#still kind of messing around with brushes and colors and stuff

[mellohiizz]

have been drawing creatures to try and combat my artblock so uh. here's kww and odyssey duo critters. ^_^ some bonus creatures under the cut. :3c

ive been going around the gcs showing those off like a proud mother, and now you guys get to see them too.

[ev3rm0re-q]

everything i didn't say ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆

synopsis: This camping trip was supposed to be a relaxing getaway—just a few days in the woods, swapping scary ghost stories, roasting s'mores by the campfire, maybe even squeezing in some late-night cabin sleepovers. It all sounded so perfect, right? Wrong.

Y/N ends up stuck sharing a cabin with the one person she can't stand. Fucking Choi Soobin—the guy who spent all of high school turning every assignment and exam into some stupid competition to see who's the smartest, who flashed his cocky, infuriating smirk when he beat her at their in-school debate competition she'd spent countless nights preparing for. The same guy who gave her every reason to believe he felt something for her, who blurred all the lines during their senior project—only to ghost her like none of it ever meant a thing. This has to be some kind of joke, right?

pairing: ex-academic rival!soobin x fem!reader

genre: enemies-to-lovers trope, ex-academic rivals to lovers, only one bed trope, forced proximity, angst romance filled with tension, college AU-ish, unresolved feelings

warning/s: lots of swearing, suggestive-ish

wc: 10.1K

September 2017

It had been three hours since I lugged all my stuff into Soobin’s house—project printouts, art supplies, notebooks, and my heavy-ass laptop—all piled into a chaotic mess around me.

The clock on his study desk ticked past 10 PM. I sat cross-legged on a cushion on the bedroom floor, leaning against a small wooden table, surrounded by scattered papers. Some notes were marked up with pink highlighter, others crumpled or stuck with colorful post-its.

Even the little doodles Soobin had drawn on the post-its were pinned around the table here and there, giving the chaos a strange kind of charm.

Our laptops sat perpendicular to each other, their screens casting a soft glow across the clutter. I tapped my red pen lightly against the table, eyes skimming the printed script beside me—covered in scribbles, arrows, and margin notes I could barely even read anymore.

The words were starting to blur together, familiar in that way things get when you’ve stared at them too long.

“Your part on slide nine feels a little rushed.” I said, after a stretch of quiet.

To my right, Soobin sat on a cushion of his own, sleeves of his hoodie pushed up, glasses reflecting the glow of his screen as his eyes flicked over the same PowerPoint slide.

His expression was calm—too calm for someone who was going to have his final presentation the next morning. Then he stretched, arms reaching overhead as he let out a quiet yawn, eyes half-lidded but still focused.

“You were talking too fast in other parts too,” I reminded him, not even looking up.

He let out a quiet groan. “You’ve timed me, what, three times already?”

“I’m just saying,” I replied. “You’re hitting the marks, yeah—but you’re hitting them like a robot.”

He turned to me with a raised brow. “The script’s too long for me not to talk fast, you know.”

“You’re basically rapping through the script, Soobin,” I gave him an unimpressed look.

“I read it aloud earlier. The timing was just right—You’re just the one who keeps starting the timer too early." He argued.

I raised a brow, unimpressed. “I’m not early on anything. You always leave a few seconds on the timer.”

His eyes found mine—and stayed there, just a second too long.

“So,” he said slowly, “you want me to slow down, then?”

“Just this part,” I murmured, pointing to a line with the tip of my pen. He leaned in slowly, just enough for his shoulder to brush mine, eyes following the point of my pen.

I glanced at him without thinking. His hair hung messily over his forehead, brushing the tops of his glasses. He was fiddling with the end of his hoodie string again, fingers curling around it before slipping it between his teeth, chewing on it like he didn’t even notice. All of a sudden, I realized how close our faces had gotten.

“Where?” he asked quietly, the words slightly muffled, the hoodie string still tugged between his lips.

