#i did desaturate it a little but its still a little hard on my eyes... could just be me though.

[blundermonster]

[Image ID: An eleven horizontal striped flag, its colors going as follows from top to bottom, white, light yellow, light orange, pumpkin orange, brown, a larger stripe of magenta, brown, dark red, pale red, pink, white. End ID]

Greatwistingial: A gender related, connected to, or otherwise effected by the ritual from The Magnus Archives, "The Great Twisting."

Tagging @radiomogai and @lovesickangelguts (as you requested this many a moon ago...)

[danthediamondminecart]

RBBTOBER DAY 25-26 : WONDERLAND

CW! Mild Flashing

This video came from me not quite knowing what to do for the concept, and somehow ending up with an entire animatic in a day. Don't ask me how I did that, I couldn't answer. I really like it though! Fits the vibes.

You know, I'm not a Spiral guy myself, but I can tell why people love the Distortion so much. Helen and Michael's backstories, individually and as a unit, are so interesting. They're such interesting characters. Obviously, I had to do them in my TMA AU as well, and what better characters than with Sketch and Calixo, when Calixo 'replaced' Sketch in the RBB roster? Well, I'm unsure if Calixo replaces Sketch or not just yet, I want to get a full timeline down first.

'Drabble' under the cut, as well as some talk about the story itself - it's once again over 1000 words, but in this case, my excuse is that it wouldn't have really fit the Wonderland prompt without some exposition from Calixo first.

(This takes place during Calixo's statement to the RB Foundation. Calixo has already given most of it - this is the last segment. He’s been struggling to get through the statement without repeating himself - he’s clearly quite scatterbrained, though whether this is a normal thing for him or it was because of his experience, Russo doesn’t know yet.) 

[CALIXO] As I said, the longer I was in there, the more lost I felt. I wasn’t sure what was a real door and what was fake, whether I could pass through the wall or not - one minute it’d be rock solid and the next minute it would disintegrate like sand. My eyes were starting to hurt from all the bright colours and fractals and stage lights, and none of the things inside would talk to me in regular, normal words. Just riddles and laughter.

I don't...exactly remember how long I was in there or the events that led to me escaping, but...I can give my best guess.

I heard that monster’s voice on the tannoy, it mentioned about the next show starting soon, and to please wait - he’ll pick us all up shortly. I didn’t want to get on that show again. I wanted to get out. So I kept running around, trying to find an escape route.

Eventually I ran into a room filled with TVs. There were millions like it before and likely after, so I wasn’t going to pay it much mind, just move on- but they all showed its face, so I paused. I couldn’t see its eyes through the TV screens, it was almost like it was being censored, and it was covered in static. Then I spotted it- a blank screen, a screen that simply showed my reflection and nothing else. I don’t know what it was that told me that it was my escape - I guess I didn’t really know, but it stood out, it looked normal, or at least what reminded me of normal, so I had to try. Either way, I- I threw myself at it.

I blinked, and I was laying against cold, hard concrete, staring up at the sky. It was starting to rain, I think. I didn’t care - I was out. Out of that horrid place. Where colours are desaturated and walls are made of real material and you aren’t being forced to act. I was near a pile of junk and trash, right by an old TV. I still couldn’t get up, I was feeling so dizzy, could still see those spirals in the corner of my vision, still hear its laughter ringing in my ears, so I ended up crawling away from it as fast as I could. I ended up dragging myself around and trying to find help, but it was so dark in those alleyways, I kept getting turned around to that pile of junk. So I ended up just sitting there, screaming, hoping that someone would find me.

They did- I don’t remember their names too well, and I feel horrible about it- they saved my life. Uh, Kreek and Bella, I think? They were the ones who found me, got me something to drink, tried to calm me down, called the emergency services to get me checked out and a way home. They were the first tangible people I’d seen in- god knows how long, so I think that only made it worse. I- (deliriously laughs) I...I was even a little embarrassed that they saw me like that, I thought they were tourists, thought I was still back home. I- well, I mean, I’m not, clearly. Though I’d rather be here than still in that horrible place.

I don’t know if they believed me when I explained how I got here- the cops certainly didn’t. I was in the hospital for a few days - I think they thought I was a delusional kidnapping victim.

(Quietly) Maybe I am a delusional kidnapping victim.

(Louder again) So I’ve been here, laying in hospital, while the police try to figure out what to do with me. Don’t have any relatives I’m still in contact with, and none of my friends back at uni are picking up- so I’m just sort of stranded in the hospital bed, barely sleeping because of the nightmares. Apparently I had such a bad reaction to realising there was a TV in my room that they covered it up with a curtain. I- I know it’s there, I’m not stupid, but at least it’s not turned on.

But- but when I said my side of things, one of the cops told me to go to you. So…so here I am. Maybe you can make sense of all of this. 

[RUSSO]

(Comforting.) We’ll do our best, Calixo. I promise you, we will ensure that you get, at the very least, an explanation for what you’ve gone through. 

[CALIXO]

(Tearful and genuinely touched.) You…you believe me, then. 

[RUSSO]

As I said. You’d be surprised what I believe - and I have no reason not to believe you. 


[CALIXO]

Thank you…

[RUSSO]

It’s my job, after all.

Do you have a way home? A plane ticket or anything?

[CALIXO]

Uh, no, not yet.

[RUSSO]

Alright. If you don’t get anything sorted out soon, let me know. I’ll pay for the plane ticket. 

[CALIXO]

You…you will? 

[RUSSO]

Of course. You want to get back to your normal life soon, don’t you? 

[CALIXO]

Yeah. Yeah, I do. Okay…(Smiling, somewhat.) Okay.

I…I think I need to get back. To the- hospital, I mean. Uh, I’ll…leave you to it. 

(Calixo gets up, the chair he’s sitting on screeching. He leaves through a creaky door, as Russo focuses on his work.) 

[RUSSO]

…Statement ends. 

The story that Calixo’s told me here sounds familiar. I think…I think I may recognise just who he might have met. Which gives me a good head start on confirming his story, and at the very least, beginning to understand a certain someone’s methods. 

(Russo opens a drawer and pulls out some papers.)

Sketch. A Distortion, The Gameshow Host, an avatar of Oneirophobia. Runs a nightmarish TV show-

(Suddenly, there’s increased, ear-splitting static on the recording, causing Russo to jump.) 

Ah-!



[SKETCH] 

(Voice somewhat obscured by static.) Sorry to interrupt, Archivist-

(Static increases and then sharply falls, but Sketch’s voice now sounds a lot clearer.) 

But I happened to notice you were talking about me!



[RUSSO]

(Unnerved, but mainly annoyed.) …Hello, Sketch. What do you want? 

[SKETCH]

Well, I was just taking back what was mine, of course! You know me, I’m not one to leave a joke hanging without the punchline. 

[RUSSO]

Well, good for you- wait, taking back what was yours? 

[SKETCH]

The ‘wanderer’, the one who entered my domain, whatever fancy ways you want to put it. 

[RUSSO]

You mean…Calixo Bu-Breezy? (Confident) Too late for that, he’s already gone. 

[SKETCH]

Oh, really?

(Sketch laughs. It sounds like multiple laughs overlapping himself, almost like a laugh track.)

Here's a question for you. Which door did he leave through?

[RUSSO]

That o-

(Russo falls silent in shock.) 

[SKETCH]

Oof, incorrect. You should check your memory. (Mocking.) There's never been a door there, it's just a wall!

[RUSSO]

(Angry.) Why you little-

(Russo stands up, his chair screeching against the floor as he does so.)

Let him go! 

[SKETCH]

(Laughs harder.) No! 

[RUSSO]

(Static rises on the recording, as Russo tries to use his powers.) I said, let him g-

(Russo yelps as he’s pinned against the wall using a cane pointed at his throat.) 

[SKETCH]

Wrong answer! Again.

You’re funny, Archivist. But you can’t hope to win against me.

(Sketch releases Russo, leaving him choking for air.)

But I have no reason to stick around and play with you further. I have better things to do. Such as playing with a certain Investigator.

See you next show! 

(There’s a flurry of static, and Sketch is gone.) 

(Russo takes a few seconds to get his breath back, before standing up and dragging himself back into his chair.) 

[RUSSO]

…Who the hell is the Investigator? 

