#artists are made to make people suffer

[goldyluna]

Today I decided on two things. I will draw slightly cursed drawing of Luigi and something for Welcome Home.

Don't know what will be first. I don't know if I want to know. Pray for me.

[pixlokita]

Can I be real honest and admit how much it saddens me that Instagram doesn’t even let me check if my friends or mutuals liked a post or story without slapping me with “insights” and how good or bad I’m doing regarding my content. I? Don’t care? God forbid I just want to share drawings or funny stories just for the heck of it . why does everything have to be about your account’s performance.

[noscomnias]

"even though we may take different paths, i am... still his little sister."

[skydigiblogs]

oh my god i just got to the pinnochimon's dangerous game episode (43)

oh my god you all were not kidding about that puppet packing heat

[scarletfasinera]

Got blocked before I could ever even see the message lmao. The answer is that I am a Communist, and as a Communist, I've read Wage Labor & Capital. hope this helps

[neil-gaiman]

I'm sorry Neil, although I love your writing and agree with your opinions on most subjects I have to disagree with you on the writers' strike. No-one should have a more privileged life as a result of being clever and creative. I worked from the age of 15 to the age of 65 in low-paid jobs, taking 1 year off to go to drama school and 3 years off to get a fine art degree. I worked in terrible but necessary jobs, labouring, stacking boxes, unloading trucks, running errands, filing, going to work on a bicycle at all hours of the day and night on shift work in all kinds of weather. Even when I was a student I was still working in part-time cleani8ng jobs and even during periods of unemployment I worked in volunteer jobs for charities and social services.

According to Mensa I have an IQ of 160 and according to Plymouth University I have a BA hons in Fine Art but I cannot accept the idea that writers and other creative people should avoid normal jobs like driving an "Uber" or working in an office/shop/factory/construction site. To accept that idea would be to create a new aristocratic class when we should abolishing the old princes and aristocrats.

What we need, I feel sure, is a redistribution of labour so that everybody who can do so would spend some time each year in blue collar work and everybody who can would get higher education and a chance to make art of one sort or another.

The idea of doing other jobs to supplement writing or drawing shouldn't be seen as a terrible thing, a punishment or a suffering. Sharing the jobs around should be seen as normal.

I mean, I've done my half century of sweat labour and it didn't hurt me too much. I'm retired now and still making art of various kinds and I've never asked anyone to pay me for any art piece I've made. making art, writing, drawing etc. is the fun stuff which we get to do in exchange for the blue collar stuff which puts food on the table.

The worst pop song ever written was Sting/Dire Straits song "Money for Nothing" which ridicules the working class from a position of educational privilege.

So what's my question? My question is: What's wrong with a writer doing other jobs to make ends meet? Sounds perfectly fine to me.

Nothing's wrong with a writer doing other jobs to make ends meet. Writers and artists have been doing that since the dawn of time. Actors too.

But by the same token, there's nothing right about assuming that writing isn't a blue-collar job, or that writers and other people who make art can only make it for love and that thus they need other jobs to subsidise their craft.

I like living in a world in which the people who make the things that make the world worth living in get paid for their work. For me, that includes the people who make films and TV, books, art and music and comics.

Having spent a lot of time on film and TV sets, it's a blue-collar world on set, and everyone is working long and hard to make the shows you love. I'm never going to suggest that the riggers or the gaffers or the make-up team or the focus-pullers should drive ubers in order to have the privilege of being on the set and working there.

Or to put it another way, from the most blue-collar writer I ever knew...

[giritina]

A small thought for disability pride month... There's a stereotype/myth/common perception that mental health meds make people's art worse. Sometimes, it's portrayed as people being incapable of making art at all. Other times, they simply don't have anything interesting to say now that they're "happy." Some people even avoid going on meds because they worry about not being able to make art.

I want to share some pages of a comic I made during a manic episode, before I was on any proper medication.

I think this comic is very interesting, very raw and unique, but this was my attempt to be understood by other people. I made this art thinking that other people would know exactly what I meant by it. I thought this was incredibly clear, that it would communicate everything I was going through and had experienced without any ambiguity. When people didn't react how I wanted, when they couldn't parse it in the way I intended, it hurt me. Here was my best attempt to be understood, and I remained alone.

Now I'll show some comics I made after being on a mood stabilizer/antipsychotic.

You can say what you like about the artistic merit of it compared to that raw, abstract work I made before, but what matters to me is that I was actually able to connect to other people through this art. When I showed this work to people, their reaction was in line with what I intended. They saw part of me. I made it to show a side of myself I was incapable of expressing without art, and when people read it, they actually saw that side of me.

Without medication, I was trapped in my own world. I couldn't even begin to fathom how to connect to another person because we weren't using the same vocabulary. You might be "interested" or "compelled" by my suffering, but part of that interest comes from the mystery of my delirium. No matter how unique the result, it still represented a failure of intent. Learning to make art again after exiting that delirium was difficult, but I promise you it was and is worth it.

[ot3]

like this entire post is so crazy to me why are we taking writing advice from people who admittedly will not read a long paragraph. this person is, according to their bio, a webcomic artist and animator. two formats notoriously different in their pacing and writing from longform prose. why is their opinion about a paragraph being too long something tens of thousands of people are taking seriously. their proposed advice for the 'correct' way to break up a paragraph, if followed, would mean every book in the world had exactly the same rhythm to it. what are you tallllking about. i know i can say whatever i want about them here because im leaving it all in one paragraph that's definitely too long for them to give a shit about. making your paragraphs 'easier to read' is only a universal positive if you think the goal of prose is to be as unobtrusive to the story youre telling as possible. so much writing advice online feels like it comes from people who seem to consider reading something they have to suffer through to get a series of events conveyed to them and not like, the actual medium by which the art is made??