“H-here…” I managed, barely above a whisper. I pointed with my pen to the line he needed to read. He leaned in even closer, eyes narrowing in on the script.

I instinctively pulled back, creating space between us as casually as I could manage, eyes flicking to my laptop screen like it suddenly demanded all of my attention. But I could still feel the heat blooming across my cheeks, spreading too fast to ignore.

“Yeah, these notes are good,” he said after a moment, voice quieter than before. I glanced sideways, then down at the hoodie string still hanging from his mouth.

“Do you really have to chew on that?” I asked, raising a brow, trying for playful but landing somewhere between disbelief and mild concern.

I fiddled with the cap of my pen, letting the soft sound fill the space between us as my other hand hovered over my keyboard, feigning concentration. Instead of snapping back like I expected, he paused.

His eyes flicked toward mine as he slowly let the hoodie string slip from his mouth, the fabric falling softly against his chest. For a moment, he just looked at me—head tilted slightly, like he was trying to piece something together.Then came the smallest twitch of a smile.

“You always pick the smallest fights with me when you’re nervous,” he said, voice low and even.

Not teasing—just stating it, like it was something he’d known for a while. My pen stilled mid-air.

“I’m not nervous,” I muttered, eyes fixed on my screen.

There was a pause. Then, softer, "You are. But it's okay... I'm nervous about it too."

That made me glance at him, and this time, I didn't look away. He leaned back slightly, posture relaxed, like he’d peeled something back—something he didn’t usually let show.

Oh. He was talking about the presentation.

Right.

But there was something in the way he said it. Gentle. Almost like a secret passed between us. It landed in my chest like a held breath I didn’t know I was keeping.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, trying to shake off the weird flutter in my chest.

I turned back to my laptop, leaving my pen resting on the script as I switched to the PowerPoint tab, brows furrowing while I scrolled through the slides for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

"You’re overthinking again,” Soobin said, voice low and teasing.

I didn’t look at him. “Says the guy who helped me color-code our outline and triple-checked our citations.”

“Yeah, but I hide it better,” he replied, the smirk already audible in his tone.

“I just don’t want it to suck,” I sighed.

He let out a soft laugh. “It doesn’t. We’re fine.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He smiled—genuine this time—and reached across the table to tug my notebook toward him. Our fingers brushed for a moment. Just a graze. Nothing major. But neither of us pulled away right away.

“I don’t get why you stress so much,” he said softly, leaning forward to jot a quick note on the script with my pen.

“You always make everything better.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He handed the pen back without looking away. “The slides. The project. You just… care more than anyone else I’ve worked with.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment.

Not really.

But it made something twist inside me anyway.

I looked at him—really looked at him. The way his hair fell into his eyes, the way he always tilted his head when he was thinking, the subtle twitch of a smile he tried to hide whenever I got too worked up over formatting.

He was calm. Too calm. Like he wasn’t falling apart inside the way I was. I swallowed the bitterness tightening in my chest.

"You're weirdly nice when you're tired," I muttered, pretending to fix something on the PowerPoint.

“I’m always nice,” he shot back.

I gave him a skeptical look.

“Okay,” he laughed softly. “Sometimes.”

“You know,” I started, before I could catch myself,

“you’re really hard to read sometimes.”

He blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Some moments you’re open—easy to talk to. But then other times, I can’t figure out what you’re thinking at all.”

The room fell silent. He blinked slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“So are you,” he replied, voice quieter now.

“But I try.”

My heart did a stupid flip in my chest.

“Try what?”

He looked at me again, eyes steady. “To make it obvious.”

Then, it hit me,—all the signs I’d buried, the little things I brushed off as me being dramatic or reading too much into nothing.

Every look, every touch, every word.

My mouth went dry.

What the fuck was he trying to say?

I wanted to ask—God, I wanted to ask—but the pounding in my chest felt deafening, like my heart was trying to drown out the moment.