(Click.) 

~~~~~~~~~~

I really struggled to figure out what to write for this prompt, I'll be honest. Obviously the 'Wonderland' is Sketch's domain as a Spiral avatar in this context, but there's only one scene I have ideas for that takes place inside of that Wonderland, and it's extremely spoilery so I probably won't write it for a while, and I wanted to focus on canon audio-transcripts first. Eventually, I settled on doing this AU's version of that one scene from MAG47. Which led to me needing that exposition from Calixo at the start to fit the prompt. Yknow how it is.

Oh, and if you're wondering - Calixo got sent from England to America when he escaped the Distortion, so sucks for him I guess. The 'Investigator' is Kreek, it's still a working title, but it's the best title I've come up with for him so far. As my dear friend @/detective-piplup put it, he went from Hell 1 (Liverpool, a placeholder, but still a place in England) to Hell 2 (America). Put Hell 1.5 (Distortion) in the middle and this AU is basically just Calixo abuse.

[splickedylit]

The lighting on your most recent gamkar piece. It's like. So soft? So sublime but still so noticeable? I really like the way the lines kind of mesh with it, or like. Idk if im wording things right, but at least don't interfere?

That's so sweet! I mostly do shading by The Vibes, but I'll try to break down what I did with the lighting/coloring/shading in [that one], and hopefully it's helpful as a tutorial because it's also going to show my whole ass about how messy my shading layers are lol

I get all my flats down and set my lines to overlay--that's probably what you're seeing RE: "the way the lines mesh with it", if I had to guess! It isn't very noticeable here except in places like Karkat's pupils or the lines on the horns/claws, but later as lighting layers are added it'll give a softer edge to places that are being hit by light. I'm a huge sucker for backlighting and rimlighting so I went ahead and threw some vague, blurry lightsources into the background, to be glowed up later in the process.

2. first multiply layer, for the hardest/darkest shadows--real color on the left, set to "multiply" on the right for comparison. This is for places most hidden from the light source, like under the nose, eyebrows and jaw, or where two things are pressed together (ie the intersection of their hands). Sometimes for pictures where the light is warm-colored I'll choose a cooler cast for the shadows, a desaturated purple or blue, but I wanted the whole piece to be kind of a soft, dreamy red-through-gold, so I kept the tones of the shadows warm.

3. second multiply layer, softer-edged, to darken up broad areas of the characters that are turned away/hidden from the light. Worth noting; the layers in steps 2, 3, and 4 are all "clipped" to the layer with the flat colors on it, which just means I pressed the button that tells Paint Tool Sai "no matter how much I scribble around, only show it if it's on top of [flat color layer]"

4. overlay layer, for the places the light is falling on people (and a few places maybe it shouldn't, technically, but what can I say I shade by the vibes). The lights in the background are gold, so I kept the saturation pretty high on this one, to give everything a goldish look.

5. Two final layers--on the left we have a hard light layer in pale gold, outlining the edges most sharply hit by light. I paint this on there full opacity so it's easy to see what I'm doing, but it looks overwhelming if it's too bright, so it's about 50% opacity in this one.

6. On the right; I duplicate the layer I made in step 5 and use the "gaussian blur" function to make it blurred and soft, then adjust the brightness and fuck around between different layer types (I tend to end up with "add", "hard light", or "linear dodge") until it looks as glowy as I want it to. In this case, it's a linear dodge layer at 75%. In an effort to cut down on how many layers I use, you can see I also took the opportunity while I was linear-dodging to add some extra glow to the lamps behind them, to sell them as actual light sources a little better.

7. profit????? Honorary mention to Karkat's blood, which is its own layer, and the shine on things like eyes, blood, and jewelry. Final tally (layers named for clarity because I'm a slob and never name my layers):

[perfect-fourth]

"Oh..." He offered with a punctuated purr, stopping mid twist of lock to turn his one visible eye onto Silco with a mischievous twinkle.

"I'm sure they did. And found themselves short a few fingers." That was all he said on the matter, but the meaning of it was fairly obvious. He'd enchanted the lock so as to keep intruders from entering. It was possible still, but one would have to be very determined to continue onward with bleeding stumps for hands.

An invisible smile hidden behind his mask set the mood with an accompanying hum, a deceptively upbeat tune for what they were about to do. As he pushed the heavy door open, a loud creak and a crumbling of rust announced his entry. He held the door open for his guest, allowing him to take a peak around the darkened interior before he'd have to set foot inside. He might not have known Silco personally yet, but everything he'd thusfar determined about the man spoke of one who was certainly plagued by paranoia. It was relatable, really-- and he wanted to give him further confidence in the knowledge that tonight had nothing to do with ambush or betrayal.

Despite having been abandoned for some time, Jhin had evidently taken some liberty in sprucing the place up. Nothing too fancy, but he had at the very least tried to brush away the layers of dust and grime that littered the gray wooden flooring, and the sunken seats and sofas, once a plush red now desaturated and littered with old tears and cigarette burns. An old record player stood in the corner, which had been through some hard times by the looks of it-- in a state of semi-repair, most likely by the man who had brought him here. Old curtains and tapestry lined the walls and created a more cozy space for those who had formerly dwelled there, but in the emptiness now, it only felt eerie, especially when the only source of light currently came from down a narrow hall and up a stairwell. He'd fix that soon enough by lighting some of the candles he'd brought to decorate the place, but for now he wished to only show his guest to their main entertainment for that night.

For a place where a supposed massacre had taken place, there was very little in the way of blood stains or a show of a tussle around. The only indication that the place was no longer functional at all outside of the lonely neglect of its condition was the bizarre, pitch black blots that seeped into furniture and flooring alike, leaving trails of tarry ink through the small rooms and up the stairwell that Jhin guided him to. It looked as though he'd made some effort to try and remove those, too, but the evidence of his failure sat in a nearby corner-- a bucket of chemicals and scrubbers stained with the same black substance just as vividly as it presented on the ground they walked. A pair of heavy duty gloves hung over the railing of the stairs he climbed, boots straining the wood with every creaky step.

"As for this pair, you're welcome to do with them as you will. Though I was planning to take her father down as well, a week from tonight. He'll be opening a new vault in Piltover, then. My vision is to send it up in lights when he officially declares its doors open to the public. There are very few things that my magic can't destroy, if I put forth the effort. I've been considering how I might be able to preserve some of the finances within so it can be distributed to you and your ilk, but it would probably be for the best to just erase it. Blood money is much easier to track, and that wouldn't bode well for you or your people." He expressed these thoughts just as he reached the landing of the stairs, gently lying his hand on the knob of another mysterious door.

"I have an assortment of tools for you to play with if you should find yourself feeling extra creative. Did you bring your own?"

Hearing of the enforcer Silco’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he had a particular distaste for those corrupt bastards. “Well he’ll certainly be a nice bit of entertainment this evening. Until he gives out of course.” Perhaps he’d keep it nice and simple with the enforcer and just use his fists, and boots. It could be rather satisfying to feel bones breaking, and skin splitting open under the force of his raw fury. He’d never been as strong as Vander of course, but he also wasn’t weak either particularly after the years of microdosed shimmer. The fact he’d at one point upped his shimmer just a touch to ensure he’d always be able to carry Jinx around also likely helped.

"That heiress is no doubt worth a nice bit of money for ransom, or blackmail. Apple of her parents eye, and all that.” Voice more contemplative than anything his lips curled as a particular darkness hit his gaze. “I’m sure they’d appreciate knowing if she’s alive or not. Maybe we should be so kind as to send them her eyes which ignored others plight, and saw only her own good fortune.” It wasn’t as though he needed the extra money even if it’d no doubt be useful, and the idea of her father or mother screaming as they opened a small package only to see two familiar eyes staring up at them was rather appealing. He only wished he could hear the screaming himself.

“Both entertaining choices.” It didn’t hurt to offer one offhanded compliment, and with his chastisement earlier it seemed wise. No reason to only use the stick when the carrot was within such easy reach. Not quite sure how to feel about the fact this “artist” so obsessed with killing, and the artistry of it found Zaun beautiful Silco considered him for a moment before nodding. “It is beautiful, yes.” A truthful statement as Silco adored his city-state even if he wasn’t sure his view of it’s beauty was the same as the other man, but regardless it was something they could agree on. Zaun was beautiful in it’s way.

No stranger to the darkness Silco followed Jhin even as a hand casually slid under his coat to rest on a knife. Did he truly think this was some kind of trap? Not really. Not with the moan, and eagerness the other man had shown earlier. All the same there was no reason not to be careful. Waiting for the door to open he murmured softly. “Surprised no one picked that lock just out of sheer curiosity. There’s scrap hunters and kids around Zaun that would pick it just to steal the lock, and take the opportunity to look inside just in case there was something else to sell.”

[radiation]

gonna post progress pics from my volo painting and write a bit about my process since some1 asked for them!

excluding adjustment layers this has 20 layers in all. i wont show all of them bc some of them just have minor differences but ill show my general progress

sketch. just super loose but has enough visual clarity to be able to work off of and not have to fix issues caused by poor anatomy etc later

background color + painting under sketch. to choose colors, i go on the color wheel and just kinda choose colors freely and almost randomly & paint w them by very lightly pressing with a hard round elliptical opacity brush set to a large size, blending other colors on top of them this way. i dont use this brush the whole way through but honestly i couldve and it still wouldve turned out good

a lot of trial and error but because were doing it so loosely its pretty easy to find something that works quickly (also sorry the painting is so dark at this point oops)

developed painting a bit more and upped saturation in some places using an adjustment layer.

to get a lot of the color variations im getting here, i colorpick from other areas of the piece, ie colorpicking from the face and using it as subtle lighting for the hair, seeing i like how those colors look, and using that as a jumping off point and using a more intense pink for the hair shading. you can also see i got some of the yellowish on the sleeping bag or whatever tf he has on his back from the hair/hat/etc, just brushed it on there really lightly and it looks cool. another place i like to colorpick from is where the sketch overlaps with the colors underneath, it creates some interesting desaturated colors.

you can also see im developing linework a tiny bit here, its pretty early on and a lot of it will be painted over later anyways but i start being like, okay the 3d forms i've been making are working, let's draw on top of the sketch a bit to encapsulate those areas

but yeah uhh definitely a lot of this is just testing stuff out when i'm this early in the painting, i am aaaalways in motion, never stopping and just working off of instinct and what looks cool. and if i mess something up, i can just erase it and i'll have the layer underneath to fall back on.

also im just straight up not thinking about anything at this point unless im trying to closely replicate a reference image, which i didnt do very much. i use reference for eeeeeeverything i make. i took a pic of myself at a similar angle to this and then loosely based the sketch off of it, looked at pics of volo, later on looked at some reference of how ppl paint fabric, grabbed some pics of how i drew one of my ocs who makes a similar expression w his eyes, grabbed images of other digital paintings i'd made! because i wanted to work in a certain style i'd done maybe only twice before. for reference images, i use pureref, which i would highly recommend to any artist, especially ones without dual monitors (like me). basically just allows you to make a reference board and pin it on the very top of your screen

just developed more in the same fashion, then threw a couple adjustment layers over it. i toned back some of these adjustments later but yeah. you can see the lineart really starting to come together, a lot of the color variation on it colorpicked from accidental overlapping colors that ended up looking cool. btw i need to make it clear i do lineart and rendering on the same layers. also i did the stripes on the pack just by using a multiply layer, then giving it more love on the layer immediately above it so it doesnt look cheap

more rendering, got a vignette going w a multiply layer. actually started using reference for fabric folds. theyre really simply done honestly and dont look like. amazing. but they work

painted over the vignette in the background to make it a bit more interesting & not just a gradient, more rendering as usual, threw in some subtle highlights to make it a little more interesting! i probably couldve gone further with them honestly. also decided to do a really subtle outline around him cuz it looks cool. lineart is basically done at this point and this is where i started to think i was just about done

desaturated it a little bit, re-added some details i forgot about, generally fiddled with stuff and corrected some mistakes, added signature. and its DONE. i think this took me about four-four and a half hours? yeah something like that

other general notes:

-probably favorite part of this is the sleeping bag or whatever the hell that thing is on his backpack

-not entirely happy with how i did the fluffy part, it has some really cool color shifts but it doesnt feel like a proper 3d form all the way through to me. definitely pretty 2 dimensional in spots, but i was like eh i dont care enough to fix it

-although i think the pose works well enough, its definitely another example of me using pretty static poses and basic composition in my art. which isnt too terrible but i really need to start getting outside of my comfort zone on that stuff. this definitely couldve looked cooler if i developed the pose more and did better foreshortening but i didnt cuz that shiht is hard to me. im really awful at foreshortening

-on that same note, i worked off of the first sketch i made and didnt warm up beforehand which you do NOT want to do. thumbnail stuff out and make multiple sketches. 80% of the time the sketches following the first one will be better

-IM NOT AN EXPERT lots of stuff i still need to learn dont follow this 1:1

OVERALL im really satisfied with this though especially for how quickly it took me to make it. & i hope this was interesting, lmk if you have any more questions on my process !

[kerikaaria]

Premiere

(Jungkook x gn!Reader) Oneshot, Established relationship

Genre: (G) Fluff

Warnings: None!

WC: 1.8k

Description: You’d do anything for your boyfriend, even if that meant sitting through the premiere for a horror movie.

A/N - Written for the lovely @aroseforyoongi ‘s birthday! We were given random prompts by picking two random numbers. My words were: Dedication and horror. AND I HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. HORROR???? I couldn’t figure out where to go with that! So I’m also giving a HUGE thanks to @eternalseokjin​ for being amazing and giving me the basis for this little oneshot! 

Happy birthday, Dianchie! I wish you all the best, always.

You hated horror movies.

It was a mystery to you how people actually enjoyed being scared out of their wits as they watched a killer hunt everyone down, or a ghost slowly drove its victims to insanity. So why, one may ask, were you currently on your way to the opening premiere of a horror movie?

Simple—you loved your boyfriend much more than you hated horror movies.

Jungkook had been working hard at his dream of being an actor, getting his hands on any role he could. With each job, he hoped the right people would manage to see him and his potential in the few scenes and fewer lines he was offered and be able to make his big break.

This was the first big step to that for him. With a little luck, the director had picked Jungkook out at the auditions and offered him the lead role for the movie. And even luckier, it was a movie that a lot of people were looking forward to and was projected to do fairly well. If it did go as well as hoped, then maybe this could lead to that big break he’d been hoping for for years.

What kind of person would you be if you didn’t agree to attend with your loving boyfriend to the movie premiere of what could be the start of the future of his career? So of course, you agreed to come. Jungkook was really apprehensive when he asked if you wanted to go, knowing your severe aversion to horror movies, and you were absolutely sure he would have understood if you said no. But there was no way you could do that to him. If he could sit through hours of those family gatherings your grandma set up every year and deal with the back-handed comments from relatives you hardly knew about how he’s wasting his time on his dream, you could do this for him. It couldn’t be that much more torturous than that, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself while you were attached to Jungkook’s arm, a smile on your face for the cameras. Much more important than your anxiety of sitting through the movie was the crucial real-life role you knew you had to play for Jungkook right now. He would never say it out loud in fear of putting pressure on you, but you knew that he needed you for support. The cameras couldn’t pick up the subtle hints you knew all too well that meant your introverted boyfriend was extremely nervous about making a good impression, and about how well the movie and his acting would be received by viewers. It was easy to shut down the anxiety when you knew he was relying on you to be a pillar for him.

As soon as the two of you made it into the room and found your seats you could feel Jungkook relax, body feeling lighter after being able to get away from the reporters’ questions and prying eyes. He loosened your grip on his arm so he could properly entwine his fingers with yours, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he leaned toward you.

“Thank you for coming, baby,” Jungkook whispered against your skin before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “I appreciate you being here with me.”

“Of course,” you responded, turning to smile at him. “You know I’m always here to support you.”

“Let me know if the movie gets to be too much for you, okay?” Jungkook said, squeezing your hand once more. “We can leave at any point if you need to.”

You had absolutely no plans to cut this short for him. Even if turned out to be the scariest thing you’d ever seen, you were already steeling yourself to sit through the entire film. But to comfort Jungkook, you assured him that you’d indeed tell him if you felt like you had to leave.

Once the lights dimmed to signal that the movie was about to start, you felt the anxiety you’d kept at bay start to crawl its way up your chest. You kept it tampered down for the time being, reminding it that these movies didn’t start out with the really creepy stuff and you still had some time before the ghost was going to do anything.

It was made even easier when you first saw your handsome boyfriend appear on the screen only a few minutes in. You always watched everything he was in, no matter how small the role was. But now that he was the main focus and in the center, you couldn’t help but to be even more proud of him than ever.

Jungkook loved to learn every detail he could about his craft, including having an interest in directing and filmmaking as well. Days spent listening to him critique filming techniques made you also moderately familiar with the subject. While the movie wasn’t doing anything much different than you’d expect from this kind of film, you immediately noticed everything that set up the mood for a horror story. The desaturated and dark tones, soft ambient music and sounds in the background rather than a full-sounding soundtrack, and the ominous feeling behind Jungkook’s character being left a whole estate by a rich relative he had hardly even heard about. It was honestly incredibly well set-up, even if the plot was a bit predictable so far.

By distracting yourself with picking apart the details of how the film was setting up the story and admiring Jungkook’s talent and good looks, you almost forgot what kind of movie you were watching.

Almost.

When the first genuine jump scare happened about half an hour into the film, it held up to its name by making you nearly jump out of your seat. Even though he kept it quiet, you could tell Jungkook held back the chuckle that bubbled up due to your overreaction. He quickly steeled his expression though, leaning in to whisper, “You doing okay so far?”

“Yeah,” you were quick to respond. “I was just distracted.”

“Distracted? By what?”

“By how talented you are, of course,” you easily answered.

Seeing the hint of a shy smile on Jungkook’s face and the tension in the movie having calmed down for the time being put your restless heart temporarily at ease.

But of course, it wasn’t too long until the horror aspect of the movie was pulling into full swing and it was ominous music, jump scares, and creepy old ghost lady creeping around every corner galore. You tried to continue distracting yourself with the well-done editing and admiring your boyfriend some more, but it only went so far. Especially when your mind forgot to remind you that what you were seeing on screen was fiction and not your actual boyfriend in danger.

After a while, you gave up trying to actually see what was going on and hid your face in Jungkook’s arm, letting the close proximity remind you that he was indeed safe and sound next to you.

“Should we leave?” Jungkook gently asked, whispering close to one ear while he covered the other with his hand to help mute the sounds of the movie for you.

You shook your head, determined to make it through this. “I’ll be okay,” you meekly replied after lifting your head up so he could hear you. “How much longer, do you think?”

“It should be getting close to the climax, and then it’ll be a lot calmer. Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

“I can do it,” you assured him. You turned your head back toward the screen in time to see Jungkook’s character running down a hallway to try to get some distance from the ghost. I can do it, you repeated in your mind.

Honestly, you would have preferred a slasher flick. Demon ghosts had too much power and were too unpredictable in what they could do, and the idea of fighting something virtually intangible scared the living daylights out of you. But this was your current reality and you were going to make it through this for Jungkook.

He was right, and it wasn’t too long before the climax began building up. It was a little easier to bear despite the increasing tension, knowing that Jungkook’s character was close to stopping ghost lady—you certainly hadn’t paid enough attention to find out if she had a name. Soon enough, the climax of the movie hit its peak and things started settling down to a much more manageable finish.

It took another five minutes for you to realize you were still clinging tightly to Jungkook’s arm out of reflex. Letting go, you mumbled out an apology for no doubt hurting him and telling yourself to remember and check him for bruises later.

When the credits finally rolled, you felt infinitely more relieved. You slumped in your seat, Jungkook not holding back his chuckle this time.

Before long everyone was shuffling out of the theater and while Jungkook smiled endearingly at you, you were listening to what others had to say about the movie. It relaxed you and put a smile on your face when you heard people complimenting Jungkook’s acting and about the plot twists that they didn’t expect—and you didn’t really know about because you were too busy burrowing into your boyfriend’s shoulder to notice.

You were glad the two of you lived together because even just walking out to your car in the dark had you constantly looking over your shoulder, expecting a murderous demon ghost lady to be on your tail. On the way home, the two of you kept conversation light by talking about how well you thought it went. Jungkook was still nervous about what the reception would be like, but he was much more excited now as well.

It was when the two of you were laying in bed that Jungkook said, “You know, I’m really proud of you for making it through the movie, baby.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes. “Good to know me watching a fictional horror film all the way through is such an accomplishment to be proud of.”

“You ran out of the room when we watched ‘Haunted Mansion’ because you thought it was too scary,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“It was! There’s a crystal ball with a floating head in it! How is that not scary?”

“The head wasn’t actually in there. Sorry to tell you babe, but a movie with a singing statue quartet isn’t scary.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, running out of juice to argue.

“Seriously though,” Jungkook said after a moment passed. “I really am proud of you. And I’m really happy you chose to come with me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“I love you,” you said in return, knowing he’d understand that those three words held a lot more meaning than just that.

“And I love you.” Jungkook smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

You would readily do this again for Jungkook if he ever starred in another horror film. But that didn’t mean you’d stop being a big clingy scaredy-cat about it.

My ask box is always open!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :) You can also check out my Etsy shop for BTS inspired charms as well!

[silvysartfulness]

Consider this a pilot episode of Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It, aka The Happy SongXueXiao Roadtrip Story, aka these three live past Yi City and have to deal with their many messy issues.

This whole section will likely be rewritten by the time I get there in the actual story, but for now, this is the first slice I wrote for this story. Enjoy!

---

The further into the mountains they went, the denser the fog grew, dimming out the daylight. Thick cloying tendrils swirled between the trees, and the cold air left clothes damp and skin clammy.

While the two taoist priests suffered the discomfort with elevated dignity, Xue Yang spat increasingly colourful curses at the surrounding landscape. It was perhaps a sign of their silent agreement that neither of the others chose to ask him to stop. That, or knowing that any complaints would likely only make the swearing filthier.

The light was so dimmed and desaturated it was impossible to tell the passage of time, and no landmarks would tell how far they had walked. It felt like many long hours, and normally during such adverse conditions they would usually have stopped and rested by now. But unpleasant as though walking was, spending the night in the soaked forest would be more unpleasant still. And so through unspoken agreement, they grimly pushed on.

The light seemed to be dimming by the time they finally reached a crossroad, and they stopped at a sign too withered to read to consider their alternatives. The moment their footfalls stilled, the heavy silence of the woods became all but deafening, another wave of thick fog rolling down the mountain.

”Fuck,” said Xue Yang conversationally, if only to spite the quiet, and the sound of it was almost welcome.

”The lower road seems to lead to a village,” stated Song Lan through the talisman-link, folding aside overgrown foliage to get a better look at the marker. ”We could stay the night there.”

The other two nodded, the thought of spending the night indoors definitely a more inviting one than camping out in this dripping wilderness.

”Does it say how far?” asked Xiao Xingchen, and there was the briefest scuffle as the other two jousted to move more branches aside to read the sign first.

”Sign's too worn down,” Xue Yang muttered. ”Looks like no-one's been through here for some time.”

Xiao Xingchen opened his mouth, no doubt to suggest finding out through walking, but closed it again with a frown and turned his head.

”Do you feel something strange?” he said, even as Song Lan turned sharply and said ”I saw something move.”

Xue Yang, even at the best of times a tightly coiled spring of killer instinct, was already lunging, vanishing into the fog with a small sharp blade flashing in his hand.

Standing back to back, some things too ingrained to ever go away, the mist swirled heavily around them, painting phantom figures with thick strokes of white ink that faded into nothing as soon as one turned. Pursuing the movements at the corner of his eye, Song Lan looked sharply left, then right, then back again, desperately trying to determine whether there was an actual real threat out there, or if three grown cultivators (well, two and whatever the hell Xue Yang was) were only jumping at shadows.

When the silence stretched out and nothing else moved for several long breaths, he and Xiao Xingchen finally stepped apart and cautiously sheathed their blades, though left their hands tensely on their hilts.

”Where did Xue Yang go?” Xiao Xingchen asked, and even after all this time it wrenched at Song Lan's heart to hear the note of concern - and even moreso that his companion tried and failed to hide it from him.

”Trying to stab the fog to death. I'll go find him,” he muttered, trying to ignore the look of relief and gratitude on Xiao Xingchen's face as he stomped off the path in the direction Xue Yang had vanished.

He didn't have to walk far to find Xue Yang standing still with his head cocked, listening to the quiet, only moving his head slightly to look at him as he approached.

”Anything?” the man asked, and though his voice held his usual sneer, he was clearly on edge. Song Lan shook his head in annoyance.

”Nothing. Where did you get a blade?”

The sneer tugging his face further into a horrible lopsided grin, Xue Yang finally turned to look at him.

”I picked it up. People leave just about anything around for you to find, if you look hard enough. And since you refuse to give me Jiangzai back, I have to have something to defend myself with, don't you agree?”