[daikaiju-arts]

I’m so flattered people are interested in my lil Irl Au thingy 🥺 I made a lil timeline image for the events that take place in it!

It’s based on a theory I had about what’s goin on in the Real World, which I’m 99% sure isn’t canon, but it’s fun to toy around with the idea!

Extra details:

Gangle lives alone in a dinky lil apartment, she’s a hikikomori and only goes out when she needs essentials. She’s kinda popular online and does art commissions though

Pomni is an accountant (of course)

Zooble is a tattoo artist

Post-Circus, Gangle can’t look at computers, tv, tablets, or smartphones for too long, it makes her nervous. She also can’t wear her sunglasses anymore because it’s too similar to wearing the headset. She does a little better though, she tries to keep track of her hygiene and attempts to go out more. The experience of the circus made her realize that she should experience more in her real life (it’s very hard but she keeps at it). She can’t do digital art anymore, but she does traditional stuff instead! She also can’t watch her favorite shows or movies, but she can listen to them.

Post-Circus, Pomni adjusts a little better, since she was in the circus for a shorter amount of time. She’s also uncomfortable around computers, so she can’t handle accounting anymore, so she instead does smaller jobs like petsitting and stocking in retail. She has TERRIBLE nightmares of the circus though, and suffers from insomnia and has to take meds to sleep (but still has the nightmares). Her aversion to touch is increased due to being plugged and poked with various wires and needles and medical equipment for so long

Post-Circus, Zooble, becomes more comfortable in their body and in their orientation in terms of gender. The allegorical experience that came with their digital avatar gave them a lot to think about after escaping it. They embrace and have a more solid understanding of who and what they are as a person, and what they value most in their life

[withonly-sweetheart]

di leon kennedy doing pushups ;) inspired by this (suggestive) art by @bunnivievve because i think artists have too much power. lowkey im typing this out so fast rn im tweaking i have exams tomorrow NOOOOOOOO-

<><><><>

your husband joined the police force. great. awesome. what a wonderful sight, at least it is for all the people watching on the outside. the picture perfect couple; a loving wife and a valiant husband to match.

what they never saw were the late nights up, studying the same textbook about a trillion times over, pretty much memorizing the goddamn contents of it before stumbling into your bed.

his body might be warm but that warmth always abandons you in what seems like a second, the snap of his fingers, because it's become a recurring instance that he's left early to train.

always making good impressions, that man. and you're proud of him, you have to be and you're not ashamed to show it. you've seen his growth, his courage that he displays, the hurt he has to suffer through all to keep the city safe. his city, where you are. his heart.

which is why it comes as a surprised when your husband, a man you've been married to for seven years, comes up to you with a bashful expression, eyes darting left and right, grazing all the corners of the world.

"do you... uhm... think... i'm strong?" you blink, dazed.

"why? what's wrong?"

"well, some of my higher ups had some concerns about... strength. they wanted me to 'strengthen my core'." he chuckles. "whatever that means."

"and you came to me for that," you drone.

"i've seen you do all those exercises around the house!" he protests. "can't you just teach me a few?"

"first of all, those are to help with cramps, and second, no." it seems like he's given up, but you know him well enough to know that that will never be the case.

"aw, c'mon, please?" he murmurs, taking your hand into his, caressing the bottom of your knuckles, rubbing soothing circles into your fingers. "just once?"

so you find yourself relenting to the man who always knows what to say to get you to crack. maybe next time you should be more demanding, hm?

needless to say, it's all made up for when you stretch out into the first pose, a simple sitting position with your legs extended fully, fingertips reaching the tips of your toes.

leon nods, and he gets the sitting part right. but when he tries to copy your movements, he hisses and leans back, groaning with the effort.

"what's wrong, officer kennedy?" you tease. "scared you'll break a hip bone?"

"quiet," he grumbles. "i'm just a little sore from yesterday."

"of course, of course, a very busy day running errands, such as picking up doughnuts, might i add?"

he scowls at you and tries again, and again, but every time he can't seem to cope with the fact your flexibility, even at your maturing age, is better than his, even with all his rigorous training.

"looks like you couldn't do it," you say smugly, smirking directly at him, angling your body to face him. "told you so."

"i think it's my turn now," he says, creeping towards you. and this time he seems to have the prowess of a panther, easily slotting himself into place above you.

"your turn for what?" you ask, somewhat suggestively. he grins.

"how 'bout i show you what i've learned?"

fuck, you'll never doubt him again, will you? his sweet, submissive girl, arching beneath him, one hand pressed on the floor near your head, keeping him supported. the other is clasped behind his back, in an ethereal tilt that has his chest hair hitting all the right angles of the dying sun.

your knee is thrown over his shoulder, and the position should be awkward, you think, yet it feels as natural as anything. he pistons his hips further into you, and he's been mumbling something in your ear since he started.

now that you can hear him better through his rough, sloppy pants, you hear a steady rhythm. "twenty-five... twenty-six..."

he's counting, you realize after your mind-shattering orgasm, whimpering underneath him as he finishes, muscles flexing in a manner you'd never thought to admire until you realize why.

he's counting the pushups, god, that's all he's been doing this whole time. and you'd be damned if you didn't send a silent prayer of thanks back to the academy, where they trained him to do this.

but you're sure this isn't how they expected him to apply it in real life. hey, what can you say? seems like you're finally enjoying your husband's career and all the perks it comes with.

"my pretty wife, going around doing all those stretches, driving me fucking crazy bending over like that," he rambles, lowering himself to shower your face in messy kisses before tilting his head back to the side with a hiss, lifting himself back up.

back up and back down, a slower pace with his upper body while his lower half rails into you, and all you can do is lie there, helpless to what he gives you, craving more yet somehow satiated at the same time.

