ways that such addressing are being done in are not ideal. Counterproductive even.

I could make a quip here and be like "stolen art??? But the art is all still there, and it looks fine to me!" And that would be a salient point about the silliness of digital theft as a concept, but I know that wouldn't actually address your point because what you're actually talking about is art appropriation by generative AI models.

But the thing is that generative AI models don't really do that, either. They train on publicly posted images and derive a sort of metadata - more specifically, they build a feature space mapping out different visual concepts together with text that refers to them. This is then used at the generative stage in order to produce new images based on the denoising predictions of that abstract feature model. No output is created that hasn't gone through that multi-stage level of abstraction from the training data, and none of the original training images are directly used at all.

Due to various flaws in the process, you can sometimes get a model to output images extremely similar to particular training images, and it is also possible to get a model to pastiche a particular artist's work or style, but this is something that humans can also do and is a problem with the individual image that has been created, rather than the process in general.

Training an AI model is pretty clearly fair use, because you're not even really re-using the training images - you're deriving metadata that describes them, and using them to build new images. This is far more comparable to the process by which human artists learn concepts than the weird sort of "theft collage" that people seem to be convinced is going on. In many cases, the much larger training corpus of generative AI models means that an output will be far more abstracted from any identifiable source data (source data in fact is usually not identifiable) than a human being drawing from a reference, something we all agree is perfectly fine!

The only difference is that the AI process is happening in a computer with tangible data, and is therefore quantifiable. This seems to convince people that it is in some way more ontologically derivative than any other artistic process, because computers are assumed to be copying whereas the human brain can impart its own mystical juju of originality.

I'm a materialist and think this is very silly. The valid concerns around AI are to do with how society is unprepared for increased automation, but that's an entirely different conversation from the art theft one, and the latter actively distracts from the former. The complete refusal from some people to even engage with AI's existence out of disgust also makes it harder to solve the real problem around its implementation.

This sucks, because for a lot of people it's not really about copyright or intellectual property anyway. It's about that automation threat, and a sort of human condition anxiety about being supplanted and replaced by automation. That's a whole mess of emotions and genuine labour concerns that we need to work through and break down and resolve, but reactionary egg-throwing at all things related to machine learning is counterproductive to that, as is reading out legal mantras paraphrasing megacorps looking to expand copyright law to over shit like "art style".

I've spoken about this more elsewhere if you look at my blog's AI tag.

[southparkl4d]

part uhhhhh 25 wow this took me a while my confidence in making this rly deteriorated throughout the process but it turned out pretty ok i think

Previous

Next

Jimmy, Tweek, Clyde and Bebe take a shortcut through the North Park Funland, an abandoned amusement park stocked full of fun and definitely not infested with the undead. Clyde and Jimmy are infatuated with the empty park, thinking it’s awesome they have this entire place to themselves. Bebe is indifferent and cool-headed, while Tweek is constantly paranoid for every step he takes.

explanations:

Everything lined in red is not actually there. Bebe, Jimmy, Clyde and even Tweek don’t see these, but rather it’s a manifestation of Tweek’s anxiety and paranoia. The entity in the mirror house, the hunter watching the group, Craig, Clyde and Tolkien being deceased, Tweek’s tears, the flashes of him being dismembered, the figure watching Tweek sitting on the bench, Bebe being eaten alive, the smoker tongue/zombie figures about to attack Jimmy and Clyde while they enter the gift shop.

The last scene with the art styles switching is supposed to be Tweek spiraling into an even worse panicked state, things becoming disoriented and abnormal. Clyde has an X over the eye that is no longer there instead of an eyepatch because Tweek is thinking back to when he first lost it, with the thought that the same fate or even worse could happen to any of them at all times if they weren’t careful enough.

The second part of the styles switching is a flashback of Tweek’s memories before the apocalypse started, walking in the school hallway. Bebe is scribbled out because he didn’t know her well back then and Clyde has his other eye. The scene fades out, thus ending the animatic, leaving Tweek’s feelings unresolved and seemingly unending.

Jimmy and Clyde barely take notice of Tweek’s mental state, and Bebe tries to help but doesn’t fully understand what Tweek needs for support. He’s keeping a lot of his feelings internal, rather than normally yelling and expressing his emotions due to not wanting to attract a horde and killing himself and his group.

what was the point of this animatic:

to shine a light on how tweek is handling his anxiety throughout the apocalypse, and the negative effects it brings to him mentally

sry i hope this makes sense i literally had no plan while i was making this 3/4s of this was made up on the spot lol i have homework to do man

also a huge huge ginormous thank u to everyone who drew a frame for the last scene i seriously appreciate u putting time into making something for my au thats actually so awesome

❗️SLIDE 30 OF LAST SCENE CREDIT WAS FORGOTTEN - @moltergeist ON TUMBLR

[iamadequate1]

OK, people are still being jerks

It's just a stupid show! Why do you care or give money to this when Bad Thing is happening in the world?? Omg, you are so embarrassing!

I tell you, a Bad Thing has been happening every day of my life on this earth, and I still want some enjoyment out of my squishy mortal existence.

There is an emotional burden to living. We can't live our lives stressed and in anxiety all of our waking moments. We need entertainment, leisure, and play. This helps our brains rest.

But if we're going to Go There because of these "activists", let's talk about fascism a bit, shall we? So many of us read 1984 in school, right? With the Newspeak and novel-writing machines? It's a dystopia that cuts language down and prints out its entertainment without a creative process behind it. Fascism is anti-intellectual and has a disdain for the arts, only wanting to recycle the past. Fascism marginalizes those with less power. Fascism wants to control all of the mass media. Fascism reveres corporations. ... fascism is bad, btw.

Representation in media is important. Stories are a big part of how we pass down history, share culture, and build community in a society. No, the shows that people are upset about losing may not be Shakespeare, but most things aren't. I was going to go on a longer rant here, but you know what? You Get It or you Don't. The arts and telling inclusive stories are Important, even if it's not Life-or-Death. People can care about more than one thing at once.

If we're looking at what's happening with Max right now, they're cutting out queer shows, shows with large BIPOC casts, and shows with female leads. We're watching these streamers and companies dissolve into one another (WBD/Max wants to merge with Paramount, remember). We're watching shows that aren't led by cishet white males disappear and shows that aren't cookie cutter, strictly-by-the-numbers IPs or procedurals or cheap reality shows disappear. Maybe we'd be allowed to get bare minimum tokenism if we're lucky, and if we're extra lucky, get some marketing! There are some exceptions in streamers... now. Two years ago, HBO Max was the place where new stories could be told safely, and nothing is stepping in to take its place now. Sure, some bad shows may have been canceled back in the day, but that isn't what's happening right now, is it?

People creating these stories deserve a living wage, even if they don't pump out Record Profits, and storytellers (and the audience!) should have some safety in being able to finish the story in some manner. Almost all of the financial difficulties facing Max now are due to mismanagement at the executive level, not quality of products. Any show that does something new or tells a different perspective does not last. It's not even about "numbers." Our Flag Means Death outperformed everything, but here we are. OFMD is a rarity now that it has the loud and passionate fanbase to make waves.

So, here are some petitions for three shows canceled this week on Max. (Remember Max is planning to throw over $125M at a season of TERFy wizards) Fandoms should support each other!

Our Flag Means Death

Rap Sh!t

Julia

[chubs-deuce]

Hello!!! Love love LOVE your Charlastor and Hazbin artwork; your art is amazing!!

I have a feww questions if you’re comfortable with answering them (no worries if not) :D

I love hearing people’s music recommendations, so I was wondering if you listen to music whilst you draw and if there’s any songs in particular that make you think of the characters and/or the ship?

Also, I get a bit nervous posting about Charlastor because of some of the hate it gets in the fandom and because some of my irl classmates who follow me don’t like the ship (and don’t know I like it), so I was wondering what your general mindset is when you post your art online, but also what your mindset is like when posting Charlastor art, knowing what the fandom can be like?

Finallyy, I wanted to ask if you’ve read Under My Skin by whamagram on AO3 and if you have, what are your thoughts on it? It’s a mature slowburn Radiobelle fic and only has a few chapters out so far, but it’s updated pretty regularly and has become my new favourite at the moment! I highly highly recommend it because it’s super well-written, really witty, and really understands the characters. It’s all about Charlie nursing Alastor back to health after the final battle in season 1 and it’s just so well done!!

Again, just want to say that I really really love your work and thank you for sharing it! I especially love how you draw expressions and the way you draw characters and their emotions feels so real. Seeing your illustrations inspires me to keep practicing with my own art!

Omg thank you so much for this lovely ask?!!

I'd be more than happy to answer all of these actually! :D

I am, in fact, the kind of person who looooves finding songs that fit certain characters or ships and make whole playlists over time if I find enough of them, so here's some that made me think of Charlastor (links are all spotify):

- Glass Piano, by Kathleen

- Daisy Bell, and specifically this scuffed computer sung version bc it hits better

- bored like me, by dodie

- Ended with the Night, by Caravan Palace

- I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, by The Ink Spots

- I Can't Decide, by Scissor Sisters

I have yet to really find more songs specific to the characters as individuals tho lol

----------

As for your next question...

This isn't my first rodeo in the unpopular non-canon het presenting ship club, so there's a few things I like to remind myself of when I feel that people pleaser anxiety sneaking up on me:

1)

if people truly wanted to avoid content of the ship, they'd block the tags. Maybe kindly ask your friend to block the charlastor and radiobelle tags bc you want to post about them? This way they're not forced to see what they dislike and you get to have your harmless fun. If they're opposed to this, question why. It's not your job to curate *their* online experience, they do have all the necessary tools at their disposal.

2)

I consider the source material like a toy box. You can play with the dolls in it like the packaging intended for you to, but there's no rules dictating that you can't play *your* way if that's more fun to you.

Canon is in my eyes the preferred suggestion, but not the law - don't we all just smush the heads of dolls together making kissy noises in our minds at the end of the day?

A lot of people sadly treat shipping like it's a battle for author validation, when in reality it was always just a way to playing with hypotheticals and exploring the world and characters canon offered us in new and interesting ways... I hate the attitude some people have about canonicity. Imo, as long as you're not acting like your non-canon ship should be canon and shit on other ships in the process, you're not doing any harm.

Now... Canon sexualities and having contrary headcanons are a tricky road to travel because there's so much emotional investment in the canon representation of often overlooked or mishandled minority groups, and this is the biggest anti argument I've seen get thrown around, since Charlastor as a ship not only splits up the canon lesbian pairing, but also alters Alastor's canon sexuality to make the ship work.

What's important here is that you handle it respectfully - i.e. don't be a dick and go around acting like your preferred ideas are better and should be canon or whatever. Attitude is important, respect canon for what it is and embrace the fact that your ship is not. It's not a detriment! It just means we have to make all of our own content lol.

I personally headcanon Alastor as demisexual/demiromantic not only because it still fits under the aspec umbrella, but also because I myself am both of those things and enjoy messing with the characters and narrative using a dynamic I have a lot of personal experience with! It's fun to hit someone as haughty and stubbornly emotionally detached as Alastor with a flurry of unexpected, unwanted feelings and struggling to navigate them.

Do I want that to be canon? Absolutely not! I'm just having fun with my imaginative toys in my own corner of the internet lol.

Also for the record, I think Chaggie is cute and they should absolutely stay together, I just don't find them interesting enough to explore further in the realm of fanfiction and art :'D

Ultimately I'm a strong believer of "I can post whatever I want forever", if anyone has an issue with it and the given tools at their disposal aren't enough to deal with it, they're free to unfollow and/or block me! I don't need anyone's approval to have harmless fun with my artistic and writing skills where I don't bother anyone, and that's imo always what should be at the core of creating just about anything.

----------

OH ALSO I KNOW THAT FIC AND IT'S SOO GOOODDDD I DROP EVERYTHING TO GO READ IT WHENEVER A NEW CHAPTER DROPS

I try my best to leave comments under it wherever I can too bc it genuinely scratches like every itch I have about this ship so well-

The comedy is on point, the dialogue feels so solidly in-character and the pacing and the overall concept just work perfectly!!

10/10 concur as a great recommendation lol

----------

QWQ again, thank you so much for taking the time to type out this lovely ask, I really do appreciate it and the compliments also absolutely made my day!!