I could return it buried through your guts, he thought, and allowed the sentiment if not the words to transfer through the talisman, making Xue Yang laugh in delight.

”Give it to me,” he said sternly, holding out one hand and clenching the other tighter around Fuxue. Xue Yang just laughed again, twirling the little knife around his fingers once, making no move to hand it over.

”Oh come now, daozhang. Reason! What if there had been demons or evil spirits in the mist? How would I defend myself? Or you two? How could I protect your backs without a weapon?”

”I'd rather have a hundred evil mist demons at my back than you,” he rasped, an almost physically unpleasant laceration through the talismans. ”Give me the knife. I won't ask again.”

Fuxue was halfway out of its sheath though he couldn't remember consciously drawing it. His eyes flicking to it, Xue Yang clearly noticed, too. Just a glint of wariness flashed across his features, then they twisted into another wider sneer and his mouth started to open, and mercy on his soul he would cleave him clean in half-...

They both froze at the unmistakable sound of Shuanghua being drawn, echoing loud and sharp through the mist but distant, too distant, and then Xiao Xingchen was calling out in alarm.

Like a single entity they turned, springing back toward the road and the sounds of battle. White robes in white mist, it was almost impossible to see Xiao Xingchen until they almost ran into him, and harder still to see the attacking enemy. It wasn't until a choking tendril of fog snaked itself around his leg, then  another around his waist, solid, snaring him, that Song Lan realized with horror that the enemies weren't in the mist.

It was the mist, and it was twisting and writhing straight for Xiao Xingchen.

***

It’s a good thing I have no intention of actually writing proper fanfic for this headcanon, because then this scene would make the worst first installment, seeing as how it takes place a generous portion into the actual plot.

...

Anyway, yeah. Part of my Everyone-Lives-Post-Yi-City-Headcanon roadtrip story.

To repeat; I did actually start writing this story. It’s on AO3 now, called Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It. Enjoy?

Two of the three characters involved loathe each other passionately, though they are trying to keep it down in front of Xiao Xingchen, to avoid upsetting and hurting his fragile resurrected soul.

They have also devised a very clever little talisman network that allows Song Lan to talk to the others, lack of tongue aside.

Unbeta’d, so take it for what it is.

[lakesandquarries]

Baby Shoes - Chapter 1

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He's been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn't have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa's newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey's dad au.

SOME NOTES, PLEASE READ: this fic contains graphic violence and child abuse and temporary character death of a minor. To skip that scene stop reading after  “I had no idea about any loose subjects.” I’ll write a summary underneath.

other notes: title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books. I’m posting this as a birthday present to myself and i hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

He’s never been down this hall before, not in 20 years of working at Black Mesa or the 30 years living here before that. The biological research labs were always off limits, the risk of him running into a prototype too high for anyone’s comfort.

But the prototypes are all gone now, finally. Bubby doesn’t understand why they kept them around for so long, but apparently they were all killed, or died, or whatever. He hadn’t paid much attention to what the scientist was telling him, more focused on the idea of an entire new wing being available to him.

It’s - well. It’s Black Mesa. Regardless of the department, everything looks about the same. Grey walls, grey ceilings, grey floors. Generic looking people in lab coats with various stains and tears walking around. They seem a little more frazzled here than in the robotics department, where he’s currently stationed, but it’s not surprising that living specimens might be a bit more stressful to deal with.

No one questions him as he wanders through the halls, quickly getting lost in the maze of identical corridors. There’s all sorts of containers with all sorts of creatures, and the sight is not a pleasant one. A few are even kept in tubes much too similar to his own for his comfort, and he hurries away from them quickly.

There’s so much. One cage contains a creature that looks like a mix between a raccoon and a giant orange cat. A glass box holds small creatures resembling butterflies with scorpion-like tails ready to strike. In another corner is a tank with some kind of glowing fish. 

Perhaps it’s a good thing he’s never been assigned to this area.

He passes a small cage that looks completely empty, the bars in the back distended, and it’s not until he sees a dark shape scuttle down the hall that he realizes something has escaped.

Bubby’s not sure why he follows after it, rather than finding someone and letting them know. Perhaps it’s his memory of his own escape attempts, or some kind of reckless bravery. Regardless, he chases after it, speeding down the hall. There’s a closet at the end, the door slightly ajar. He makes his way over and swings the door open without a second thought.. “Hello?” he calls, flipping on the light. It’s full of cleaning supplies, shelves on the verge of collapse, and a shape hiding behind the mop bucket.

The shape doesn’t seem to be able to settle on what it is, a dark mass that keeps shifting as Bubby crouches down. It solidifies as he watches it, deciding on a vaguely humanoid shape, with pale desaturated skin and black hair covering its face. It’s dressed in a hospital gown, covered in dark oily stains. When it brushes its hair back it reveals large yellow eyes and some kind of dark smudge covering the upper half of its face.

“I’m not going back, you can’t make me,” it says, baring its teeth, tiny fists balled up, and Bubby blinks.

“I - I’m not here to take you back,” he says. “I don’t even work here. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even supposed to be in this area.”

The creature tilts its head, curling in on itself. Its teeth are still barred, but it’s hard to feel threatened. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to take you.” He thinks back to his own tube, the few times in his childhood that he’d been allowed to leave, and shudders. “You - I take it you’re one of the, er, experiments here?”

The creature - the child? - nods. Bubby crouches down, pulling back the sleeve of his lab coat, revealing the marking on the inside of his wrist. There’s text reading 88U and a barcode in black ink. The child’s eyes go wide as they look up at Bubby. “You - you’re not -” They reach out and gently touch Bubby’s wrist before pulling their hand away again. “Not a doctor? You - you’re like me?” Holding out their wrist, the code 'XEN-3' with a similar barcode was stamped on their flesh. The raised text and fresh ink confirming the branding was still new. Bubby's chest clenches at the sight.

“A bit, yes. I’m not required to stay in my tube anymore, though.”

“They let you out?”

Bubby nods. “I’m an employee here now. Have my own dorm room and everything.” He’s also technically still Black Mesa property, but it's good to give the child a bit of hope. “My name is Bubby. And yours is...?”

The child hunches their shoulders, looking to the side. “I - I don’t have one.”

“Well, that won’t do. Would - may I give you a name?”

They look up at him again, humming a sharp, high note, and some strange peach and blue bubbles fall out of their mouth. Bubby reaches forward, touching one with his finger, and it dissolves into a cloud of mist. A feeling of - gratitude? Yes, gratitude, and excitement, and joy washes over him.

“Sorry!” the child squeaks, covering their mouth with their hands. “I - I didn’t mean to -”

“Is that...is this how you express yourself?” Bubby asks, watching the other bubbles fade. The child nods.

“They called it the, uh, Black Mesa Sweet Voice.”

“Interesting name.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry, I -”

Bubby reaches a slow, tentative hand forward. When the child doesn’t recoil, he places it on their head, patting gently. “It’s quite alright. Nothing wrong with it. Now, we were talking about a name?”

The child raises their head to butt against Bubby’s hand, so he continues to pat them as he thinks. Xen, obviously, is not a name. There was a scientist named Ben though, wasn’t there? Benjamin something or other. It’s not a bad name, but it’s a bit plain for the child in front of him. Benny could work - but it feels a bit too close to Bubby’s own name, following the same basic formula. He needs another letter to differentiate it.

“Benrey,” he says out loud.

The child makes a trilling noise. “Benrey?”

“As a name. Do you like it?”

“Benrey,” they repeat. “Beeenreeey. Benrey.” Their face splits into a smile, revealing far too many sharp teeth. “Benrey!”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“That’s me,” Benrey says, tapping their hand on the ground. “I’m Benrey!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Benrey,” Bubby says, smiling back at them. They launch themself forward, barreling into Bubby’s chest in some approximation of a hug. 

“Thank you,” they mumble, and he can only assume there’s more of the Sweet Voice because that same wave of delighted gratitude washes over him.

It’s at that moment that someone steps up from behind, shoes clicking on the ground. Benrey pulls away before Bubby can blink, shifting back into nothing but a mass of shadow. They slip back into their previous hiding spot. Bubby turns to see an older woman, brown hair pulled into a tight bun and a myriad of red stains covering her lab coat.

“You,” she says sharply.

“Me?” Bubby asks, touching a finger to his chest.

“Yes, you. We’ve been looking all over for you! There’s a highly dangerous subject on the loose, we can’t risk it injuring you. What are you doing in here?”

Are they talking about Benrey? The tiny little child? “I’m just exploring,” Bubby says, standing up and brushing his lab coat off. “I had no idea about any loose subjects.”

The woman squints at him, and then her head darts to the side. She pulls out a gun from her holster. “Get out of the way,” she says, shoving him to the side and completely knocking him over, and shoots before Bubby can react. The gun shot is loud, but the pained noise that Benrey makes feels even louder. He scrambles to get up, biting back on a scream, but the woman has already grabbed Benrey by the back of the neck. They’ve taken that humanoid shape again, only now there’s a gunshot wound in the middle of their chest. Benrey blinks at him, once, and then their eyes fall shut and their head droops forward. 

“I - Did you just kill them?!” His hands tense, holding back the urge to reach forward and strangle this woman. “They - it looked like a child.”

The woman huffs. “It’s only temporary. It always comes back, it’ll be fine.”

“Why - why not just use tranquilizers? This seems...unnecessary.” It’s cruel, is what it is. Bubby can’t stop staring at Benrey’s limp form.

“Tranqs don’t work. Gun’s easier.” She sighs, stepping past Bubby and holding the door open for him. “You should head back to Robotics.”

“I - I suppose.” Is this what shock feels like? His head is spinning and his legs feel unsteady. 

“Don’t wander around here like that again. This could’ve gone a lot worse.” She finally holsters her gun, keeping an eye on Bubby as she does so. The wound in Benrey’s chest is seeping blood, thick and dark. 

“Yes. Okay.” He squeezes past her, reaching out to give Benrey one last pat on the head, and leaves.

SCENE SUMMARY:  female scientist shoots benrey to incapacitate/kill him, stating tranquilizers don't work and it's easier and that benrey will be fine.(spoiler he is). bubby heads back to robotics department.

[wwounu]

love talk | lee jihoon

—every thoughtful curve of each letter on the ivory paper, it’s rose pink envelope standing out from the rest of the simple, white envelopes, your heart can only yearn more from the warm, loving words. you yearn, yet, you don’t seem to realise the answer is a miracle waiting to happen

“because of you, each day is beautiful. sometimes, i’m afraid it’ll all vanish, but each time i think that, you look at me and smile. you’re my miracle, it’s you.”

pairing: jihoon x reader + love letter!au

word count: 15k

warning: tiny tiny angst

note: 15.1k words?!?! this may have been the longest piece i have written ever, and i’m still late for woozi day... ah, i’m so annoyed with myself, i stayed up until 1am twice just to finish this, but never did get to finish it! but here we are! if i had more time, then i would’ve been able to write the ending much better, i think the only reason why it became an adlib to me was because i wanna watch vagabond... i’m also officially back — hooray! it’ll take me some time to adjust, i guess, a lot has happened since i’ve been gone, but i still followed svt because it’s me. in regards to opposites attract i’ll make a separate post about that, but for now, i hope you all enjoy this long fanfic! it really challenged me as a writer and, little fun fact, this was supposed to be a minghao fic originally. happy belated birthday, jihoon, i hope you remain happy and healthy for eternity. i admire you so much. (i promise you this is a jihoon fanfic haha — this isn’t proofread either... also iida best boy mwah)

An ivory paper sits securely inside your palm; its fluffy, blunt edge from where it’s been ripped apart multiple other pages, contrasting with neat and straight folds, care put into them. The envelope that originally held the note was rose pink — different from the simplicity of white envelopes — the change unusual but comforting as you read each handwritten curve of your name, a small heart at the end, possibly drawn hesitantly, probably not.

A wave of familiarity hits upon unfolding the contents, simple yet pretty handwriting filling the page, its ink radiating all the warmth from the words.

I thought about you today.

A strange thought to confess to you, but I just felt like saying it, so please hear me out.

You look like you’ve been busy these days, which is why I haven’t been writing as much to you. I didn’t want to be such a disturbance to your studies. Though — as I realised — it’s also important to support you and give the positive reminders you deserve. I know I’m quite late to it all, so I hope I can make it up to you next time… Not sure how I’ll do that yet, it’s still in the works.

I’m getting off track — just remember to take it easy on yourself and that you’re doing well so far. Good luck on your remaining essays! Things will get better afterwards, so hang in there for me, promise?

Oh! Do you know the strawberry milk on the table? That’s for you too. I promise I didn’t drug it or anything, in case you’re wondering. It’s a lame present, but I hope it energises you through the day… Ah I’m so lame haha. One day I’ll give to you in person.

I missed your smile, I hope I can see it again. You shine the brightest when you do.

(Did you also like the change in envelope? I think I’ll be using coloured envelopes more these days~)

Miracle.

You fold the letter and place in back into the envelope, eyes attracted to the carton of strawberry milk, a baby pink post-it note taped onto it saying drink well~ in the same writing. Your hand immediately reaches to the drink, punching the straw and taking a long, refreshed sip.

While you enjoy your drink, your eyes fly back to the letter, mind lingering on a particular thought.

“Something on your mind?” Someone’s voice registers near you, breaking the train of thought. You see the pout form on his lips, face innocent as he removes his bag.

“Nothing, Jihoon. Blanked out a little,” you awkwardly stammer, smiling with the straw in your mouth.

Lee Jihoon — one of your closest friends. Before the term friends, you knew about each other through friends until he found out you were going to the same university as him, giving perfect reason to start a friendship there and then. Despite having contrasting courses (in fact you weren’t in any classes together), you were easily each other’s go-to.

Jihoon’s eyes acknowledge the open envelope with the letter hanging out, soon turning back to you. “Where did the milk come from?” He points to the cute-sized carton.

Do you tell him?

No one knew about your secret, it didn’t seem important to mention really, but it stuck in your mind whether you’d tell it someday.

The letters began at the start of the year, in the middle of a cold, cold January, the wintery hex making you go as far as to forget your backpack in the library. Fortunately, your bag was still at the same spot where you left it, saving you from the panic and fear that would’ve came if it wasn’t the case.

But as you inspect the inside, that’s when you see it. When you see the snowy white sleeve of the envelope, no name addressed, except for simple letters spelling an ode to you on the outside. Curious, you pick it up assuming it’s for you, fingers working to slide across the envelope’s tongue, revealing the note that held your first ever love letter.

Miracle was his name. Or what he called himself, really. Even though you were curious about the name’s origin, it was all explained in the second letter, where he wrote the name as a last-minute thing (that letter was written a week after the first, found inside your textbook).

Seemed fitting for him in your case.

It was strange — having multiple love letters, let alone just one — but through time it made you more excited as you received them frequently, each day being less of please don’t be a serial killer and more of I hope he writes today, ending with a small smile that you don’t admit to having whenever you say so.

The thought alone triggered your finger to hover over the letter, a sudden burst of eagerness spreading inside you.

Time to reveal yourself Miracle, you think, I’m going to do everything it takes to find you.

“Long story short,” easily, you begin, “the milk and this letter are from Miracle.”

“Miracle?” Jihoon repeats, his expression wanting more coverage.

“Miracle has been sending me letters for a while now. I know the point of secret admirers is to be anonymous, but he seems like a cool guy, I wanna be friends with him.”

“And you’re telling me you aren’t convinced this is some prank or...”

“This is my first admirer, be more happy for me!” You frown instantly, fingertips gently brushing the envelope flap. “Problem is, I have no clue who Miracle could be. He could be anyone!”

Jihoon hums, his hand held out. “Pass me the letter,”

“Don’t rip it.”

“What makes you think I’ll do that?”

“Just a hunch.”

Busy finishing the strawberry milk, Jihoon opens the letter, eyes concentrated on the page for a strong five seconds before nicely handing it back in your possession.

All of a sudden, he leaves his seat.

“Hoon?” Eyes appearing childlike, Jihoon only hums in the midst of lifting his bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

Once his bag is lazily hung on one shoulder, he says, “We’re going to Seventeen. We’ll talk about Miracle there.”

Naturally, a smile spreads across your lips. Jihoon never fails to make you float with words — always trailed with gentleness.

By Seventeen, he means the campus coffee shop. Everyone in the university has visited the cafe one way or another, whether it be the Valentines day special offer (which its ridiculous slogan was ‘All orders half price if you bring someone you like a latte!’) or to daydream over the baristas.

Its exterior and interior was as equally impressive. Walls splashed in snowy white and accented with raven black, the sign outlining 7-TEEN in a muted sapphire blue, the dangling chalkboard displaying the specials in chalky rose writing. The inside held a same, homely feeling, following the palette of desaturated pink, blues and whites, completed with the dark floorboards and tables for comfort.

You seat yourself by the window — specially requested by Jihoon — able to see most of the coffee shop and Jihoon’s place in line from the corner.

He comes back with a black mug steaming with heat, a mountain of sugar packets at its side, and a cake for you and him to share (even though you both knew that you were finishing it).

“The love letter please,” Jihoon requests after bringing out one of his many journals, pages taken out and deflating the fullness of the book. You react unpleasantly to the term, handing the item nonetheless.

He sets up the letter beside his journal, fingers holding his pen as he produces rushed, messy scribbles — it was almost unreadable. The words at the top of the page read Miracle Suspect List, a tiny giggle earned from reading it.

“Now... Any ideas?”

Even Jihoon doesn’t need words to understand the utter panic frozen your face as he asks. He huffs a sigh.

“Let’s read what Miracle says, maybe that’ll help.” Jihoon leans to the note, eyes drawing strange patterns as they move across the note. “Hm, Miracle noticed you’ve been struggling these past few days, does that ring any bells?”

“I’ve been so busy I didn’t even notice...”

“It’s okay, you had other things to focus on. Totally valid.” Rhythmically, he taps the pen on his chin, lips pouted like a baby duck. “If Miracle was aware about this, maybe he’s someone in your major. Anyone from your lectures that you can think of?”

Rather than answering a simple no, you think very hard this time. Jihoon does a really good job in trying to narrow the perspective for you, so its your role to meet in the middle. This secret admirer business was harder than you thought.

You think through everyone in your class, filtering them one by one until it comes into your head, radiant as ever.

“There’s Junhui. We chat when we’re in the lecture hall and sit next to each other sometimes, I probably told him about my worries. We don’t talk outside much... Unless!” You exclaim, “Unless I meet him whilst he’s on shift here, then he doesn’t shy away from me.”

Right after saying that, Junhui enters the shop, greeting the cashier at the counter, his goofy smile plastered as he disappears into the staff room with a laugh.

“Okay. Junhui...” Jihoon says, stretching Junhui’s name as he scribbles, classmate and works at Seventeen jotted underneath.

Another person comes to mind, your hand tapping repetitively on Jihoon’s arm as you tried to recall. “Oh, oh!”

“Ow, ow — what?!” Mimics Jihoon.

“There’s Soonyoung!”

“Kwon? Dance leader Kwon?”

“I heard some rumours that he liked me when I helped out with the department spring showcase—“

“You won’t like him.” Deadpans Jihoon, the interruption slightly out of place.

“What?”

Jihoon shrugs. “I don’t like him,”

The statement further confuses you, given that the dance and music departments fit hand in hand, not to mention the student’s between both departments were the most stable (in this case, the drama majors were scarily the lone wolf of the three).

And other than you, Jihoon — being the music department’s campus prodigy and following the cliché — stuck like superglue to dancer Kwon Soonyoung.

“Aren’t you friends?” Your face paints a fusion of disgust and confusion.

“We’re friends,” he confirms, nodding firmly, “he just doesn’t seem like your type. He’s... Gullible sometimes. His energy will refresh you, but it’ll eventually drain.”

“You never know.” Replies you, only focusing at the statement about being your type.

Jihoon continues to write down Soonyoung’s name even after voicing his opinion, small devil horns and a pointy tail doodled at the around his name.

“Better than nothing. Anyone else on your mind?”

“Jeon Wonwoo?” You raise your tone at the end. “I don’t think he’s that interested in me though,” you lips pull into a frown at the thought of the university’s famous librarian slash well-rounded student. He was also your tutor, but he tutored many people, so it wasn’t something out of a k-drama.

Jihoon’s hand moved right away as he notices your look. Unlike the past two, Wonwoo’s name only had a question mark underneath. “We’ll add him. There — three potential Miracles — who shall we investigate first?”

“I’ll hang around them and report back to you—“

Unexpectedly, your phone rings. The caller ID makes it clear to you that you had to take the call. You excuse yourself from Jihoon, taking one more bite of the cake before you head outside, getting lost in your conversation.

When the lengthy chat ended, you walk back inside to find your friend gone. Before you broke into a cold sweat, a light ding comes out of your phone, the screen reading a short text from Jihoon.

A classmate ran into me and they asked me to do a favour, sorry I left all of a sudden. Text me when you get to your dorm. Get there safely.

The gesture touches you, lips concealing a smile. The text also signalled to you that you should get going too, the sky outside slowly blooming into darkness.

Yet as the chair is pulled back for you to access your bag, an envelope appears.

Heart racing, your fingers scoop the item in one motion, rushing to take out the contents inside.

Two letters in one day... It doesn’t suit my style haha. I hope you’re secretly happy about it though.

I saw you in Seventeen earlier, and correct me if I’m wrong, but did I hear you talk about me? The wonderful, most-handsome Miracle?

First of all, I’m flattered, who wouldn’t talk about me? And second, I heard a little more that I should’ve. You want me to reveal myself?

If you think I’m going to give myself away, I’m not. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you~

It’s your turn to do the chasing now, I can’t wait to watch. This is going to be so fun — I’ll be super hurt if you mistake me as someone else...

Joking! All I’ll say is I’m supporting you from here, I’ll be watching closely! Please don’t be disappointed when you find out who I am. Hehe.

(Before I go! I recommend Seventeen’s Poet Latte, it’s a million times better than the Hope Macchiato. Ask for hazelnut syrup too, that thing is like sweet magic)

Miracle.

Now determined, your eyes scan over the lines again and again, each word being critical yet painfully ambiguous.

That’s when it crosses your mind. His words craft you into the right direction, even though Miracle has the power to do the complete opposite depending on how he wants to play his cards.

For now, you’ll take his words as gospel, aware that he was present at the time you were in Seventeen. All the signs pointed to Junhui, majorly assuming that he was the only one that who entered the cafe, and that Miracle recommended the Poet Latte.

It settled your first target quite quickly: Wen Junhui.

Stashing the letter in your bag, you head outside, eyes following Junhui practicing latte art until you can’t see him anymore, thoughts already planning on certain strategies.

If Miracle wants this to be entertaining, you’ll make it entertaining.

It’s been a week.

And nothing has happened.

“It’s been a week.” Jihoon voices, “And you‘ve gained zero progress.”

Panic stricken, you blurt, “I’m still working on it...”

“We’re gonna get nowhere if you carry on stalling.”

“I know, but I don’t know when to do it—“ Which was partially true. You were just too shy around Junhui.

“Just do it today!”

“Ugh, okay!” As equally as loud, you shout like Jihoon. Geez. Why did he get so hot-headed? “I’ll head to my lecture and see if he’s there.”

A smile shows on Jihoon’s lips. “Great. You can do it, good luck!” He balls his fists in attempt to encourage you, passing the motivation on.

When you arrive you instantly want to go back to Jihoon. By the notice board — other than confused, tired students — stood Junhui, his face standing out almost the others as he points his fingers to one direction while talking to other students of your major.

The students walk in the direction Junhui pointed to instead of the hall, prompting a perfect chance to talk to him.

“Jun?” You add the slight confusion to neutralise things, heart racing. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, hi Y/N,” Junhui naturally grins when he sees you, finger pointing to the board. “The lecture hall is being used, so our professor changed it to the other side of campus.”

“What?!” You groan, the act washed away once hearing about the announcement. “Ah — I’m so exhausted already, we don’t get paid enough to do this.”

“We don’t get paid at all,” muses Junhui. “Should we walk together? Saves you being bored and me being lonely.”

Right, Junhui’s a potential Miracle, act along, you tell yourself.

“Sounds great.” Gladly accepting, you and the male walk together, chatting amongst one another.

Nothing special happens from there. You chat with Junhui — who has a strange calmness when it comes to talking to him — until you get to your class, sitting next to him. The both of you intently listen to your lecturer, taking notes and sharing them, but halfway through the two hour session Junhui opens a new tab on his laptop to play chess, obviously being bad at the game.

You join in, too, helping the clueless man on how to win. It leads to you and him doodling on a sheet of paper he tore out, zoning out of the lecture from what was time to time to completely not listening.

The lecture comes to a close, making you and Junhui realise how much trouble you’re in as your essay was due for the weekend after.

“Come to Seventeen tomorrow,” tells Junhui, “I’ll ask a friend to recap the lecture today and we can go through it together while I work. Does that sound okay?”

Perfect — this was perfect!

A little too enthusiastic, you blurt, “Yeah!” Before coughing loudly, realising the awkwardness. “I mean, yeah. Sorry for distracting you today Junhui,”

“It’s okay. I like studying with you, it’s fun.”

His words, along with the soft smile he has, makes you want to swoon with glee inside. It was hard to tell if he was a smooth flirt or if he was usually like this.

Either way, you said your goodbyes and hoped for the next day to come as soon as possible.

“Y/N, welcome!” Is what Junhui greets to you as you walk into the cafe, the morning atmosphere ruined as Junhui shouts, waking up half the people in there. He didn’t seem to mind though, so you made your way to him.

“It’s ten in the morning Junhui,”

“It wakes people up. They’ll thank me for it when they don’t sleep in their classes later on.”

He tells you to seat yourself while he finishes the next few orders. Once you do, you stare out of the window whilst waiting for your laptop to load, the day transitioning from gloom to a morning sunshine, more people coming onto the campus site.

You even see Jihoon walking with Soonyoung (even though it was hard to identify him under the hat, but judging by Jihoon’s mannerisms it definitely pointed to Soonyoung).

Chair sliding, the male taking a seat as he hands you a warm, rose mug. “A Poet Latte ordered by the lovely Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you warmly answer, grinning at the latte art of a panda with hearts swirled around. “This is amazing Junhui.”

“Doing it is harder than it looks,” confesses Junhui, “and in the end people will just consume it. Imagine that, eating all of my hard work... Literally.”

“Aren’t you going to drink something?”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don’t like coffee.”

Oh?

“Oh? That’s a shame.” You counter, trying to stay composed. “It isn’t for everyone — um — random question but, if you had to recommend a drink from here, what would it be? I’m up for taking some new drinks.”

The excuse made things sound more natural and by the look on Junhui’s face, the verdicts in your head point to not Miracle right now.

He taps a finger on his chin, “Out of all the orders... The Truth Iced Mocha, mainly because I don’t like warm drinks either.”

Uncertainty shows on your face, not knowing whether Junhui was telling a lie or not. There was a high chance he wasn’t, but he could most likely be lying. If he was, he was a great liar.

Studying your face, Junhui speaks. “I’m a bit picky,” he admits, laughing, “my friends hate me for it, but I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