"yeah, mmm, fuck, just like that-" he breaks off his counting to whisper sweet nothings in your ear for the second time that evening, pushing his spend back in while you grasp for purchase on his biceps, feeling the hardened muscle lurch back towards you as you dig your nails deep into his skin.

"needed that, didn't you?" you whisper breathlessly after he collapses onto the hard wooden floor next to you. his eyes shine with effort and pride, and after a low exhale, he immediately scoops you up.

he carries you back to the bedroom, where he lies you down onto the comforters, making sure you're comfortable before trailing up and down your neck with soft, carefully measured kisses once again.

"w-what're you doing?" you murmur, twitching under the overstimulation. leon's eyes have shifted to a deeper color, a darker lilt to his eyes when he reaches your gaze.

"i can do better than that, sweetheart."

"better?" you ask jokingly, because what could make him better? anything better than that is a menace to society, you decide.

he sighs, shaking his head before cupping your body with his hand again, rubbing your skin in such a doting gesture that you don't expect his next words.

"i said a hundred, sweetheart. i didn't even make it to fifty."

series masterlist

[sarcasticscribbles]

BOYCOTT EUROVISION FOR ISRAEL PARTICIPATION.

I am the Eurovision gay this time of year, I love this show. Not only is my country hosting 2024 but it's also in a city I love, but I can't watch as people sing about peace and love while Palestinians are getting killed by one of the participants.

I've complied a couple of petitions, open letters and information regarding Eurovision: Eurovision isn't the highest priority regarding Gaza, but this show is marketing & tourism for countries, Israel is using it to pink wash their politics

According to SVT, Swedish television network in charge of Eurovision 2024 in Sweden Malmö, Eurovision is apolitical, and therefore Israel qualify. They refer to any calls for boycott meaningless ( via )

SVT statement:

[ID: "SVT statement on the debate over Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest

Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest is generating debate and today a number of Swedish artists have called on the EBU to cancel Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest 2024. It is the EBU’s decision which public broadcasters may take part in the event, and as the host broadcaster, SVT follows the EBU’s decisions. The humanitarian suffering in this deeply complex conflict is devastating. Nobody can be left unmoved by the current situation in Gaza, or by the Hamas attack in Israel. We are also concerned about these developments. We understand and respect that groups of people wish to make their voices heard. As the host broadcaster, SVT has an ongoing dialogue with the EBU about the challenges of producing Europe’s largest TV-production in times of unrest. We are humbled by the task and are working to ensure the project can be carried out in the best way possible, with the vision that music unites." END ID]

Eurovision has always been political, and was created as a celebration of peace after WW2. Songs are statements, and EBU took action by banning Russia and Belarus for the invasion of Ukraine. It's a way to show sympathy and solidarity, which Gaza is in need of now.

Why Eurovision is so important to Israel is the opportunity of pink washing, and appearing liberal and LGBTQ-friendly, that the show encourages. This leads to great marketing and tourism for the country, alqueerian on twitter did a great thread about it:

[ID: Tweet from @ alqueerian on X formerly known as Twitter. Tweet: "A really quick thread on pinkwashing and why it’s wrong: pinkwashing is a term that was coined by LGBTQ Palestinians to specifically refer to the use of homophobia as a justification for israeli war crimes, ethnic cleansing, mass displacement, starvation etc." END ID]

Full thread

WHAT YOU CAN DO:

Here are a couple of petitions, open letters and links to encourage the ban of Israel in Eurovision

And if all fail: we boycott

Here are two petitions for the ban of Israel: Petition 1

Petition 2

A list of emails and contact information for broadcasters regarding Israel participation: copy, paste and send. Document

It's created by verilybitchie on YouTube who also made a great call to action video I can recommend

[ID: Screenshot of verilybitchie youtube video "Genocide at the Eurovision Song Contest". The video is showing an article by Chris Lockeyer, news reposter, titled "Israel to compete at Eurovision despite boycott threats" The article says: "The European broadcast Union said its member organisations approved Israel's participation in the competition and it remains aligned with other competition organisations on its stance." The article is from December 19th, 2023. END ID]

And for Swedes, I think it's extra important for us to speak up; here's what we can do:

Open letter via Björk & Frihet, a charity in Skåne offer letters to sign but also have pdf version to print at home!

[ID: Photo from Björk & Frihet, a swedish charity offering open letters to sign to send to the government. "Stoppa folkmordet" as the letters are ladled, means "stop the genocide" END ID]

This is also a letter regarding the contest being held in Malmö, a city with a long history fighting for Palestine! Sign here

[ID: Vote for Swedes in Malmö to sign to protest Israel's participation in Eurovision. END ID]

Meanwhile, don't forget your daily clicks to help Palestine while we wait for EBU to stand by their words and prove we are united by music!

[ID: Iceland's Hatari holds up Palestinian flags during Eurovision in Tel Aviv, May 19, 2019. END ID]