Oh my god, what if he can hear it too? I wondered.

So I said nothing.

I just stared at him, caught in the pull of it all—panic curling at the edges of my thoughts as hope blooms rapidly in my chest, confusion wrapping around it like a knot I couldn’t untangle.

“I—I…” I faltered, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Before I could think to move, he leaned in, eyes locked on mine. His hand rose slowly—hesitant at first—then steadier as his fingers reached for a loose strand of hair near my cheek.

He brushed it back behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my skin with a softness that sent a chill down my spine. But he didn’t pull away.

His hand lingered near my face, close enough that I could feel his warmth, close enough to see the subtle shift in his expression—something careful, something unreadable, something that made my throat go dry. Neither of us said a word.

His words from earlier hung between us like an unfinished sentence suspended in the air, and I was too afraid that if I spoke now, it would all collapse—too real, too raw.

We’d had moments like this before. Subtle ones. The kind that slipped by unspoken, but never unnoticed. Lingering glances in the hallway, the way his hand brushed mine when he passed notes, how his voice always softened when he would call me over to him.

But this? This felt louder. Closer.

"Y/N… I—" he began, voice low, hesitant.

But then, right on cue, his phone buzzed sharply beside us—the alarm he’d set earlier cutting through the quiet like a crack of thunder.

He flinched. So did I.

The moment shattered.

He moved quickly, fumbling for his phone on the floor beside him. The sound cut off with a single tap, but the silence it left behind was deafening. For a moment, he didn’t look at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the now-dark screen, jaw tight.

Then, voice quieter this time—measured, distant—he said,

“You should probably head back.”

My heart dropped.

He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he added, like that explained everything.

“Right…” I murmured. “Big day.”

I nodded, slowly gathering my things. Papers, pens, laptop. Anything to keep my hands busy, to ignore the weight in my chest. He reached toward my notebook beside me, the same one he’d quietly asked to borrow earlier, but his hand paused halfway—as if hesitating—before he finally picked it up.

He stood too, tidying what was left on the table with methodical care. Like if we didn’t speak on it, whatever almost happened would just fold neatly into the mess of crumpled drafts and unfinished thoughts.

Maybe that was safer.

Maybe that was us.

Almost. Always fucking almost.

I left his room without a word, not even sparing him a glance, as the quiet between us was left hanging heavier than ever.

The next morning, it was raining—a steady drizzle that blurred the campus edges and made the air feel thick with calm. He acted like nothing had ever happened.

He greeted me with that same soft smile he always wore before a presentation, handing me a printed copy of our outline. He even cracked a quiet joke about how I’d probably end up rewriting his part mid-way if I got too nervous.

But just like he said the night before—we nailed it.

The presentation went smoothly—clean, confident, every line delivered exactly as we’d rehearsed. Our professor smiled in satisfaction, expecting nothing less than perfection from us.

Our friends gave us friendly pats on the back, and compliments were thrown around—“Whoa, you guys did such a great job!” They stood by us, sharing the buzz of relief like teammates crossing a finish line.

But afterward?

Fucking nothing.

After school that day, it was like something snapped shut. No texts. No awkward small talk in the hallway.

Not even a stupid silly face thrown at me when the professor announced Soobin had gotten the highest score on our English exam.

Nothing.

He stopped showing up where I used to find him—in the library, the park, even the convenience store where we always bumped into each other.

He just stopped replying. Stopped being there.

It was like I’d never mattered beyond that stupid project. And just like that, he was gone—leaving me tangled in everything I didn’t understand.

June 2019

Two years have passed since everything between us quietly fell apart—the electric connection replaced by a silence thick enough to fill a room.

In that time, everything changed. We went from playful teasing and personal competitions to exchanging little more than sharp looks and truly hurtful remarks. It’s not like we don’t cross paths—our worlds still overlap—but somehow, it’s like we don’t really exist to each other anymore.