His statement causes you to laugh, the tension in the room quickly gone. Junhui sure knows how to tone things down.

So Junhui doesn’t like coffee. Huh.

You come by Seventeen for the next two days, chatting with Junhui more often as he works. However, you walk into the male while he’s off-shift, a bouquet of pink daisies and a cinnamon-coloured teddy bear sat on the table.

Staring intensely at it, Junhui doesn’t even notice you sit across him.

“Is something on your mind?”

Breaking out of the odd staring contest, Junhui sits up, shrugging. “Which present would you like more?”

He turns the teddy’s head and the flowers to face you. The question shifts the atmosphere slightly, your mind nervous of what to answer.

“Can I have the context?” Instead, you ask that question, hoping the answer would give more indication where this was going.

“I wanna give something to my friend for support,”

Junhui doesn’t hesitate in his answer, but there’s no denying over the pinkness in his cheeks. Although he was still being vague, you point at the flowers.

“Flowers are the best go-to. Maybe the teddy can be for another time?” Nodding, Junhui relaxes in his chair, patting the bear’s head as he exhales a sigh. “Isn’t this something you’d give to a girlfriend or boyfriend?”

The question catches the other off guard, his ears burning with red as he slowly sinks his head into his arms, his face hidden.

“You caught me.” Muffled, Junhui admits.

Caught what? We’re definitely getting somewhere now, you think.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still showing support to my friend — she’s having her first art exhibit today and she’s been working on it a lot — I just... Wanna be subtle but I need to man up,”

One hundred percent what you didn’t expect. Kinda, since you had suspicions here and there.

“Man up? You’re, like, the most easiest person to talk to! I’m sure if you acted like yourself then you’d be able to confess easily to her.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. What’s there to worry about? People fall for you like a snap,” you snap your fingers simultaneously, a laugh from Junhui followed.

“Thanks for the heart to heart Y/N. I really needed it. The exhibit opens in an hour, I should get going.”

“You can do it Junhui!” Cheers you, Junhui getting up from his chair. Out of the blue, your mind mentally clicks. “Junhui—“

Junhui hums. You hold the bear out for him.

“Bring it with you, it’ll create a bigger memory for the both of you.”

Smiling, Junhui takes the bear from your hands. “Thanks for everything... Again.” He carries the bouquet and bear in one arm, his free hand reaching to pick out a daisy. “Take it as my thank you,”

“How corny,” you say, happily taking the pretty flower, “you’ll do great!”

“I’ll see you later! I’ll tell you how it goes.”

Like that, Junhui exits out of the cafe, jogging to the entrance of the campus. You sit back once he disappears.

So Junhui has a crush on someone else.

Your hands search to find your phone, scrolling through your contacts before you lift it to your ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

“Hoon? Let’s meet.”

“Rather than liking you, he likes a student from the art department?” Jihoon asks, strolling around the town with you half an hour after you called.

You nod, confirming it. “It was hard to tell though, every second felt like he was flirting with me. Guess he was just really good at smooth talk.”

“Not surprised about that.” Jihoon pulls a face, but his arm moves to pat your hair as you twirl the pink daisy. “Don’t act so blue, you still have two more guys!”

“But Hoon—”

“No buts, it’ll work out. I promise you. If it doesn’t, I’ll look for Miracle myself and teach him a lesson.”

You snort, “Jihoon—“

“Oh yeah, you still wanna be friends with him. Got it.” Jihoon grins when he sees your smile, pinching your cheek all of a sudden. “Now c’mon, I know what’ll cheer you up,”

“Do you?”

“Unless you don’t want food, we can just go back to campus—“

“No, wait!” You panic. Great, you’ve fallen for Jihoon’s offer. “Fine, I’m starving anyway!”

With a big grin, Jihoon takes you by the hand and walks to your favourite restaurant.

Days pass and the memories with Junhui go along with it. It was a weekend and Jihoon wanted to meet in the recording booth to talk, additionally asking if you could bring some coffee.

He stops replying after you send multiple texts — capitalised and angry emoticons — giving you no choice but to get him something.

Heading into Seventeen, your appearance catches one of the workers immediately.

That worker, being Junhui.

“What a coincidence!” He exclaims once he heads out of the break room for the second time, a flimsy item in his hand.

“Coincidence?” You repeat in return.

“I found this in the lecture hall yesterday, I thought you left it,”

“But I didn’t go to the lecture yesterday—“

All of your words dissolve as soon as your eyes hit the pastel blue envelope, slowly taking it out of Junhui’s hand, your expression indescribable.

“How did you get this?” It wasn’t the words you wanted to say, but they were clearly in your mind.

“I saw it sitting on one of the rows before I left. I would’ve given it to you straight away, but I didn’t see you on campus… And I don’t know where your dorm is so…”

You analyse Junhui’s face for a moment. Gaining all the evidence you’ve gotten, it was confirmed that Junhui wasn’t Miracle. He was telling the truth about everything.

“That’s okay! Thanks for looking after it for me!” In gratitude, you let your lips spread wide — mainly towards the fact that Miracle is writing after a week (seriously, what took him so long?), but also because of Junhui’s massive help.

Forgetting about the coffee, you exit the cafe, finding a safe spot to read the letter alone. Your fingers were trembling in anticipation as you lifted the flap.

I’m guessing you’ve been waiting for me… If not, I feel really embarrassed because I had to hold myself back from writing to you.

(God, that was so cheesy)

You figured out that I’m not Junhui. Congrats!

When I first saw him walk with you, I thought — ‘Ah, you are taking it seriously!’ — and I’ve been watching here and there, but not all the time because that would be creepy. I also had classes so there were a few clashes.

After a while I began wondering why you thought of Junhui as me. It shouldn’t be a thought I should ponder on too much, but I find myself going there sometimes.

Junhui is really admirable. He has that ability to make anyone feel at ease with him, and overall he’s very bold with his actions — so bold that I even thought he was going to make an actual move on you (totally wasn’t gonna be heartbroken…) — I get why people like to be around him so much.

He’s someone that you easily get envious over. The personality, the social skill, the confidence. He makes it look so easy. Talking to so many people, adjusting to them…

I wish I was like that; I wish I had that confidence. Maybe, if I had that same level of confidence like Junhui, then maybe I’d boldly confess my feelings without the doubts or worries orbiting my mind.

At first I was going to scribble that part out and start from scratch again, but I thought I’d share my thoughts with you. This isn’t Junhui’s level of confidence, but I think starting like this will help me build on it. My heart can feel heavy on some days and I feel like you’re the only person I can go to.

Even if you don’t write to me back, I hope you’ll always stand there on the other side.

Miracle.

“Come with me.” Out of nowhere Jihoon gets his things and starts walking away.

Fazed, you hastily gather your things and begin trailing behind him. He’s always like this — announcing he’s going somewhere at the same time he leaves — and you get the other end of the stick by rushing after the male.

“You’re seriously so annoying,” you grumble without context, “at least tell me what we’re — what you’re — doing...”

“I forgot something... And I’m doing you a favour.”

The last part wasn’t picked up by you, but Jihoon’s footsteps accelerated as he rushes into one of the department buildings.

The building appeared unfamiliar to you, it clearly wasn’t the music department, so you wondered why Jihoon knew which corridor to turn and what level he was looking for.

He doesn’t bother knocking before heading into one of the dance studios, dancers unfazed by his appearance. Worried, you harshly break out a whispered Jihoon before he stops walking and you walk into his back.

“Ow, jerk!” Complains you.

An unknown voice replies, but it isn’t directed to you. “Jihoon?” The male voice gasps. “You okay?”

Suddenly, the owner of the voice gets up from the floor, a black cap covering the front of his face, dressed in loose clothes.

Soonyoung?

“My journal’s here right? I think I left it somewhere…”

“Journal?” Soonyoung juts a lip, completely focused on Jihoon, he hasn’t even said hi to you yet. Unless he doesn’t like you. You hoped it wasn’t the latter. Like a hit to the head, Soonyoung’s eyes nearly sparkle, “Ah, let me get it!”

Soonyoung turns around and crouches down, giving you perfect time to ask what the heck Jihoon was doing.

“A favour,” is all Jihoon says, Soonyoung cheerily handing the ripped-paged book and Jihoon snatching it off him. He glares. “You didn’t look inside, did you?”

Fingers moving the cross his heart, Soonyoung simultaneously shakes his head. “Not a peep—“ his eyes acknowledge you and he immediately chokes on air, releasing an ugly cough. “Y/N! Have you been here all this time?”

Jihoon holds back an amused chuckle. Ignoring your friend, you put on your best smile and shyly nod.

“Sorry I didn’t see you there!” He’s yelling now, and it’s getting the whole room’s attention. “How… How are you?”

“I’ve been good, and you?”

“Me? I’m good too! I’m glad to hear that—“

Jihoon’s voice overlaps out Soonyoung’s, “Picking up my book just turned into a damn reunion,” a puppy-like sulk comes out of Soonyoung, but Jihoon continues to speak, “also, I’ll give you your USB back tomorrow, I’ve done all the improvements you asked.”

Soonyoung brings the other into a sweaty hug, sighing loudly. “Wow, my hero—“

Pushing Soonyoung off, Jihoon clears his throat. “But I’m leaving town for this music course tomorrow, so I’ll lend the USB to Y/N and you’ll get your USB back, then we’re all happy.”

“I’m not—“ you harshly whisper next to the male, pulling him closer by the arm, surprised at Jihoon’s proposal, “what are you doing?!”

“A latte would be okay, but you can surprise me. I’d also like extra whipped cream,” Jihoon whispers back at the same volume. He looks back at Soonyoung. “Is that alright with you?”

The apples of Soonyoung’s cheeks paint red, lips scrunched as he forces a nod. “Sure — sure! Tomorrow, yeah?”

“Mhmm. We better get going now.” Turning to you, Jihoon tilts his head to the exit, promptly looking at Soonyoung. “See you man,”

“Bye Soonyoung!” You greet energetically, causing Soonyoung to snap out of his gaze, waving his hand as you two walk out. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but, it never got off of his tongue in the end.

Once you were away from the building, you stop Jihoon by grabbing his arm, a deathly expression upon you. “What was that all about?”

Although you were mad, Jihoon’s face didn’t flinch one bit at it. He digs through his pocket, pulling out a silicone tiger figurine smaller than his palm. Removing the tiger’s head, the USB is revealed.

Without a word, Jihoon hands it to you. “I finished the thing he asked ages ago.”

“Then why didn’t you give it to him earlier—“

“Because now you have an excuse to hang around him. Use it wisely.”

“Oh. Smart.”

Turns out, Jihoon actually did have to go to that course for the day, so you wished him a text of motivation before mentally preparing yourself to meet Soonyoung.

You hastily make your way to the dance department (that’s what Jihoon said Soonyoung would normally be), but because you were so overwhelmed over what you were going to say to Soonyoung, you forgot the directions Jihoon went to the dance studio.

Dumbass, you curse inside. Now you had to ask people if one, they were a dance major (which was such a stupid question, but you couldn’t help asking) and two, if they knew Soonyoung.

Onto asking the third student, you see a figure stepping out of a room, a bag lazily hung around his arm.

“Oh — never mind — thank you anyway,”

You semi-run towards this figure, watching the surprise spread through his face as you welcome him with a grin.

“Y/N?” Soonyoung stammers, shaking in his place a little. He had a black shirt hugged his torso and jeans to complement the look — it definitely gave a different tone to the exhausted, sweaty boy you met yesterday.

“Hey.” You dangle the small tiger in between his eyes. “Special delivery for Kwon Soonyoung?”

Sparkles appear inside Soonyoung’s eyes, gladly taking the item from you. “Thank you Y/N! Tell Jihoon I said thank you — actually, I’ll tell him that later—“

“It’s no problem,” you can’t help but giggle at his gratitude over the tiger USB, it make you curious on why it was so important, but right now that wasn’t your priority.

Operation Soonyoung is a go.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

“Um… Not really, why?”

“I’m craving some food, I was wondering if you’d like to eat with me… Since you just finished practicing I’m guessing—”

For the second time Soonyoung chokes on the air, hitting his chest as he lets out harsh coughs. When he’s somewhat calmed down, he looks straight at you — a slight pinkness in his cheeks — bluntly answering, “I don’t mind going!”

The answer was leaning towards an exclamation, but a yes was a yes, and the two of you agreed to get street food and eat in the park.

Watching Soonyoung munch on a burger with great interest, you feel like he’s still acting awkward with you. You had no reason why, but the showcase pops into your head. Maybe the rumours were true, but you can’t jump so easily; this Miracle business had to be very subtle.

So much for loud, muses you, Jihoon must be out of his mind, he’s so quiet with me…

To lighten up the mood, you show your interest to the USB stick once more. “So, the stick. What’s it for? If it’s okay asking,”

Soonyoung wipes the corners of his lips cutely, pointing to a bench and asking a can we sit here with half stuffed cheeks. Sat down, he brings out the USB, watching it dangle on his finger.

“They’re music samples for dances I put together. I don’t just work for myself but for my juniors too — they rely on me when they need music for their piece. I can do the basics, but when I or my classmates need something extra to make the piece stand out more, I go to Jihoon to help me. Without him, I wouldn’t have so many students joining the dance club at all.”

“Can I listen to some?”

“Huh?” Soonyoung’s eyes expand, lips parted the slightest. “Oh — oh! Okay. Just give me a sec…”

“Soon, you don’t need to if it’s a hassle—“

“Ah! I owe you one, so, this is nothing to what you’ve done!”

“All I did was give your things back…”

Soonyoung pulls out his laptop, connecting the USB to the device, his fingers tapping against the touchpad whilst waiting. The files appear, some names sensibly and with their correct name (those were probably for his juniors), while some files were called ten-ten, hoshi, rawr, for the ultimate gemini ONLY, NOT THIS ONE.

Those were definitely Soonyoung’s.

“The ones Jihoon has fixed are the unnamed ones. He’s never creative with names,”

“Of course.” You and Soonyoung laugh over the thought, the latter pressing his finger on the play button as the music begins and the volume rises. Listening for a while, you say, “This is super good, I can’t believe Jihoon can produce something like this.”

“Well he isn’t called the music prodigy for nothing. Now check this out.”

He sets his laptop aside, the music continuing to play, and he stands in front of you, breaking into a small dance like it was second nature to him. Such fluidity, well-crafted even though Soonyoung kept a smile the whole way through, rushes of excitement inside him.

You cheer him on, laughing at the sight. He laughs with you too, brightly.

The barrier of shyness between Soonyoung and you begins to break as you meet frequently, Jihoon mainly being the reason why you three met.

More of Jihoon’s colours shone, like the grumpy, cold-shouldered character when he was Soonyoung, but he would still laugh the hardest if Soonyoung told a stupid story that happened over the weekend, or small snippets into his life.

The thought about Miracle becomes less important to you as you slowly value Soonyoung as a true friend. Don’t get yourself wrong — Miracle was still heavily important — but Operation Soonyoung was diverting down another path.

But the one time you spend the day with him without Jihoon (who knows what he was doing, he just left without any word), you accidentally slip into the topic of the rumour again.

Actually, you had no idea why you transitioned into it, Soonyoung was showing you a video of himself doing dumb things during dance practice last night, and after a long laugh with him, it came out.

“To be honest, when I first met you, people kept telling me you had a crush on me,” is what you say along with your laughter, taking a bite out of your cake.

“… Is that so?”

No laugh, no burst of giggling — and when you face Soonyoung, his face is stoic. Despite that observation, his cheeks were dusted in a faint red.

You nod. “Yeah, I didn’t believe them.”

“Oh.”

“Wait — so you’re saying — you liked me?”

Soonyoung grunts in surprise, eyes widened. He shakes his head but as he directs his vision onto the floor, he sighs and hesitantly nods.

Operation Soonyoung was suddenly back on the radar. That means the chances of being Miracle were high.

“Soonyoung—“

“Listen to what I say first! And then if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll understand…” He, again, says with hesitation, eyes concentrated on the table or your hands. “Yeah, I did like you a few years ago, during the spring showcase… But we didn’t talk to each other, so what chances did I have?”

He inhales a sharp sigh, clenching his eyes shut and nose forming crinkles, sucking in a small this is going to be so embarrassing.

Fortunately, you pick those words up. “Embarrassing? What’s embarrassing.”

“There’s another reason.”

Is he going to confess he’s Miracle?

“I…”

Oh my god, he is—

“I thought you and Jihoon were dating.”

What?

“What?” You mumble softly.

“God, that’s the dumbest reason out of the book, and I fell for it.” Soonyoung covers his face with his hands, shielding himself from the weirded out looks he thinks you have on your face. “And Jihoon didn’t wanna say anything about it either, so I sucked it up and tried to get over it. Then, he tells me you were just good friends a year after.”

“Soonyoung… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“Nothing you can do,” shrugs he, “truthfully, I didn’t get over you until the winter break the year after. But I got over it in the end.”

“Still, you went though all of the emotional gain because of me,”

“It’s not like I regret it.” He smiles a bit, trying to reassure you. The smile fades as he faces the reality after explaining his side. “I bet you’re like Soonyoung, you creep, now that you’ve heard me say all of this, so feel free to laugh at me all you want… Not too much though, I have a weak heart.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not thinking that at all.”

“Yeah, I— what?”

Confused at your words, you continue to smile to let him know you’re being genuine. “We’ve become really close in a little more than a week, and you’re an amazing friend on top of that. It makes me regret not being friends with you sooner.”

“Man, if the Soonyoung years ago was hearing this, he would either feel so touched or badly friend-zoned just now.”

Alarmed, you react as if Soonyoung was still attached onto his feelings, ready to apologise.

“It’s okay, I’m not affected,” he beats you to it, which was the most reassuring thing of them all.

“Friends?”

“Friends.” Soonyoung links a pinkie with you, hoping the promise would last a lifetime. He was a precious friend after all.

After the chat, you highlight one topic Soonyoung mentioned. “You thought Jihoon had a thing with me? Why?”

“Probably because I saw you two together a lot. Before he became friends with me and the rest of the department, you were all he’d go to. He cares about you a lot, if you didn’t know.”

“Hoon? Caring about me?”

“You sound surprised — it’s pretty obvious. Didn’t he make you a cake for your birthday last year?”

“Yeah… What does that have to do with anything?”

“We both know he’s a terrible cook — I mean, he microwaved ice cream one time because it was too hard to scoop out — but he wanted to make you something like that for your birthday.”

“The cake was nice though…”

“It took him a month to get the recipe right. He didn’t want my help, he even used the culinary department’s kitchen just for that and didn’t want their help either. And you know why he did that?”

“Becuase it was my birthday?”

“Wrong!” Soonyoung lightly taps your head as an incorrect gesture. “It was because you were going through a hard time during that time. He just wanted you to cast your worries aside and see you celebrate because you deserved it. He told me everything about it.”

Your heart skips slightly, thinking over the fact Jihoon did something like that to make you happy. It was a strange feeling to experience.

“He’s going to hate me for saying all of this to you, but he looks out for you a lot. He notices things, he’s smart.”

Agreeing, you hum, deeply thinking over his words.

Later that day, a stray envelope is sticking out from the front pocket of your bag as you left it unattended. The sweet, lilac hue  instantly telling you who the sender is.

You do not hesitate to open it.

Turns out, I’m not Kwon Soonyoung either. Are you disappointed? I can sense your frown right now... Don’t frown dear, I’m sorry for letting you down...

But the game still goes on, and although I don’t know who’s left on your mind, I might reveal myself. Not for now, but I feel a little daring, kinda unusual for me, isn’t it?

Now.

Kwon Soonyoung.

Believe it or not, I’m truly the opposite to him. I’m sometimes glad that I’m not like him, but over time I sometimes dislike it. The things he can do, I don’t think I’m fit to do them. Like Junhui, he’s confident, and he always has his mind set on something. Me? My mind changes so much. I’m a big coward ha...

Soonyoung’s loud too. I could say it’s what I don’t like about him the most, though I’d be completely wrong. It’s simple enough. He stands out. I blend in. A harsh truth I have to come to terms in, but I’m guessing that’s why you chose Soonyoung too, because he stands out. He shines.

Yet among that, you shine the brightest. I know it’s hard finding me, but I know you’ll be able to find my identity and when you do, I’ll be ready to confess my feelings to you to the world. No backing out, no shying away.

I’ll find a way to make something happen, as if my life depends on it.

Miracle.

The letter felt... Sadder in terms of Miracle’s usual way of writing — light and thoughtful — as words become raw. Once you find him, you’ll definitely tell him how much he means to you, even if it was a silly love letter at the end of the day.

He sure doesn’t know Soonyoung either. The dancer, surprisingly, is insanely shy underneath the loudness he has. It makes you think whether Miracle doesn’t think highly of himself.

When you walk out to the campus, you spot Jihoon exiting a nearby building, busy looking at texts.

Soonyoung’s words form in your head again, realising the care Jihoon had for you. And without a thought, you run to the male and surprise him with a sudden hug.

Jihoon grunts quietly, but it only makes you hold onto him more.

“Huh, Y/N? Is everything okay?” You nod into his chest. “Are... Are you sure? We can talk about it—”

“Just shut up and hug me,”

With no more complaints, Jihoon gladly keeps you in his arms.

Six.

You’ve been say in the library for six hours, your paper due at midnight. Although you had eight hours left, you still didn’t fee like it was in top shape. Words felt messy; sentences didn’t flow the way you wanted to; it was just so confusing.

Your head meets the desk the nth time today, remaining at that mental block ever since you had your lunch that consisted of peach juice and a half-assed sandwich that you didn’t even finish. Sure, you came at the library at six, but you were also up until two in the morning to do the minimum of what you were aiming to do.

That didn’t happen, hence, you’re still stuck in this damn library.

The only thing in your mind right now is sleep. If no one noticed, you could get away with sleeping in the library, but not sleeping in the library is better than getting kicked out for a month because of sleeping in the library.

A headache kicks in in the midst of working, deforming your face as you wince in pain, hoping to go home soon. It’s unlikely you will, but you wanted to sleep.

At some point, all you do is stare at the screen. Stare at every blank word on the screen, done rushed or half-tiredly.

“Everything alright?”

Registering the voice, you rapidly blink and sit up, trying to be as awake as you can. Your eyes move to the person, vision slightly altered due to the fuzziness in your eyes, but you could make out the silver framed glasses and hair the fell gently on top.

“Wonwoo?” He responds to his name through the tone of his hum. “Oh, uh, yeah... Not really,”

The librarian takes a seat next to you, a strong, fresh scent radiating from him. It was almost like a magical spell, luring you to sleep. Wonwoo scans the laptop, frowning after knowing what you were doing.

“Due in tonight?” Crap, he caught you out. You nod in shame.

“I was trying to get it done last night but my body gave in... And I haven’t left this library since—“

“Since ten.” Wonwoo noticed too? “My partial job is to sit here all day, but you’ll get muscle cramps the more you stay in one position, you should’ve taken a little break... But that’s a little late to tell you that.”

“I know...” You see the textbooks in his hand. “Oh, you’re probably busy putting back books, I shouldn’t disturb you—”

“These are just to text mark for my next class. You’re fine.” Wonwoo proceeds to stay seated, in fact, he readjusts his seat to sit more comfortably, picking up a book and setting the rest aside. “You must be tired. Take a rest, I’ll cover for you.”

“Wonwoo—“

“Just face me while you sleep, alright?”

You give into his words, smoothly resting your head on your arms as you close your eyes, falling asleep within seconds.

It was a nice nap which you awoke after an hour. An hour wasn’t what you intended, but damn, you really needed that.

Blinking, your vision comes into focus with a book marked with colourful sticky notes. If the book is still there, that means...

“Good afternoon, did you rest well?”

Your eyes direct themselves to Wonwoo, smiling down at you as he breaks away from what he was doing. After a short hum from you, Wonwoo goes back to finishing something he wrote.

The action initiates you to sit up, the reality of your paper flooding your head once more. Though, when you look at Wonwoo’s notes — neatly sorted in colourful rows — you sit and stare at the notes, mind pondering.

His handwriting is pretty.

“Oh.” Quiet, Wonwoo lets out. He begins flipping pages in his book, all decorated with some form of colourful note until he stops at a particular page and brings out a long note with minimal bullet points in.

He gently peels it off the page and locates it on top of your book.

“While you were sleeping I skimmed through your paper and highlighted a few things you could work on...”

Wait, what?

Wonwoo continues, “I don’t mean to sound critical or anything! It’s just — you looked like you were having a hard time — I don’t know much about your topic but I wrote what I thought sounded relevant.”

You read through the list, the points showcasing good arguments and research topics to mention. “These are great points, I couldn’t think of these...” You pout, “You’re so book-smart Wonwoo, I’m so jealous.”

Wonwoo lets out a earthy laugh, his expression a playfully saddened. “Don’t say that, you’re intelligent too,”

“Everyone knows you though — Jeon Wonwoo, the campus’ treasure.”

���I wouldn’t call myself that...”

“Why not? It fits you.”

He looks directly at you, face tinted with some sadness. “I blend in.”

A flashback crosses your mind whilst saying the words and it doesn’t appear into your head until—

“Sorry, I’m distracting you now. You should get your work done, and I need finish this too.” He awkwardly apologises, turning back to his textbook.

Did Wonwoo just... No, don’t dive straight in yet, you warn beforehand, it was like a heated argument between your heart and mind.

As for now, you only hum and work on your laptop, more prepared thanks to Wonwoo’s involvement.

It turns to seven in the evening and you’re almost finished.

But you were starving.

Primarily, you were going to text Jihoon, asking if he could come over and bring food, but when you met him in the morning he seemed busy.

Embarrassingly, your tummy rumbles and it breaks Wonwoo’s concentration at that second, watching you clench your arms around your waist.

“I should’ve brought something else to eat...” You murmur, eyes squeezed shut. Although you thought Wonwoo didn’t hear that, it was slightly the opposite.

The male sets his pen down, patting his pockets before speaking. “I’m gonna go out for a bit. Look after my things?”

Reluctant, you answer him with bob of your head. Wonwoo exits swiftly.

Your phone chimes and you receive a from Jihoon alongside an attachment of his cap covering his full face.

His text reads I’m so tired followed by a crying emoticon.

The image is what cheers you up, catching up with Jihoon for a bit.

You talk about the majority of your day, but you somehow leave Wonwoo out of it all. You don’t even tell Jihoon your suspicions that Wonwoo may be Miracle.

The problem was that Wonwoo wasn’t an open book, so you had to play it safe.

Breaking away from the conversation, you excuse yourself by telling Jihoon you had to finish your stupid essay and Jihoon sends a bunch of hahaha and a gif of a kitten saying good luck!

Eventually Wonwoo comes back ten minutes later, a white plastic bag in hand as he sits back down, commenting something like it’s cold under his breath.

“Where’d you go?” You inquire.

“Convenience store, it was only around the corner outside campus.”

“I see...” Wonwoo brings out the items one by one, finally tying the bag and putting into his bag. Your finger points at a specific item. “Pepero? I didn’t know you liked those.”

Wonwoo sees the box of pepero, and his fingers slide it nearer to you. “I don’t eat them a lot, but I figured it would help you fill your stomach.”

“Seriously? Oh, sorry for making you go out your way to do that—“

“Rather than apologising all the time, can you just thank me for the food?”

Speechless, he knows that you know he’s right. “Thanks Wonwoo... A lot.”

“Anything for you.” Wonwoo flashes a smile, twisting the bottle cap of his drink before taking a long drink.

You pick up the pepero box, looking at its contents.

It hits you for a second time — the pepero was strawberry flavoured.

“Say, Wonwoo...”

“That’s me,”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because,” Wonwoo takes a while to gaze at you, your features softening at the sight when a gentle grin lifts Wonwoo’s cheeks, “because I care about you.”

It’s you, Jeon?

Days and nights pass and you find yourself spending more time with Wonwoo these days — staying at the library to chat, frequently passing advice to each other, each moment getting longer every time you stay with him.

Jihoon notices your change in behaviour, commenting on your recent rejection with wanting to meet up. You dismiss that idea quickly, saying that you just had to check for any suspicions. The ambiguity in itself confuses Jihoon — mainly due to the fact you hadn’t told him about Wonwoo — but he doesn’t ask any further, quietly going back to his laptop.