I hope you keep having as much fun with this ship as I am, take care!! <3

[alienssstufff]

I can't help but ask what you were thinking when jrwi asked for you to draw the Galloway map! Were you interested in jrwi at some point :0

[this is gonna be really freaking long and emotional i am so sorry] Dude I was scared shitless.

like back in august when Charlie (and JRWI by proxy) were looking for artists for the BITW coc campaign, I replied under his tweet with my stuff Mainly for funzies (was egged on by moots) thinking he'd never actually pick me (there were SO so many good artists under that post ain't no way...)

.... and then he DID

like I wish I could fully emphasize how much that gig means to me imagine: one of my favourite CCs ever, from one of my favourite podcasts EVER, liked MY art and talked to ME to essentially be an environmental concept artist (which is like.. my dream job btw) for HIS campaign??

my monday afternoon that day exploded

and I felt so bad for him too ttwtt - ok - to Charlie our interactions were probably just like any other time commissioning an artist but for me I was mentally in the TRENCHES (in both a good and terrifying way). For someone with really, really, really horrible social anxiety I'm eternally grateful for his patience putting up with my awkwardness - he is seriously one of the most kindest people in the world ;_;

It was so nice hearing Charlie's ideas for the campaign and letting me build on top of it - it rly shows how important that campaign in particular and dnd as a whole is to him and the rest of the council and I feel so blessed to have been a part of that process >w<

I still have small notes lyin around, I can share small behind the scenes snippets if yall want :>

ngl I was about to apply as the map artist again for the main Riptide campaign but was too busy at the time O(-(

I didn't get to talk to the rest of the boys before, if in the chance we were to cross paths again in the future ever I'd love to work for them again (if I am ever that good to) (if they'd have me)!

As for that second half of your ask anon - wwhwhw yes I am interested in JRWI. Already have been in on Riptide and did some fanart at least but I'm a few episodes behind ahfvlsdkfhvb (somewhere in the 90s also without spoiling someone PLEASE tell me if or if not the mf 7hour long ep 100 is the finale im getting scared). I've been wanting to listen to the other patreon campaigns *Im scratching clawing at the walls on PD let me INNN* real bad but idk if my neurodivergent ass could keep focus on maintaining a subscription and catch up in time,, know that i want to tho!

[nordidia]

I see that you're really freaking good at drawing emotions and a wide range of them.

That's super cool!! Wish I could. I probably just need to practice more-

Anyways, do you think Donnie would have anxiety attacks sometimes? Just thinking about everything he has to do around the Lair?

ppl often ask me how i get emotions good like that and the only answer i can give is i just re-do em until theyre perfect. i always start wtih the face to set the scene, and sometimes the last thing thats worked on before finishing is redrawing the face for the 18th time

i used to study my face in the mirror as a kid to recognise how my face looked and felt so i had control over my emotions and used them appropriately (autism moment) and ive always been drawn to negative emotions shown in people's faces, especially sadness. i'd pause alot watching sad scenes to watch the actors act out their emotions in their faces, and to study them random ass fact: my current favorite emotional scene to study faces in is hotch from criminal minds in s5 episode 9 (iykyk)

i'm an extremely expressive person, a very open book. i'll sometimes look myself in the mirror on bad days and immediately get art inspiration for an emotional piece, simply for how im staring back at myself in the mirror. it actually helps alot drawing when im like that

other than that its alot of fully understanding where the feelings come from, how the character would process it and handle it, and if they'd be aware about concealing how they feel or not in that second

and i dont know a single autistic person who doesnt have anxiety attacks so probably aeAUGYUEh

[mariacallous]

The thing that people with power don’t know is what it’s like to have little or no power. Minute by minute, you are reminded of your place in the world: how it’s difficult to get out of bed if you have mental health conditions, impossible to laugh or charm if you are worried about what you will eat, and how not being seen can grind away at your sense of self.

I am often in rooms with people who do not understand this, people more educated than me, more privileged than me – people who are so accustomed to having power that they don’t even know it’s there. I am a black woman in my fifties, I am neurodiverse, and I have multiple mental health diagnoses. Part of my job as a researcher and cultural thinker involves working with leaders in the arts, business and politics, supporting them to see the one thing they can’t: the effects of the power that they wield.

But just pointing out this disparity can leave people feeling defensive. It can get you labelled an “angry black woman”. In the past, when I started to tell people about what it felt like to have no power, and how hard it was to understand, they didn’t listen. So I turned to science, to understand the effects of power in your body, in order to bring evidence to what I already knew, and make people listen.

I call this research the neurology of power. It involves looking at the sociological explanations of power as well as the neuroscientific underpinnings. Being in a state of powerlessness leads to perpetual stress. That stress trains our bodies to be on the alert for it, compromising our productivity and happiness in situations where others – those who have never experienced that sense of powerlessness – are left to thrive.

Anyone who’s ever taken a few deep breaths, forced themselves to lower their shoulders or closed their eyes to regain their composure is aware that the brain and the body are in a constant feedback loop. We feel our thoughts and we think our feelings.

Researching these ideas brought me into conversations with leading scientists around the world. Prof Lisa Feldman Barrett, at Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts general hospital, told me about a process known as “body budgeting”, or allostasis. She argues that, like a financial budget, our brains keep track of when we spend resources (eg going for a run) and when resources are deposited (eg eating). It is a predictive process, by which the brain maintains energy regulation by anticipating the body’s needs and preparing to satisfy those needs before they arise.

Feldman argues that this process is so fundamental to the architecture of the brain that it extends to our mental states. Our emotions arise from our brain’s calculations of the physical, metabolic needs of our bodies. Predicting a dangerous situation requiring us to flee results in physical changes and discomfort we register as anxiety.

This body budgeting has social effects. For instance, our ability to empathise with another person is dependent on our body budgeting. When people are more familiar to us, our brain can more efficiently predict what their inner state and struggles may be and feel like. This process is harder for those less familiar to us, so our brains may be less inclined to use up precious resources in making difficult predictions.

Sukhvinder Obhi, a professor of social neuroscience at McMaster University in Canada, told me more about how people with power often struggle to empathise with others. Because the brain makes predictions based on past experiences, these patterns are self-reinforcing. Often, powerful people learn to behave as if they have power. Powerless people learn to behave as if they have none.

This research legitimised what I always knew. Power wires the powerful for power; but it can also wire them against people without power. You can lose your empathy. And power is critical for wellbeing.

This empathy deficit has historically been a celebrated attribute among leaders – ruthlessness that allows people to make hard decisions without fear of the consequences. You can see it in political leaders of every political persuasion, from time immemorial. Today it feels particularly stark. It has left society divided, trust in powerful institutions eroded and policymaking driven by ideology rather than human experience.

We need a new kind of policymaking that puts people at the heart of the process. Policymakers need to start by listening, by sharing power with the people who really understand the nature of powerlessness and the effect of the policies they are writing. We can’t stay in this perpetual loop of those with power deciding everything. They are handicapped by their own privilege.

Many find this evidence about power uncomfortable to confront. I’ve spoken on panels, presented my arguments and had them disputed in public by senior academics, who later apologised privately, once they’d checked my references in full.

I shouldn’t need to lean on science to be heard and justify what I already know: that power is a limiting factor for our leaders and we need to make policy differently to counterbalance the power gap. This is a call to action: we can do things differently. Let’s try.

[valiumgf]

ok so! coping with schizophrenia/schizoaffective on low dose/no antipsychotics (I do use mood stabilizers still) info under the cut

1. process your emotions as they come!! (you've gotta figure out how you process best, journalling, visual art, talking things over with someone you trust, exercise, nature walks, yoga, writing poetry, whatever works best for you!) by as they come I mean: literally ASAP!! don't let it have time to marinate and get lost in your subconscious without properly addressing it! something that helps this is really paying attention to where and how you feel emotions (example: I feel guilt and anxiety like a ball in my chest, when I notice I feel it I know I gotta talk to someone ASAP!)

2. OK you're recognizing something you hear/see might not be there think about what stressful events have occurred recently, how does it relate? is there a common trigger (feeling, memory, situation, even a passing thought that occurred before the experience!) try to write down the contributing factors and what the experience was if you have the time! (writing in your phones notes app can quickly work!) acknowledge the experience: i saw this, it made me feel this. next try to redirect your thinking to something else! (I'll explain what I mean by this in 3)

3. OK so the experience happened, but I don't know why? acknowledge it, acknowledge what things it made you feel! now think of something unrelated that doesnt evoke a strong emotional reaction from you, redirecting thinking allows me to not ruminate and not increase emotions related to the experience which just makes me personally spiral!

4. you have better insight!!! congrats and if u dont have better insight we will talk,abour redirecting less intense experiences!!! now you can treat the mild experiences you may still have akin to intrusive thoughts! once again, acknowledge, redirect! or, if you're able to, you might be able to just redirect and not use the mental energy to acknowledge them every time when you're confident!

5. if you struggle with going outside due to paranoia, try to focus more on your feet and listen to some music or talk on the phone! I know personally the less I focus on my surroundings on bad days the less my surroundings seem looming and threatening, also if you're afraid of other people and have the confidence: offering a smile when you pass by someone helps me feel less afraid of others and from all the bs I learned in DBT "wide smile open hands" DOES work, open body language and smiles do make me feel more at ease in public!

6. STIM!! my main one in public is closing my hands tight then opening them, sadly some stims are stigmatized but if you feel comfortable it does make it easier to be out of safe spaces!

7. delusions, this gets tricky! for me, it's not about "changing the belief" because let's be honest, it's basically impossible! what helps me, in, the beginning: was "ok so there's two possibilities, 1. your belief is factual, 2. it's not factual" you want to operate your decisions and actions under meeting in the middle, and not doing anything extreme! (example: "my neighbour's are always talking about me and it distresses me": ok! maybe say hi and ask them how they're doing next time you see them, maybe it could improve their view of you! and if not, you're building a little connection with someone you live near!) (example 2: I am being targeted: "I should maybe tell someone I'm feeling anxious (for whatever reason you feel comfortable sharing) and tell someone to keep in touch with me!" it does not confirm that you actually are being targeted but sets up a safety net which can help with the pain of being persecuted without feeling believed) also recommend looking into double bookkeeping!!

[here4kpopfics]

Feeling in Chaos - Fall pt. 1 | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader | Yoongi x (f) reader 

Genre: drama, angst, smut

AU: art college!au, friends to lovers, best friend’s brother

Wordcount: 10,198

Summary: Having to revisit somewhere full of memories for the first time, you ask a friend (?) for help. 

Rating: M / 18+ 

Warnings: Language. Grief. Panic attacks. Y/n has PTSD and is learning how to get through it. Mentions of use of medication. Bad decisions. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Possibly problematic friendship/relationship. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please just skip this story. 

Smut Warnings: oral (both f and m receiving). Protected sex. He gets a little rough at the end, but very vanilla considering what I usually write. 

AN: Sorry for the long wait. The original decision was to have the entire season be their own chapters, but I didn’t want to make the wait time even longer, and the chapters would be over 50k words each. So the seasons get parts and you get updates faster! A reminder that you are free to dislike the way a character behaves and the choices they make and the words they say, especially when dealing with a trauma or grieving. But remember that doesn’t always make them who they are. People overreact, people underreact. Emotions are either heightened or taken away and it can cause a lot of trouble. 

Thank you to my soulmate @playmetheclassics for beta/editing and for just dealing with me freaking out over how the story reads and if people will hate it and me basically spoiling it left and right. You're amazing. 💜

Banner and Divider by @classicscreations

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Y/N (6:47pm): Are you busy?

Yoongi (6:58 pm): For you? Never.

You roll your eyes, sitting in the corner of the library, backpack and canvas sitting on the table in front of you. You curled up into one of the chairs, deciding to wait at the library for his response rather than go home.

Y/N (7:00 pm): I’m sorry for ghosting this week…

Y/N (7:00 pm): School started, and it’s been a mess. 😔

Y/N (7:01 pm): But if you still wanted to hang out before group on Saturday, and are free right now, there’s somewhere I need to go and could use some support…

You hit send and feel the anxiety creeping in at the thought of his rejection and having to go alone. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait too long before he replies.

Yoongi (7:03 pm): Where do you want me to meet you? 

You sigh in relief, texting him where you are and that you’d come out when he was there. He says he’d need about an hour, and you were happy to wait, trying to mentally prepare for a step in the grieving process you knew you weren’t ready for. 