Standing here now, I can feel the distance—not just the space between us, but all the things left unsaid, the moments we should’ve shared but didn’t, and the memories that don’t feel warm anymore.

The rain falls in a steady downpour, tapping rhythmically against the wooden porch roof where we stand. The ground grows muddier by the second, as the trees and plants eagerly soak up the long-awaited water they craved. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine as tall forest trees towering above us, casting shadows over the clearing.

"I can't believe I managed to get stuck with you," I mutter, groaning at the sight of the tall, raven-haired boy in front of me.

His head is bowed, fingers gliding across his phone screen with quiet concentration.

He doesn’t even look up. "Trust me, the feeling’s mutual."

I roll my eyes at his comment, letting my bag and umbrella drop against the wall with a heavy thump. Digging my hands into my pockets, I glance back at Soobin.

"Do you have the key?"

He sighs annoyingly at the question before reaching into his right pocket, and silently holds out the key to me. I shoot him a pointed look before taking it from his hand and unlocking the door.

It swings open to reveal a small but cozy cabin bedroom—just enough space for two. I step inside with Soobin, opening the door to the only bathroom near the entrance and nodding in satisfaction at the sight. Behind me, I hear him move forward to inspect the rest of the room, followed by the faint sound of a complaint.

"This is a joke, right?" I hear him say.

I step out of the bathroom and find him standing in front of the queen-sized bed, staring at it like it personally offended him. He looks back at me with a disbelief expression. I shrug, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“It was the cheaper option. They were gonna charge way more if we booked each room with double single beds.” He exhales sharply, running a hand down his face. I nod toward the floor.

"The floor's always open, if you want. Though I think the racoon I saw outside might appreciate some company too."

"Haha, funny," he deadpans.

I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and sink down onto the mattress with a sigh, my mind drifting to the conversation I had with Beomgyu earlier today.

“Come on, can’t you switch with me, Gyu? You guys were roommates before, right?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Beomgyu said, tone apologetic but firm. “but I already talked to Kai earlier. I promised I’d play Cookie Run with him when we got to the room—he’s pretty excited to have me as his roommate.” I stared at him for a second, hoping he would change his mind. He didn't.

I exhale sharply, jaw tight. Of course this shit would happen.

This whole arrangement happened because someone thought it'd be a genius idea to assign roommates by picking straws—completely random, they said. An equal chance for everyone, they said. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

Yeah. Sure.

I had only agreed because, honestly, I mean what are the odds that I'd end up with Choi Soobin? The same boy who’s spent every semester of high school trying to one-up me on test scores and presentations.

The one who ran against me for class representative and won by just a few votes—probably thanks to his crowd of fangirls who couldn’t stop staring at him in class.

The boy kept sending me mixed signals the entire time we worked together on that final major project, only to shut me out right after without a single word.

It was a miracle we were even caught in the same room. Despite having mutual friends and going to the same university, our paths rarely crossed—only seeing each other at social events or the occasional group hangout.

Of course, only Yunjin knew about the mixed signals part. She was the only person I trusted enough to vent to—the poor girl was forced to sit through rants over lunch about how confusing and frustrating he was. But, unbeknownst to me, that same 'poor girl' was actually in on a plan—one orchestrated by none other than Choi Yeonjun himself.

Everyone was in on it except for Soobin and me.

The plan? To finally put an end to all the bickering, snarky remarks, and this endless tension between us.

I remember hearing Yeonjun calling from the living room earlier, telling everyone we’d be picking straws to decide who’d room with whom. Meanwhile, I was in my bedroom, too busy stuffing one last hoodie into my already full backpack.

There were two sets of colored straws—each set pairing two people together.

Taehyun managed to distract Soobin with some 'new workout tip' he was eager to share, flashing his phone in front of him. Soobin's eyes were glued to the screen, interested at this new advice his friend had given him, that he carelessly grabbed a random colored straw from Yeonjun's hand without even sparing a glance at it.