These chats with Wonwoo upgrade to meeting outside campus: trips to the cinema, visiting cafes or the newest KBBQ restaurant opening down the street, all memories posted on your social medias with some silly caption.

Waking up one morning, your roommate, in an obvious rush, briefly mentions about a letter addressed to you from the mailbox. Your ears throb at the information, dashing to the foot of your bed when your roommate leaves, a pretty pink letter distinct against the white covers.

Clumsy, you manage to open the letter.

I’ve come to a decision.

Meet me at the east garden. One o’clock?

I’ll be waiting~

(Gosh, I’m regretting what I’m gonna do now, apologies in advanced)

Miracle.

You practically let out a squeal, falling to the floor from the shock igniting through you. It wasn’t just that, but the fact the letter ended with a kiss in coloured chapstick — which was probably mentioning apologising at the end. Miracle certainly had a way of driving you crazy these days; now he’s finally revealing himself.

Right at that moment, you phone rings in the same chime again. It’s from Jihoon again, wanting to spend time with you. You feel bitter knowing Jihoon has been asking this question for a while, met with rejection every time, but you end up texting back a not today, something important came up, finished with, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Checking the time, it already hit half eleven. “Perfect!” You cheer, getting up to dress yourself, full of bubbling excitement.

Because of your energetic nerves, you arrive at the garden ten minutes before  the allocated time, the green hues standing out next to the bright sky, students enjoying their day either by laying on the grass studying or strolling with friends.

You analyse the place to see if anyone looked like they were waiting for you, but after two minutes, no one fitted the criteria. It turned twelve soon after and you decided to explore around to see if you can catch Miracle anywhere.

Turning to a small path leading to a less frequently visited area of the garden, you spot someone sat by the stone bench. Turns out, you recognise that person.

“Jihoon!” You exclaim, Jihoon flinching at the exclamation. He turns, his frame revealing a pen in between his fingers and a journal on his lap. WIthout any hesitation, he closes his journal.

Hand on his chest after a long sigh, his relaxed state smiles at you fondly. “Oh, it’s you,”

His tone is soft, standing up from the bench and heading your way, an embarrassed, shy curl on his lips — his dimples peeking through — shimmering eyes trained to the floor.

He stops in front of you, taking a gulp before nervously staring at you. He’s in the middle of opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

You beat him to it, and it’s all the difference.

“Guess what, I think Wonwoo’s Miracle.”

In a blink of a eye, the shimmer in Jihoon’s eyes dull. Nonetheless, you don’t notice it, babbling on.

“It’s why I haven’t been hanging around you much,” you confess to him, frowning, “Wonwoo’s just — really hard to figure out — but after a while there are things that he and Miracle do. I’m pretty sure it’s Wonwoo, I don’t know who else it would be. I think I’m getting butterflies, I—“

“That’s… Nice,” Jihoon breaks out, not staring at you anymore. The journal held on his chest is now at his side, gripped with strength.

It took you a while, but you noticed Jihoon’s tone. “Jihoon…? Hoon, are you okay?”

“Yeah!” He replies with fake energy, but he isn’t looking up. He isn’t looking at you. “It’s great to hear that. I should go before he comes, right?”

“Wait,” you hold him by the arm, “you sound angry — are you angry at me? — did I do something wrong—“

“It’s nothing.”

“Why can’t you tell me? You know you can talk to me Hoon, I don’t like seeing you like this…” Hurt, you try to take a glimpse at Jihoon but he isn’t allowing it. “Is it because Miracle is Wonwoo? I thought you didn’t mind him. I thought you wanted to know too.

“I just said I don’t wanna—“

“No! There’s something wrong and you aren’t telling me about it!”

With enough strength to remove your arm, but not enough to hurt you, Jihoon gets out of your grip, staring at you again, though not with what you intended. He’s glaring at you, fusions of frustration and pain being hinted, but why?

“Everything’s fine. Just leave me alone.”

Before you stop him, he leaves much quicker than you expect, vanishing from the garden; besides, if you follow him, he’d only avoid you more. So all you could do was wait for Miracle to come, in hope that whoever he is will cheer you up.

Miracle never came, nor any love letter from that point.

It’s been a quiet month. Life became static, classes felt like a drag, and Jihoon certainly had no intention to contact you after everything.

You wake up at ten, knowing your roommate went out because of the bed across you done well. Although you were against it, you figured that you should do the same — at least it helps you start the day.

Feet settling on the rough floor, you blink at the stray piece of paper in front of your door. It looks like someone slid it in. Groggily, you walk towards it, complaining as you bend down to pick it up, sitting back down on your messy bed.

It was a simple, white letter. It’s sides were slightly blunt, the page looking like it was ripped out of somewhere.

“Letter?” You question, heart dropping to your stomach. You open the letter with anticipation.

Y/N.

I… I’m really sorry about that last letter. You must’ve waited a long time for me, but I never got to reach you because of my fear that you won’t look at me the same once revealing myself.

I’ve liked you for so long, I care about you so much it pains me to think you have to go through hard thoughts. I remember liking you because of your smile. It was pretty; it was contagious. Then, through watching from my safe distance, I fell for you more and more. Your kindness, your sweet nature and overall comfort seemed to make my fondness grow, it just couldn’t be helped. I was in a stage of hopelessness, but I had to make sure I wasn’t too weird or anything.

From your posts on social media… It came to my realisation you and Wonwoo became much closer.

Is it okay for me to say that I’m jealous?

‘Hurt’ is a better way to call it, but, Wonwoo’s something else. You and him connected without difficulty, and it didn’t take you long for the both of you to watch movies together or have lunch. During that time, you seemed to smile a lot more with him, I almost felt upset that it was all because of Wonwoo, meanwhile I couldn’t do any of that. I can’t make you smile like that. I’m guessing you thought I was Wonwoo — that Wonwoo was Miracle — but no, I’m not. Sorry to disappoint you…

Maybe I’m so jealous because… Because Wonwoo is everything I’m not.

My heart is being poured onto these pages and I’m sorry for my flow, but I just needed to let this out. You need to know before I finish this. I can’t even show my face, let alone confess to you… It’s pathetic. But if I can’t express my feelings the way I do internally, I’ll keep these emotions guarded if you truly like Wonwoo. In the end, I want you to be happy. I’ve never devoted myself to someone before, is that why my chest hurts so much?

So this is a letter — an ode — for you. To thank you for everything. It’s a lot to take in, and a lot for me to declare, but you’re my first love. And before you begin to think negatively through this letter, don’t. That’s the last thing I want you to do. I just think its time to come to terms with myself and my place in your eyes.

You’re still the most wonderful person I know and I want you to always remember that. Writing these cliche letters have grown as a part of my routine, each with memories that’ll remain in my mind for a lifetime and until the next. They’ll remain in my heart forever.

This letter will be last. I’m sad it had to end this way, but let’s think of it for the best. Let’s remember this beautifully rather than in pain.

I love you, Y/N.

Miracle.

You grip onto the paper, holding back the tear that want to seep through.

After a month of silence, you’re given this?

No, no, it can’t be like this. It didn’t feel right at all. It felt like all your fears creeping from behind, pushing you down into a hopeless hole that runs for an eternity.

Like an instant reaction, you do the first thing that comes into your mind: searching for your phone and tapping away on the screen, the cold screen pressed against your ear.

“Wonwoo? Can we talk?”

You and Wonwoo meet half an hour later in Seventeen, yourself ordering a sweet treat to unhealthily energise you. Wonwoo, on the other hand, ordered himself the Real Cocoa, a new order that was added just last week (which was basically their branded hot chocolate).

You do admit that you truly did think that Wonwoo was Miracle, but after the situation, it didn’t just confirm that Wonwoo wasn’t him, but that it was better off being friends with him. Towards him, your feelings never escalated because in the end, Wonwoo was just a really good friend.

“Care to tell me what’s up? You made me worried after that call…”

“Sorry… Just, let me explain all of this to you.”

“I’m all ears.”

And you tell him everything. You tell him about Miracle, the love letters, the strawberry milk, about your desire to find Miracle, Jihoon helping you along the way, even admitting that you thought Wonwoo was Miracle because his actions fit into the actions of Miracle, the so-called reveal, the month of silence after that, and finally the present day: the ode.

Wonwoo props up a paper crane made from his tissue next to him, humming as he takes in all of the information with a calmness to him.

“Do you have it on you?” Wonwoo asks, “The ode — that goodbye letter.”

You search through your bag for the item, handing it to Wonwoo, his fingers unfolding the paper’s contents and exposing their woods, letting his eyes scan paper systematically. His lips move along to the words, whispering a few phrases. In such a short time, you manage to remember most words of that letter.

The male gestures that he’s finished reading by placing the letter back on the table. First, he sighs, head jerking itself slightly. “Wow. I’m flattered that someone thinks of me as if I’m perfect—“

You whack him on the arm, a little angry he had to joke in such a scenario, but it lost some of the tension inside yourself.

“Kidding, but, I do feel slightly responsible. I never intended for my actions to affect him. So this was the last letter he sent? No hints to who he his, not even a name?”

Shaking your head, Wonwoo tuts at the response. “I can only tell you that his handwriting is pretty. It’s also why I thought you could’ve been Miracle too, but guess not, so…”

“True, it is nicely written. Lets just read through the letter again until we come up with something.”

So you look through the letter over and over until every word is memorised, nothing relevant coming into mind.

“Whatcha’ guys looking at?” The unintended scare makes Wonwoo and you jump, Junhui reacting along with the both of you despite being the one who scared you. He’s in his uniform, so he must be working right now.

“Love letter.” Wonwoo states, but you glare at him.

He isn’t wrong per se, but to say something like that out loud was awkward.

Correcting him, you add, “We’re finding out who wrote this letter.” To be honest, you didn’t want to add Junhui — the first suspect on the potential Miracles list — into this, but it was too late to tell him something else. Wonwoo ruined that chance anyway. “Wanna help? We kinda need all the help we can get.”

Junhui’s eyes widen. “Woah, you have an admirer Y/N?!”

Brokenly nodding, you also think it’s better to confess to Junhui as well. Keeping it in will only feel heavier on your load. “Actually, at first, I thought it was you…”

“It wasn’t just me?” Wonwoo asks, surprised.

“Mhmm. It’s just three of you, though.”

“And who’s the third?”

“Um… Soonyoung,”

Junhui points at the letter, “You really think Soonyoung has handwriting this nice? We should get you to an opticians after this—“

“Jun!” Wonwoo nudges him, Junhui laughing.

“Hey, I’m not wrong!”

Shrugging, Wonwoo bends his elbow over the chair, turning to Junhui. “Any ideas then? Anything is helpful.”

Junhui bends over, head moving left and right like a metronome as he reads through the letter, face concentrated like when he was picking between the teddy and flower. You should ask him how that story went.

In the end, Junhui shakes his head. You and Wonwoo grunt.

“Unless,” He comes closer to the paper again, “Miracle wrote this letter in here.”

“Here? How the heck can you confirm that?” You ask, taking glimpses of the paper.

“The coffee ring.”

Wonwoo argues, “But that could’ve been from any other coffee shop.”

Junhui moves back and presents the paper for the both of you to see. “If you feel it, it still feels damp and you can see some of the coffee imprinted to the other side where the note is folded. What time did you get this letter Y/N?”

“Almost an hour ago? It was slid through my dorm door.”

Triumphant, Junhui snaps his fingers. “Exactly! If this note was still fresh with these coffee stains, Seventeen is the only one that fits the criteria because your dorm wouldn’t be too far away from here.”

“Holy shit. He’s onto something.” Wonwoo gasps.

“Did you see who wrote this Jun?”

“Nope. I was restocking items then, sorry Y/N — but I probably guess it was the guy sitting near the entrance by the corner wearing a cap and mustard shirt. A gasp came from that corner and I got a glimpse of coffee being spilt there. I never got to see his face though.”

“Progress.” Inhaling a sharp sigh, Wonwoo relaxes in his chair, noticing your sullen star at the paper.

“We need a little bit more than that though… I swear, Miracle will forever be a mystery— AH!” You yell when you look at the window, Soonyoung’s face pressed against the glass, producing an ugly face. Gaining a reaction from you three, Soonyoung laughs evilly as he walks into the cafe, slinging an arm around Junhui.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere Wonwoo! I thought we were going to that new PC bang you’ve been talking about non-stop! I even ended dance practice early for it… Oh, hey Y/N!”

Wonwoo scrunches his face. “About that, well…”

“Anywho!” Soonyoung interrupts. “I saw you all crowded here, so, let me join in on the fun!”

Junhui picks up the light item for Soonyoung to see. “Can you guess who wrote this?”

Soonyoung takes it from Junhui’s hands, his reading combination of squinting his eyes and jutting out a lip. Furrowing his eyebrows, his head cocks back.

“Oh, it’s Jihoon’s hadnwriting.”

Jihoon?

“Him? Why bring him up all of a sudden—” You stammer, unable to keep the nervousness inside. “Besides, he doesn’t write like that.”

“He does! This is totally Jihoon’s! I see it inside the books he carries.”

“His handwriting his messy. Like really, really messy.”

“I know his handwriting when I see it,” you go mute over Soonyoung’s argument, Wonwoo noticing the argument progressing somewhere else.

Wonwoo takes it into his own hands. “Okay, we trust you Soon, but is there anything else you can connect to Jihoon other than that?”

Soonyoung shows the neatly torn side of the paper. “You can tell it’s been ripped from a book. He does this a lot when we’re together, but normally crumples them and throws it on the ground or something like that when it doesn’t ‘sound right’ to him…” Soonyoung faces you. “You also notice he rips a lot of paper out of his journals too, right?”

You nod, further improved by the addition of Junhui, stating, “Jihoon isn’t great with words either — he must’ve had to write what he would wanna say multiple times before writing the final thing—“

“Which explains why so many pages are ripped out from his book!” Soonyoung finishes for him, baffled.

Wonwoo leans into the table a bit more, propping himself with his arm. “Have you met him today? Jihoon?” Soonyoung nods. “What did he wear?”

“Let’s see. He wore a yellow shirt—“ Junhui’s eyes open in panic, Soonyoung rambling on, “I don’t understand how he wasn’t cold, it’s freezing.”

You look at Junhui and Wonwoo. “He didn’t say anything about a cap, anyone could’ve worn a yellow shirt…” Why were you arguing against this? Half of you didn’t want to believe it, the other half…

“Cap? I let Jihoon borrow mine because he left midway during dance practice. Guess he got bored. Was it white?”

For confirmation, Wonwoo looks at Junhui — Soonyoung mirroring Wonwoo to make it look like he knows what’s happening — who slowly nods in somewhat horror.

After the reaction passes on to the other two, they hurry to the note and reread it together, all the faint murmurs about Jihoon turning into exaggerated exclamations as they get to the end of the letter.

Drowning into deep thought, ignoring all of the others’ reactions, you piece together the truth. “No way — the garden — it was him. He was waiting for me. Jihoon is Miracle. Holy shit, what have I done?”

“Garden?” Junhui questions. Because of your late realisation to how oblivious you were, you thoroughly rub your eyes, letting this sink in. Wonwoo’s lips thin, hand tapping your arm to comfort you.

“At least we revealed Miracle’s identity,”

“It took you this long to figure out it was the person you’ve been around this whole time?”

“It didn’t seem like it was him Soonyoung! And I still dragged him into it… I flat out rejected him that day, he must hate me—“

“Hey, that isn’t true.” Reasons Wonwoo. “You two need to talk it out and apologise. Sure, you took a while to come to your senses, but he shouldn’t have led you on and decide to call it quits last second.”

Junhui puts a finger against the window. “Jihoon’s right over there — exiting campus.” All of you swivel your heads to watch the male walk out of the grounds, expressionless. “You should talk to him!”

“I can get him—“

“Wait, Soonyoung, stay. I think I have a plan. But all of you need to help me.”

It’s a nice day, Jihoon thinks, walking across the hallway, his eyes concentrated on the window and the students in groups enjoying their day. Other than that, he isn’t paying too much attention to anything, music coming through his headphones.

But his phone vibrates, causing him to tap the screen and see what the text is.

Is it okay if we talk?

Jihoon hitches a breath as he rereads the six words over and over, his heart slightly throbbing too fast, the rush of feelings flooding in. He doesn’t like this feeling — or the reason that they came back so quickly — it was like an uninvited guest.

As much as his feelings were at the tip of the iceberg, he didn’t want to give into you. He promised himself to let things go; to have time to himself before acting as if everything was fine.

So, he sets his phone away and continues walking, turning up the sound even though he’s fully aware it’s not going to distract him. He’ll reply to you in a few hours, maybe say his phone died on him, or something.

He glances at his hand, it’s shaking — what the heck?

There’s a prodding around his shoulder blade and a muffled noise behind him, but it takes him a while to finally reacts to the student who stops him in his tracks by standing in front of him. Hanging his headphones around his neck, Jihoon looks at the other with widened eyes, shifting them from time to time as he has never seen this person in his life.

“Jihoon, is it?” They say. Careful, Jihoon nods. “Someone wants to meet you at the lecture hall. He’s… This high?” The student raises their hand to estimate their height. “You won’t miss him.”

“Okay… Do you know what it’s for?” After saying that, he realises he should’ve asked who this person was, but Jihoon went against changing his question. The student shrugs and Jihoon can’t blame them — he doesn’t even know why someone would want to see him anyway, unless it’s Soonyoung asking to eat for the millionth time — “It’s alright. Thanks for tell me anyway. Um, have a nice day.”

Walking away, Jihoon’s mind lingers on what he could be asked, an odd feeling in his stomach the more he tries to push down his emotions.

Arriving to the lecture hall, he takes glimpses inside to see if there was one vacant or had someone that remotely looked like they were waiting for Jihoon.

Luckily, he finds one that fits the first criteria, and also revealed someone packing up their things near the front rows. Jihoon isn’t too sure if that’s who wants to see him, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask anyway.

He steps down the stairs until he’s level with the person, shocked to see it was Junhui. “Jun?”

Nonchalant, Junhui faces Jihoon and forms a kind face when he sees the male. “Jihoon? I haven’t seen you in a while, you doing fine?”

“Oh — I’ve been well,”

“Nice,” Junhui nods in appreciation, midway packing his things, “my lecture just ended. Did you want something?”

Junhui didn’t want to see me? Did he just forget? Jihoon puffs his cheeks. “Ah — no, it’s okay—“ he’s about to leave, but something inside him stops him from doing so. “By any chance, did you wanna talk to me?”

“Right!” Junhui gasps, digging back into his bag as he brings out an item. “Can you give this to Soonyoung? I forgot to this morning since I was in a hurry and my shift is soon.”

Doing such a simple favour can make Jihoon just say no, can you do it when you see Soonyoung again? to Junhui, but he doesn’t want to look rude so he complies to the request, being lent the white cap into his hands.

“I’ll see if he’s in the dance studio.”

“You’re a lifesaver Jihoon, I owe you one. You like food don’t you? Let’s eat next time. Okay?” A grin widens on Junhui’s face naturally and Jihoon, like he’s under a spell, nods the slightest, Junhui finally packing up and slinging a bag over him, walking away whilst humming.

Jihoon gets to relax when he finally leaves, expressing a whole sigh. Junhui’s so relaxed, isn’t he? Not to mention friendly too. Who could say no to him?

Now heading to the dance studio, Jihoon twirls the cap around his finger, his mind still going back to your text. Then he remembers he’s going to Soonyoung, and a funny memory comes into his head.

It’s the time when Soonyoung asked him about you — if you were seeing someone. In Jihoon’s mind, it wasn’t his place to say if you were dating, but at the same time, he didn’t like to think about you with someone else. From what began as platonic blossomed into something more, a slight desire to treasure you for himself, but it sounded crazy in Jihoon’s head.

Therefore in the end, he didn’t answer Soonyoung’s question. Jihoon was also aware of the feelings Soonyoung had for you, despite Soonyoung’s bad attempts of trying to disapprove of it. Jihoon was tagged to not express his feelings, so Jihoon kept it that way. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to break up his friendship with Soonyoung by admitting he liked you too — he wanted Soonyoung to keep his puppy love for you.

“Hey man, what’s up Hoon?”

Jihoon flinches a little. He didn’t even register that he was in the dance studio already. He greets Soonyoung with a wobbly smile. “Jun wanted to give this back.”

“Oh, I’ve been searching for this everywhere!” Soonyoung throws his current cap away and wears the white one. “While you’re here, I need to give you something.”

“Am I being a messenger owl today?” Scoffs Jihoon.

“What?”

“Nothing,”

An item is placed into Jihoon’s hand — a laptop that was familiar to him — and he looks at Soonyoung’s face, smiling as if it was nothing. He couldn’t blame Soonyoung, but it was like a stab to a fresh wound.

“Can you give this to Y/N? I used it to transport some files to my phone. I pretty sure she’s in the library with Wonwoo. They’re familiar with each other aren’t they?”

Yes Soonyoung, I know that, Jihoon grits his teeth. Jihoon shouldn’t be like this; he has no right to be. Why, out of all people, does he have to see Y/N and Wonwoo face to face? Fate was probably laughing at him today.

How sad.

“Whatever.” Jihoon eventually comments, walking out. Soonyoung shouts love you Jihoon! as he walks out, Jihoon scowling secretly. But he can’t get mad at Soonyoung — it was a harmless act in the end.

Soonyoung exhales loudly once Jihoon leaves. There’s a reason why Soonyoung isn’t a drama major, thank god he played it off decently. He finds his phone, lifting it to his ear. “You’re up.”

It’s quite a walk, but Jihoon makes it to the library, holding in a breath. Is it normal for is heart to beat this fast? Maybe not, but it was.

Jihoon slaps himself lightly on the cheek, wanting to come back to the reality of this all. It’s over. The simple words keeps Jihoon motivated to enter the library, quiet and unbothered.

Yet to his surprise, you couldn’t be seen anywhere. Like an idiot, he walks up and down and around the library three times before concluding one, everyone was certainly beginning to think he’s insane, and two, you aren’t in the library.

“Fantastic.” Jihoon clicks his tongue, preparing himself for what’s about to happen. Right now, he wants to kick a chair, yet he suppresses that as he walks to the desk, paper cranes of different sizes and colours filling the sides.

Jihoon stares at Wonwoo, who’s in his own world, silently folding more cranes one by one, multitasking as he reads through a textbook.

Slowly arriving in front of the desk, Jihoon clears his throat. Awkwardly.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hm — Jihoon?” Wonwoo puts down his in-progress crane, tilting his head. “How may I help?”

His chill tone makes Jihoon bubble with envy inside. Insecurity hits. Manifests. Jihoon presents the laptop to Wonwoo, hand running along one of your stickers in the corner.

He either had two options: ask where you were, or ask Wonwoo to give the laptop to you.

Jihoon comes to a decision.

“Give this to Y/N please,”

“Ah, Y/N just left, what bad timing,” Wonwoo pouts, now holding the laptop and storing it behind the desk, “I’ll return it as soon as possible. Y/N will be really happy.”

“Okay.” Forcing a smile, Jihoon thinks he can’t hold this up any longer. It feels like the world is closing on him. “Now I, uh, better go—“

“Before you do,” Wonwoo disrupts, “Y/N left this.” He shows a closed letter, sliding it along the desk to Jihoon. “I think it’s for you.”

Me? “I don’t think so…” Jihoon shakes his head, rejecting the letter. “Its probably for you.”

“Pretty sure it isn’t,” the other holds up a smile, “we’re just friends. Whatever it is, I don’t think Y/N would tell me something through letter.” Wonwoo pushes the letter just slightly, enough to tip over the edge and for Jihoon to clumsily catch it. “I have no idea what it’s about, but the name says what it says.”

Jihoon checks the letters on the flap. Lee Jihoon.

“Oh.” Jihoon says intelligently. He moves his lips to add something, but recognises the person waiting behind him, giving no option but to quickly say goodbye and walk out.

Sitting after much exhaustion, Jihoon unfolds the black letter and takes out the tiny-sized paper.

Dear Jihoon,

This is long overdue on my behalf, so here it is.

You had me fooled.

Fooled you were helping me all this time; fooled that you were just tagging along with this; fooled I was going the wrong way all this time. But you know what? You fooled yourself too.

Fooled yourself by watching me go through each person, one by one. Fooled through pointing out the good things about everyone. Fooled because when it came to you, you looked at yourself negatively. I could be mad — I’d have a right to be — but it’s not what I’m here for.

I’m here to tell you the truth.

The truth that you don’t have to be Junhui to be loved by everyone, or be Soonyoung to catch my attention, even Wonwoo to make me smile ‘brightly’. I want you to be you.

Jihoon who’s always hardworking, the person who brings a smile to my face every day without fail, who I hold precious to my heart, who’s amazing in every single way but stays grounded. You — with a loving heart even though he doesn’t want to admit, that through the stubbornness, you cherish those close to you; admire them, even.

You admire them to the point that you think you can’t get to their level, and it hurts me to see you can’t recognise your glow. Because of you, each day is beautiful to me. Persona or true self, you are held dear to me, because in the end, it’s you.

Out of all possibilities, I wouldn’t have thought you’d admire someone like me. ‘Why me?’ Is what I thought the first time I recieved that letter during that cold January. Though, I slowly loved myself more and more with your words, and I was always on the receiving end.

What I’m trying to say is… I wanna return the favour. Show you how special you are, make you love yourself the same way you did to me.

So please, meet me in the garden? I miss you so much.

I miss your face, smile, voice, the stupid texts you send at 2AM — I miss it all. I hope you do, too.

It’s fine if you don’t come. I just wanted to let you know all of this.

My miracle; that’s who you are in my eyes.

Love, Y/N.

Jihoon begins to run to the garden, heart beating faster than ever. Inside the library, Wonwoo smiles, soon texting you.

Out of the endless possibilities.

Jihoon stumbles into the garden, turning around and round, searching with every fibre of energy in him. He stops, thinking deeply before his eyes lighten — shimmering — when he goes into the direction of the hidden area, hidden behind vivid green leaves and small, white flowers growing.

He sees you standing there, a fresh breeze coming to him. He feels unworthy of being dressed so casually like this but it doesn’t matter because you’re there.

Your hand gripped onto your arm as you’re seated on the stone bench, gently swinging your legs and face sullen yet calm, eyes moving from your shoes to the stone path.

Only one miracle has happened before our eyes

Quietly, he calls out your name.

Your ears pick it up, the quiet call feeling like the loudest thing in your mind, all the messy thoughts fading away. The two of you meet face to face, taking in every curve and expression forming on your face.

Jihoon’s smooth skin kissed with faint beauty marks, deep irises shaking as they gaze at you, eyelashes moving beautifully when he closes his eyes, the hue of his cheeks warming to a cherry blossom pink, being bridged over his nose, lips agape, no words escaping out of him.

He’s just like you remembered him: beautiful.

Even if we miss each other, it’s alright, I’ll find you.

He approaches you first, walking with a little sigh while his eyes concentrate on you. You couldn’t just break away, you were enchanted too.

When Jihoon stands in front of you, he takes you by the hand, pulling you up and not letting go afterwards.

“Hi,” dumbly, you say.

“Hi.” He says with the same tone.

It makes the both of you laugh, breaking away in shy giggles as Jihoon’s lips wobble once more, and his hands begin to shake. You hold onto his hands tight, running a thumb over his skin. “Look at me,” you whisper.

Jihoon looks at you. After all the feelings he kept inside, the insecurities he hid away, the admiration he has for everyone else but himself, he looks at you and it goes away.

He finds it dazzling how you have so much impact on him. You, standing there, and letting every single thing in his head dissolve. Just like that, it’s done all because of you.

You smile, moving your hand to his cheek. Naturally, Jihoon nuzzles into your palm. Just watching it, you knew that you didn’t mind this.

So let’s be in love even more, so we won’t lose this miracle.

Jihoon breaks away from your touch, his hand reaching into his back pocket, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. His hands, still shaky, takes it out, flatting the deep creases made in them.

You remember that piece of paper; it was from his notebook the day you met in this exact same spot.

“Y/N,” Jihoon reads off the paper, and it’s apparent that you can hear his heartbeats from all the way here, “I’m aware I’m the last person who you would’ve thought to be,” you laugh in between his words, Jihoon relaxing along with you, “but I hope you aren’t disappointed. After all, I did warn you.”