You get comfortable in the chair, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit sideways and leaning your head onto the headrest. You try to focus on keeping your breathing steady instead of the loud voices in your head screaming at you, but both are interrupted by the vibrations from your phone.

Incoming Call: 💜🍪Kookie📷💜

Fuck, I didn’t text him that I was staying after.

Sighing, you answer the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“Hmm?” Is the only thing you can get out. You’re never sure how to greet him anymore. 

“Y/n? Where are you? I thought classes ended at four?”

“They did. I stayed after and spent time in Varon’s trying to complete my painting.”

“Did you?” You puff out a small laugh at the question.

“Nope.” 

“You’ll get it done. I believe in you.” you wish he wouldn’t. “Are you on your way back?”

“Uhm…no…” you feel your body tensing up, “I’m actually going to go to the studio…see if I can finish it there.” 

The line is silent. None of you have gone to the studio. It was the safe space for all four of you, and the idea of going back there was something you and Jungkook had discussed, but neither wanted to until Ryujin was ready.

“Are you with Ry?”

“No…I can’t wait for her to be ready, Koo. I have to get this done.” You hear a heavy sigh on the other line, followed by what sounds like clothing moving against one another.

“Okay. I’ll meet you there. And we can do it toget–”

“No,” you interrupt. “I’m fine, Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re not doing this by yourself, y/n.” 

“I’m not.” 

More silence.

“You’re not?”

“No…I’m going with someone else.” You wince at the confession, knowing you’re doing it again. You’re hurting him.

“Joshua?”

“No, he went home after class.”

“...is it that guy from last week? Your new sex buddy? Yongjin?” You groan, running your hand across your face in annoyance.

“His name’s Yoongi, Jungkook. Don’t even pretend not to remember his name. And yes, with him. I’m just waiting at the library for him to meet me here.” 

The line stays silent again. You can only imagine the face he’s making on the other end right now. Eyebrows pinched together, jaw clenching as he gnaws on the side of his cheek. He’s probably glaring at the wall, wishing he had his punching bag in front of him. You almost check the phone to see if he hung up on you before you hear a big breath being taken.

“But he doesn’t—”

“Exactly, but he doesn’t. That’s the point, Jungkook,” you cut him off again, closing your eyes in frustration. ”Please, let me do this alone, with him, with someone who doesn’t know Kai. Someone who knows the pain of losing a sibling. I’m really fucking trying here, okay? I want to live a life worth living for Kai, and I can’t fucking do that if you keep coddling me like this. I love you, you know I love you, but I need someone else right now, okay? Please?”

You sniffle, using your free hand to wipe away the invisible tears you can’t bring yourself to let out anymore, and listen closely to the man on the other end of the call, not saying a word for a moment. 

“Okay.” He mumbles it out reluctantly. 

“Just…let me know if you need me, okay? Or at least text me when you’re there and when you’re back home, so I know you’re okay?” His voice cracks twice, and your heart with it, but you quietly agree to his terms, both saying goodbye and hanging up. 

“Fuck!” you shout in a whisper against the back of the chair, voices in your head screaming at your mistakes in wording and ruining everything with Jungkook again. 

You nearly jump to another universe at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder, turning quickly to smack the person touching you, only to find Yoongi. You can’t even bring yourself to yell at him, forcing yourself to a normal sitting position instead.

“Hey. You okay, love?”

You shake your head in response, grabbing your backpack and putting it on while Yoongi grabs the canvas before you can. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You shake your head again, grabbing his free hand and intertwining your fingers with his as you lead him out of the library and away from the school. It’s a quick walk from the campus, about six moderately sized blocks, but you both stay silent until you’re a block away from the studio. You feel a small tug on your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n, I’m not doing whatever this is unless you talk to me.”

You turn to look at him, fighting off the many different emotions building up in your heart. 

“I…it’s hard to explain. I’d rather ignore it and focus on why I called you, okay?”

“No. Not okay.” He tugs you closer, chests almost touching. 

“What happened?” His tone softens as he stands the canvas on the ground against his leg to free his hand that moves a strand of hair out of your face. 

You keep your eyes on the beautiful necklace around his neck. The little gold star-shaped pendant resting perfectly under the center of his clavicle with the initials MK carved into it. You wonder where he got it or who gave it to him. 

“I just keep fucking things up with people, and I speak without thinking, and I’m just so tired of it. I’m tired of explaining my feelings. I’m tired of being treated like some basketcase or some fragile flower about to be crushed by the wind. I’m tired, Yoongi. So can we please drop this?”

He watches you closely, your eyes never stray from his chest, and you look exactly how you feel. Angry and exhausted and like you could use a room with a bunch of plates you can break. Your actions differ from your expressions, though, your hand squeezes onto his as if you’re scared and begging for help, looking for some sort of lifeline. 

He knows you enough to know your actions are more than your reactions. The emotions you put on for people can easily be the opposite of what’s real. He sighs, gives a small nod before kissing your forehead, and agrees to drop it. He picks the canvas back up and lets you continue to lead the way silently.

You finally approach an old building that had been converted into an apartment complex, still maintaining its historic features. You punch in the code to unlock the doors, and Yoongi quietly follows as you enter an old elevator, closing the door and gate first before pressing the button that brings you to one of the top floors. 

“So,” you say, taking in a deep breath as the elevator jolts and starts moving. 

“Kai, Ryujin, Jungkook, and I are…were…are all into the arts, right? I’m painting and drawing, Jungkook photography, Ryujin fashion design, and Kai graphic design. We thought it’d be easier for us to have an art studio that we’d all share rather than each having our own because that’d be too expensive, ya know? And none of us really have the space to do it at our apartments. Kai and Jungkook maybe, but then Jungkook recently got into film and wanted his own darkroom, so…” 

“Makes sense,” he nods along, watching you open the gate and opening the door of the desired floor. 

“So we piled all our money together once Kai and Jungkook got accepted at our school, and bought this floor space in this office building and turned it into four rooms.” you explain as you play with the keys in your palm as you approach the door to your shared safe space, trying to delay the inevitable. 

“The one immediately on the right is Ryujin’s room, the left is Jungkook’s, mine is the back left, and Kai’s…” you pause, forcing yourself to unlock the door and open it. You stay standing outside as the door swings open, revealing a dark room, lit only by the lights of the city and sky outside. 

“Kai’s room is back, right.” Your voice falters, and Yoongi squeezes your hand to get you to look at him.

“This is your first time back, isn’t it?” you nod, chewing on your lip. 

“Have you tried coming here before?” you shake your head. 

“Okay, let’s go. You said back left?” After you give a quick nod, Yoongi brings your held hand up to his lips, giving a small kiss on the back of your hand before walking in and holding you close. 

He turns on the light, scanning the room for your door. There are two giant L-shaped couches merged together in the main area, and a big tv hanging on the wall. A tiny kitchen is tucked in a corner of the place, and as you had stated, four doors in the open floor space. He finds the one that is painted multiple colors, with your name hiding amongst the smears of paint. You step in front of him to unlock it with a four-digit code, 0901, hearing the obnoxious clicking sound before the door finally starts to open. You quickly step inside, turning on the light and bringing your hand away from his finally. 

Your room is exactly as you left it a few days before finals in the spring. It’s messy from all of the last-minute  painting you had to do and there’s a wall with various finished canvases lined up against one another. As chaotic as it feels with all the different colors and the paint covering the floor and walls, it’s specifically organized. There’s a table that holds all your brushes, pens, and markers in various jars, separated by size and type. There’s a cabinet full of various paints organized by medium and brand. And the same can be said for the clean canvases and varying sketchbooks. There’s a smaller couch in the corner with a rainbow Squishmallow sitting on it, and a stool in the center, sitting in front of a giant empty easel. 

“Wow.” is all Yoongi can bring himself to say as he walks up to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city and the school. You ignore him as you take the canvas from him and set it on the easel. You unpack your paint supplies, grabbing more from the cabinet and table, and organizing the tray next to the easel. You send a quick text to Jungkook that you’re in your studio and turn your location on to share with him while Yoongi has moved to the other wall and starts sifting through your finished pieces.

“Y/n, when you said you painted, I didn’t know you were actually this fucking good.” 

“Is that a compliment or an insult? I can’t tell.” you narrow your eyes at him, a small smile forming on your lips. 

“Trust me, love. It’s a fucking compliment. It’s - oh holy shit, this is nice!” He exclaims, pulling out the one you painted three years ago of a neighbor’s cat. 

“Whose cat is this?” 

“A neighbor from a few years ago. They moved as I was finishing it up for them. Never got their new address.” You watch him hold the canvas up in awe.

“Do you want it?”

His eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“You can have it, I have no use for it.” 

“Are you sure?” you nod confidently.

“Yeah, put it in the cat cafe or something, I don’t really care.”

The grin that adorns his face is something you would love to paint one day. You take a mental photo of him, saving it for a day you feel inspired again. You can’t help but smile back, eyes darting to the floor when he puts it down next to the door. 

“I’ll put it on the center of the wall in the room with the cats so everyone who comes in can see it.” He steps closer to you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. “So what are we doing here today?”

You give him the rundown of the canvas, showing him the picture of the oak tree you took after texting him, explain your inability to see the colors in the paint and your new instructions from Professor Varon to just paint with whatever. 

He agrees to stick around while you paint, laying on your tiny couch and lets you tell him random stories about Kai while you make the smallest strokes on the canvas, trying to figure out what the colors are. You let Yoongi choose the colors at random, squeezing them onto the pallet in no specific order. You hate that you can’t tell which color is which. You can almost see the color red, but that’s about it.

This is going to look horrible. 

An hour later, Yoongi’s places an order for food to be delivered and you stop painting, joining him on the two couches in the living area. You both eat in silence.

“You should go in there.” Your eyes find his, turning your head to find where he’s looking. 

Kai’s door. 

You look back to your food and shake your head.

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“I should wait for the others. We should do it together.”

“I guess, but he’s your brother before he’s Ryujin’s boyfriend or Jungkook’s best friend, right? Doesn’t that give you something like, I don’t know, seniority?”

“You mean priority?”

“Yeah, that!” He laughs, but you shake your head again.

“It might, but I can’t do it, not without them,” you speak so sternly, trying to end the conversation, but he doesn’t let up.

“You made it here without them, didn’t you?”

“No, I made it here with you.”

“Perfect! You can go in there with me, then.” 

He puts his food down, grabs yours, doing the same before standing up and holding out his hand again. 

“You have to do it at some point, love. Might as well be now.” You shake your head again, but he grabs your hands and pulls you up with little resistance on your part. You let him drag you closer to the door, but freeze when you’re actually in front of it. 

It suddenly looks larger than before, like the door to a boss fight in a video game. It's the final boss and you’re too low of a level. You shouldn’t enter. 

“I can’t do it.” You breathe out, feeling your lungs starting to collapse. 

“Do you not know the code?” 

“No, I know the code. I just…” you look down at the pin pad as the crushing weight of panic starts to settle on your chest again, making you feel heavy. 

“I’m going to open the door and he’s not going to be in there. It’ll be like watching him die all over again.”

His big hands find their way to your face, forcing you to look at him.

“The way I see it, the longer you wait, the more painful it’s going to be. Trust me, I waited months before going into Karin’s room, and I regret waiting that long.” His thumbs soothe back and forth against your cheekbones as you sniffle. 

“You think it’ll be like watching him die all over again right now? I promise you it’ll be even worse if you keep waiting.”

Your head pulls away only slightly, but enough to have Yoongi’s hands follow and readjust as you look up at him. 

“Karin?” 

He gives the smallest nod with the saddest smile. 

“My sister.” 

You offer a small smile in return, a small part of you thrilled that he’s slowly starting to talk about her. He never once mentioned her by name in group therapy, only ever calling her his sister. 

“It’s a pretty name…” you quietly whisper, earning a light laugh from him. His eyes dart between yours like they’re searching for a way out of the conversation.

“Do you want to tell me the code and I’ll put it in?”

You sigh, really not wanting to do this. But if he’s willing to bring up his sister to you? Actually, say her name? Who are you to deny him?

“0412” you quietly mumble, eyes shut tight. 

He moves to stand in front of you, a hand grabbing yours. You squeeze it like a lifeline while he starts punching in the code. You hear the lock clicking to unlock and it’s when the door starts to open you find your nails digging into the hand in yours. 