When Soobin held it up, the two boys exchanged a knowing glance. Soobin got the orange straw.

Taehyun gave Yeonjun a slight nod, and Yeonjun then strolled over to the others, quietly whispering which colors to pick to avoid the dreaded orange. Finally, Yeonjun made his way over to me, one last straw pinched between his fingers.

"You're the last one, Y/N. Orange was the only one that was left," he said, holding it out.

"Oh, that's fine. I think the orange is pretty cute anyway," I shrugged, more relieved to be done forcefully shoving that hoodie into my already overflowing backpack than anything else.

He grinned, eyes flicking to the straw in my hand. "Yeah? I think it suits you."

I flashed a quick smile in return. "Thanks, I've always wanted to match with a traffic cone."

Yeonjun chuckled under his breath and nodded toward the living room.

"C’mon, let’s see who fate paired you up with."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed him down the hall, completely unaware of the setup I had just walked straight into. We stepped into the living room. Everyone is raising their straws in the air, scanning the room for their partners, and others already finding theirs.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight, catching the moment Yunjin excitedly rushed over to Nari. They shrieked and jumped together with joy as they realized they both pulled the green straws.

On the couch, Beomgyu and Kai compared their blue straws, already deep in conversation about some game Kai insisted on playing in the cabin tonight. Yeonjun scanned the room before casually walking over to Taehyun. He lifted his red straw with a knowing grin before exchanging a 'bro' handshake with him.

Then it hit me. Oh fuck, no.

Then that means... I slowly turned my head, already dreading what I know I would see.

And there he was—Choi Soobin, standing a few feet away with the same orange straw in hand, staring straight at me.

I fucking hate orange.

My phone dings, and I glance down to see a text from Yunjin and Yeonjun.

Yunjin: Sorry about the roommate situation again, babe. Wish it could’ve been the three of us here. We miss you <3 sent at 20:17 pm.

Me: It's okay, it wasn't your fault. Miss you guys too! sent at 20:18 pm.

Yunjin: Think you’ll survive? sent at 20:18 pm.

Me: Yeah, just hoping I make it through the night and the rest of the trip without committing a felony sent at 20:19 pm.

Yunjin: Sending prayers and snacks! Good luck, babe <3 sent at 20:20 pm.

I smile softly at her texts before switching over to my chat with Yeonjun.

Yeonjun: How's orange going for ya right now ;) sent at 20:16 pm.

Me: Die. sent at 20:21 pm.

I glance over at Soobin, who’s already sprawled out on the right side of bed, phone still in hand.

“So, you’re taking the bed?” I ask, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” he replies without looking up. Then, with a perfectly fake smile, he adds, “Just try not to kick me in your sleep, yeah?”

The sass practically oozes from his voice.

"No promises," I mutter under my breath, kicking off my shoes a little more aggressive than necessary—just to piss him off. "Accidents happen."

He snorts quietly, still glued to his phone. “That tends to happen a lot when you’re around.”

I roll my eyes at his comment, "You've chosen the right side of the bed, then?"

“Figured it made sense. You didn’t seem in a rush to claim it.”

"Oh, I didn't realize it was a race."

He lets out a small breath, not quite a laugh. "With you? It usually is."

“Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.” I mumble, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Wow. It's just like high school all over again.

A beat passes. No one says anything and neither of us smiles. The room feels tense but somehow warmer than it did a minute ago. I can't tell if its because he turned on the heater—or because this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in a year. Well, sorta proper.

It was tense, but it felt all too familiar to the both of us. It felt almost too easy to fall back into this rhythm. I don't respond right away, I just sit at the foot of the bed, unzipping my bag—only to find my clothes soaked from the heavy downpour.

I pull out the thick hoodie I had shoved in earlier, raising it in the air as it drips water onto the wooden floor.

"Fuck me."