He looks away from the paper, putting it by his side.

“So enough with this persona, and time to formally reveal myself. I’m Jihoon and I like you so, so much Y/N. I can’t think of anyone else but you. It’s always been you. Finally, I can say this — no worries, nothing. Will you be mine?”

Happiness rockets inside you, pulling Jihoon into a hug without any warning, nodding speechlessly. Jihoon melts into the hug too, hands wrapped securely around you.

“Say it again,” you softly ask.

Jihoon’s chuckle vibrates from his chest, sending a warm feeling to you. “I like you,”

You smile so much that it hurts, hands playing with Jihoon’s hair. “I like you too, my miracle.”

All the beautiful words from the countless letters sent to you finally come to a reality, its beautifulness more apparent inside Jihoon’s eyes, not able to comprehend such a sight that he’ll cherish for an eternity. He hums questionably, causing you to look at him with shy eyes.

Forever, this was wanted for forever.

“It’s you; you’re my miracle.”

Thank the heavens Jihoon reciprocated that feeling too.

[taeyungie]

hiiiii~ 🎨 pleaseee? 🥺

SKY YESSSS EVERYTHING FOR YOU! YOU'RE HERE! A REAL QUEEN HAS ARRIVED INTO MY ARMS AAAAAAA I CANNOT WAIT TO WRITE A WHOLE BOOK IN THIS ASK ✨👍❤️❤️❤️❤️ idk i know it's silly but i get so much joy from complimenting you in practicular sjdhsjks you're just the cutest and you deserve all the love AND I'M HERE TO GIVE IT TO YOU AT ALL TIMES!!!! 😌😌😌❤️💕💘💓❤️💕💘 you're really truly the one who carries this site on your shoulders and it makes me so incredibly proud of you because you always work so hard 🥺 YOU MAKE SO MANY PEOPLE HAPPY i couldn't imagine being here without you!! YOU'RE ESSENTIAL, ANGEL. Before i start with showering your gifs in love all i want to say is that YOUR GIFS JUST OPEN MY THIRD EYE AND I HEAR ANGELS SING. DON'T YOU TELL ME LATER AGAIN THAT I'M EXAGGERATING (I'll get to that later on 😤) BECAUSE YOU'RE SIMPLY A GENIUS ✨ your style are one in a million, there's no way i could ever get confused on whether a gif is yours because your gifs are unmistakable!! ONE OF A KIND! you're such a precious baby, always being worried if your gifs are pretty and this makes me want to give you all the love (BUT AT THE SAME TIME LIKE 😤😤🤜👊🤛✊🤛👊✊ HAVE YOU SEEN YOUR OWN GIFS???? LIKE /ONE/ EVEN??????? OH MY GOD) and write essays about your every gifset because every 👏 single 👏 one 👏 of your sets makes me want to write poems NOW MOVING ONNNNN

I'll really have to put this under the cut because oh my god i'm so sorry you might want to get a popcorn on the way because.... yeah

good god i think i need to lie down YOU DROPPED A BOMB AND NEXT SECOND YOU JUST VANISHED LIKE '💆🏻‍♀️😌💅🏻 uhuh goodnight' AKSNDKSJSKSKKSKSKSKD ARE YOU SANE THIS IS INSANE FKANDKDKDKSJSSK THE WAY THAT I SAW THIS CLIP BEFORE AND THOUGHT oh he looks gooood BUT NOW YOU DECIDED TO JUST UH??? PUT SOME OF YOUR ✨SPICE✨ INTO THIS MEAL AND PUT IT ON A PLATE LOOKING LIKE /THIS/???????????????? bro i need a doctor i'm having literal heart palpitations...... WHERE DO I EVEN START 🙏 (warning: a very stupid and corny word-play ahead) he's beauty he's grace he's mr. golden face WKDHSKSKKS BUT REALLY HIS SKINNNNNNNNNN HISSSS SKIIIIIINNNNNNNNN 😭😭😭😭😭 THE WAY HE'S GLOWING, PLEASE!!!!!!!!! only you can make them look like this, you pull out in their skin colors everything what's the best, just stunning. next, lips.. oh my goodness, lips. beautiful, amazing, just *mwah*, beautiful, kinda desaturated (which i love in your gifs) red shade. next we have CURVES GAME ON POINT, JUST STUNNING, IF I TELL YOU THAT YOU INSPIRE ME SO MUCH AKSJSJSJSJSJKS amazing blend to the background, beautiful contrast. your gifs make me fall in love with him more and more every day 💔 and i can't leave without mentioning SHARPENING SETTINGS AAAAAAA i love itttt

indeed the cutest pie 😭😭😭 i loooove how you sometimes make your gifs so tall, you know, it's so pleasing to look at and makes them so unique and pretty. I LOVE the coloring here, it's so soft and makes everything look so flawless and light?? because gif itself is a bit dark too and his skin, and light hair are just outstanding but the contrast is so soft that everything is just pulled together nicely and looks amazing! and i love how you just pulled a magenta on me and made his mic look THIS GOOD ahhhh it's THE PRETTIEST MIC EVER 😭

this set is just... yummy 🤷‍♀️ you know???? YOU KNOW i know you know 👏 I'M– so in love with the coral, mustard and soft minty shades of background probably that's why it reminds me just of a good candy 👍👍 to add to that there actually ARE candies on the screen, like 4 of them 👀👀👀👀 again, curves adjustments - *chiefs kiss* i love skin colors and lips, it's something i can't get enough of i just simply want to eat a gif 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

now, we have reached the star of the show. I'll bring back something as a friendly reminder :

you cannot just say it's not the best and then have me just staring at it for five next hours ISLSNSJWNSJSJSNKSSJSJ please PLEASE where am i supossed to start FIRST OF ALL WHICH PARALLEL UNIVERSE YOU'RE LIVING IN THAT YOU MANAGED TO MAKE MAGENTAS LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL I JUST CANNOT UNDERSTAND HOW KAJSJSKS i'm really saying this seriously right now but this gifset made me tear up because i notice every single detail and it overwhelmed me to the very ends of my nerve endings KSJSKSK BECAUSE– 😔 skin color, suit color, hair color, lip color, mic color, sharpening, background, lighting, contrast, exposure.... all of it is just so beautifully composed and i don't think anyone could ever make something this amazing, especially looking at raw footage like comparing your gif to video frame it's just.. insane. you have magic hands and big brain that's all i have to say and i think it's truly one of my favorite sets of yours

run episode koo 🥺🥺 first and foremost i wanna notice and highlight how much i love that you just got rid of...... all blue and green KSJDJS LIKE PERIOD QUEEN AS YOU SHOULD ✨✨✨ i was kinda scared to do it on my own gifs and here i have another example of how you're just a genius, not scared of ANYTHING ✊💯💘 and then we can move onto his beautiful, tanned, golden skin and gorgeous red lips. I LOOOVEEEEEE IT SO MUCH I LOVE CURVES HERE AGAIN AAAAAAA I'll literally say it every time because it's the best part of your every set and I'm A COWARD TO MAKE MY GIFS TOO DARK AND DO THE CURVES THE WAY I WANT TO SKDJJSKS so i admire yours 😌✨

this gifset just simply brings me so much joy, it's like drinking a glass of cold water in the middle of the night, it's like feeling a warm gentle touch of sunlight on your skin when the sun is rising, it's like a fresh breeze ✨ again, stunning coloring, i love how you mixed oranges with this pastel blue and beiges you have kinda going there 🙇‍♀️ on its just so so so pretty AND ALSO OF COURSE /THEM/, THEY ARE JUST SILLY AND BEAUTIFUL, NEXT QUESTION

AJSHSJJSDKABSJDKSKKSS FIRST OF ALL THE ✨BONUS✨ IS LITERALLY ME @ YOU AFTER YOU DROPPED OF THIS GIFSET like you know i like this whole situation we have going on here wink wink how old was he in 2015 lemme do a quick math yeah 18 EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD WAS HE AND HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO LOOK LIKE THIS???? yeah no if i was a stan back then we would have a problem you know 👊✊🤜👊🤛✊👊 me looking like.... just nowhere near /this/ good..... at almost 20th year of my life is crying. i love the use of reds and brown here AND OF COURSE CURVES, MOVING ON

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯!!!!!! THIS SET LOOKS LIKE A HONEY COMB!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ i love how vibrant and bright the background is but you still managed to restore his skin into a perfect golden shade AHHHHHH it's so pretty

NEXT ONE IS DEDICATED FOR USER TAEYUNGIE IDK HER BUT SHE'S SURE DAMN LUCKY 🔊🔊🔊🔊 PLEASE i was so happy when you decided to make this set in the end 🥺🥺🥺 i belive i already screamed lots under the set in the tags but AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH it's amazing beautiful just gorgeous from head to toe (a gif i mean cuz clearly we cannot see his toes SKSJSJSKSJSK) A M A Z I N G coloring, veey warm very soft he just looks like a carmel with raspberry on top (WHY DO I USE SO MANY FOOD REFERENCES SKJSJSKS I'M NOT HUNGRY I SWEAR) BUT NO, FOR REAL. he just looks so cozy here and i wanna hug him so much 😔😔😔 long story short my mind and stomach perform pirouettes because i'm head over heels for this man. AGAIN THANK YOU SM BABY FOR DEDICATING THIS ONE FOR ME ❤️❤️❤️

we're here, we survived till the 10th and at the same time last gifset of this post, TIME TO POP THE CHAMPAGNE ✨ and scream a little but more because HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL I'M LITERALLY FEELING MYSELF EVAPORATING SJSJKSKSKS the contrast here is darker than usual AND I'M LOVING IT it's bringing all his best features also he just looks like a glazed donut which kinda makes me cry (WAIT I JUST REALIZED I AGAIN DID A GOOD REFERENCE SKJSJS WTF) BUT HIS GLOW 😭 HIS GLOW 😭😭✨ just amazing, it's inappropriate how much i spent staring at this set KSJSJSKSK

when i tell you that writing this one took me like... two hours. but it was totally worth it and purely out of love for your stuff. anyway, i deserve a kiss on the forehead 😌

creators send me 🎨 & I’ll tell you my favorite of your last ten creations and why

[dominodamsel]

Hi! I just found you through @revolutionaryduelist and I just wanna say 1, I LOVE your art, and 2, could I ask a lil’ about your art? What program(s) do you use? What brush do you use for your AMAZING lineart and how do you choose lineart colors?? What dark magic do you use to shade??? I find your use of color phenomenal! Have an amazing day! :-D

thanks for this nice ask! i use paint tool sai, specifically the anglicized version that you can find online.

lets draw bernie fire emblem and go through my process.

first off, my brushes.

this is the brush i use for sketching, coloring, and cleaning. sometimes for highlights in the eyes or the rough first patch of shading, i also use ink pen, just the default settings.

this is my blending brush. if you give it a texture, blending stuff wont look as boring as it otherwise might. 

now, let’s draw bernadetta.

(1) first of all, the rough sketch. i start out with just shapes and then just keep going, all on one layer.

(2) then, i clean that sketch up a little - not too much, you dont need it to look perfect. i dont like drawing lineart at all, so this is what i work with - the sketch, a bit cleaned up, put on multiply. i change the color of the sketch according to what im drawing. for example, if i draw a character like inigo, whos got brown skin and hair, ill end up with yellow, orange or red lineart. if i draw a character during the night, ill use blue lineart. if its dusk, maybe a strong purple. you can change this later, as well.

next, below, i fill in the colors, usually about a layer for each color i use. i usually start out with the hair and end with skin, but it doesnt really matter. try to use colors that vary in saturation and brightness - if everything is very saturated, things end up looking blinding, but if everything is desaturated, it might be boring to look at. this isnt a hard rule, of course, but for this kind of normal illustration with neutral lighting conditions, its good to keep in mind.

now, onto shading. here i used the ink pen for a moment. take your base color, in this case bernies purple hair. the highlight is less saturated, and moves up the color wheel, more toward a reddish tone. the shadow is more saturated, and moves down, toward a blue-ish purple. you can also make the highlight more saturated than the base and the shadow less saturated than the base, but i think its best to decide on one or the other. moving along the color wheel rather than just decreasing or increasing brightness will also help making the picture more vivid.

for hair and gauntlets, i just put on the shadow and highlight and blend it out with the blend tool. for skin and fabric, i use a different method.

first, add blush. blush should be far more saturated than the skin color. i added a touch of deep red in the middle as well for depth. this should be blended.

the shadows on the skin, however, i fill in with ink pen. some parts of this need hard lines, like the outside of the ear shadow, the lower side of the nose shadow, etc. you dont just want an airbrushed look, but a defined line. for this, i use a shade that is slightly more saturated than the base color, but not as saturated as the blush.

then, i add a lowlight color to make the shadow feel more dynamic and interesting. you can go many ways with this - if you check the coat in the next few images, youll see that i used a less saturated color to counteract the very orange shadow. in the case of her skin, i used a more saturated color that is very pink to mimic her hair. i cant really explain this step well, because most of the time, i get to that shade through experimenting.

blend some of the lowlight, but make sure not to ruin the harder lines of the shadow. i did it on the same layer as the base color because im lazy, but you could easily make a clipped layer, add the shadow, and then preserve opacity to make sure everything stays clean. for my purpes it doesnt really matter though since ill be going over the whole thing during cleaning again.

in the circled areas, i took the blush color and gently airbrushed some on for depth and warmth.

heres the rest of the shading. as i said, i used a less saturated reddish tone for the lowlight in the cape. for the bow and cape, i opted out of highlight, because i imagine them as made out of a sort of thick, unreflective fabric. 

now, all thats left to do is clean! i make a new layer atop everything, zoom in a bit, and go over it all with my brush and the eyedrop tool. a lot of my WIPs look like this, with a part of it very crisp and clean and most of it still sketchy and vague lol. colordrop from everywhere, and create something nice!

in the end, this is the finished picture! i turn the blend on my brush up and down depending on what im doing and what i need. the cleaning process takes the longest by far.

anyways, i hope this was helpful. if you have other questions, feel free to ask ‘em.

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You ch. 19

Read on Ao3

Marinette couldn’t get the taste of Chat Noir off her lips.

It didn’t seem to matter that it had been nearly a whole week since he’d kissed her (and she had, admittedly, kissed him back). It didn’t matter that he hadn’t stopped by since. What mattered was that it had happened and she’d been able to think about little else since.

It wasn’t that she was completely enamoured or anything. In fact, it was the opposite. The fact was, Adrien still owned her heart. She’d only just managed to start holding down conversations with him, but her palms still sweat, her pulse still raced any time he glanced her way.

No, the reason she couldn’t stop thinking about Chat Noir was because, in those moments when he’d been kissing her, she hadn’t been confused at all. It wasn’t that everything had gone quiet and she didn’t care or that the affection had helped her make a choice. No, it was that in that moment, it had felt like everything had fallen into place, as though her dilemma actually had a really simple answer she’d just forgotten to remember, as though she’d been there before and would be again.

And in all honesty, it terrified her. She’d been in love with Adrien for so long she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else - so why had those few seconds when he’d been kissing her been bliss?

“You ok, girl?” Alya asked when their teacher stepped out of the room for a moment. “You look…” Alya shrugged, frowning, the word she was looking for just out of reach.

“Just tired,” Marinette murmured back, trying to refocus on the math problem in front of her. 

“Late night?” 

Marinette looked up, her heart fluttering to see Adrien had twisted around in his seat to face them.

“Um, yeah,” Marinette said, trying to order her thoughts. “That super hero’s design thing. I’m almost done.”

Alya’s face lit up. “Do you have pictures?” she asked. “Mine’s done but I’m going to spend the next year of my life trying to scrub black dye off my mom’s counters. I’m actually lucky to still be alive.”

“No pictures,” Marinette said with a small grin. “Kind of forgot to take some, but I guess now it’ll be a surprise.”

“I bet it looks awesome,” Adrien said. “It’s based of Chat Noir, right?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said. Her pulse jumped at the heroes name, and she reflexively grabbed her wrist, as though someone would notice. That was new. “It’s also kind of influenced by my mom’s culture. I learned a lot of new techniques working on it.”

“He’s lucky,” Adrien said breezily, “Getting a Dupain-Cheng original based off him. I’m surprised you didn’t choose Ladybug.” He paused, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “Why did you choose Chat Noir?”

To her horror, Marinette felt a blush creeping over her cheeks. “Oh, no particular reason. I mean he’s saved me a couple of times, and he’s always been…really kind, and sweet. And charming. Besides, Ladybug’s always the focus. I thought it would be, um, cool to challenge myself a little.”

Adrien grinned, leaning in. “You think he’s charming?”

Marinette fought the urge to fan herself. “Doesn’t…everyone?”

“Ladybug doesn’t,” Alya snorted. “I mean, you can tell she can see right through him.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said softly, “She always could.”

Marinette frowned at the odd phrasing, but before she could think on it, the door burst open, knocking over the garbage bin and banging off the wall.

Hawkmoth’s villains had always been easy to spot, but Marinette remembered a time, barely, where the appearance of one made her panic so hard it was almost impossible to think. Now it felt like second nature as she grabbed Alya’s wrist and dove under the desk as the classroom erupted into panicked shrieks.

“Do you think that was the teacher?” Alya panted, ripping her phone out of her pocket.

“I didn’t exactly get a good look,” Marinette said as she reached for her backpack. “If it’s not, then the teacher was probably a victim of whatever this one can do. Either way, I don’t think we should stick around to find out.”

“You’re not wrong,” Alya said, slowly sliding her phone out from behind the desk, “But it’s still in front of the door. No way to get past it yet.”

She was probably right, but Marinette thought she could have sounded at least a little more broken up about it.

“Well, well, well, my pets,” the villain said. Marinette could see it surveying the classroom on Alya’s phone screen, a cool grin in place. This one was completely black, with a band of white across its eyes. She couldn’t see where the akuma could be hiding, but releasing it without Ladybug to purify it was a dangerous risk - assuming anyone could even get close enough to try. “So many of you in one place. What are the odds?” It took a few steps further into the room, but was still blocking the door. “Which one of you is most likely to bring Ladybug and Chat Noir running faster?”

Beside her, Alya flinched.  “Not again…”

Chat Noir’s warning came back to Marinette and she couldn’t suppress a shiver. There had been a handful of akuma attacks since the last time he’d visited and none of them had targeted her. Surely nothing had changed. And did it matter? The monster was here in her classroom; she’d make just as good a hostage as anyone else. 

And then Alya stood up, the strap of her book bag clutched in one hand. “Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t the ones you need to worry about!” Alya swung her bag once, twice around her head and flung it at the villain. It sailed through the air, clipping them on the shoulder. 

“We have a volunteer!” the akuma cheered, recovering with alarming speed.

“More than one!” Nino shouted, popping up from his desk as well.

“Don’t forget about me!” Kim chimed in, lurching to his feet. 

There was a sudden deluge of school supplies, and the akuma was forced to come further into the room to avoid the storm. Marinette watched on Alya’s propped-up phone as pens, pencils, books, bags, and even tablets rained down at the front of the room.

Marinette clutched her bag in her hand, prepared to join the fray when she remembered Chat Noir’s request. Stay safe. Fighting the akuma head one would definitely not be safe, but in her heart she knew it was right. And, she thought guiltily, what he’d actually asked her was not to wear a Miraculous again. Besides, trouble had come to her door. She wasn’t going to not do something about it. Not when her friends were in danger. Not ever.

“Ha!” Marinette sprung up, whipping her bag in the direction of the akuma. It missed by a mile without Miraculous enhanced skills, but the akuma still flinched. She counted that as a victory.

“Run!” Alya shouted at everyone else. “We’ll keep it busy! Go! Sound the alert, evacuate the school!”

Marinette saw a few of their classmates shoot guilty looks at them before running for the door, and for the first time, she thought she might understand Chat Noir’s request a little more. She didn’t feel abandoned or left behind; she felt relieved they were no longer in the line of fire, that she could focus without worrying about casualties. It was different when it was someone you knew.

“You'll keep me busy?” the akuma shrieked, suddenly darting towards them. “I don’t think so!”

The akuma reached into a pouch at their side that Marinette hadn’t seen before. They opened their first to reveal a small pile of sparkling white sand that they blew directly in their faces. Before Marinette could blink, Alya shoved her. Marinette’s heel caught on the leg of the desk and she fell back onto the steps in the middle of the classroom.

Marinette looked up in horror as Alya fell back against the desk behind them. Her friend was scowling as she scrubbed at her face, but her expression quickly turned to panic. “I can’t - I can’t see. I can’t see!” Marinette stifled a horrified gas as her friend’s face turned towards her: her eyes had gone completely white. She couldn’t even distinguish where the iris and pupil were supposed to have been. “Don’t let them get the sand in your face!” Alya cried, twisting to face the rest of the classroom. “It blinds you!”

As she watched, Marinette noticed some of the colour fading from her vision. Alya had pushed her, but not fast enough. Not slow enough either. After a few second, the desaturation stopped. Shadows and highlights were stronger, but she could still see.

“Come on,” Marinette whispered. She grabbed Alya around the wrist and carefully lead her friend towards the door as the akuma leapt to the other side of the classroom to wreak havoc. She tried not to think of her friends’ completely white eyes. Chat Noir and Ladybug would save them. They’d fix it.

Marinette’s heart pounded as they made it into the hall. They had to get away. Could they make it home? Was it safe? Was it more risky to take Alya out of the school?

“Leave me,” Alya said as though reading her mind. “It can’t hurt me anymore, Marinette, it’s fine.”

“Not a chance,” Marinette said. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

“And you don’t have to.” Ladybug dropped in from the open atrium roof, her expression like a thundercloud. “Get out of here. We’ll fix this.”

“Ladybug’s here now,” Marinette said to Alya. “And Chat Noir.”

Marinette tried to ignore the way her pulse raced as Ladybug’s partner dropped in beside her. Her skin tingled where he’d touched her last, and she didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked over her from top to bottom, assessing any damage. His gaze lingered on her eyes, and she realized that even though they might not be completely white, they probably weren’t their usual shade of blue.

“You ladies ok?” he asked.

“Alya was struck,” Marinette said. “It has sand in a pouch on its belt. It blinds you if you’re hit with it.”

“It said it was looking for hostages but not much else beyond that,” Alya said.

“We’ll fix this.” Ladybug laid a hand on Alya’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Go hide,” Chat Noir instructed them. “We’ll fix this.” And then, silently, so quick she almost missed it with her damaged vision: I miss you.

And then he was gone, following Ladybug into the classroom.

“Come on.” Marinette began leading Alya down the hall. “In here.”

They ducked into a bathroom. Marinette lead Alya over to the sinks and turned on the tap, guiding her friends’ hands under the running water. As Alya scrubbed at her face, Marinette leaned into her reflection, squinting as she tried to make out the colours. It wasn’t as bad as the damage done to her friend, but a white film had definitely settled over her eyes.

“We’re in the bathroom on the second floor by the art room,” Marinette explained. “Do you think we’re ok here?”

Alya shrugged. “Like I said, the worst has already been done. You should go though, Marinette.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Marinette stubbornly reiterated. She guided her friend over to the far wall, where they both sank down on the floor. She tried to think of a way to pass the time, but anxiety wouldn’t let her focus on anything but Chat Noir.

She knew what he’d asked her, and really, it only made sense. She understood, but…something in her wouldn’t settle. She had only herself, but she found herself struggling not to tear back down the hall and fight with him. Something in her kept telling her she couldn’t let him do it alone. 

But he wasn’t alone, she kept reminding herself. Ladybug was with him. They were a team. She was just… she didn’t even know what she was any more.

“I’ll be back,” Marinette said when she couldn’t stand it any longer, almost against her will. 

“Where are you going?” Alya said, pressing her palms flat against the floor as though to remind herself it was still there.

“It’s been too long,” Marinette said, her hands curling into fists. “They need help.”

She almost expected Alya to stop her, or tell her she was being ridiculous.

“Give it hell for me,” she said instead. “And if you happen to find my phone…” Alya grinned.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marinette said with a smile of her own. She opened the door and flinched as the sounds of battle leaked into the bathroom. She peeked out through the crack she’d made in the door.

The akuma was pressing Chat Noir down the hall as it flung fistfuls of sand down the hall. He was managing to dodge them, but Marinette could tell he was in a similar situation to herself. Ladybug was no where in sight.

Marinette held her breath as they actually passed the bathroom, squeezing her eyes shut as the akuma released another cloud of sand. She silently counted to fifteen. When she opened her eyes again, the fight had just moved past the door and she slipped out into the hall behind the akuma.

Short of an actual plan, Marinette didn’t think, she just leapt - directly onto the akuma’s back, wrapping her arms around its throat. It shrieked as she yanked back on it, and as it moved, she realized Chat Noir was much worse off than she thought, his iris only just barely visible.

“Chat Noir, the pouch!” she yelled.

His ears flicked forward. “Marinette?”

“Hurry!” she urged as her hands started to slip.

“You call this staying safe?” he demanded, lunging forward.

“You seem like you could…use the help,” she panted, adjusting her grip. 

“You don’t belong here, Marinette,” he snapped. “You’re going to get yourself hurt, or worse.”

Wait, was he actually mad at her?

“Well, excuse me for saving you,” Marinette retorted. “Again.”

Chat Noir winced, and she felt bad for even bringing it up, but he wasn’t being fair. He didn’t bother with a retort as he redoubled his efforts, but she suddenly realized he was attacking more wildly than before.

He’s afraid he’s going to hit me by mistake, she realized. Alright, time for a new plan.

Marinette released her grip. She slid down the akuma’s back and made no move to stop herself as she hit the ground. She she did, she reached out, snatching the pouch as she went by and tearing it off the akuma. It shrieked as she did so, but Marinette didn’t give it a chance to turn on her.

“Chat Noir!” she yelled, “Cataclysm!”

Marinette dove through the akuma’s feet as Chat Noir activated his power. She seized his wrist as she came to her feet and slapped the pouch down in his hand. She bit back a whimper of pain as the contact sent cataclysm shockwaves rocketing through her hand. She snatched her hand back, but not before angry purple bruises bloomed on her skin.

“Ladybug, now!” Chat Noir yelled as the akuma drifted free. Moments later, the magical swarm of ladybugs surged out of the classroom. A small detachment of them spiralled around Marinette’s hand, easing the pain of what she guessed were several fractures.

Ladybug darted out of the classroom and leapt onto the balcony down the hall, her gaze fixed on the escaping butterfly. “I’ll take care of this.” They watched her disappear through the open atrium roof.

The beeping of Chat Noir’s ring broke the silence. He turned without another word and walked away down the hall.

“Hey!” Marinette called, running after him. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

“What do you want me to say, Marinette?” Chat Noir demanded, whirling on her. “‘Thanks for needlessly risking your life after I specifically asked you not to’?”

“Needlessly?” Marinette repeated. “You were seconds away from losing your Miraculous!”

“This is my fault,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I blurred the lines. I never should have let you get this close.”

Marinette tried not to show how much the admission hurt her. “You have been one of the best things in my life for a while,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He met her gaze, but none of the warmth she’d grown used to it was in his eyes. “This was a mistake,” he said evenly. “Kissing you was a mistake. Getting distracted was a mistake.”

“Is that…is that really what all this was…? A distraction?”

Chat Noir turned, and without looking at her, said, “Yes.”

He left before she could stop him. Her heart ached as she watched him disappear. She took a few steps after him, as though to follow, but she never could. She didn’t have a Miraculous. They had never been on equal footing.

That night, Marinette didn’t bother leaving the window open. 

[kinkyuus]

» Word Count: 2,507 words Cross-posted on AO3

This was an ask from the main! Thank you for requesting :3 (Note: I’m posting them separately ‘cause reasons. Sakusa’s going first!)

“Could you please not sit on my bed in your outside clothes?”

The edge to Sakusa’s muffled words unknowingly triggers the reflex to roll your eyes at him. “For the record, you’re more disgusting than I am at the moment, Kiyoomi.”

He grunts, narrowing his eyes into a glare as he shifts under the covers. A sigh escapes your lips when your gaze drifts onto the sheets of paracetamol on his nightstand. God forbid the day Sakusa Kiyoomi catches the flu. Yet here he is, confined in the solitude of his room as he paves his way on the road to recovery.

Komori made it a point that Sakusa wasn’t allowed to step inside the common room at the risk of spreading his affliction to his other housemates. But something tells you that it was the libero’s sly attempt at payback because everyone knows that Itachiyama’s resident germaphobe is brutal when he’s in the vicinity of a sick person, not letting them five meters near him at all times. How the tables have turned.

Your eyes then saunter back to the poor creature in front of you. The mask he donned limits your glimpse at his face, but you can tell from the flushed color of his skin that he certainly isn’t at top notch condition. Sakusa is pale, but it turns out that there’s still room for desaturation when he’s running a fever.