He lets the door swing open, stepping in just enough so he can find the light switch, turning it on and backing back out before turning to you again. 

“You ready? We don’t have to, if it feels like I’m pressuring you, I don’t mean to. I just—”

“Yoongi. It’s okay.” You look past him and get a glimpse of Kai’s room. You can see his big computer setup as well as a few of his drawing tablets. 

He’s not at his desk, crouched over trying to finish a project. Your heart falters a little, the pain still very much still there, but oddly not as bad as you feared it would’ve been. 

Yoongi steps aside, letting you slowly take the four steps it takes to get into Kai’s room. You take a deep breath when you get to the center of the room, Yoongi right behind you. 

It’s exactly as he’s left it. Just the same as you did right after finals. The four of you had been so busy trying to cram as much fun as possible in the summer, that none of you thought to come back to the studio once the year was over. 

There are sketches tossed around this desk. A notepad that looks full of sketches and other things taped to the sheets inside as well as some pages folded into shapes sits by his mouse. The various tech he kept buying to help improve his work was piled into a corner of the room. He has the same set-up of a couch and a giant window looking out over the city. 

You hear a ruffle of papers and turn to see Yoongi delicately holding some sketches that were on the couch. 

Snap. 

“No! Stop touching it!” You rush to him, roughly taking the papers out of his hand and putting them back on the table. You try to smooth the crinkles you made out without touching the sketch itself but you can’t and instead, the tears you didn’t know were present start to fall from your face, landing on Kai’s drawing. 

You ruined his sketch. This could’ve been the most important sketch to him and you ruined it with your stupid tears. You ruined it just like you ruined everything else. 

I’m always fucking ruining everything, such a goddamn worthless piece of shit. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, it’s ruined.” You gasp, ignoring the ice-cold tightness around your lungs returning. 

Everything hit all at once - like you were being crushed by a freight train and the only moments you could breathe were in between the various train cars running across your chest. 

You drop to your knees, curling in on yourself to be as small as possible, palms pushing against your closed eyes, fingers trying to plug your ears to silence the bloodcurdling noises in your head. You try to breathe, you know you can, but it’s like your lungs refuse to listen to your brain. Your heart refuses to calm down and your brain feels like it’s going to explode. Everything feels wrong and never-ending. 

Make it stop, make it stop, please just make it stop.

Are you thinking it or shouting it? You can’t tell anymore. Nothing seems real anymore. It’s just darkness and pain. It feels like you’re going to die. Maybe that’s okay. You’ll get to see Kai again. 

Please, just let this stop.

It hurts so fucking much.

You feel two hands gently pull your hands away from your eyes and ears. You try to open them, but everything is dark and fuzzy. You can barely make out the boy squatting down in front of you that’s terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing. He tries to wordlessly get you to match his breathing, but you can’t follow him. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched it. I'm so fucking sorry. Come back to me, y/n. Fight through it, you’re right there.”

You’re right there. 

No no no, you can’t think about that.

“Do you want the Ativan?” You hear him whisper and it takes so much energy to shake your head. You don’t want to be numb, you hate it.

Yoongi feels his heart pounding. He’s seen you have anxiety attacks, he’s seen you break down in group therapy, he’s seen your panic attacks, but he’s never seen one like this. He’s never heard you scream the things you’re screaming. It’s overwhelming and terrifying and he doesn’t know how to stop it, but he can’t just sit there and wait for you to come out of it. He wants to help. He needs to help. So he does the only thing he knows he can do to help steady your breathing.

Everything stops. 

The voices, the tears, the pounding in your head, and your breathing all come to a halt the moment you feel his lips on yours.

It’s not romantic in any sense. His chapped lips are roughly pushed against yours that are wet with tears and hopefully not snot. There’s no movement save for his hands cupping your face, fingertips gently moving against the skin on the back of your neck. 

The tightness around your lungs loosens and fades, and the pain in your head is back after the initial shock of the kiss, but it’s fading as well. Your pounding heart is now pounding for a different reason. You open your eyes to find his shut tight, tears barely escaping. 

Your shaky hand reaches up, gently tugging his shirt. He slowly pulls away, eyes opening just enough to see your wide ones staring at him. Realizing what just happened, his hands drop from your face as he leans back some more, readying himself to stand back up.

“I’m so sor- sorry. I- I don’t know why…” you’ve never seen him stumble over words before. Sure, in group therapy he hesitates a lot, but that’s because he’s thinking of what to say next. This is different. This is fear.

He quickly stands up, trying not to disturb any of Kai’s things as he rushes out of the room. You stay seated on your knees, completely lost and confused about everything that just happened. It’s when you hear his keys being picked up that you force yourself to your feet and run out of your brother’s room, not even bothering to close the door. 

When Yoongi starts to walk out of your room with his jacket halfway on, you’re already at the doorway. Your eyes are still wide, still processing what’s happening and what you are doing. 

He looks afraid.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without permission. I just, I didn’t know what to–”

Your lips are on his without a second thought, properly shutting him up. This kiss is a complete one-eighty from the previous, however. Your lips move against his, letting out a small gasp when his hands find your waist, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips and causing you both to moan. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him close as you walk him back to your couch, the sound of his jacket dropping to the floor barely noticed. 

The back of his legs hit the couch and he brings you down with him as he sits down, your legs on either side of his, lips never parting. His hands finally move from your waist, one reaching up for your face, holding you close, while the other grabs a handful of your ass, dragging you closer to him. You get the hint, grinding your hips against his and pulling away from his lips as he lets out a groan. 

His hand tries to bring your lips back to his but you move down, leaving small kisses along his jaw, neck, and Adam's apple. You pause when you see the pendant again, still resting perfectly where it should be. You admire the initials MK, now understanding who they belong to. You kiss just below it on his chest, where his heart should be, feeling him relax under the touch of your lips as you slide off him, knees dropping to the floor. 

“You don’t have to…” you look up to meet Yoongi’s worried eyes, a mixture of lust, concern, and something else that you can’t quite place. His hands find yours on his thighs. “We can stop if you want.” 

You shouldn’t do this. You’re just reacting to the adrenaline and soon, you’ll crash in exhaustion. You should not do this. Not with Yoongi. You should stop.

You shake your head. 

“Please?” Your voice finally makes a sound, but just barely. It’s almost grating. Yoongi waits a moment before leaning forward to cup your face in his hands, bringing you in for a soft kiss. 

“Okay.” He whispers against your lips. “Whatever you want, love.” He kisses you once more, letting you sit back while he lifts his hips to take off his joggers and underwear. He tosses them aside, not caring about where they land when you’re crawling back to him

When you had sex with Yoongi the first time, you told him it was just sex. You told him the rules would be no kissing, no oral, and nothing that would be considered lovemaking or too intimate. He agreed, and it’s been fine for both of you. 

Sure, sometimes he’d try to kiss you, but you wrote it off as him just being in the moment and were always able to deny him. You’ve given him a handjob, and he’s absolutely fingered you into oblivion, but never what you were about to do. 

You lightly kiss his knee, urging him to spread his legs and scoot forward so you can fit between them, kissing up his soft thighs until you’re finally where you want to be. Your eyes meet his one more time for permission, waiting for the small nod he gives you before you gently hold his erection up, giving soft kisses and kitten licks up the base, the hisses coming from his mouth urging you to keep going as you reach the tip. 

“Please don’t tease, love.” A hand finds its way into your hair and tugs as your tongue dances along the tip. You smile to yourself, laying your tongue flat and sliding him down your throat in one go until your nose barely touches his pelvis. The hand not tangled in your hair smacks down on the couch cushion beside him as he groans at the sudden overwhelming pleasure of your throat wrapped perfectly around him.

“Fuck. Just like that.” His hand in your hair brings you up for a moment before easing your mouth back down around his cock. You let out a small moan around him, letting your gag reflex kick in just enough to drag another groan out from his chest as you begin moving up and down, your hands gripping his thighs. 

“Wait, wait, love, wait.” He pulls you off him, watching you take in a deep breath, a mixture of spit and precum trailing down your chin. “Fuck, get up here.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you. 

Yoongi pulls you back up to the couch, keeping your lips on his as you pull off your leggings before crawling back onto his lap. Big hands massage your thighs as you pull away long enough to remove your baggy sweater and bra, tossing them next to his pants. You surge forward to kiss him again but he doesn’t let you, hands sliding down your waist to hold you back a distance to admire your body. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He whispers it mostly to himself, a hand trailing lower, his thumb gently stroking just above where you want him over your underwear. You both look down to watch as his thumb finds its destination, rubbing the cloth against your wet folds. You hear Yoongi let out a sigh; neither of you were aware he was holding. 

“Tell me I can finally taste you, love.” Your eyes flit up to his half-closed ones. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be doing any of this. You shouldn’t have let him kiss you, shouldn’t have kissed him back, shouldn’t have gone down on him, and you absolutely shouldn’t let him go down on you. You shouldn’t do this. You should tell him no and make him leave. Finish your painting and text Jungkook when you’re home. 

Fuck, you’re going to have to text Jungkook later. 

You need to send Yoongi home. Get him away from you. 

End this. 

End it now before it gets worse. 

“Okay.” You nod, though the voices in your head are screaming at you. You ignore them, the feeling that Yoongi’s fingers provide feels too good, and you just want to feel good again after the pain in Kai’s room. 

“Yeah?” Yoongi smiles, flipping you over to lay your back against the couch once you give him a small smile and another nod.

He barely gives you enough time to readjust before he’s burying his face between your legs, his tongue slowly dancing along the wet patch of your underwear, pausing only to listen to your moans. 

“I could listen to your moans all day and never get tired of it.” You huff out a small laugh in response, a small gasp at the end when Yoongi lifts your hips enough to pull your underwear off. 

Small wet kisses trail from your right knee to your inner thigh and are repeated on your left. Your breath catches with every kiss and it’s driving you crazy. You watch him as he kisses your lower stomach and anywhere he can that isn’t your glistening and throbbing center. He’s waiting. Waiting for you to say he can have you. Your hand reaches for his head, tugging his hair. 

“Stop…” you breathe out. He sits up immediately, hovering over you. 

“Stop? What happened? What’s wrong? What did I do? I’m sorry, I—”

“No.” You kiss him to shut up, “stop teasing. I can’t take it.” 

The laugh he lets out is going to haunt you later. But for now, it’s music to your ears and you even join in as his head drops to your neck, kissing it once before moving back down. 

He doesn’t even wait, licking straight up your folds before latching around your clit. 

“Fuck!” You buck your hips up and his arms wrap around your hips, keeping you down as he devours you like a man starved.

You knew he was insanely good with his fingers, you didn’t expect this though. To be turned into a moaning mess just from his mouth. The intense pleasure builds up so fast and so harshly that you can barely hear him, only feel him moaning against your pussy. It’s when he inserts two fingers while sucking harshly on your clit that you lose it.

“Yoongi, I’m gonna…” your hands return to his hair, but instead of pulling him away from you, you press him closer, encouraging him to continue. “I”m close, Yoongi. Don’t fucking stop.” 

He groans against you and it doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone for him, unable to control your hips or the tight grip you have on his hair. You come hard, tears spilling from your eyes as you try to remember how to breathe. You haven’t come this hard in months, writing it off immediately as not having anyone go down on you since Jihyo. 

Yoongi doesn’t pull away until you’ve come down from your orgasm, almost bringing out a second one just because he can. But your whimpers from the overstimulation force him away, crawling back over you to kiss you again. 

“You okay to keep going?” He mumbles his question against your lips and skin as he trails down your neck, settling behind your ear. He feels you nod against him and with one more kiss, he crawls off of you in search of his wallet in his jacket to get a condom. 

You shouldn’t do this. You should tell him you’ve changed your mind. He should leave. You’ve already broken so many rules, rules you made with him that you just tossed out the window in a moment of weakness. When he comes back, you should push him away, ban his lips from yours, make him get dressed and leave. 

Finish your painting. 

Text Jungkook. 

You’re doing it again, you’re hurting him. You told him it was just sex. 

You lied. 

Fuck, why did you lie again? 

You shouldn’t let Yoongi kiss you anymore. 

You shouldn’t.

But his lips are addicting and you crave them. 