I hold out the wet hoodie and hurry into the bathroom, draping it over the sink. I walk back into the bedroom again, digging into my bag for clothes that somehow escaped the rain. Luckily, I find some dry jeans, pajama shorts, and t-shirts, though a few items are damp.

Unfortunately, the other sweater I had packed for the trip is completely soaked as well, leaving me with only an oversized tee to keep me warm for the night.

A notification pops up from the group chat. It was Kai sending a blurry selfie with a face mask on, while Beomgyu flips off the camera, green glob smeared across both cheeks. I shake my head at the message, before pulling off my sweatshirt and heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

I set my things down and peel off the rest of my clothes as the water takes a moment to heat up. When it’s finally hot enough, I step in, letting the steady stream wash over me—washing away the stress of the day: the rain, the long travel, him.

For a moment, everything feels still.

The sound of the shower mixes with the quiet hum of my thoughts and the steam rising from the hot water. I try not to psych myself out about being alone in the same room as Soobin again.

It literally feels like I’m trapped in some strange purgatory of old, burning tension and mountains of unfinished business

Okay, don't overreact.

When I finally step out, towel wrapped around me and hair dripping onto the bathroom tiles, I feel a little calmer than before—like I’m myself again. Or at least a version of me that doesn’t want to peel layers of skin off because of the sweat and rain clinging to me.

A version of me that might actually make it through this trip.

I dry off quickly and throw on some clothes—a loose, oversized shirt and the driest pair of pajama shorts I can find. Not great for warmth, but better than sleeping in damp, smelly jeans.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Clean feels good.

I open the bathroom door to the soft, warm glow of the bedroom light. Soobin is still there, now sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, phone casting a pale glow on his face. I quietly make my way to my side, keeping my back facing him as I start organizing the rest of my things without a word.

Behind me, the bathroom door clicks shut again, and the sound of the shower starts up. After a few minutes, the water stops, and the door opens once more—Soobin steps out.

“You done sulking yet?” I hear him ask.

“Not even close,” I reply, still facing away.

“Knew you’d say that.” He smirks.

I raise an eyebrow, pausing mid-rummage through my bag. Then I turn around—only to be met with a sight I wasn’t quite prepared for.

"What? You would've done the same if—Jesus, Soobin.”

My words halt as my eyes catch the sight of him standing by the bed. The boy only had a towel slung loosely around his waist and his chest still glistening with droplets from the shower.

His raven hair is tousled, carelessly swept back just enough to keep it from falling into his eyes as beads of water slowly trail down his neck and disappearing beneath the edge of the towel.

"You seriously couldn't have gotten dressed up inside the bathroom?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looks up, a t-shirt hanging from one hand, completely unfazed. He shrugs. "Didn't realize it was a crime to dry off in my own room."

I scoff, tearing my gaze away, and forcing myself not to notice the faint flush creeping up my cheeks. This definitely wasn’t the same boy who used to trip over his words just asking to borrow a pen.

No—this version walks around like he owns the fucking air we breathe. I hate that I still notice the difference.

“Idiot,” I mumble, barely audible under my breath.

The rain continues to patter against the windowpane, its steady rhythm growing louder as the storm outside intensifies. He runs a hand through his damp hair, tousling it further, then pulls the clean shirt over his head. The cotton fabric stretches slightly, damp patches from the shower leaving faint gray marks on the white shirt.

I adjust my own shirt, making sure it sits right, before trying to my bury my attention on the mundane task instead of the half-naked—honestly, basically naked, considering it was just a damn towel—boy behind me.

The quiet stretches on, the sound of rain filling the room as I work. Once I'm finally done, I stand, glancing over my shoulder to find him now wearing a hoodie over his shirt, paired with loose pajama pants. I let out sigh in relief and, a tiny bit of disappointment before walking over to the bed.

I pull back the covers and settle into my side, leaning against the headboard. For a moment, I let my eyes fall shut, trying to quiet the mixed nerves and lingering tension still humming under my skin. A few minutes pass before I feel the mattress dip beside me.