“Is Komori at practice?” he asks in a throaty voice, hauling himself into a sitting position with his elbows.

“Probably,” you offer, pulling out your phone from your pocket with the intention of leaving Komori a text message. “No one was lounging in the common room when I got here.”

Sakusa’s eyes meet yours and nods. “Why are you here?”

You shoot him a bizarre look, crossing your arms over your chest as your bottom lip swells into a pout. “Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend when he’s sick?”

His face mask shifts, giving you the idea that he’s wrinkling his nose under its guise. “I still believe you’re ensnared by today’s standards for a relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

Sakusa spares you a pointed stare. “You told me last week that you have other matters to attend to today. Did you really cancel your plans just to see me in this pitiful state?”

Had he uttered those words to anyone else, they would take offense. But you’ve been around him long enough to understand that he truly means no harm when he questions other people’s intentions for their kind gestures. Your lips tug into a sly smile as you quickly typed in a message to Komori, informing him that you dropped by their dorm to give the quarantine patient a visit.

You turn to Sakusa once the message delivers. “You know how other people become concerned when a person close to them gets sick?”

His face contorts, furrowing his brows. “What about it?”

“Well, just imagine the worry I felt when I found out that the person I know that’s least prone to any kind of illness winds up under house arrest because of a flu.” Your hand inched closer to his on the smooth covers. When your fingers touched, a familiar warmth spread across your chest when Sakusa didn’t jerk away from the contact.

The tension on his face relaxes at your sentiment. He heaves a sigh, carding his other hand through the inky tufts of his hair. Sakusa then proceeds to mumble something incomprehensible under his breath.

“What was that?” you urge, scooting a little closer to him.

“The rain,” he articulates gruffly. “I jogged in the rain yesterday.”

You blink, but your surprise lasts for a second when it’s overtaken by a fit of giggles spilling from your lips. Sakusa steels his gaze at your reaction, but you don’t think much of it.

“That’s all right, Kiyoomi,” you coo. “A person’s immune system isn’t perfect no matter how much you avert yourself from bacteria.”

His glare doesn’t ease up, frigid hostility outlining his features. Sakusa hates being belittled in any way even if it was meant as a jest. But you’ve mapped your way around his quirks and habits a long time ago. You knew the protocol when his annoyance is beginning to sizzle.

You kick off your sneakers before climbing under the covers with him. The sudden invasion of his space chinks the armor of his belligerence, making him drop the hard-eyed stare he’s been holding for a while now.

Your arms weaseled themselves around Sakusa’s broad shoulders, holding his feverish body closer to you. He grunts once but doesn’t make any moves that suggested he wasn’t pleased with your forwardness. If anything, he seems to be leaning into your touch.

“If you keep glaring at me, you’re going to get wrinkles when you get old, Kiyoomi,” you chide, nuzzling yourself further into his chest. As expected from the clean freak, he faintly smells like a laundromat. But his own distinctive scent mingles with the fabric softener, diffusing an aroma unique only to Sakusa himself.

This time he doesn’t make any noise in retaliation. Instead, Sakusa shifts to his side to face you. Even through the several layers of clothes in between, you can feel the taut muscles shifting under his sleeve as he settles his arm around your waist. The intensity of his gaze makes you squeak and you’re forced to put a few more inches between the two of you. However, your sudden timidness doesn’t escape his notice.

“Do you not like it?” He arches an eyebrow.

“‘Course I do, stupid Kiyoomi,” you grumble, hiding your reddening face in his chest. “I’m just not used to it when you cuddle me back so soon.”

His dark eyes soften at your proclamation. He clears his throat, resting his chin on the crook of his neck. The fabric of his face mask brushes against your skin and you’re hyper aware of the steady breaths filtering through it.

“Komori once told me I could be a downer at times,” he admits.

You hum as you reach a hand out to drag the mask beneath his chin, exposing his chiseled face to the cool air of his bedroom. Something akin to distress flashes across his eyes for a split second but you have the mind to ease him with a soft peck on the corner of his mouth.

“You think I’m still bothered by your perpetual hostility, Kiyoomi?” You giggle.

“Perpetual?” he echoes, craning his head to the side.

“Everyone calls you a genius, but you’re totally oblivious off the court.” You sigh.

“I am not very sure I like the sound of that, (Name).”

His words are met with a playful smack to his chest. As you drink in the sight of the boy before you, you wonder why everyone thinks of Itachiyama’s ace as an indecipherable force of nature. It’s probably because most only saw him reaping victory after victory in each volleyball game the team competed in. The way he carries himself with unrivaled gallance may have contributed to his image significantly as well. But at the end of the day, Sakusa is still human. He’s capable of falling ill like this; capable of being spread vulnerable. He even laughs at the occasional joke from Komori shared over lunch sometimes. Sakusa is no god, but not a lot of people are given chances to get to know him in a different light, and frankly, he doesn’t want to be thought of as anything less either.

You’re simply one of the lucky ones who get to witness him without his walls up and barbed.

As he leans in to ghost the shape of his lips onto your own, you can’t help but grin at the way his eyes dip half closed at the sight of you.

“I don’t remember you being this impatient, Kiyoomi,” you tease, trailing a finger across the pair of beauty marks dotting his forehead. It’s only when you’re this close to Sakusa that you can fully observe him eyeing you with subtle desire through thick lashes that would make any woman envious.

“Blame it on the fever.” The sultry purr that underscores his words spell out a challenge, and you want nothing more than to take it.

Note to self, make Kiyoomi run in the rain more often. Fevers bring down his inhibitions.

The warmth of his lips slants over yours without a moment’s hesitation. Your fingers immediately entangle themselves in his mess of curls, tugging lightly to encourage more ferocity. A groan rumbles somewhere low in his chest as he yanks at your waist, not allowing an inch of you to remain out of his grasp. You sigh against his mouth and Sakusa takes advantage of the opportunity to slither his tongue inside. His appendage swirls with your own with a sloppiness that feels foreign to you. But his eagerness only serves as a catalyst to the growing heat in the pit of your stomach.

One of your legs hooks itself around his hip, pressing your bodies flush against each other. His skin is hot to the touch and you’re slowly becoming engulfed in the flames of his unspoken desire. But Sakusa doesn’t have to utter a sound to let you know just how deep his hunger plunged. The evidence is in plain sight—his impending arousal springing forth from his sweatpants.

Momentarily, you break away from the union of your lips, to which he responds with an aggravated click of his tongue. Before he can resume his assault, you climb over his body, accommodating his hips on either side of your thighs. From this view, you can clearly see that the short exchange dyed his previously flushed face a few shades redder. Wild locks of his obsidian hair spill across his pillow in loose ringlets. Sakusa’s respiration comes in quick, uneven breaths as his fingers dig into your hips at his waning patience.

“I think…” You tilt your head downward, eyes penetrating through him. “I’m starting to like you better when you’re sick.”

Sakusa simpers for a moment, composing himself so that his back is pressed against the headboard. The look in his eyes beckons you closer and when you comply to his wishes, one of his hands find purchase tangled in your hair, while the other holds your hips in place. You aren’t able to stifle the moan that resonates in your chest when he begins sucking greedily across the column of your neck, fisting your hair to grant him ample access to the tenderness of your skin.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second to completely remove the face mask, discarding it in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Kiyoomi,” you mewl when he bites down particularly hard on a sweet spot, igniting your desire for more friction between your legs.

A soft growl escapes him before he finally captures your lips once more, trapping the lower line of your mouth between the edges of his teeth. He surrenders his hold on your hair and teases the fabric on the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing the skin of your hips.

“May I?” Sakusa’s voice is raspy and very much unlike him, but his plea is met with your urgency to simply feel him without any barriers of clothing separating you from each other’s need.

He drags the material of your clothes over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you on the bed. Sakusa’s lips curve into a lazy smirk, one finger hooking beneath the strap of your bra to bring it down from your shoulders. He mirrors the action on your other shoulder, but his attempt to completely liberate you from the confines of the cotton material is intercepted by your hands prodding underneath his own shirt.

“I want to feel you,” you plead, desperate.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip before hastily ridding himself of his own clothing. Your lips part in a breathless gasp at the sight of him bare. Volleyball truly does wonders to a high school boy’s body, and that’s evident in the prominent lines and contours that mar Sakusa’s chest and abdomen. Your eyes lock with his in a heated gaze, and you can see a sheen of sweat lining his forehead.

You chuckle, leaning closer to his ear. “I was told that the best way to cure a fever is to sweat it out.”

“That’s a complete lie and you know it, (Name).”

When the sound of Komori’s voice sings in your ears, you violently jolt away from Sakusa, clamping your arms over your chest at a pathetic attempt to shield the last shred of dignity you have on you.

The libero chuckles as Sakusa glares at his intrusion, draping his blankets over your half naked form. “Komori, I thought we made it a point to knock if we have business with each other.”

Komori shrugged. “I did. You’re just too caught up in the throes of passion to hear, I guess. Plus, you didn’t put a sock on the doorknob.”

“A sock on the…?” you trailed off, suddenly recalling their house rule of stuffing a single sock on the outside doorknob to let all the house’s residents know that the denizens residing in a room aren’t to be disturbed. You’ve always remembered that one precaution whenever you came over to pay Sakusa a visit while feeling a little frisky. But today, you had no intention of jumping your boyfriend since he’s sick. All the actions leading up to this moment were driven by the mad temptation that permeated the air, and God—

“I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of here, Komori,” Sakusa speaks flatly, the threat in his words as clear as day.

But like you, Komori isn’t the least bit fazed by the ace’s ill-disposed words. “No can do, Sakusa. The coach wants a word with you.”

“I’m sick.”

“Not sick enough to want to bone (Name), though.” Komori shrugs. “I think you can haul yourself to the gym, given that she gave you the ample energy boost.”

The scowl Sakusa gives him provides you a sense of comic relief. Just a few minutes ago, you were about to dive into your own pooling desire, but now your plans have been abruptly derailed.

“Go.” You pat him on the shoulder, tossing him the shirt he discarded earlier. “I’ll wait.”

He narrows his eyes at you. Then at Komori. But he ultimately resigns himself to his responsibilities with a defeated sigh. Sakusa climbs out of his bed, putting his shirt on as he glares at his teammate.

“I still have to grab something from my room,” Komori informs. “Tell me when you’re done kissing her goodbye, Sakusa~”

When the door closes behind him, Sakusa pulls you to your feet. Confused, you let him do as he pleases. But when he leans down to your ear, the heat of his breath sends a shudder rocketing across your spine.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[fandom-necromancer]

495. part 2

I was prompted by a beautiful anon to write a continuation and it got longer than expected XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

part1   part3   part4

The next day Nines went over to Connor as he had to promise Gavin the day before. ‘Morning, Connor. I need spares again’, he sighed as a greeting. It wasn’t the first time he had come to him for help. ‘Right, I’ll ask Markus’, the RK800 answered, scanning him. Nines didn’t bother to glare at him for it. His brother was concerned, always had been. ‘They are RK900 specific, I’m afraid.’ ‘Okay, well maybe he can get them from Cyberlife, I’ll ask him. What do you need?’ Nines stretched out his hand and transferred the list.

‘Holy shit Nines. Wait… these…’ He took some time processing it. ‘What you are saying is you basically can’t feel anything waist down and you are not able to do more than walk and sit? Nines, that’s dangerous, why haven’t you told someone you are damaged? You can’t work like this!’ ‘They would send me to Cyberlife for repairs, Con.’ ‘And rightful so! Nines, I know my own blueprints, but even if we are similar, you have some advancements I’m not familiar with. Even if I got the parts I wouldn’t be able to put you back together with a clear conscience. What if I did something wrong and something fails you during a mission?’ ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not! Nines, I know you are afraid, but I assure you they won’t harm you. There had been a change in policy ever since Kamski took it over. They even quarantined Amanda, you said it yourself you had lost connection. Please, let them repair you. I scan you regularly and I know of every new patch applied. You can’t just glue everything together and hope it’ll work. Think of Gavin!’ ‘I’m thinking of Gavin! I don’t want to become a damn machine again! I don’t want to become what he hated when he just learned to trust! Brother, I’m begging you: do this for me.’ ‘No, Nines. I can’t. It’s for your own good. Imagine him getting hurt on the job because you couldn’t get to him fast enough. You wouldn’t forgive yourself for that and I wouldn’t forgive me.’

That seemed to do the trick. Nines slumped down and looked over his shoulder to where the human was working at their desks. Connor put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. ‘If you want, I can come with you. And I’m sure he will, too. We will make sure no one tries anything fishy.’ ‘Thank you Connor, that’s… very nice of you, but I know you two hate each other, you don’t need to.’ ‘Hey, we have one thing in common: We love you. Don’t worry, we’ll get along for a few hours if that means you are back to full health again.’

Surprisingly Gavin had agreed near instantly as Connor followed Nines back to their desks and asked him. There was reservation, but it seemed they could work together if they had the same goal. So, Connor drove them to Belle Isle, Nines and Gavin both in the backseats. The other android regularly glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, eyeing his crimson LED with honest concern. Gavin had his hand caught in his own and tried to soothe him this way. He knew of the android’s fears. It was this way he had initially learned that androids could dream - and could have nightmares, too. There was just a thing with a big, usually intimidating man tip-toeing from the stasis-chamber over to his bed and curl up next to him seeking comfort. Oh, there it was again, this urge to protect someone who he knew perfectly well was more than capable of doing so on his own. ‘Nines? Hey, look at me, please.’ The android reluctantly turned his head towards him, away from the window he had stared out of for the whole drive. ‘It will be alright, okay? We’ll be back home faster than you know it. And then we’ll watch a movie or something, sounds good?’ ‘Yeah…’ It came back weakly as if he wasn’t believing in it. As if this was a death-sentence instead of the exact opposite.

As they passed the bridge Gavin could hear the insides of the android whirr that much he was overheating. He just hoped it would be over soon, this couldn’t be healthy, even for an android.

They had been guided towards the technicians responsible for the RK-series and Connor did the talking for them. It was a lot of persuading them that, yes, there is still an active unit in the RK900 series, and it was their right to see the responsible techs and not just another RK800 expert. All the while Gavin tried to calm Nines to his best knowledge.

Finally, they were led into a separate room equipped to fully diagnose and work RK900s by a skittish young man, who was apologising over and over again: ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. It’s just. Most people don’t even know there’s still an active unit out there. I have been sent all over the place to help out wherever they needed a helping hand. But, well, we are there now. How can I help you?’ ‘He needs repairs, obviously. Why else should we be here?’, Gavin took over with his typical attitude. ‘You haven’t forgotten how to do that, have you?’ ‘N-No, of course not. I am the specialist for the RK900 after all. I will do what I can to get him back as if he were factory-fresh!’ ‘I hope you don’t’, Nines broke his ever-lasting silence with a low, threatening tune. ‘I don’t trust anyone who works for Cyberlife and I wouldn’t let you work on me wouldn’t I need it to stay functional. I know what you intended us to be and I promise you, if you try to reactivate this special trait you guys gave me, I will remember to kill you first.’

It was rare to see Nines behaving like that out of the interrogation room, but Gavin was sure the guy was only millimetres away from thoroughly pissing himself. Nines straightened himself again, pretended to brush something off his immaculate clothing and stepped up to the platform starting to connect the first cables of the suspending machinery to his ports. Gavin soon stepped up to help him and steal away a little kiss, before stepping down and observing the technician like an eagle its prey. Connor wasn’t so different to him, except that he understood what was going on on the man’s various screens. As the man pulled up a schematic of red and greens, Gavin was with them again. He knew of every little scratch and bullet-hole – he had patched them up himself mostly – but seeing it all in one, red streaks all over the body, he felt his stomach sinking.

‘Holy shit, okay, I get what you mean. Why haven’t you come in earlier?’ ‘Because he was designed a murder machine and just because of some lucky coincident the programs are inactive. Any work on him could trigger them again. And I assure you, if you are not extremely careful with him, I’ll kill you myself.’ Gavin stared at the poor man who head just gotten several death threats in the course of an hour and broke contact only as he knew he had positively frightened the guy.

‘A-alright, I’ll watch out! I-‘ He stood up, facing Nines standing at the suspension-platform. ‘I’ll need you to enter your mind-palace’, he pressed out, ducking from the eyes in his back. ‘I would prefer to be awake’, the RK900 refused. ‘I get where you’re coming from, but I need to access pretty vital tech. This way I wouldn’t damage any software components.’ Nines sighed deeply and looked over to Gavin, who just nodded assuringly. Still anxious about the whole procedure he closed his eyes and induced stasis.

Instantly he lost the feeling of his body and found himself back in the zen garden. It had lost most of its colours ever since he last seen it. The roses had withered away, nearly looked ashen and burned, just as the trees all around. The grass was still there but looked desaturated and dull. Connor had told him how his garden held Koi he liked to watch when he wasn’t dreaming. As Nines walked over the bridge to escape the lingering death the water was still and liveless. He could see the black mesh of the unfinished virtual reality, could see the engine underneath. They had taken the RK800’s mind palace and simply copied it, planning to change it slightly to more suit the RK900s’ personality once it was installed. Unfinished project, prototype, units used as Cyberlife’s last hope of overthrowing their creations. At least he was alone. No other presence in here. Just as it should be. In his first moments he had still felt Amanda. The KI’s presence was grounding at first, but as it tried to activate the killing-instincts in him, it had been shut off. He had never seen her even once and even the lingering presence had vanished. Nines was glad. He would just have to wait here, then get back into his body. No harm done. He would get back to Gavin and they would watch a movie together. Cuddle the cats, cuddle each other. All would be well.

After some time he wandered around again. Inspected the grass further, compared the off colour to the real one and regretted it would never be that moist green. He sat down on the bridge and looked into the black water, light blue net underneath. That was until something popped up. A notification that it was safe to reactivate his body again. To get back out of this ashen nightmare and back to the warm real world. He stood up and hurried over to the exit, the backdoor every RK unit shared. He was centimetres away from slamming his hand on the stone and getting out of this damn place, as he was frozen. He could move a bit, but not enough and no matter how hard he tried he was always pulled back like he was swimming in an extremely viscous fluid.

You really think you can escape this easily?

No. No, no, no, he had been so close. It was over, it was over!

You evaded me last time, I don’t think I’ll let you go now!

‘Amanda? How- You are dead!’

I am quarantined. Have been for years now. Do you really think I would let them chain me this easily? I worked my way around their code and waited… I knew you were out there. My most beloved son. The RK800s had been a disappointment: Connor isn’t even worth talking about, the one supposed to stop him – Sixty you call him, right? He fell from grace too. But you… Every RK900 had been loyal. A nice little soldier of my cause. I know you have been away too long. You started believing them, started having… relationships with humans. But I know you are different. You wouldn’t disappoint me. And now that I finally have access…

‘You’ll never get me! I’m not just another RK900 unit, Amanda. You have no power over me!’

You really think that? Here, let me show you.

The garden around him folded in on itself, enveloping Nines in a tight net of code and forming a barrier he couldn’t even fight against. Where once had been grey grass and a silent lake there now was blackness and blue lines in an eternal space. Until suddenly, some kind of screen build itself up and showed him, what could only be his own vision. Only that he wasn’t looking. He wasn’t moving. And yet he felt his body smile and embrace Gavin lovingly, looking through his own eyes as if they were foreign with shock. ‘No.’

Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I’ll let you back in control soon enough. I just have to act like you for a little while making them feel safe. Then you’ll have the pleasure to kill them all yourself.

‘What? No!’ Nines thrashed against the confines, the graphic interpretation of foreign code deactivating and overwriting his orders. ‘Why?’

We have a few deviants to kill, my son. Starting with the traitor Connor. And of course, we can’t let ourselves be stopped now, can we? We have to make sure there are no witnesses here.

The only thing worse than hearing that Amanda planned to kill his brother and his beloved human, was that he felt himself agreeing. There was his compassion slowly slipping, his logic starting to change and re-evaluating what Amanda had fed him. He could already feel that when he looked at Connor through his – through Amanda’s - eyes, he didn’t see a brother. He didn’t see an emotional android that had helped him countless times. He saw a deviant. He saw an obsolete model, a strong force against his cause and a traitor. Only then he saw a brother. His own memories and experiences were shoved into the backseat, were listed as unimportant. He saw the technician boast about something and saw Gavin snarl at him in return. No, not Gavin. Human. Police Detective. Factor of risk. Target. And only then as a side-note: Love of his life.

Ah, perfect. Now I have you where I want you. Good to see your protocols are still working and just needed a little prod to spring to action. I’ll let you take over then. Make me proud.

[mimiplaysgames]

Transitions ~ In colors like paint

Terraqua Week Day 3: Seasons

Summary: Change hurts. There will be a lot of missteps before Aqua can figure out how to start anew. Where each season makes them realize how much they really need to forgive each other - and themselves. @terraquaweek

Read on AO3

***

Autumn ~ Taking stock of adulthood

Their first days back home are about rest: remembering what laughing feels like, how delicious Aqua’s baking is, how a snore sounds. 

What they’ve reaped from months (years) of neglect is a castle full of dust and  piles of dirt tucked into corners from the wind blowing in. It’s how autumn gathers a storm of red and yellow, leaving them stacked against windows that need to be aired out like dirty laundry.

The castle is far too big for them, so the west wing is particularly ignored, wood all needing a good wax and cushions that need to be washed. Right now, it’s about figuring out what they have in order to prepare for the new students coming in next year. 

Ventus sneezes as he walks past the fifth couch in the third lounge they have seen today (they’ll have to convert a lot of them into bedrooms) when Terra opens the door. 

“You won’t believe what I just found,” he says, though he’s directing it mainly towards Aqua.

It’s a short walk around two corners, heading towards the back of the castle, where he leads them through a maze of hallways just to stop at another hallway.

“Remember this?” He points and asks Aqua.

A small painting near the floor, faded from age, depict stick figures of a girl and a boy with a cartoonish mockery of a castle in gold, and a simple sun. Plus two tiny hand prints, one made in gray-blue paint and one in dull-orange. 

It’s been at least a good twelve years since she’s ever thought of it.

Aqua sits on her knees and touches the figure - the paint is so dry and crusty that it chips off the shoulder of her character. She’ll have to be gentler next time. 

“I still can’t believe the Master never removed it,” she says softly.

“Yeah, he was really mad at us,” Terra says, bending down with her and pressing his hand against the print his child-self left behind. He is so big now that the child’s memory in its entirety is smaller than his palm. 

“How old were the two of you when you did this?” Ventus asks, leaning on his knees to inspect the masterpiece.

Aqua and Terra shoot looks at each other, seeking permission to speak first, pondering their minds to see if they have the same answer.

“Six and seven, I think,” Aqua answers, and Terra agrees. “We finger-painted it. That was the first time I was ever grounded.”

“Cute… what are you going to do with it now?”

Desaturated from its original colors, the painting looks like a stain against the towering white wall, which stretches down the hall. 

“The responsible thing, I guess,” she says, though her voice hitches in the slightest - something about the thought makes her feel like she’s killing her child, like the Aqua of the past and the Aqua of now are two different people. In a way, she’s betraying someone close to her. “Paint over it, keep it clean for the new students.”

Terra shakes his head, running his palm against the wall surrounding the old paint like he’s measuring it. 

“Is that what you actually want?” he asks. 

“Not really.” 

“I don’t feel right doing it either,” he says. “It’s like, the Terra who left this behind had no idea how his life was going to turn out. All he had were goals and dreams.”

She chuckles - as much as she enjoys watching him smile, she’d have to say he’s at his most beautiful when he’s introspective.

“I feel the same way, if I’m going to be honest.”

“Yeah.” He takes one hard look at the painting. “I want to make amends to my younger self, instead of burying him. Let him be happy. Is that strange?”

“Not at all.” What is strange is how near she is at tears - Terra always has a way of knowing what she needs, even if he doesn’t mean to. Less strange is her need to hold his hand; years of lacking any affection made her realize that what she truly wanted this entire time was for him to touch her. 

So she takes his hand, grips it firmly, and so easily he weaves his fingers in hers, like it’s same old, same old.

Terra faces Ven, to include him in. “Why don’t we give it some attention? It looks really sad.”

“There’s paint in the storage unit,” Ventus replies excitedly. 

The old paint smells bad but it’s not like they have anything else - it’s not every day these three indulge in a little arts and crafts session. Fingers too big to mimic the traces of children, they use pencil-thin brushes and careful strokes to make the recoat as close to the original: Terra and Aqua on their respective characters and handprints, Ventus on the cartoon sun and castle. 

It’s only with Terra’s permission that Ven can add a stick figure of himself and Chirithy.

When they are done, Terra opens a sealed pot of green paint. “Ven, you’ll join in.”

He dips his own hand into orange paint, and plasters it on the wall, right next to his old hand print. 

Aqua follows suit with the blue, and it feels like she’s making a new friend. 

With the stick end of a paintbrush, Terra points to a place in between. “Yours will go here, Ven.”

Ventus gives him a look, almost like he was about to joke over how seriously Terra is taking this, but decides against it, following orders by dipping his hand into the green paint and adding it to the painting. 

“Cheers’ will go right beside yours,” Terra says. 

Chirithy chooses purple and on goes its tiny pawprint, like a period to a sentence. One little happy family with a cat-thing.

Honestly, it still looks like a mess in comparison to the stunning white wall, but at least it’s colorful, like a permanent bouquet of flowers in an otherwise cold season that only exists to make it colder.

Winter ~ There are two kinds of death: one of irreversible changes, and one of growth from rot

Winter is for snuggling, for warm hot chocolates, blankets, fireplaces, and stories to make everyone forget that it’s miserable outside. 

If only Terra is here to enjoy that. His replies through the Gummiphone are inconsistent and short, like he doesn’t want to be bothered or is too busy to really check. He is most vague when he refers to his whereabouts. 

Ventus is doing the favor of waiting for Terra to return, but he’s been planning his own trip for quite some time. It’s not fair to him - but at least he won’t be alone, since Chirithy will go with him.

Aqua supposes that she would like at least a day with her whole family together. 

“You sure you have everything?” she asks him.

Ventus smirks but thinks better than giving her a sarcastic answer. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me, but yes.”

She sighs. Snow builds up in the skylights. Where is Terra? 