So when he comes back, the condom already rolled over his erection, you pull him down to you by his shirt, capturing his lips with yours. His hands wander your body as he settles between your legs, letting one hand grab your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance, rubbing the head against your clit and swallowing your moans. When he pulls away from your lips for what feels like the last time, he looks up at you, soft eyes widening briefly as if he just realized what was happening. 

“Hey…”

“Hi…” you whisper back, one of your hands leaving the tight grasp on his shirt to toy with the little pendant dangling from his neck.

“We’re breaking every rule, y/n…” The hand that was positioning himself moves up to push a piece of hair out of your face. You offer a sad smile in return.

“I know.” your voice is barely audible, trying to keep it together.

“We should stop.” But he doesn’t move.

“We should,” and neither do you, “but…”

“But?” an eyebrow raises and you can’t look at him anymore, focusing only on the pendant. 

“I don’t want to.” The words barely squeak out of you. When he doesn’t respond, you have to force yourself to look back at him. “To stop, I mean. I don’t…I don’t want to stop.” Eyes cast back down to the pendant. “If you don’t want to, I mean.”

You feel his eyes on you as the silence continues. 

He suggested stopping first, so he probably wanted to stop. You shouldn’t have said anything and just stopped like he clearly wanted to. Now he probably thinks he has to go through with it just to make you happy. Why the hell did you say you didn’t want to stop? 

You need to stop, and you shouldn’t continue.

But wanting to stop and needing to stop are two very different things.

“I want to if you want to, y/n. This is all your decision, love.” 

You take a deep breath, biting your lower lip as you look down admiring the man on top of you. You’re completely naked, but he still has his shirt on, covering up the scars you’ve only gotten glimpses of. You snake a hand down to crawl underneath the shirt, gently running the pads of your fingers across the part of a scar you have seen. Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut. You feel his abs tensing, like they’re scared of you, before relaxing against your touch. You watch him for a moment, unable to look anywhere else. 

Suddenly want and need are the same thing. 

Suddenly this is more than sex. 

This is more than feelings. 

This is comfort. Safety. A need and a want to feel again; to not be afraid all of the time. And to forget. 

Yoongi is that for you whether you want to admit it or not. Jungkook is your safety blanket, he’s what keeps you warm and tucked away when you’re scared. But a safety blanket can be suffocating sometimes. You need room to breathe, to forget and do stupid shit you’re afraid of, knowing there’s someone by your side feeling the same way. 

Yoongi.

“Okay.” You whisper, placing a small kiss on his nose. His eyes fly open to meet yours. A grin threatening to escape. 

“Okay? You’re okay with this?” He returns your nose kiss when you say yes, peppering your face with more after. 

Once you’re giggling from the kiss attack, he lines himself back up with you, slowly pushing in. You wrap your arms around him as he buries his face in your neck, leaving little love bites that you’ll regret later but love for now. 

This stretch is different that the other times you’ve had sex with Yoongi. Usually, it’s fast and rough, barely enough time to feel the stretch or adapt to it. This time, Yoongi takes it slow, pushing in inch by inch until he is fully buried inside of you. He stills for a moment, kissing along your neck. 

“So tight, so perfect.” He mumbles against your throat, smiling when he feels your breath catch in your throat after he slowly pulls out and rolls his hips back into you as deep as possible. Your nails dig into his shoulders at the sensation and your back arches up towards him. 

He takes it agonizingly slowly. You love it for the new sensation of pleasure it gives, but you hate it because it’s allowing you to think. 

“Yoongi. Harder, please.” You moan out, a hand finding its way to his blonde hair and tangling your fingers in it. You feel a puff of air against your neck when Yoongi brings himself up to look at you. 

“If we’re breaking your rules, love. We’re breaking all of them.” 

You whine, bringing his grinning lips back to yours in a searing kiss. 

“Please, Yoongi. I need it.” You beg. 

You never beg, not with him. Every time you had sex, you would become the sweet submissive that didn’t speak unless told to when he would ruin you in his bed. Which was fine, it was part of the last rule. Nothing near lovemaking or too intimate. And hard, rough, and silent felt like the perfect method to avoid breaking that rule. 

“Please.” Your lips trail from his to his chin, “ruin me like usual, please. Please, I just want to feel you.” You kiss along his jaw and down to the column of his neck. 

“Please?”

He says nothing, but you feel the growl in his throat against your lips. He takes your hand away from his hair, bringing your other hand with it, pinning them both above your head. He rests his forehead against yours again, taking a deep breath before slamming his hips into yours without warning. You yelp a moan and he lets out a breathy laugh as he does it again. 

“Is that what you want?” He does it again. “You want me to destroy this perfect cunt?” Another harsh thrust, rolling his hips so he gets deeper than before. “Want me to make it mine?”

“Yes. Yes, Yoongi, please. More.” You cry out, writhing underneath him, trying to make more friction. 

He picks up the pace, and it feels back to what it was. Yoongi relentlessly fucking you, flipping you over at one point to be on your hands and knees as he takes you from behind, spanking you until your ass turns red. 

When you alert him to being close to coming, his hand slides under you to rub circles against your clit. He pants, leaning over to place kisses on your shoulder as you come undone, clenching around him and losing the ability to hold yourself up. His orgasm quickly follows yours, spilling into the condom.

It’s silent for a moment, both of you struggling to breathe. After what felt like an hour, but was probably not even two minutes, Yoongi finds the strength to pull out, removing the condom and throwing it away. He rubs the parts of your skin that are red and sore, quietly apologizing when you wince. 

“I’m going to find something to clean you up with, okay?” You slowly nod at his whisper, eyes feeling heavy, all the emotions suddenly becoming a pile of exhaustion. 

It’s like your brain’s putting on a presentation being your eyelids, replaying the phone call with Jungkook, the panic attack in Kai’s room, the split-second decision to stop Yoongi from leaving, and the words said between you two.

You fucked up.

Again.

You don’t hear him leave the room, and barely notice his return or the feeling of him cleaning you or helping you get your sweater and underwear back on, too mentally and physically exhausted to do or say anything. 

You do feel when he lays down on the couch, bringing you against him for the usual after-sex  cuddle. His arm snakes around your back, resting on your waist while yours rests on his stomach, your face burying into his neck. 

“You’re going to regret this later, aren’t you?” His voice is a low whisper, almost scared of asking. Your fingers find the hemline of his shirt, playing with the fabric and the loose threads. 

“I don’t know…” Your reply is weak, cracking on the final word, and you can feel the tears start to form. So you shut your eyes, holding them back and instead listening to his breathing. 

He doesn’t respond, just holds you closer and he seems to fall asleep, you joining a moment later. 

When you wake up a few hours later, you and Yoongi have barely moved. His hand found a way up to your hair and the other hand was placed on your arm that was draped across his stomach. It felt warm, almost safe, but wrong. 

So slowly, you pull yourself away from him, slipping off the couch without waking him up and sneak out to the little kitchen. Your hands shake as you pour out a glass of water, drinking as much as you can in one go. You repeat it two more times before your eyes land on the open door to your brother’s room. The sharp tug on your heart forces you to walk in. 

It looks different than it did a few hours ago. Darker, abandoned, but still familiar. You sit in his chair, spinning slowly around to admire the way he decorated the studio. 

A giant whiteboard with ideas that you don’t understand listed with random drawings you and Ryujin made one night in the bottom right corner. You did that months before finals, and he never erased them. Behind the whiteboard, was a wall painted completely in blackboard paint. He spent an entire day with Jungkook painting that wall before he realized how much he hated chalk. It quickly became doodle central, where the four of you drew randomly while bored or in a funk.

Right above the couch is one of the first drawings you did on the wall, an ambigram of the first letter of your names. Jungkook half-jokingly suggested the group get it tattooed one day. 

This room is the same layout as yours, but rather than having the giant window wall showing the city below, he had wall-to-floor shades that would cover during the daytime so he wouldn’t have any glare on his monstrous computer setup. He always got so dramatic when you or Ryujin would try to use it, but never with Jungkook. 

You reach out to turn it on, but freeze as your finger barely brushes over it. 

They should be here. Ryujin should be here.

You pull your hand away, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging yourself in his chair as it spins a little from the adjustment. 

“I miss you, baby brother. So much.” You softly whisper, leaning your head back and staring at the ceiling plastered with tiny plastic stars that are supposed to glow in the dark, but never do thanks to the heavy shades. 

“I think I messed up tonight. But when am I not messing up, right?” A weak chuckle escapes your lips. “Y/n y/l/n, the screw-up of the family. Always finding a way to ruin a good thing in the biggest way possible…” you feel the tears slowly fall down your face and sniffle. 

“But I think…I think this time, I really screwed up. And I can’t fix it. And I don’t know what to do.” You feel a small burn on your hand and look down to find yourself scratching the back of your hand again. 

“Fuck. I hate this, Kai.” You mumble, soothing the burn with your thumb. “I need your help and it’s killing me that you’re not here.” 

You sigh when there’s no response, forcing yourself out of his chair, stepping out of his room, and closing the door. 

Yoongi is still fast asleep on your couch, a sharp stabbing feeling piercing your heart at the sight of him. He looks so content and at peace that you’re jealous of his ability to sleep so soundly without the voices yelling. 

Your attention turns to the easel in the center of the room with the canvas barely painted. The paint still looks like various shades of black and white. Like a blurry mess of colors that you know are there but can’t see. 

You pick it up, moving the easel away and propping the canvas against the pile of finished paintings on the floor. Dimming the lights, you sit down in front of it on the floor, putting your AirPods in and turning your Spotify on shuffle. 

You bring up the photo of the tree you took earlier and set it next to the canvas and roll up your sleeves. You grab a brush, dip it in a random paint Yoongi picked out earlier, take a deep breath, and just go for it. 

Somehow two hours have passed, and you’re applying the finishing touches, music still blasting in your ears so loud that you jump when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. 

You turn to see a sleepy Yoongi tilting his head at you, mouth moving. You pause the music, take the AirPods out and place them next to your phone. 

“Sorry for scaring you.” His voice is rough from the nap and you can’t help but smile when he kisses your temple. 

“It’s okay.” You nod, letting out a small gasp when he sits behind you, lifting and pulling you back  to sit on his lap, and scooting forward so you can keep painting. His arms wrap around your waist, letting them rest on your lap while his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“Looks good, love.” 

“I still can’t see the colors, though.” You mumble as you lean back into his chest to get a better view of the canvas, his arms tightening around you as you do. 

“That doesn’t matter. It’s still beautiful.” He holds you close, leaving a few feather kisses on your shoulder, smiling to himself when he sees your skin grow goosebumps.

“What colors did you put on the palette anyway? Just so I have an idea of whatever the hell this is.” His laugh against your skin makes you smile in return. You pull one of his arms away from you, laying it flat and upside down on your lap as you use the brush to paint across his forearm, hoping you’d be able to see the color. 

“I can’t tell you, love. You’ll know when you’re ready to see it. But it is a beautiful tree. Why’d you pick it?” 

“It’s the giant oak tree in the middle of campus. We scheduled our classes together so there was always a time when we could sit together and just hang out, work on assignments, enjoy the weather, anything really. Always at the tree. It’s in Kai’s logo, it’s Jungkook’s favorite thing to photograph. Ryujin literally designed a dress based on this dumb tree.” You laugh, continuing to paint on his arm. You can’t see what color you’re using, but guessing from how dark it is, it’s something that contrasts perfectly with his skin. 

“And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Well,” his free arm unwraps from your waist, grabbing a different brush and painting music notes across the top of your thigh near your knee. “They all have the tree attached to something with their art. A hidden meaning of inspiration…what’s yours?” 

You watch him paint on your leg what looks to be a specific pattern of music notes. 

“I…I don’t know,” you admit with a whisper, putting your paintbrush down and resting your hands in your lap. “It’s just where I knew I could always find any of them. There or here, my safety zones.”

“So then this piece, even though you can’t see the colors right now, and the feeling of safety with it…that’s your hidden meaning and inspiration.” 

You sigh, sinking a little further against his chest. You stare at the canvas, trying to see anything in the tree that, to you, is just a black and white tree on a canvas surrounded by colorful paintings all around it. A hideous darkness amongst bright and beautiful colors. 

How you feel every day without your brother by your side. 

“I guess.” You finally say, eyes flicking to his hand, putting the brush down and returning around your waist. You both stay silent for a moment, admiring your canvas. Your eyelids start to feel heavy, and you can feel them closing when you hear Yoongi speak.