[t4tprinzzy]

let���s go into detail about what’s going on with thomas sanders and brei grace, because i refuse to let him and the community sweep this under the rug:

thomas severely underpaid brei grace for her work on roleslaying with roman

thomas then laid brei off after creating a work environment that was bad enough to make her not want to return

thomas made a post “announcing” that rswr would be on “an indefinite hiatus”. but it was only available on his patreon (im not a patron so i can’t link the post or show a screenshot, but if i find a screenshot i will edit it into this post)

to amend the above point: i had seen many people saying there was a patreon post that touched on the subject of brei being laid off and rswr taking a hiatus, but in actuality, according to a patron, thomas mentioned the matter in a patreon livestream, not a full blown post. i apologize for the misinformation

just days later, thomas makes a tweet about his merch sale, and most (if not ALL) his current merch was designed by brei, who will not see a penny in royalties, and this is apparently a regular thing with thomas

finally, an entire week after the patreon “announcement” and brei being laid off, thomas says this on the youtube community page (among other things, but this is what im focusing on):

and brei has to clarify that she was laid off

i want to point out the phrase “brei is currently not part of our team” and how thomas fails to acknowledge that HE is responsible for that. HE laid her off. and like a cowardly snake, he’s hiding behind vague corporate speak because he doesn’t want to admit the truth

unfortunately for him, the truth is out there

i know i sound really serious and dramatic and yall are probably not even taking me seriously and you have your pitchforks at the ready, but guess what? i couldn’t care less. i mean this IS serious, which is why im taking it seriously. but at the end of the day im just informing the community of what i know. what you do with that information is up to you

im not “cancelling” thomas, or trying to start a witch hunt, im just so sick of everyone pretending thomas is a perfect harmless little angel who can do no wrong. cos guess what? he HAS done wrong. he’s done wrong by brei. but everyone is so busy sucking up to him that they don’t seem to care that brei is suffering because of him

and this isn’t the first time he’s done wrong by an artist, either (let’s never forget the mad libs incident)

to summarize: thomas doesn’t make it a habit of properly compensating the artists he hires, he makes their experiences a living hell, and then he lies through his teeth about it

like i said, do with this information what you will, but i don’t know how thomas sleeps at night

(oh, and if you plan on harassing me over this post, im literally just gonna block you lmao don’t waste your energy)

hope everyone has a nice weekend (except for thomas tbh)

[thesummerestsolstice]

Elvish art genre that definitely exists in Middle-Earth: the captivity of Elrond and Elros (mostly just Elrond, especially after Elros dies)

The paintings– done mostly, but not always, by Sindarin and anti-Feanorian Noldor artists– are usually studies in contrast– Elrond as the bright, innocent child dressed in white; often portrayed as a small, frightened elfling, frozen at the moment he was taken from Sirion. Sometimes he is shown bravely resisting the cruelty of the Feanorians, other times he mourns for Sirion, or bows and prays to the gods for deliverance. Sometimes, he's given wings, both to stress his connection with Luthien and Elwing and to make him look more angelic and pure in comparison to the fallen Feanorians.

Maedhros and Maglor are the dark monsters the oath made them, with teeth, and claws, and harsh armor. Some of the more daring artists just portray Maedhros as an actual orc. While few of the paintings actually show the Feanorians' crimes, they're often portrayed with blood on their hands or swords, or simply surrounded by fire and destruction. They often demand, or threaten in the pictures, towering over Elrond and casting long shadows on him.

There's a few different sub-genres of these paintings. The ones that explicitly compare Elrond's situation to Luthien's kidnapping by Celegorm. The ones that feature a grateful Elrond being saved from the horrible Feanorians by whoever the artist is looking to valorize– Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Oropher, Eonwe, etc. The ones that show Elrond, locked in a dark cell, staring longingly out at Gil-Estel rising in the night sky. Some of the strangest are the ones that draw connections between the Silmarils being kept in Morgoth's crown and the twins– often with Maedhros playing the role of Morgoth.

Elrond hates almost all of these paintings. He feels like they take away his ability to define his past the way he wants to– to tell his own story. Most of them are grossly inaccurate, but most people don't know that, and dredging up all those really painful memories to try and correct people's assumption is hard. Sometimes, even when he does, people won't listen. Some of the paintings also seem... weirdly gleeful about the idea that Elrond suffered because of the Feanorians? Like they're trying to martyr him even though he's alive, and doesn't want to be martyred. It all makes him really, really uncomfortable.

There is one exception. It's not a very traditional example of captivity paintings. Elrond is at the center of the frame, shown not as a small child but as a young adult. Maglor and Maedhros are mostly unseen in the background, each with a bloody hand on one of Elrond's shoulders. Unlike the other paintings, instead of looking off into the distance or staring demurely at the ground, Elrond is looking straight out at the viewer His expression is hard to place. Anger? Acceptance? Defiance? Pity? Accusation? It's a very odd picture that unsettles almost everyone that look at it.

Elrond insists on hanging it in Rivendell.

[great-axepectations]

What must it be like to be on a server with Doc? Every time he posts in the Hermitcraft Discord server must be absolutely insane.

Is anyone available to help me kill 3 wardens that got loose on the nether roof? Sorry actually it might be more like 20

Hey if it's not too much trouble, could no one log on for the next 30 minutes? I'm trying to transport an ender dragon I pulled into the overworld and loading chunks could mess it up

Anyone want to play a children's card game? I outsourced my deck building to a think tank made of hundreds of people and I want to absolutely destroy someone in a match

Does someone know a good rap artist to collab with? I want to make an anthem for the nation I founded in my massive hole of a base and Snoop Dog never got back to me

So we're not having a team meeting, just an informal brainstorming session? Cool, can I invite Christopher Paolini? Yeah the guy who wrote the Eragon books

If you see any ghasts flying over spawn town, I released like 30 of them as a prank. There should be like 2 left so don't kill them, they're an endangered species

I left that shulker at spawn FOR A REASON. Whoever took it, YOU KNOW WHAT I'M CAPABLE OF. RETURN IT OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES

Just a heads up guys, I'm inviting some Mojang devs on to the server so I can show them the cannon I made that can shoot an arrow through 3000 solid blocks in one tick and immediately destroys a full set of netherite armor

Grian was annoying me so I built a cannon that shoots charged creepers at his base with startling accuracy. Then he used it for his own gain so I build a goat mech that poops explosives to guard my base. What do you mean that's not how normal people handle disputes? He's clearly the unhinged one!