I open my eyes slowly and reach for my phone, letting the screen light up my face as I begin scrolling through social media. I come across a few dumb videos that make me snort under my breath, one of them pulling out a soft chuckle.

We don’t look at each other for a while. We don’t need to. There’s an unspoken agreement hanging in the air—we’ll just try to get through this the best we can.

The bedside lamps illuminating the room with warm lighting, cutting through the dimness as the storm outside grows even stronger.

Suddenly, the lights start to flicker abruptly.

My eyes slightly widen as uneasiness starts creeping in just as Soobin and I finally exchange glances at one another.

Then, everything goes black—the power cuts out and the heater falls silent. Now, only the glow from our phone screens lights up the space between us. I softly gasp at the sudden blackout, fingers instinctively tightening around the blanket as I pull it closer to me, attempting to hide the fluttering fear building in my chest.

I watch as Soobin turns on the flashlight on his phone, then standing up from his spot to try flicking the lights on and off again.

"That won't work, you know," I tell him.

"Not bad to try, is it?"

I shift my gaze toward the window, watching the rain clash against the glass as the tree branches sway in the gusts of the storm. Suddenly, a sharp alarm rings from Soobin's phone, making the both of us jump. He scans his device, slowly taking his time to read the alert before looking back at me.

“Heavy rainfall. The power’s out in other parts of the area too. They say it won’t come back until the storm calms down.” I sigh, turning my phone’s flashlight on and sinking into the sounds of rain filling the room.

"Just when it couldn't get any worse" he comments, sitting back down on the bed.

"Right," I say quietly, not looking up. "Because sharing a room with me is clearly the end of the world."

He tilts his head slightly, glancing over. "Didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to." I exhale, keeping my voice even. "You’re not exactly subtle."

I glance down at my phone, the soft light of the screen casting a faint light across the sheets. After a moment, I move to place it on the bedside table, flashlight facing up to push back some of the dimness hanging in the room.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable—just... suspended. Like we’re both waiting to see what the other will do, but not in a hurry to break the stillness.

"How do you think the others are doing?" he asks eventually, voice lower than before.

I pause to think for a moment.

"Beomgyu and Kai are probably trying to see who can scare the other first with stupid ghost stories... or maybe watching some random movie Kai downloaded on his laptop before the trip."

He lets out a quiet laugh. "Yeonjun and Tae are probably having those deep conversations—catching up on life, figuring stuff out."

We share a quick look—something unspoken passing between us, a brief moment of shared understanding.

"Yunjin and Nari are probably the same," I add.

"Except Nari’s definitely curled up next to Yunjin by now, too scared of the thunder and lightning outside to care about the blackout."

I chuckle softly at the thought of my friends using this time to connect with each other better. It’s oddly comforting to think about them all, finding little moments like this despite everything.

A sudden flash of lightning briefly illuminates the window, casting sharp shadows across the room as the rain pounds harder against the glass. My bottom lip trembles ever so slightly, the roaring thunder outside and the blackout still gnawing at my nerves.

I bite down gently, trying to steady myself—trying to keep the spiraling thoughts from dragging me too deep into the what-ifs. Soobin notices. He doesn’t say anything, just quietly gets back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. I can feel his gaze linger as he turns to face me, his eyes settling on the faint shiver I can’t quite hide.

I force myself to stay still, pretending I don’t feel the weight of his gaze. I fix my eyes on the wall ahead, silently counting the seconds between flashes of lightning and the low rumble that follows.

Then, his voice breaks the silence—low, even, careful. "You okay?"

It's simple. Unassuming. But the question makes my chest tighten a little. I nod, almost instinctively.

"Yeah. I’m usually fine with this kind of thing. Just... this one feels different.”

A pause. Then, "You always did hate the dark."