“Fall was Karin’s favorite time of year.” 

You freeze, eyes flying open at the mention of his sister.

“Yeah?” your voice cracks, and if Yoongi notices it, he ignores it.

“Yeah. She was obsessed with the colors of the leaves, the fall drinks like that disgusting pumpkin spice latte, the fall outfits, the weather, all of it. It would've been fall if she could have one season all year round.” 

You don’t respond. The feeling of happiness over him talking about his sister was too overwhelming. He rarely discussed her in group therapy, never spoke her name until tonight, and always changed the conversation topic . 

“We would go to the pumpkin patch every year and pick out the quote ‘undesirable’ pumpkins, and she’d make pumpkin pie with my mom.” He laughs, but it’s sad. You want to turn around and comfort him, but you stay frozen in his arms, your thumb pressing into the space between your other thumb and index finger. 

“She wanted to learn how to bake so badly. To be like our mother and know all the family recipes. She wanted to be the one to make all the Christmas cookies every year, to be in charge of pies during the holidays, make everyone’s birthday cakes…” 

His voice trails off, burying his face into your shoulder in an attempt to hide from the silence. Your mind is racing with different things to say. You have no idea how to comfort him. No idea how to tell him he’ll be okay. How can you? When you don’t even believe it when someone says it to you? So you say the only thing you can think of. 

“I make a mean pumpkin pie.”

You can feel his torso shake as he laughs against your shoulder. He lifts his head, resting his cheek on your shoulder so he can look at you. 

“Yeah? You bake?” 

“Sometimes. Or I used to, before Kai… I would stress bake.” 

“Stress baking? That’s new.” You shake your head slightly. 

“Not really. I don’t know. There’s just something satisfying about baking when stressed. It’s like you’re baking your problems into the baked goods, and then you let other people eat it, thus taking away the stress.” 

“Hmm…I like that. Telling everyone your secrets without saying a word.” His voice is quiet as his hands slide away from your waist, landing on your hands. 

He pulls them apart, fingers intertwining with both, and goes back to hugging you, technically making you hug yourself. You slouch further against him, his lips right next to your ear. 

“Would you want to go to a pumpkin patch with me?” His voice is hesitant. He knows he’s walking a fine line in asking you to go out with him. But he has to at least try. 

You lean to the side a little, turning to look at the man whose arms are wrapped around you and whose lap you’re sitting in. Your eyes meet, and you can’t help but melt under his gaze. It’s warm and hopeful, and you want so badly to give in to the chance that maybe it could work. 

You should say no. 

End this. 

End it now and pretend nothing ever happened. 

End this. 

“Okay,” your answer is barely audible to either of you, but his soft smile that he’s trying to hide confirms that he did hear you. 

“Okay.” He repeats it back, giving a small nod against your shoulder. 

You bring your gaze back to the painting, no longer trying to see the colors, just needing an excuse to not look at him anymore. You lose your sense of reasoning around him, and you hate it. But you love having him around. There’s no winning situation when it comes to Yoongi, especially if Jungkook finds out. 

“Hey.” Yoongi’s voice pulls you out of your little mental spiral, and you look back at him, blinking away the tears you hadn’t noticed forming. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, making him let go of one of your hands so you can quickly wipe the tears. “I don’t know. It’s just a lot happening at once. I don’t know what’s what anymore.” 

“That’s fair. But it’s okay, love. I’m here as long as you need me.”

You wish he didn’t say that. 

You don’t reply, instead just giving another small nod. The hand that lets go of yours reaches up for your cheek, turning you to stay facing him.

“I know this is all happening at once, y/n. We’ve both been through something really shitty, and maybe this is a terrible idea.” Your eyes widen in panic, you know where this is going and immediately start preparing for a way out. 

“But I think it goes without saying that I really like–”

You thank every god to ever exist when your phone rings. You lean forward to grab the device, saving you from an awkward conversation, sliding off his lap in the process. 

Incoming Call: 🍞Ry-Bread👗

“Oh, fuck,” you stand up, eyes flicking from your phone to Yoongi sitting on the floor, looking confused and almost hurt, and back to your phone.

“I’m sorry. She…she rarely calls now,” you mutter, answering the phone before he can say anything and stepping into the living area.

“Ry? Everything okay?” You ask hesitantly, pacing around the couch.

The last time she called was three weeks ago, sobbing hysterically about how Kai’s death wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t date Jihyo. If you had just stopped sleeping or dating around, your brother wouldn’t be dead. So naturally, you’re terrified of what’s to come from the other line.

“Y/n? Y/n, I need you. I fucked up. Please, y/n. I know you hate me. I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry. But please, I need you.” 

Well, that’s different.

“Ry, where are you?”

“I’m at a club. The one by my work.” She sounds so broken and so drunk that your heart feels heavy just listening to her.

“What happened, Ry? Are you safe? Are you okay?” You put the phone on speaker and return to your room, walking right past Yoongi sitting on the couch, pants already back on. You put the phone on the table as you search for your leggings and bra.

“I’m okay. I just…my ride left me, and I can’t…I can’t get home.” Her mumbles are soft, tired, and hard to understand as you toss your clothes on, quickly moving to find your bag and keys. 

“Are there any Ubers or taxis in the area?” 

“No. Just come get me, please.”

“Okay, Ry, I’m on the way. Please, stay in the club until I’m there, okay? Promise me?” She softly agrees, and you hang up the phone, finally turning to Yoongi, who’s ready to go.

“Is she okay?” he questions as if he didn’t just listen to your phone call. 

“I think so? I don’t know. This is new. I have to go get her.”

“You’re going to walk over there?”

“I have no choice, Yoongi.” Your shoulders shrug as you usher him out the door and close it behind you, leaving the canvas behind. you decide it’s easier to just come back for it before class than going to a club with it in your hand. You make sure all the lights are off before locking up the front door as you both exit. 

“You do have a choice, y/n. The bus should still be running.”

“I’m not getting on the bus.”

“I’m sure there’s a rideshare in this area.”

“I’m not letting a stranger drive.” You state as you both get in the elevator. 

“We can go back to the library, I’ll get my car, and I can take you over there and take you two home.” 

“I’ve never experienced you driving. You’re as much of a stranger in that department as any taxi driver.” You bite back, quickly exiting when the elevator reaches the bottom floor.

“Not if you let me try.” 

“I don’t want you to try. I don’t need help right now, Yoongi. I just need to get to Ryujin. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you on Saturday.” You walk faster out the front door, turning down the sidewalk in the direction of Ryujin’s work. It’s not that far from the studio, but it’s starting to get chilly out, and your sweater is thin. 

“Y/n, it’s one in the morning. You’re not walking by yourself! I’ll come with you.” Yoongi practically shouts as he tries to catch up to you. 

“I’ll be fine.” You snap, turning to him when he finally does make it to you. That same look of confusion and hurt from earlier looks like the same look you often see on another man’s face, and you have to stop yourself and take a breath.

“I need to help her alone, Yoongi. It’s the opposite direction of the school so it’s better if you just go home and I’ll go find Ry and take her home. I’ll be fine.” 

“Y/n, you’re insane if you think I’m going to let you go alone.”

“Then I guess I’m insane!” You shout, not giving a damn about the time or the fact that you’re outside. 

“Thank you, Yoongi, for helping me finish my painting. Thank you for forcing me to go into Kai’s room, and thank you for helping me through my panic attack. But, fuck, I have to go, so just drop it and go home. I’ll text you when I get there if you want.”

Yoongi sighs, not wanting to bother with arguing with you. He knows he won’t win.

“Fine. But if anything feels off, let me know, and I’ll be there immediately.”

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” He snaps with an extra hint of an attitude. You ignore it as you both turn to walk in the opposite direction of one another. 

You’re going to have to apologize later. You’re always apologizing. It’s exhausting. 

[badgirl411]

A Work Of Art PART 4: (Modern!Nikolai Lantsov x Reader AU) FANFIC

Pairings: Nikolai Lantsov x Readner, Sturmhond x Reader 

Summary: In the aftermath of (Y/N)’s shocking discovery in her apartment she enlists the help of her closest friend and they try to formulate a plan. Meanwhile the infamous Sturmhond rears his head again this time in another surprising way.

Warnings: strong language, hangover, mentions of death, crime, aiding and abetting, violence, perceived stalking.

Authors Note: Helllo all apologies for the delay in this chapter its been a week of it I will tell you. Recently had some bad news so its been a week of trying to process this and working. Anyway hope you enjoy this chapter its not my greatest work but I wanted to give you all at least something. As always lots of love. 

IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY PLEASE DONT HESITATE TO SEND ME A DM AND I WILL BE HAPPY TO ADD YOU.

THE FOLD WAS PLACED ON THE ARMCHAIR IN YOUR HOUSE.

Your mind was racing through thoughts at a thousand miles per hour, so many questions and emotions consumed your body all at once. You didn’t know whether to call the police, take the piece back to the gallery before it opened and pray that no one was any the wiser or keep the piece you spent so much time admiring.

There was only one person you could call, one person who would surely help you see reason. You prayed to every primordial being out there that she was still conscious and hadn’t passed out from Jesper’s tequila fuelled antics.

In a shot you were dialling her number, knee bouncing with anxiety as the dial tone rang out. Please pick up Genya, please please please. Finally from the other end of the phone her voice called out, slurring ever so slightly.

“(Y/N)?  What’s going on why are you calling me at this hour?” You must have woke her from her drunken nap as her voice sounded groggy.

“Genya, shit I need your help, I have no idea what to do. I can’t think straight I need you to come over to my apartment. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent!” Your words were laced with panic, firing out your mouth at speed.

“(Y/N) I know just the place to hide the body I will be over in 10 minutes.” She said this with such conviction you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Genya I haven’t killed anyone, before you even say it I also haven’t brought someone home either. You will see when you get here exactly why I am freaking the fuck out.” You smile fondly at your friends willingness to aid you in a crime.

10 minutes later a knock on your apartment door startled you out of your thoughts that were still firing at speed. Throwing the door open a slightly still intoxicated Genya stood with wine and Doritos in hand, god this woman understood you on such a personal level.

You led her through the hall hands framing your face hoping to ease the panic as you glanced back at her, reaching the living room you gesture towards the armchair where the painting lay. Her gasp resonated round your living space as now you were both freaking the fuck out.

“You stole a painting, when the fuck did you have time for that we’ve been at the gala all night?” You could see in her eyes her thoughts were also now going a thousand miles an hour.

“I didn’t steal it Genya, that not the worst part!” You pick up the small envelope and pass it to her watching her face for a reaction.

Her eyes widen as she reads over the contents of the envelope looking up to find you running a hand through your hair in desperation.

“Who’s it from?” She looks confused for a second before looking back at the letter. “Hang on this looks like the note that was left in my office at the shop, it’s similar handwriting and stationary.”

You gesture for her to turn the letter over giving her the answer to her previous question.

“OMG (Y/N) how do you know a world famous art thief?” Her eyebrows are raised in shock and confusion.

“I don’t that’s the thing Genya! I have no clue who Sturmhond is nor how he got into my place, but he sure seems to know me.” Your hands were shaking with the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins.

The small hours of the morning passed quickly and the sun was gracing the sky before you both knew it. You had both decided your best course of action was to leave the painting deep in the back of your wardrobe out of sight until you could come up with a better plan, thankfully the gallery was closed today to allow everyone to recover from the antics of the previous evening. After a small nap you and Genya head to the gallery opening the locked front door with your keys, making your way through the space seeing if any other works of art were missing. Rounding the corner you were oh so familiar with to your favourite spot Genya and yourself were dumbfounded to find where there should be a missing painting was the exact piece that was in your living room. You both examined the piece, amazed at how it was an exact replica of the original even down to the material of the canvas.

Genya had somehow manage to convince you to keep the piece that Sturmhond had left in your apartment adamant no one would notice the difference in the paintings.

When you reached your apartment later that day after bidding Genya farewell you sunk into your sofa desperate for a long restful sleep, but alas the universe had other plans. Your phone vibrates on the table and a deep groan leaves your mouth in frustration, hand reaching for the device to find out who has dared disturb your plans to rest.