Be careful going into my base, I have a pet warden at the bottom of the perimeter. No, a PET. Yes it's there on purpose, his name is King

No one touch the chunk loader at spawn, I'm using it to transport items thousands of blocks instantly. No, of course it's not an intended feature but I still managed to pull it off in vanilla, didn't I?

How did the world eater go? Well I needed to use 3 minecraft accounts so it would run properly and at one point it was disrupted by solar flares, which I think might have been God trying to strike me down for my hubris. But other than that, yeah it went well!

Please note that these examples are ONLY FROM SEASON 9

[luxlightly]

Simon in the new Fionna and Cake show really feels to me like he embodies the feeling of having been extremely mentally ill, then getting significantly better, but still struggling with mental illness, just in a quieter and less obtrusive way. Especially being an artist whose most beloved work was from that time.

You're well enough that people expect you to be able to cope, but you're not and people don't understand. People who knew you before don't extend the same amount of help they did before because they don't realize you need it. Your suffering is so much quieter and easier to overlook. Now you're the one responsible for keeping up appearances, for keeping it hidden.

People who didn't know you before see snippits of how you were and will tell you to your face that that version of you was preferable because of the things you did or created. You're "boring" to them. They might even think you were happier before, because of your manic moments. Then act like you're selfish for still expressing any symptoms.

You can't relate to the healthy people around you but you can't relate to the art you created when you were sick, anymore, either. People trying to praise the work you did before just sends you right back to that bad time in your life, but they can't help the fact it was meaningful and inspiring to them as much as it is painful and triggering for you. They want you to be the person who made the thing that makes them so inspired.

And part of you does, too. Because the memory of the constant underlying pain of that time you were so sick starts to fade and blend in with the suffering of now and starts to feel comparable. And at least back then you weren't constantly trying to hide it. At least then people noticed. At least then you had something to offer people, even if it was a manifestation of your suffering. At least then there were moments of joy. Because anything seems better than the monotony of being stuck in this place, too sick and too well, simultaneously.

All with the constant repeating mantra of "aren't I so much better now?" Because you are.

Aren't you?

[olgiisworld]

The interview // Choi Seungcheol

summary; you and Seungcheol have been a public couple on the media, both of you big artists, him being the leader of the group named Seventeen. Things have been a little rough lately due to lack of communication. You're invited to talk on a podcast about your recent achievements, but when your personal life is mentioned as a topic, you get bitter, and you don't manage to hide it. But how about the consequences?

Y/n x Seungcheol of Seventeen, genre: angst, frustration and unfairness with a hint of fluff in the end.

Word Count; 4,476 (oopsie)

Warnings; swearing

note; it took me months to finish this (mostly because of loss of inspiration, so you might notice inconsistency), but it's nothing special. Although you might like it :) I'd love to see comments! thank you for your support on my Beomgyu one-shot <3 smoochies ♡

it's been a while i've felt like shit. it's been a while i've felt more welcome to talk to the wall than talking to Seungcheol.

talking to Seungcheol seemed so hard for some reason. all we've been doing is fighting or ignoring each other. and that would be okay, if we didn't have each other's house keys.

it is hard to maintain a relationship that happened to go public, when none of you planned it. both me and Seungcheol being public figures really sat bad, especially with his constant need of privacy.

but it is hard. we can't just not leave the house.

that's mostly the reason we've been fighting.

everyday was a circle.

i return back to his apartment, where we had a silent agreement to meet everyday after work. my body and mind exhausted from all the work i've put in the studio. frustration seeping through my body, because of the disagreements i've had with the rest of my colleagues. concern, pain, fatigue, everything coming together, creating this unpleasant expression on my face. i know i seem cold.

but he just sits there. slumped on his couch. eyes fixed on the familiar black box. he cares enough to say "hey, how's work?", but not enough to ask about how I am. so i just shrug my shoulders and walk past him.

that's my life with my 'oh-so-wanted' boyfriend.

i'm a starved woman.

starved from love, from affection, from tenderness, from touch.

just touch.

his touch.

he hasn't touched me in god knows how long. all i get are dead kisses.

the repetition of each day made me feel angry, frustrated, pained, disappointed. made me feel like i was not worthy of him.

and the worst thing is that i cannot communicate my thoughts with the person i love.

he seems so stressed with his upcoming tour, that giving him one more reason to yell will only break him.

so i suffered in silence.

last week's fight was interesting.

a photo of us shopping together started making its way around social media. Seungcheol hated social media. and we both looked quite miserable in the photos, but i don't know if he noticed.

he yelled at me for not being careful enough.

apparently, i was the reason they saw us and they took those fucking pictures. like i enjoy being on strangers' camera rolls.

and i yelled back.

and we fought.

again.

damn it.

i cried so hard and he didn't even try to comfort me.

he didn't even touch me.

he didn't.

he didn't try to reach out.

he wouldn't even touch my hand by mistake.

i was so fed up.

so fed up of not feeling desired by the only person i loved..

the week passed, the same circle repeating itself.

i started going back to my house after work. Seungcheol didn't even try to ask why. he only said "i get that you might need space".

I am the one who needs the space?

i didn't even argue back. i knew where this was going and i felt like i was finally ready.

today, i had an interview.

nothing huge, just a small podcast. friendly podcast.

i wore comfortable clothes and hid my fatigue behind foundation and blush. i was okay with pretending like everything was fine.

it only broke my heart that people assumed "i am the happiest i've ever been". because people can only make assumptions. people only see the pictures. people only see the smiles, the kisses. or even the fatigue. but, "oh, everything is okay, she's got her man".

but what about Seuncheol?

people saw that he was stressed. people saw that he's probably not happy. people really had the audacity to say "i'm not good enough for him"!

like, fuck they know? they know nothing

and he never said anything. he never addressed those comments.

why?

because he believes that "what people say are bullshit"

but it sounded more like i'm not worth a small clarification.

i grabbed my keys and phone, closed my door and headed to the podcast set up.

everything was really friendly.