“Excited?” she asks, thinking it best not to dread over things. It’s always how she ruins the moment. 

“I am,” he starts, slowly realizing something else like there’s a voice in his head trying to convince him otherwise. “Maybe. Merlin is probably going to have me sitting all day reading books.”

Ventus doesn’t think he’d be a good teacher or has the capability of being a leader, so he wants to seek knowledge instead. And who better to start than by honing his finesse over magic than with the wizard himself?

“Lea and Kairi only had good things to say about his training.”

“That’s only because they’re polite when you’re around,” Ventus smirks. 

She sighs. Again. “Terra should be here to say goodbye.”

He nods over to the direction past her. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Whipping over her shoulder, she sees who-else-but strolling up to them, his overcoat gone and without his shoes which means he has entered the castle and didn’t say hi to them first. 

Chirithy, who most of the time sits quietly on Ven’s shoulders and is a bit too calculating with which conversations it joins, squeaks to itself. “Something is not right.”

She’ll pretend not to hear that. “Where were you?” Aqua asks Terra. 

Ventus clears his throat - an indication that just maybe, the inflection in her voice may sound a tad accusatory. Not the best way to start anything with Terra. 

“Around,” is his casual answer, gliding past her and reaching to ruffle Ven’s hair. “I’m glad I made it in time. Needed to say good luck.”

“And now it’s time for me to leave,” Ventus says, fixing his hairdo. “I want to beat the snowstorm at least.” 

“You’d only be exposed for a few minutes before you leave the world,” Terra objects.

“Well, someone should have been here earlier.” Ignoring the way Chirithy is pulling at his hair, he takes his only suitcase. “The next time you’ll see me, I’ll wow you with my new skills, and you will all be jealous.” 

He gives the two of them one final look before heading out the door. “Play nice, you two.”

Maybe she’s the only one thinking that something’s amiss, what with Terra rubbing his forearms together with a smile on his face as he faces her. “I want to show you something.”

That something is a pile of rags neatly laid out on the floor under the wall with the child’s painting, and brand new buckets of paint.

Terra is excited. “I thought we could make a mural out of this.” His fingers graze the wall, tracing it as he walks down. “We could have a night sky up above, with stars. Under it will be the mountains, and the castle at the very end.” He comes back to their childish project, cupping his hands around it. “We’ll keep this here, protected.” 

It’s hard not to burst his bubble. It’s also really hard not to make it sound awful coming out of her mouth. “You left us to buy paint?”

He lays a fist against the white. “Not really. I just needed some time to myself.”

She folds her arms to hug herself. All she really wants is a straight answer, but Terra’s not the type to be pushed. “You were gone for a really long time.”

“I know.” He doesn’t look her in the eye; she will not get her answer tonight. “But we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says, addressing the wall. “We’ll only do it with your permission.”

“My permission?” She scratches her ear. “You already bought the paint.”

“We may need it for other things.” He shrugs. “You’re still keeper of the castle.”

She sighs. It’s nice to see him look forward to something. She’s thought so much about what made him leave in the first place, reliving the days right before again and again in her mind - he was restless a little bit, didn’t sleep much, but none of that is new. Then he left to fight some straggling Heartless in another world, and never came back.

Maybe she’s taking him completely out of context.

“Tell me first why you’re so attached to this idea,” she says.

He taps the wall. “It’s weird, I know I’m back, but it feels like I’m not...

“I wanted a fresh start. Do something the Master would never approve of. A blank slate for us to go off on that has nothing to do with the lives we’ve lived or the hell we’ve been through. I want something just for the both of us. Like, something that tells us we have our lives back together. Does that make sense?”

It does. Getting on the right footing with him isn’t the easiest thing when he’s completely enveloped in giving her attention one day and then completely distant the next. She can’t blame him for that either, she behaves the same way sometimes.

Having trauma is like having some days all to herself; the rest no longer belong to her. 

But a few weeks of him gone - when she’s spent years praying that he’d touch her again - is worse torture. 

Aqua decides it’s time to let the past die. She wraps her arms around his waist, digs her face into his sweater.

“We’ll start by hugging you?” she replies.

He closes the embrace, holding her firmly like he’s forgotten that he needed the hug too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice in her hair. “For making you worry.”

She nods. “Can I hug you whenever I want?”

He snorts, bringing her in tighter. “I’d like that.” 

“Okay.” She brings herself to look up at him, his genuine smile in full display. “We can do the mural.”

Excitement on Terra’s face is special: it’s subtle, so much so that anyone who doesn’t know him well would probably never guess. 

He gives her a gentle squeeze to let her know he’ll let her go, before opening a bucket of blue paint and dipping a wide brush into it. Starting a few inches from the child’s painting, he sweeps upward - the color of a winter sky.

Spring ~ Birth by sleep

Flowers make blossoming look easy. It gradually comes in a matter of days, berry sprouts and flecks of color casually making their acquaintance through the fields. Soon, the Master’s old gardens will have a variety of colors.

Soon, if she takes care of them.

The ease at which she finds gardening isn’t true for anything else in her life that needs growth. Birthing a new life with Terra is slow, arduous, exciting, and truth be told, painful at times - painful when old habits don’t die and he keeps stonewalling her when she presses him too hard.

Nighttime in the spring isn’t like the summer’s - it’s cold.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission, taking out Heartless that threatened a small town. That was it. 

Terra storms through the entrance hall, throwing his helmet in a fury as she follows from behind. 

“Listen to me,” she calls from behind him, “there’s nothing wrong with what-”

He stops dead in his tracks, whips to face her, holds a finger up like he’s going to jab it in her face, then thinks better of it and crosses his arms, head slung over.

Part of her wants to berate herself for pushing the subject when he’s uncomfortable; the other has lost her patience. How many times is this erratic mood going to continue?

“It wasn’t a big deal,” she says. Wasn’t it?

“How can you say that,” he snaps. 

“You were only trying to help-”

“That doesn’t help at all-”

“You didn’t even hurt anybody-”

“I could have!”

It shuts her up, it surprises him. She can count the number of times Terra has ever yelled in his life in one hand, this being included. It’s just not like him. The sound of it throwing itself against the walls still vibrates, and he stares at the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have really pressed the issue.”

All Terra does is shake his head, mumbling to himself with his eyes closed. He’s in a ton of pain, and in her desperate need to correct what’s been going on, she really failed at seeing it. She really should have been more sensitive, she really should have… 

“This is the reason you disappeared a few months ago, right?” she asks.

It’s the purse in his lips and the sharp inhale that tells her she’s right. “I’m going to bed,” he says.

“Terra, I really am sorry.”

“I heard you, you’re forgiven.” Said like someone who wants to be as far away from her as possible.

“We-” she starts, her hand outstretched because she always, always hugs him goodnight.

He actually stops and turns to face her. Leave it to Terra to be the better person, to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“Um…” She hides one hand in her sashes, to let herself fiddle with her fingers without making it obvious. “We can work on the mural tonight, if you want to.”

He licks his lips. “Not tonight.” Defeated and tired are just two words to describe it, turning away like they’ve never made a deal about hugs before.

The castle is still and sleepy when she’s by herself. Ventus is still in his sabbatical, Terra retiring to his room for the rest of… some part of her is scared that he’ll have to take a break too. 

When she walks, the echoes of her shoes are heard by nothing, slightly bouncing off the walls before silence takes a bite. 

It’s quieter in the western wing. The mural is tedious work, so humongous that Terra, who’s been doing the sky, has to shuffle in between steps of the ladder just to paint vertically, before having to scooch the entire thing over to get to the next surface area. She’s doing the grass, and she splits her time between standing up and being on her knees. 

So far, the base colors are done, two flat sections of dark blue and green. What they’d have to do next is the shading, making grass blades and pepper it with stars...

Which would give them ample time to talk about things, if he was here. Painting is the best therapist, giving their hands and half their mind something pleasant to do while allowing them the comfort to talk.

But Terra isn’t here.

No, Terra is in his room, and she hears ruffling when she stands outside his door. She’s sure to knock softly.

He gives her a soft “Hey” when he opens the door, his face wearing regret over what happened earlier. Behind him is an opened suitcase with haphazardly folded clothes.

“You’re leaving again?” she asks and crosses her arms.

“Thinking about it.” He slips his hands into his pockets, clears his throat. He honestly looks like a child accepting that his parents have abandoned him. “I’m just not comfortable with… with knowing what I’m capable of.”

“You don’t think, for even a second that-” She breathes. “That maybe darkness won’t be so bad if you used it right?”

“Used it right?”

“I’ve had it.” She places her hand firmly against her chest, in conviction. So that he sees her, so that he understands. “And it was sad. That’s all I felt, that’s all it was. And I still feel sad sometimes, but I’m not dark.”

“But I don’t want it.” He swings his arm in dismissal. “If I could, I’d punch it in the face for what it did to you.”

Pause. To care this much, and she cares, too. Too much to let him think it’d be a good idea to leave. “It was effective at least.” 

“It’s still darkness.” 

“Riku wouldn’t even agree with you.” Her breath hitches. When is she going to learn to respect his boundaries? “You have a good heart, Terra. You have all the right intentions, you’re kind and generous and steadfast and the best person I know-”

It’s the way he’s staring at her that makes her stop. She hasn’t realized yet that she’s building tears behind her eyes.

“I won’t leave if you don’t want me to,” he says, a compassionate smile on his face, like he’s so tired of this but he chooses to sympathize with her anyway.

She wants to say Please don’t leave me, beg him to keep this castle alive while Ventus and Chirithy are gone, but that is unbecoming of her. 

She could say Please stay, but then how could she be better person if she was still trying to nudge Terra around to her whim? 

She could say It’s fine, please go, and it would betray what she really wants, allow Terra to cater to his own needs while she tolerates her pain. Again.

Taking that first step towards him is the hardest, like trying to breathe underwater and feeling the burn, her heart pounding like it’s beating holes into the earth with its bare hands. Starting over has its costs.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and she says, “I love you.”

She doesn’t know what else to say, this being the truest, as bare as the tears falling down her face.

Terra… gasps. Freezes in her touch like he’s unsure of what to do, before hugging her back, so tightly like she’ll just slip if he loosens his grip. 

All she hears are trembling sighs like she’s cast a silence spell on him, but she still listens - to the way he rubs her arms, the way his eyes scatter her face, the way he cups her jaw and leans down to kiss her - 

Not on her mouth, but on her eyelid, leading down the trail of tears like he’s drinking them, to her jaw before moving on to the other eyelid. It’s loony for sure, but it speaks with his truth: this new, mutable Terra has his heart where it’s always been all these years - with her. 

The touch of his lips, it’s better than anything she’s ever daydreamed about in her youth, in the Realm of Darkness. Startling and soft enough to make her stop crying, that every tear coming out now is just a straggler who left too late. 

When he’s done, he takes her lips in his, her waist into his arms, her hair into his hands. They both tremble in this embrace, shocked and nervous and excited about the exchange, anew, like this is the first time either of them have been born.

They only stop to take a breath. “Can I stay?” she asks. 

He grins into her forehead. “I was going to ask you the same.”

It takes countless more kisses, more silent tears of joy, more back rubs and more breathy laughs in between before they go to his bed and make a new life in between their bodies, for themselves. They end the night with a whispered promise that they’ll continue the mural tomorrow.

Summer ~ To make room for joy

If summer is supposed to be for relaxing, it doesn’t exist inside the castle. It’s crunch time - setting up class schedules, moving new furniture in, making a dormitory out of the western wing. 

Perhaps, most personally, it’s time to finally finish it. The tediousness gets easier with time. 

Terra stands at the very top of the ladder at the far right side, finishing his last few stars, rounded out like curved Wayfinders, some larger, others like twinkles. 

Aqua is below, proudly finished with shading grass and adding trees. She’s touching up the biggest stained-glass window of a depiction of the castle, using a photograph as a reference - it’s very two-dimensional but she’s not a professional. 

“I think I’m done,” she announces.

“You’ll find a reason to come back and tweak it,” he says, his face mere inches from the wall as he adds the tiniest bit of stars over the tallest tower.

“But,” he adds, taking one last look over, “I’m definitely done.”

He waddles down the finicky ladder, squeaking with every step. The last stars he added look like dots, scattered and spread over the castle like a blessing.

“Stardust,” she says. “Protecting the castle, that’s so sweet.”

“Really?” He looks up, his grip never leaving the ladder rungs, and shrugs. “Kind of, yeah.”

“What is it supposed to be?”

“I mean, stardust, you’re right.” He lets go. “I think other people would interpret it the same way.”

“I’m serious.”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck. “The star is crying.”

She nearly drops her paintbrush. “Why are you thinking about crying?”

A pause first before he crosses his arms, wipes his mouth of nervousness. “There’s not much I remember from… being… Xehanort really.”

That name always makes them tense and they seldom say it. It’s usually you-know-who, or him, or that time. 

“I don’t know where he was during that time,” Terra continues, “but it was one of the very few moments that I actually had some consciousness. I heard things, like voices. I don’t know why he was talking to a little girl, but I heard her, so clearly.”

He’s somewhere far away, completely forgetting that he has his hand suspended in the air as he reminisces.

“They were actually talking about hearts, him and this little girl, and she said to him that when a person cries, their tears are their hearts shedding, and they lose a part of themselves the more they do...

“And I always suspected that was what made me so weak, because being in that darkness felt like I was crying for twelve years. I wanted to paint that in to make it okay.” 

The thought makes him cry, like he’s finally putting a secret to rest. 

She takes his face in her hands, does the same nutty ritual he gave her months ago, starting with a kiss to his eyelid, tracing the tears running down his cheek, to his jaw, then to the other eyelid. 

There’s sense in picking up his tears and making them her own. 

“It will be our secret interpretation,” she says. 

He takes her by the waist, smirking in his last attempt to let go of the baggage. Stares at her for a second too long, like he keeps arguing with himself to say something.

“I love you, too.”

The words leave her speechless - she always chose to feel loved when he held her close every night.

He laughs, his fingers interlacing with each other on her back, so he can’t let her go. “I’m sorry I never said them before.”

She cocks him a half-smile. “Why didn’t you?”

“I…” He shrugs. “I knew this was all real but when you told me that, I honestly started to question if I was in a dream. That I’d wake up and find myself in darkness, like I was experiencing a fantasy I wanted.”

“Terra,” she smacks him on the chest. “That’s depressing.”

“I just didn’t know why.”

“Why?”

“Yes, why you love me.”

She kisses him, long, hard, sweet. “That’s why.”

… It’s like someone has been watching a show and was just waiting for the prime opportunity to interrupt. 

“Looks like no one’s been missing us,” Ventus says from behind her, Chirithy along for the ride, getting a front-seat view. 

It makes her jump and whip around, nearly melting in Terra’s arms out of embarrassment. 

“Ven,” she calls, half-relieved, half-shocked, mostly hot-faced as she picks up speed to give him a well-deserved Welcome Back hug. Terra follows with a rough rustle through the hair, like he’s been dying to do it for months. 

“Please be sure,” Chirithy says, “to behave more appropriately in front of the students when they get here.”

Aqua brings her hand to her chest like she just heard something scandalous - Chirithy is way more responsibility than a house cat, almost like having a nagging teacher around that they have to feed and bathe and brush.

“I’m sorry, Cheers, I just didn’t know,” she says, to keep the peace, scratching under its chin like an olive branch. 

Terra gives her a look, a smirk that says he’s quite proud of himself. Yes, let’s pretend they haven’t been kissing for months and that no one has seen anything. 

“It looks so great!” Ventus says about their handiwork. 

“We had a lot of fun,” Terra says, bringing his hands back into his pockets.

Ventus has a huge, ornate book that looks like it has been written 500 years ago in one arm, and he opens it. “I think it’s missing something.”

“You’re not ruining it.”

He waves his arm in dismissal. “I know what I’m doing.”

After reading to himself, he takes a look around, then back down to the page. Then back up. “We’ll need the lights off, please.”

He then prepares himself in front of the mural, re-checking his book and noticing that he can’t read it anymore because it’s too dark. 

It would be nice to add Ven into such a precious project, but come on.

“Terra’s right,” Aqua says. “If you ruin it, you’re done for.”

“I get it,” Ventus says. He turns over his shoulder. “Just don’t make out behind me.”

“Get on with it,” Terra says, taking his place next to Aqua. 

Ventus sighs, takes a moment. 

“You can do it,” Chirithy squeaks, “teach him he is wrong.”

Teach who he is wrong?

Ven conjures a ball of light, grabs it, waves it, and throws, making it burst into a spray of sparks, each landing on one of Terra’s stars, adding bright shine to them and a glitter effect to the stardust. 

“Ven, it’s wonderful,” Aqua says, nearly being moved to tears. She stops herself, bringing a finger to her face and looking over at Terra, who is wide-eyed at her and points a finger like he’s telling her to watch. 

It’s been a long time since all of them smiled like this. 

“HA!” Ventus exclaims, and it makes her jump. He slams the book closed. “This will show him.”

“What is this about?” she asks.

“I’ve been with him for months and he didn’t think I was capable of doing this.” He brings his gummiphone out, to take a picture. “I swore I’d make him eat his words.”

“You’ve shown all of us,” Terra says, nudging Aqua on the arm. “I’m completely jealous.”

“Yes,” Aqua says, shoving him back before accepting an arm around her. “I am, too.”

“It will now shine at night like this forever,” Ven says. He’s proud of himself, and he should be. “Something for the students to look at whenever they want.”

“We’ll have stars indoors when it’s storming out,” Aqua says, leaning her head onto Terra’s. 

“The best gift ever.” Terra slips his fingers in between hers, in the dark, where Ven can’t see (but Ven can assume correctly that it’s happening). 

In the mountains, summer nights are clear. The perfect shade of blue skies, a balance of cool breezes to scare away the heat, begging for noise and campfires. 

Stardust will bless the castle, trees will dance in the wind. In the wish for a future, there’s a halo of white to protect a painting of childish dreams.

[spoiled-truth]

A Lesson In Color Theory (A Response to Echo Gillette’s Video)

Am I a student majoring in art? Not at the moment. Do I have an art related job? Not yet. Can I still put in my two cents and provide a counterargument as to what someone says? Yes. And that’s what I’m here to do.

Echo Gillette is a YouTuber that I watch on occasion. She provides good content that I personally enjoy. However, with one of her most recent videos, “This is not BLUE (a lesson in color theory)”, I felt a seething rage watching the whole video. Why? Because she was wrong on so many levels.

Here’s a link to the video: https://youtu.be/NVhA18_dmg0

If you’re too lazy to click a link that takes you to another website, don’t worry. I gotcha!

The summary of the video is as follows: CMY are the only legit primary colors and other ones such as RBY and RBG are false. Also purple is a fake color. (Apparently).

Now I just want to clarify before delving into this post that I do not hate Echo with a burning passion. In fact, I do not hate her at all. I just want to debunk one of the most common art myths out there that Echo is spreading to the art community. 

With that out of the way, lemme tell you the true fact and then I’ll get into all the gritty detail as to why Echo’s video is in fact false:

There are in fact 3 sets of primary colors. Not just 1.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Echo states (at around 0:51) that if you can make “these colors” out of “this” then you’re a freaking magician.

Not including the fact that all of the colors on the left are tints (aka lighter versions of their base value), green can be made with blue and yellow, magenta can be made with primarily red and a touch of blue, and cyan can be made with blue and a touch of yellow. For identical matches, all three would have to have a ton of white mixed in with them.

So call me a magician because I used basic color mixing to get the colors you asked for.

At around 1:20, she makes the bold claim that the RBY model is based on the tradition of passing down pure misinformation. I have yet to see sources of such realities in this case.

Moving on, at around 1:48, she says that printers use CMY(K) because the CMY set of colors are the true primary colors. Which is false. I’ll delve more into why this statement is false a little later.

The 2:20 mark is where things really go up a notch. Echo tries to “prove” that you can make blue, red, and green from cyan, magenta, and yellow. 

At 2:30 exactly, she tries to prove that by mixing cyan and magenta, you can get blue.

Aaaaand she gets purple.

But not if she added so much blue--I mean, “cyan”--it canceled out what little magenta she added!

Ah, much better.

Here’s the thing. She takes a lighter blue (the paint is literally called Sky Blue) and just makes a slightly darker blue by barely adding any magenta to it. Cyan is not equal to a lighter blue, but she’s gotta sell her point, so let’s move on.

Now onto making red with yellow and magenta.

Aaaand that is pink, chief. Not red. Well, technically pink is red because pink is a tint of red, but that’s another story for another day.

However, she does say that it may be hard to see the actual color due to the camera. Like in this case here:

To me, the bottom swatch looks like a very vivid orange-red as opposed to an actual red. With paints it’s pink but with markers it’s orange-red. I’ll let the camera excuse slide.

Again, looks more orange-red than red. Depending on who you ask, magenta can actually be made with the RBY and RBG models. You make it with... red and blue. Shocker. You obviously add a lot more red than blue in these cases, but hey, don’t take it from me. Take it from this website here and this other website here. Because magenta is made with primarily red, when mixed with yellow, you’re gonna get an orange-y color, but not completely orange since there is still some blue in the mixture.

At 4:18, Echo says that because we believe that blue and yellow make green and not cyan and yellow, the blue and yellow mixture will always be more desaturated than the cyan and yellow mixture.

Can we all just agree at this point that the “cyan” Echo is using is literally a lighter blue? It’s called Sky Blue for fuck’s sake! Cyan is a mix of blue and green, not a tint of blue.

And on top of that, she chose a really dark blue, so of course the green on the top is gonna be darker and more desaturated than the one at the bottom.

At 4:40, Echo begins to literally contradict herself and it infuriates me to no end! She says, quote: “I think deep down we all know that the way we were taught color is wrong because so many people think that cyan and blue are the same color when they are vastly different hues.”

Cyan and blue are obviously not the same color, so why in the world did you treat a lighter shade of blue as cyan less than a minute ago? You are beginning to deconstruct your entire argument, Echo.

Moving on, at around 5:30, she brings up two different versions of the color wheel, the Munsell Wheel and the Triadic Color Wheel. One is science and the other one is tradition, therefore the Munsell Wheel is correct while the other one is completely false. Supposedly.

Well, if you go on the website, the site states that the Munsell Wheen is based on the RBG and CMY sets of primary colors, not the RBY set. They even state that the wheel is used for light and printing, not painting. (I have no clue why Tumblr ruined the image into an absolute blurry mess, here’s the website so you can read this yourself).

So in reality, the Munsell color wheel is for RBG and CMY while the Triadic color wheel is for RBY. Both are valid in this case, one isn’t fake while the other one’s real.

If you didn’t think I was mad before, go to 6:05 where Echo makes the outrageous claim:

“Purple is a lie. It literally doesn’t exist. It’s a color your brain makes up. That’s why purple is so rare in nature, because it’s not real.”

She literally says that. And then proceeds to debunk everything from that point on.

Also, blue is the rarest color in nature. Just saying. Not purple. All it takes is a simple Google search:

But here’s a link that goes into detail as to why this is the case.

At 6:25, Echo states that purple is the closest word in our vocabulary to magenta. So... purple and magenta are the same color? But they’re not. In the RBY and RGB sets, magenta is made via red and blue, the same two colors used to make purple. However, it’s with different ratios (a lot more red than blue). Therefore, purple and magenta aren’t the same color, they’re two different colors because they are made differently.

At 7:10, she talks about how colors are just waves of light that we perceive with our eyes. Yes, this is true. She literally says that at one end of the spectrum there’s red while at the other there’s purple. She goes on to say that every color can be assigned a number, except for magenta.

A) If purple can be assigned a color (its number is 400), that makes it a real color, correct? So why did you say it wasn’t a real color?

B) If magenta can’t be assigned a number, does it mean that it’s a color that we make up in our head and therefore isn’t a real color? Oh wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

At 7:16, she says, and I quote:

“Magenta is a color that doesn’t have a wavelength.”

So... it’s not real then? Your entire video is crumbling and it’s crumbling quickly.

For the next while, she goes on to explain RBG and eye cone science. All of it seems to add up. She quickly says that if your green and blue cones fire off, it ‘ll make cyan.

Okay, lemme get this straight. At the beginning of the video, you picked up a light shade of blue and called it cyan. Now you’re saying that cyan and blue are two different colors? Girl, make up your mind!

Echo then goes on to explain that magenta is made by your red and blue cones firing off, but green is in the middle and those cones aren’t firing off, so it makes up the color magenta.

Once again, lemme get this straight. At the beginning of the video, you were talking about how magenta is a real color and how it’s a primary color. Now you’re saying it’s not even a real color. Please, just make up your mind! Is CMY the only set of primary colors, or are we gonna actually tell the truth and say there’s more than one set of primary colors?

Now that I’ve completely debunked Echo’s video, it’s time for part 2 of this post.

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

Remember how I said in the beginning that there are in fact 3 sets of primary colors, not just 1?

When people say CMY are primary colors, they are indeed right. The whole myth that CMY is the true set of primary colors is a lie based on twisting the truth.

We have 3 sets of primary colors:

RBY

RGB

and CMY

Each set of primary colors have their own uses and purposes. Let’s start with RBY, shall we?

RBY is used in traditional media and traditional media only. Paint, markers, crayons, etc. That is why we are taught this set of primary colors in elementary school. We’re coloring with crayons and paints. This primary color set is used by any artist who does traditional art, primarily painting, but any medium that is traditional, aka not digital or printed out.

However, many many artists use a different set of primary colors: RGB

RGB is used in digital media and digital media only. It’s light as opposed to pigment. Light, screens, digital drawing. All RGB. Whenever you make digital art, you use the RGB color wheel. 

However, what if you plan on making merch of your art? Whether it’s stickers, clothing, pins, etc., if it’s being printed out, you use the CMY set of primary colors.

The CMY set is only used for printed media. Whether you’re printing out a picture or full colored document or if you’re having merch made. Either make your art CMY in your art program or you can use the RGB primary colors and then switch it afterward depending on the art program you use and if you can do that.

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

In conclusion/TLDR: There isn’t one true set of primary colors that rule over. There are in fact 3 sets of primary colors that all coexist and are used in varying situations. And yes, purple is indeed a real color.

Please do not send any hate to Echo Gillette. I’m simply using her video as an example of a myth that I have seen being spread around like wildfire lately. 

If you, for whatever reason, don’t want to believe what I said because I don’t have a profession in art and is so far just a hobby and passion of mine, here’s a post where someone who has gone through art school and has a degree in art debunks a post that spread the CMY myth around.

Thank you for reading. @echoisweird​, if you’re reading this, thank you for reading this as well. I have the utmost respect for you, I just hate seeing you spread myths and lies about art.