Unknown number: Hey (Y/N)! It’s Cole, from the gallery? You gave me your card yesterday and told me to text you whenever. So this is me texting, it was really great seeing you yesterday. Tamar and Tolya told me to tell you it was lovely to meet you! How was your gala superstar? How does it feel being a big shot gallery owner? Hope you are not too worse for wear today, if you need anything let me know. Have a great day sunshine!

You both spend the day texting back and forward before saying goodnight to each other, the rest of the week is normal and the happenings of last week are pushed to the back of your mind. Life is busy being a gallery owner now but you wouldn’t change it for the world, this is where you belong.

It’s Tuesday when the mailman arrives with the mail bidding you farewell and wishing you a good day. Flicking through the abundance of letters addressed to the gallery one catches your eye, the letter is handwritten and address to you. Opening it carefully you find a note startling similar to the one you received the previous week, reading through its contents carefully you sink further into your chair.

Hello Beautiful,

I know you must be filled with questions as to my existence and why this is happening. All will be revealed in due time darling, I promise. How are you enjoying my gift? I noticed you haven’t returned it or given the letter over to the police, I can only assume that means you like it. Still it is nothing compared to you, my dear you have no idea how special you are to me. I know you must be sitting thinking and fearing the worst but I promise you you know me.

I shouldn’t say this but you are greater than the New York skyline.

                                       I hope we can meet soon.

                                                    Until then…

                                                   Truly Yours,

                                                   Sturmhond.

You had so many questions, you have the feeling you have met this individual claiming to be Sturmhond before but you cannot think at this moment. Something about his words is so familiar, so comforting its odd this should unsettle you should send alarm bells ringing at this mysterious person writing to you but yet it doesn’t.

Your phone buzzes later that day its Tatiana calling to say she wants you to come over to discuss a few matters and get you to sign a few documents for the gallery and so you find yourself in the car on the way to the Lantsov estate again. Escaping the liveliness of the inner city and entering the peacefulness of the countryside, losing yourself in your green surroundings.

You arrive at the estate making your way to the room you were in previously with Tatiana and Vasily. Still consumed by your racing mind and thoughts of Sturmhond you fail to notice Tatiana is stood with someone chatting idly a hand resting on his shoulder.

It’s not until Tatiana’s excited squeal knocks you out of your daydream that you are aware of what is going on.

“(Y/N) darling I’m so happy you are here, I have someone I want you to meet.” She pulls you into a tight embrace before moving to the side revealing the person in front of you.

“(Y/N) darling this is Nikolai.” She looks at you fondly, tears lining her eyes slightly.

You blood runs cold and your skin is alight with goosebumps a shiver running down your spine and stomach turning making you nauseous. Your legs carry you across the room before you can even comprehend your actions, hand raising to strike the man in front of you across the cheek before stepping back and holding your stinging palm to your chest.

“Cole?”

TAGLIST:  @xceafh @sweetOpia-uwu @spencersfish @luvly-writer @randomperson1286 @crashingthemode​

[panvani]

Anyway general breakdown of my thoughts on Scott Pilgrim:

Perfectly solid romantic drama. I'm actually kind of impressed that the story does not feel dated (except in, like, having flip phones) despite it having by now been copied to death. I'd even dare to say it was ahead of its time. A lot of that is purely through the lack of apprehension with which it portrays gay people, particularly gay men, which like, no one was doing in the early 2000s. That isn't exactly praise, and it comes with a lot of caveats, but it's worth saying. The art was Fine. There was some truly repulsive comic art coming out in the early 2000s and while I'm not a fan of the art style, it's not terrible.

Neither Scott nor Ramona are particularly interesting characters on their own, and their relationship is (deliberately) plain and stereotyped. This is somewhat lampshaded in the story, but still a bit dissonant when compared to the cultural impact of * their * relationship on the general Heterosexual Culture. Ultimately, their romance was the least interesting part of the story, which I think Bryan Lee O'Malley knew.

Knives is kind of the obvious emotional core of Scott Pilgrim, and (by Bryan Lee O'Malley's admission) has the most true and complete character arc. She's, in my opinion, the articulation of a lot of the greater thoughts and anxieties held by the author as opposed to Scott, who is a general representation of a (white) everyman. There's a lot I could say about Knives specifically, but it really comes down to Knives being too big a character for her story. Despite all of her development and screentime, her arc feels starkly incomplete. This isn't really * inappropriate * -- the central idea of her character is that she is a child, ergo still developing -- but it does make the conclusion feel more empty than it should.

The way this is most obvious, I think, is the discomfort with which Scott Pilgrim (series) handles The Existence Of Gay Women. Bryan Lee O'Malley is obviously pretty damn comfortable with the existence of gay men, but seems to have difficulty in processing intimate, sexual relationships between women. Knives is (subtly) written as gay from the get-go, but this aspect of her character (despite, arguably, being a core motivational factor to every other aspect of her character) ultimately produces a lot of momentum to have nothing much done with it. By the beginning of volume 4 it's evident that the author has noticed this dissonance and attempted to address it, but ultimately did so ineffectively. What resulted was a strange, forced kiss between an adult woman and an underaged girl that had essentially no lasting narrative impact, and also Ramona Is Gay, Btw, Not That This Will Ever Be Acknowledged Again. (I kind of have nothing to say about the bizarre pedobait in that volume that was subsequently backtracked.)

The last point I'll allocate to this post is how taken aback I was by the pervasiveness of race as a source of conflict in Scott Pilgrim given that I'd literally never seen someone acknowledge race as a source of conflict in Scott Pilgrim. Knives, aside from her conflicts as a gay girl, is also an articulation of the author's anxieties when it comes to race, particularly the perceived inadequacy of Asian men and the vulnerability of Asian women. This, while fairly understated, is very deliberate and very heavily saturated within the text of the story. Just as Scott has a fetish for gay women, he's implied to have a fetish for (young) Asian girls, and while his repeated and specific assertion of physical dominance of Asian boys/men is never brought up in those terms, it's pretty obviously A Thing.

I think this is probably the most interesting aspect of Scott Pilgrim from a "what's this author's fucking Problem" perspective given that Bryan Lee O'Malley has a Korean mother, though I don't particularly want to go into too much depth. I will say the one way in which Scott Pilgrim felt especially dated was in its particular slew of Orientalist stereotypes, which were in themselves pretty telling: Japanese people have scary cyberpunk shit, Chinese people do martial arts, and Korean people are entirely beneath mention. As I was finishing the story I had to wonder how the story might be different if it were made today, specifically in that Korean people are now at the forefront of North American pop cultural consciousness in a way they were not in the early 2000s. I had to wonder the author's relationship to his own identity informed his decision to not include any prominent characters of his own ethnicity.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFJ. I experienced childhood trauma (verbal, emotional, physical, sexual) and have a lot of difficulty with learning due to issues with concentration and memory. I also have issues with emotional dysregulation and poor sleep. I've received C-PTSD as a diagnosis, with BPD traits (I think something in the ballpark of BPD may run in my family).

During conversations I'm often only really attending to 10-50% of what is said but can usually interpolate due to redundancy. However, during technical lectures or other situations with much lower redundancy, I'm totally lost. I believe this is one factor preventing me from achieving my full potential. In my current state I'm still capable of making a good living and living a comfortable life, but I know there is far more I can achieve.

In the near term I plan to focus on Fe/Ti - emotional intelligence, social skills, and also developing Ti expertise in a specific topic aligned with my Ni vision via the right set of Fe commitments and collaborations - while sidestepping the poor concentration issue for now. I can see that sufficient prior expertise (Ti) on a conversation/lecture topic also helps to compensate for the concentration issues. You gave me similar advice (let Ti do the heavy lifting) a couple years ago.

However, in the long run, if I really want to achieve my full potential, I can see that I'll need to directly address my concentration difficulties and other ways in which I believe trauma has stalled Se development.

Do you have any thoughts on how to restore my ability to be present and learn more effectively? As of now, as part of my general healing process, I'm focusing on building healthy interpersonal relationships (likely just platonic in the near future, in part because I'm not sure if I'm currently capable of having sex), emotional regulation, learning how to drive (which I've avoided due to my poor concentration, but maybe I'll be forced to improve out of necessity), and martial arts.

I may also undergo physical therapy to be able to get a Pap smear done (as of now it's seemingly not possible due to anxiety). I also believe that the memories of the worst trauma are repressed, and am considering psychedelics and EMDR to uncover and process these memories, which perhaps could be necessary to fully heal and address my concentration and memory issues.

I've had very poor experiences with psychiatry and clinical psychology (misdiagnosis, gaslighting, fraud, and shocking levels of incompetence) so am not super eager to engage with that system again, though I'm reading the DBT manual currently and also deriving my own personal principles for emotional regulation and interpersonal effectiveness (the latter I find to be easier, likely due to my Se issues).

I know you're likely going to say that I should consult a mental health professional, but I respect your judgment way more than any of the ones I've worked with. Also, an implicit assumption I'm making here is essentially equating focus/concentration/memory with Se, which may be inaccurate. Finally, I can't thank you enough for this blog. It's been lifechanging, to say the least.

Also, another assumption here is that trauma is the cause of the concentration and memory issues - that's my current hypothesis but I could certainly be wrong. My mom (who I think also has BPD traits) frequently complains about her difficulty concentrating. It's possible she also experienced trauma, or maybe it's genetic. No one has been willing to diagnose me with ADHD due to no evidence of learning issues in childhood. BPD dissociation could ultimately be the best explanation.

---------------------

Poor concentration is a lot like a sore throat, in that it can be a symptom of a great many things. By itself, it doesn't tell you a lot. The underlying cause could be relatively simple like poor physical health, or it could be a psychological issue like C-PTSD, or it could be a very complicated combination of factors working together, each needing their own solution. Let's unpack:

1) Physical Health: Brain functioning is heavily dependent upon physical health. Without a healthy body to support the brain, you won't possess enough energy and will to perform the executive function tasks you need for self-management and self-improvement. You mentioned poor sleep. A well-rested mind is essential for good concentration and quality sleep is essential for efficient memory consolidation.

Your brain is a physical object that requires physical care and maintenance. Without a nutritious diet, quality sleep, adequate exercise and blood flow, and proper stress/illness management, brain operation suffers. Therefore, improving mental health should always begin with improving your physical habits, establishing healthy physical routines, and maintaining work-life balance. Improving physical health also goes a long way to improving emotional regulation.

2) Mental Health: Yes, trauma can interfere with focus and memory operations, but this doesn't mean it's the cause, so I wouldn't be so quick to jump to that conclusion. Focus and memory issues aside, it is generally important to your well-being to be mentally healthy, so you need to address your mental health issues in a timely manner.

You mention three issues: C-PTSD due to a history of abuse, BPD traits, and emotional dysregulation. It's often the case that these three things are interrelated, but it's important to know for sure by getting properly checked out by a mental health professional.

There is a good chance that DBT will be an effective treatment for these three issues because it teaches you how to manage emotions better. But I suggest that you work with a DBT specialist rather than go it alone. The presence of BPD traits makes it likely that you have difficulty being objective about yourself, so going it alone could inadvertently lead you straight into Ti loop if you're not careful (assuming you're not already there). Due to the necessity of Fe development, it is vital that you have an objective person to reflect important truths back to you.

Every profession has its fair share of duds and bad apples. Not everyone graduates with honors, after all. I understand that you've had negative experiences with professionals and I can only reiterate that it's important to keep shopping around until you find the right fit. Being much more specific about the problem/issue you want to address can help you narrow down the search.

3) Learning and Improvement: You are drawn to my blog and its ideas about type development. While lack of presence may be an indication of Se misuse, the solution isn't as simple as developing Se. You're not anywhere near ready to develop the inferior function, and fixating on it is likely to be harmful.

In INFJs, lack of presence isn't directly caused by Se. It's more likely to be related to maladaptive Fe. When INFJs aren't able to handle the intense feelings and emotions that Fe opens them up to, they tend to develop a habit of detaching from the world and retreating into their own self-created world through Ni-Ti loop. Detachment means you separate yourself from reality, and lack of presence is one common symptom of that.

You can't be fully present and learn well when you're not learning for the sake of learning but rather treat learning merely as a means to some other, more unconscious end. When there's a lot happening in the unconscious, especially if you have a long running habit of repressing feelings and emotions, you're being driven by dark forces. If this is true for you, your real potential isn't to be found in learning or "intelligence" but rather in honesty and becoming more self-aware, i.e., facing up to the things that haunt you, which goes back to point #2 about getting proper therapy to address your trauma.