Alex, a familiar face of mine, would host the show.

i've happened to meet her before, at after-parties and gatherings, so we had talked before. everything was comfortable.

the podcast started shortly after and the talk was great. we also had a drink and a girls' talk that actually helped me take my mind off of my stress.

at one point, she turned to look at me when i sipped a little of my drink.

"so, um, i just.. i wanted to ask a few things, i know you don't really talk about your personal life, and that's why the questions are quite.. generic? you know.. of course, you can tell me to stop"

i felt some concern wash over me, as to what the consequences of this conversation could be. but i shrugged it off with a soft chuckle as i fixed my posture, leaning a little closer to the microphone.

"no, don't worry about it, shoot"

she smiled and read the notes of her phone, taking a quick sip of her drink as well.

''so, what is it like to be in a relationship?"

she looked at me with a small smile.

and all i could do was huff, trying to find an adequate answer.

i leaned back to the microphone.

"honestly? really hard"

Alex shot an eyebrow up in surprise.

"really? why, girl? is it hard for two great artists to live up to everyone's expectations?''

she chuckled and i just shook my head in thought.

i tried to put my thoughts in a row. it's hard to express everything i feel to someone after being so.. alone.

but i felt frustrated and fed up at the moment.

i fidgeted a little on my seat.

"i don't know.. it's not like there are no hardships in a relationship anyway.. it's just.. you can't find a way out of a hardship without communication, or respect. or understanding. there are many elements that have to balance out the hardships of a relationship, you know? at least that's how i view it"

i shrugged, my implication clear.

Alex caught my glimpse.

she nodded and looked at her phone shortly.

"that is really interesting, but everything can work out with love and patience"

i nodded, my smile a little bitter

"i guess.. i can't really tell you"

she tried to play it off with a small chuckle and i forced a smile

"i know you guys don't talk about your relationship, and privacy request is respected. but, not even posting moments on social media.. that's amazing. i actually admire that. it shows how strong your bond can be."

i chuckled, bitterness lingering on my laugh.

"not really. i wouldn't mind posting a picture or two. privacy is very much needed, but it's not like we have something to hide, or something to be so private about.. anyway, i really don't think it's that serious. but everyone has their own point of view."

she nodded, not wanting to pry on the matter, since she noticed my uneasiness.

she read of her notes again.

"does he inspire you to write?'

the question felt like a stab to the heart.

i couldn't say 'he used to'

and i couldn't say 'no' either

but i didn't want to lie.

i took a deep breath, trying to collect my words. i leaned on the microphone one more time.

"i don't really get inspired by real people.. mostly fictional characters, fictional situations.. nothing real. i used to find material from real life but.. i guess, my style changed"

i shrugged and forced a chuckle, trying to shake the feeling off.

Alex nodded and put a smile on her face.

"alright then, let's move on.."

i let out a breath i didn't even know i was holding. i took a sip of my drink, feeling quite relieved that we moved on from that topic.

the rest of the podcast went great, but i was tired and i couldn't wait for it to end.

as soon as we were done, i shook hands with Alex, she informed me about the slight editing she wanted to do, she thanked me and i thanked her back. she said that the episode would be out by the end of the week. i smiled and thanked her for having me. and i left.

i returned to my miserable apartment. the silence defeaning.

i hadn't seen Seungcheol in a week, but he didn't really seem to care.

i just left my shoes and coat next to the couch. i had lost my appetite completely.

i sat on the couch and took my phone in my hand.

i checked some of my messages and i saw Seungcheol's name among the notifications.

'Hey, is everything okay'

again.

not how I am. not if I am okay.

he really didn't give a damn about me.

i texted back a 'fine, no worries' and threw my phone at the end of the couch.

i started crying.

the only thing that comforted me was the sound of my own crying.

i hugged my arms around me and fell back on the couch. i was lost. i needed navigation. and he couldn't fucking give it to me.

[...]

Friday.

i headed back to my car after a long exhausting session at the studio. once i fastened my seatbelt, i grabbed my phone to check on some missed calls. a notification came in, saying that my podcast with Alex was out. i smiled excitedly, and turned it on to listen on my way back home. i texted her shortly and i threw my phone next to my driver's seat. i just concentrated on the road, the podcast being a pleasant background sound.

the drive back home was short, sadly. i just picked up my stuff, my phone still playing the podcast, as i walked back to my door.

i walked in, throwing my stuff on the couch, taking off my shoes and running to the kitchen, to grab some water.

when i walked in, i saw Seungcheol leaned against the counter, arms crossed on his chest, expression serious to mad.

my whole face went white when i saw him.

"fuck! you scared me.. what are you doing here?"

i was so shocked he was in my kitchen, probably more than i should, considering that he is my boyfriend.

he took a deep breath before i heard his voice.

"what the fuck? seriously. you're the one who's shocked here."

i looked around, confused by his words. i shrugged my shoulders.

"i guess.. i don't usually find you hiding in my house.. especially after not seeing you for a whole week.."

he scoffed. he didn't leave me any room for reaction.

"and you haven't even tried to reach out for a whole week.. but i guess, that's okay. relationships don't work without communication, like you said."

his words confused me even more.

i realized that what he quoted were my words on Alex's podcast. Now everything made sense.

i walked a little closer.

''are you seriously mad about this bullshit?''

his eyes widened

"bullshit? you say that calling me out is bullshit? telling EVEYONE how you feel, except from me, bullshit?''

my own eyes widened at his words

"what?"

his lips narrowed down, his madness more visible.