You seem very motivated to improve yourself and your life, which is generally a good thing. However, this motivation should be closely examined in INFJs because they often suffer from perfectionism and use "self-improvement" to feed unhealthy control issues. In other words, their motives can be suspect. You say you're not living up to your "full" potential, e.g., you should be able to focus better, be more present, remember more, perform better, etc, but is this really true? Says who? Who is the one defining this notion of "potential"? What are you really aiming for and why? What does "full" mean, i.e., at what point does it end?

At some point, if you ever hope to be at peace, you have to accept the reality of your limitations and be content in who you are, as is. Are you happy with yourself and who you are? Is your quest for self-improvement motivated by love of yourself, love of life, and love of others? Or is it fueled by ego, illusion, insecurity, guilt, shame, or self-loathing? It is very important to answer these questions honestly. Attempting self-improvement with unconscious intentions can lead to undesirable consequences. It sounds like you're trying to do way too much at once, which is usually a warning sign. Biting off more than you can chew is a very good way to choke.

Your thinking is messy and confused. You've taken the above three points and mashed them together. Despite what you believe about them being related, they are distinct issues that each need proper attention. I've separated them out for you and numbered them in order of importance. Slow down, prioritize the issues in the right order, and take things one SMALL step at a time.

[arliedraws]

Hiii I really love your art! I'm always impressed how ppl like you are able to simplify drawings like this and still get the emotion across! I'd like to ask how long you've been drawing/how long you've been drawing cartoons and how you learned designing your own characters/style and drawing all those face expressions?

🙏🏼🧡

Hi! Thank you so much!!!

Lately, I've been really frustrated with my art and style and technical abilities, so honestly, thank you for giving me a minute to reflect on where I've been! I'm annoyed at the obvious mistakes I am noticing in the things I've posted over the last few weeks but I realized during this that it's always a process and growth is forever.

This got longer than I intended, so I'll put the rest under the cut.

I've been drawing for a very long time, probably for most of my life. And for most of it, I have not been very "good" at it. I had friends who were very serious about drawing in middle school and high school, and in college, I used drawing and fandom to deal with depression and anxiety. Then I started dating late in college which took up all of my spare time for drawing, and then I had a really nasty breakup with my first (emotionally manipulative) partner. I was really depressed (not because of being single but because I didn't know who I was anymore), so I didn't draw or write for yearssssss (I did somewhat but not seriously and loathed everything I was creating).

Then Covid hit and I felt like drawing again.

This was four years ago that I made this comparison of my art. I genuinely like what I was doing in 2012 more than what I put out in 2020. So it's not a matter of how long you've been drawing but consistency and a willingness to take risks (and learn from failures).

You can see I wasn't thinking as 3-dimensionally in 2020 when I started to draw again. The character's expression is really bland and you can see I was focused more on aesthetics than character. I think I even recognized it at the time, and I was really pissed about it.

I guess it's been four years since Covid started, and four years since I really jumped back into drawing regularly. I won't pretend that I know a lot--I very much do not, but here's what has helped me in the last few years.

Think in terms of volume and shape. I always warm up with perspective exercises. I often use posemaniacs' 30 second drawing practice for about 10-15 minutes, or I draw a ton of 3D boxes and spheres and triangles. I like to draw stacked boxes at various angles just so I can get my brain to wake up and see 3-dimensionally.

Know what you want to draw and draw with intention. This sounds obvious, but sometimes, I pick up my pen and just. Draw. Like I'll draw a face or a body but it's just completely soulless and boring because I don't know what I want. Draw with emotion, and have a purpose. Otherwise, your drawing will be lifeless and boring.

Ditch "aesthetics." Seriously. Focus on character. Draw that person ugly. If it's a sexy character and you're focusing on their emotions rather than how attractive they are, it will turn out sexy regardless. For example:

This was supposed to be scary, but people got horny for it anyway.

Anyway.

Your character will determine "aesthetics." Your character wears ripped tights because THEY think it's cool (or they trip a lot and scrape their knees), not because YOU like ripped tights. This is not a hard and fast rule, it's just what works for me.

For example, I don't draw Sirius wearing band t-shirts because I don't think he'd care about Muggle bands (at least, I don't think he'd care enough to advertise that he did). Consider why YOU wear band t-shirts. My partner wears his death metal shirts because he wants to support small bands and talk to strangers who like the same, obscure music (I hate those fucking shirts but he needs to live his truth lol. Some are ok and have beautiful art, but others are gross and weird).

Point is, focus on character.

Side note: If you want to draw a hot character (or if you want to BE a sexy real person honestly lol), you need to internalize this: Sexiness is a state of mind. If you are a sexy, confident person, it doesn't really matter what you look like--people will want to be you or fuck you. This applies to characters as much as it does to real people. It's about being you, focusing on your strengths, recognizing your own worth, keeping boundaries, and giving people your full attention when they speak to you. Seriously. That's basically it. Ask me how I know.

4. Make faces while you draw. I use photo references to understand how the face works, but what helps me the most is when I physically make the same face while I'm drawing. That way, I can feel which muscles are moving in my own face. Plus, I love acting and playing pretend, so I get to "be" that character while I'm drawing. I'm a naturally expressive person and communicate with my eyebrows way too much, and I think you can see that in my drawings.

5. Study other artists. Do this all the time. I particularly love to watch process videos and observe sketches. Here are some videos, books, and artists that I regularly visit or study:

TBChoi -- this person is my favorite artist stylistically. Just search their name + expressions and study. They just understand the way muscles work in the face so well.

Aaron Blaise -- okay, full disclaimer, I've heard some weird things about this artist, so I don't purchase their materials. However, I have practiced with his videos for years and found them exceptionally helpful.

Artists on Instagram I tend to look at: sleepy_kc, krosrios, starbite, rhiwynter

And artists who have influenced me since I was a kid are Tealin, Rufftoon, Shoomlah, Makani, and so many more.

6. Oh. And also, draw things other than people. Draw animals, draw landscapes, draw that weird building. Play with shape and perspective.

And look, I'm not a professional. I am an underpaid English teacher with ADHD, an Intuos Pro, and a horniness for a particular fictional character. Take this with a grain of salt and just do what works for you.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Autism does not cause racism, Cait.

I got newly blocked by Cait for stating that,

"Made Goodreads accounts to downvote only PoC debut authors' books, got caught, was offered a way out, doubled down, made a really bad Photoshop post with horrible dialogue as an excuse, got caught hating on the fandom she came from. Blamed her mental illness. Blamed now autism."

which isn't really accountability.

BTW, which is true. I didn't at her, just explained to someone above asking what was going on.

Sitting here with Neurodivergence, and telling you straight I deal with some inferiority complex issues, but it doesn't make me go out and try to sabotage other people's works, especially people from my own groups I belong to. Punch up or talk about the complexity of the issues, don't punch down.

(I'm aware I'm like the quintessential red shirt and I tried so hard to deny that part of me. That's what my therapist is for.)

I get Sensory Processing issues. I have that. But what happens when I get overload? I lay down and try to calm my senses and check out with a fucking headache. That's what fucking happens. It's not the sexiest TV moment ever. Sometimes I also get dissociation.

What happens when I get Sensory overload and dissociation? I go WTF, and work it out and then check out of social media, or try to do *other* things. I take responsibility. I forget shit because of the dissociation and I still say sorry, I forgot.

BTW, also my English skills go down the drain and I make a lot of fucking mistakes while on dissociation and sensory overload. Paragraphs will skip or miss parts of sentences. Hers were way too coherent.

I get depression and anxiety episodes. I fuck up. I try to still take responsibility for my fuck ups.

I have C-PTSD, but I've worked so fucking hard to not continue the cycle of trauma to violence–emotional and neglect that it's set me back in my life goals in a lot of ways before I got it compounded. But I've never, ever tried to take it out on others.

What happens when you fuck up? You apologize, you self-reflect, you try to make real amends (say deleting those accounts you have up on Goodreads), try to reverse direction and then leave those people you hurt alone. You don't go back in the middle of Black History month to defend your shitty actions.

To come clean, I have a Goodreads account I forgot how to get access to. Which was under my old name, and my story is reviewed on it. The ONLY thing I ever did with that account was claim the story I pro published and then left it alone with the reviewers.

I have inferiority complexes directed at the outside world. I totally get that, but I didn't upvote the story. I didn't try to talk back to my reviewers. I didn't go to my fellow authors and downvote their stories. Because this is what you all have to understand: Writing at every stage is a battle against yourself, not others.

Shitty people might steal your ideas, shitty people might attack you for no good reason, but at the end of the day it's a battle between you and the blank page/editing what you've got to make it better. The better you are not a shitty person, the more you act like this is a cooperative and respect people' boundaries, the more likely you're going to do better.

The authors not published? They are not worse than me. The people that are published aren't necessarily better than me (This has to do with the market) The person who started yesterday isn't necessarily worse than me. The person who has been at it longer isn't better either—art is an equalizer in many ways as a nebulous form. And the biggest battle isn't with others (unlike what a lot of early reality TV shows on the subject made it out to be). It's a battle between you and yourself. Repeat that until you get it.

That said, remembering that, go support the authors Cait hurt via link. They really need the boost to their self-esteem.

[a-really-good-lawyer]

Something I never see people talk about (which could be because I simply haven't come across it) is how rough forming a new hyperfixation can be, especially a core hyperfixation.

I've loved Star Trek for years. But for whatever reason, it wasn't until a couple years ago that something in my brain *clicked* and it became a new core hyperfixation.

In some ways it was better than past such hyperfixations because there is so much Star Trek out there to consume, between shows and films and then the fandom content because this fandom has been alive and well for over 50 years, gave birth to modern fandom.

But that didn't change the fact that, for the ensuing six months, it consumed my life - and not in the fun, tongue-in-cheek way we say 'this fandom consumes my life', like semi-hyperbole.

When I say it consumed my life, I mean it was near non-stop hyperfocus for months.

My apartment was constantly a mess, same as my sense of time. My sleep schedule was constantly erratic. I was often dehydrated, had frequent headaches, often found myself shaking from all the adrenaline surges. I dropped fifteen pounds almost without noticing (weight I shouldn't have dropped).

I was always drained, always disoriented, always distracted. It didn't feel good. Really, it felt distinctly bad, and I felt completely out of control to make it stop. If I made myself ignore the media and fic and fan art and all of that, it just meant I sank into myself, got lost in my head for hours on end.

After the first two months it began to gradually, slowly ease up, and when I hit around six months it stopped feeling like I was being dragged along and started to feel the way I want when it comes to hyperfixations - it was fun, mood-boosting. Engaging with it improved my mental health, instead of causing it, along with my physical health, to deteriorate.

That was probably the worst 'epsiode' I've had, but I've had them several times. The one when I developed the Daredevil hyperfixation thankfully lasted only two months, same as when it was FMA:B and BBC Merlin, and...three months, I think, for Star Wars? The one that got closest was Smallville, my first fandom hyperfixation, though I imagine some of that had to do with it coming out when I first had regular internet access. That one was maybe four or five months, and was dragged out by the fact that I was in high school so I was 'forced' away from it all by the anxiety of college applications and AP exams and all that fun stuff.

I love having these things. They've been good for me, for my emotional welfare - have helped me survive so much. I never regret that initial rough aspect, not that I've ever had the power to do things differently.

But it is rough, and one of the aspects of neurodivergence I've had the most trouble explaining to neurotypical people. They see it as simple obsession or addiction, something that I fell into and need to take steps to pull myself out of, rather than something that my brain just does at the drop of a hat and which won't stop until I go through that process. Trying not to, trying to mitigate it, just ends up dragging that process out. It can't be reduced or bypassed. It's just part of how my brain works.

And people trying to interfere with that, to 'fix' that by making me pay attention to other things, giving me tasks, whatever it may be - it does nothing to change it. If anything, it makes the whole thing much more destabalizing, in ways that can have major consequences for my state of mind, and I've had the experiences to prove it.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but I just...wanted to put it out there. I think there can be shame attached to this reality - shame I've felt, and which I've come to recognize originates from neurotypical social expectations and a lack of understanding.

If this is something you've dealt with and have been shamed for, I hope this post can give you some comfort. It isn't a failing, isn't deviant, isn't indulgent. It just is, and you aren't bad or broken or weak because of it.