"what do you fucking mean with what? you literally let every fucking idiot know what's going on between us!"

he yelled

i looked at him in shock before processing to react with a scoff

"are you serious? what, how? by telling people that i'm having hardships in my relationship?"

he took a step closer

"you could have told me! me! not everyone! making everyone believe that we suffer!"

my head tilted in pure curiosity.

"which.. we don't?''

i asked, so simply.

he looked at me, his fingers running through his hair.

"that's not the point, the point is that you let everyone-"

i couldn't bear to listen so i yelled back

"i thought you didn't give a shit about what everyone thinks! you're such a hypocrite!"

he looked at me in shock

his eyes filled with disappointment.

"you literally implied that i don't love you."

my own eyes filled with anger and hurt.

"what do you fucking mean? you mean to tell me that i'm wrong? that everything is fine? that we don't fight every single time we try to talk? that we communicate just perfectly? that you don't ignore me? that you don't act like i am a stranger? no, i'm sorry, my mistake. you would touch a stranger, even if it was a fucking accident!"

he stayed there, in front of me, his face emotionless. he just heard what i said. or dogded my words, either way, he reacted the same.

"you implied that i don't fucking love you."

at this point, i felt helpless. fed up. rock-bottom. i just shook my head and let my tears slip from my eyes.

"Seungcheol, you don't love me. and i don't care. i have accepted it."

he cracked a hint of emotion, as he lightly flinched

"what are you even saying?"

i wiped my tears quickly.

"that you're a coward. that's what i'm saying."

he took a step closer, tilting his head confused.

"how am I a coward? you're the one who went and told everyone what we're going through! and you didn't even bother to tell ME something!"

i couldn't listen, i couldn't just stand there and listen.

I let out a cynical chuckle.

"and I thought you didn't even bother to watch my interviews.. guess i'm wrong"

I wiped my tears.

he seemed even more mad.

"of course I watch your stuff, but even if I didn't want to, everyone has been sending me this stupid podcast since it came out! everyone found a chance to make fun of me!"

i replied with the same anger.

"well, sorry, but you had to take a taste of your own medicine! do you even know what people say about us online?! do you? do you know what it's like to read that I'm not good enough for you, that I don't deserve you? do you even know how everyone fucking praises you, but all of them downgrade me? do you, Seungcheol? I've been living like this for the past 1 year and I never, ever complained to you about it. Because you always kept saying that YOU don't give a fuck about what people say! so fuck you, Cheol!"

my tears were running like a river at this point, but the mad expression on his face was driving me insane. his eyebrows relaxed a bit.

I made a move to leave, not wanting to have another fight. but, something I wouldn't expect, he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

i pulled my hand away.

"no! don't you fucking dare touch me now! I've had enough! enough! you hear me? you're so cheap! you're embarrassed that everyone knows about your relationship not working, but you don't even care enough to fix this mess! fucking coward.."

he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he grabbed my wrist again.

he pulled me closer.

"I'm not a coward! I'm just.. stressed! really fucking stressed! and I know that you don't care-"

I stopped him.

"i don't care? I don't care?! are you stupid?!"

he tightened his grip on my wrist.

"how do you care?! you care and you don't even call me for a week? you care, but you don't tell me what's bothering you? instead, you go and talk about our problems in a podcast?"

i took a deep breath and looked at him, trying to remain calm.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

he swallowed down my words.

"what the fuck, y/n?"

i let out a deep breath.

i was on the verge of a mental breakdown, feeling like this conversation is the repetition of pointless yelling and arguments that were better understood by a wall.

i just shook my head, my expression full of disappointment.

"Seungcheol, i can't do this anymore."

his expression softened and he let go of my wrist, pulling his own hand back hesitantly.

his voice almost scared.

"what do you mean?"

i sighed softly, not able to hold back anymore. it was now or never. and i, unlike him, was not a coward. it was time to finally do it.

"it's not working... it can't.. it can't work... between us.."

my expectations were simple. him getting sad and disappointed or him not even caring enough to have a reaction. i surely not expected him to get mad at me, like he did.

"and you call me a coward?"

i looked at him confused. i didn't even find the chance to talk before he interrupted me.

"you're telling me that it's easier to talk to a wall, you go all out about me in a podcast, you don't text, you don't call, you don't care. and now you're breaking up with me? so, you actually don't love me."

i heard his words carefully before rolling my eyes in frustration, my reaction getting him more mad and he threw his hands in the air.

"love is not enough to hold a whole relationship up, okay-"

he yelled back, interrupting me.

"bullshit! and you know it! i love you, and i don't care if you can't see it, i care that i feel it though!"

my eyes widened slightly in shock but i managed to yell back.

"why don't you touch me?! why do you ignore me?! what have i done to you, how can you say that you love me?!"

he looked at me, his eyes mirroring the same frustration as mine did. but there was something else. the frustration was not towards me, it was towards himself.

"I don't know! i don't know! i don't know..."

his voice softened at the last 'i don't know', and i remained silent since he seemed to have a lot more to say. he let out a small sigh.

"I've been really really really stressed. really stressed. we're on the verge of canceling a world tour, our manager keeps telling us that he wants to quit, and we've lost a lot of money because of a merch company that happened to be frauds."

my mouth opened in shock at his confession.

Seungcheol never told me about any of these.

i was trying to find a reaction but i couldn't find it. so he talked instead.

"and you breaking up with me is the cherry on top. i know that i can't defend myself, and i won't sound pathetic enough to beg you to stay. if you want to leave me, it's fine. for you. i can't tie you down anyway."

his voice came out small, weak, pathetic, like he was scared to be perceived.

i managed to get my voice out.

"why didn't you say anything?"

he looked into my eyes, dead serious as he quoted me.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

i clenched my jaw, feeling anger instead of sympathy building up. i hit his chest, without thinking much, but he didn't even flinch. his eyes simply pierced through me.

"you're not capable of even admitting that you need me? really? i hate you!"

i felt fed up with my own self, pathetic with how miserable i was and felt. i was sad. my whole life was sad. i built a whole career that seemed to be drowning me. and my words didn't even shake his poker face.

tears streamed down my face and i couldn't control my sobs. even if i sounded pathetic, at least i was honest to my feelings.

i knew i was the reason we couldn't communicate now that we found a chance, but i was feeling too depressed to even try it.

there had been many chances in the past, and since nothing worked, this wouldn't work either. i simply cried.

he looked down for a moment, the straight line of his lips unwavering. he took a deep breath, sighing softly through his nose. i put a few strands of my hair behind my ear, while my tears were falling down like a waterfall.

i wiped as many as i could.

i knew that nothing could shake or top the tension my three simple words just created.

or at least that's what i thought, before he grabbed my chin and he kissed me.

my crying eyes opened in shock, his hand holding my lips close as his other arm creeped around me, pulling me into his embrace. the shock wouldn't let me kiss back, and i felt like he used my vulnerability to his advantage.

i felt frustrated, confused, and i pulled my head back since he held me close by my waist, trapping my hands on his chest, the feeling both new and familiar.

"i said i hate you!"

"oh shut up.."

he simply replied before pulling me back into a kiss, a hundred times more passionate than the first one. it was the first time in months that he kissed me with so much emotion. i could feel it. i could feel that he meant it. his other arm wrapped around me as well and he held me close, months after our last hug. and his embrace was so warm and nostalgic. my mind drifted to the memories of our first dates and my lips started moving against his, by instict.

my hands gently tugged on his shirt, the tears in my eyes stopping.

i felt warm.

and i hadn't felt warm like this since forever.

he kissed me with so much meaning and passion, like i would disappear if he'd let go..

after a moment, his lips moved to my jawline, placing gentle kisses along the line of it towards the spot below my ear. he placed soft kisses on my neck and his hands moved up and down my back, touching me gently. re-exploring me.

opening old wounds.

my breath became a little heavier as my mind traveled with his touch. the feeling was so new, yet so familiar to me.

i wasn't sure of what to say, how to talk.

he touched me after god knows how long.

i heard his voice, his breath tingling my neck.

"i'm so stupid.."

he simply said, but i didn't have an answer. not an an argument. he placed soft kisses on my neck, his hands traveling down my body.

"i need you so bad.. i need all of you.. in my life, forever, and right now.."

he whispered, sending chills down my spine. i haven't heard him talk like that, probably never.

"i need you right now, i love you.. i love you so much.."

he kissed my lips, his words felt like heavy prayers.

i looked into his eyes, feeling the vulnerability reaching the ceiling.

he kissed my face gently, placing a strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek.

"you're the only tranquilizer i'll ever need.. i'm so sorry for never seeing it.."

he kissed my lips gently again.

i was so lost that words wouldn't even dare to come out my mouth.

but he didn't expect anything from me. he simply poured his heart out, like he hadn't done in months.

"i've been so stressed out and closed off that i didn't realize what i was doing to the only person that could help me."

his hands explored my body like he was searching for undiscovered spots.

my mouth formed a soft pout, my eyes glistening.

he pressed another soft kiss on my pout.

"baby, i'm sorry. i love you. and i'm a dick that doesn't deserve you. and i know it. i'll respect your choice to leave me."

he pressed a kiss on my cheek like a final goodbye and he softly unwrapped his arms from my body, but my hands grabbed them, almost like an instict, and i wrapped them around me again.

i kissed his lips a little more aggressively than expected by the both of us actually, and my hands cupped his cheeks. he kissed me back, without restraints.

my hands ran through his hair, softly tugging on his locks.

i broke the kiss for a breath and i talked.

"you're so stupid"

he nodded quickly, feeling breathless.

"yes, i am"

i kissed him again and i mumbled against his lips

"so stupid"

he moved his lips with more hunger as he repeated

"so so stupid"

i pulled back briefly, my chest carrying my heavy breaths, my fingers tracing the softness of his hair, his skin, leaving fire to their wake. my eyes locked in his.

i shook my head gently, processing the overwhelming emotion in my heart. i finally managed to express it.

"i love you, but you hurt me so bad"

i saw his face twisting with guilt. i knew he wasn't in a better position with all the stress he carried, but Seungcheol never meant harm. he was always a good guy. that doesn't justify his actions and i knew that, but i felt every crumb of love for him resurrecting, just because of his touch.

he spoke softly, his hands gripping on my skin.

"i'm so sorry.. i'm so so sorry.. i'll respect it if you want to leave me.."

i covered his mouth quickly, his eyes looking into mine with surpise. i sniffled softly before talking.

"i won't leave, you idiot"

he pulled my hand down, his expression more surprised and confused.

"but why?"

i sniffled again, a hint of smile that hasn't appeared on my face in months made its way on my lips.

"because i've made a mental promise to myself. i'm always by your side when you need me."

his expression turned into a melted one, his lips finding my cheek and leaving a couple of soft, loving kisses.

"i love you. i'm so sorry.''

he spoke softly, resting his forehead in mine.

i sighed softly through my nose, my emotions twirling inside of me like crazy.

"i love you too."

i added, and i closed my eyes.

he did the same.

at that time, everything felt a little more sure than usual. i clinged to that hint of hope he expressed through his words of affirmation.

my hand caressed his back softly.

why does every relationship have to go through a rough patch that leaves a part of you dead right after? you know it won't be the same. the only thing that gives you hope is the love inside you that can't die down. and i felt it, in his hug. i felt a little more sure.