HIs tone isn't teasing. It’s just a memory, held between his words—gentle and matter-of-fact. I glance over at him. He continues to hold his gaze at me—watching, really—not in a way that demands anything. Just... present. Like he's trying to recall a memory too.

"I didn't think you'd remember that." I murmur.

And suddenly I’m brought back to a moment during one of our late project nights, two years ago. I’d mentioned it without much thought, embarrassed as I admitted to keeping a nightlight on before I fell sleep well into high school. I’d expected him to laugh, maybe even tease and poke fun at me for it. But he didn't.

He’d just listened.

This moment feels like that version of him again. Before everything got so messy.

Soobin shifts slightly under the blanket, his voice softer when it returns. “I didn’t forget much, you know. Even when it felt like I did.”

He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to. A moment of silence lingers between us.

"You can borrow my hoodie, if you want." he suddenly offers, already tugging at the sleeve like he’s ready to hand it over. "Might help you warm up a bit."

“No, it’s fine. I’m not that cold,” I say, trying to wave it off.

He shakes his head lightly, already starting to pull the hoodie over his head. “I don’t mind. I was next to the heater earlier, so I'm still warm anyway.”

“No, really. I’m okay,” I insist, even as I curl the blanket a little tighter around myself.

He gives me an unimpressed look. “Y/N, you’re literally shivering.”

"So?" I ask. He rolls his eyes before siting up from his previous position, slipping the hoodie over his head. The fabric shifts with the motion, briefly lifting his shirt and revealing a glimpse of his waist before settling into place again.

“Stop.”

He smirks slightly, holding the hoodie out again.

“Stop what?” he replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Being nice to me,” He shakes his head with an amused expression on his face, like he couldn't believe I was still thinking about that right now.

He tosses the hoodie toward me, the fabric landing softly on the bed between us before I can argue again. I can’t help but smile, feeling that familiar push-pull between us again—the unspoken acknowledgment that beneath the bickering, there’s something... softer.

“Just take it,” he says casually, settling back into his side of the bed like the conversation’s over.

“Don’t make me regret being nice.”

I stare at the hoodie for a second before slowly picking it up. It’s still warm. I hesitate—less because of pride now, more because it smells like him, familiar and oddly comforting. Like something I didn’t know I missed.

“Thanks,” I murmur, slipping it on. The sleeves are long, brushing against my fingertips, and the fabric is soft from too many washes.

But even as I settle into it, a little voice in my head starts nagging. What are you doing? Don’t let yourself fall for his bullshit again.

I try to play it cool, pushing that voice to the deepest part of my mind. But I can’t help the way I slow down just a little as I pull the hoodie tighter around me. I know to myself I shouldn't be letting it matter this much. But here I am, sitting in a dark room, wrapped in Soobin’s sweatshirt like it’s some kind of fragile, borrowed comfort, trying to make up for the years of unfinished business.

The same guy I’d been quietly pining over for years back in high school—the one who stood up for me whenever someone made dumb comments about me, the one who—

Okay, we get it.

Holy shit, I need to get a grip.

“You know, this reminds me of that time in junior year—when the power went out during finals week?” He cuts off my train of thought.

I blink, thrown for a second by the sudden shift. “What, in the middle of exam prep?”

He nods, a small laugh slipping out. “Yeah. You were freaking out because your notes got soaked in the rain, and the library shut early. You barged into the classroom like you were ready to fight someone.”

I let out a quiet groan, covering my face with one hand. “God, don’t remind me.”

“I remember you made the whole friend group take turns sharing notes with you. Bossed everyone around like it was your birthright.”

I peek through my fingers at him, trying not to smile. “Well, I was desperate. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah. I didn’t mind.” He shrugs. His tone shifts slightly—quieter, softer. And something about it makes me glance up again.

“You never really did know how many people wanted to help you,” he adds. “I don’t think you let yourself see it.”

My throat tightens a little at that. I don’t have anything clever to say back. So I just look at him. And for a second, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and something quietly settling between us. Something that’s been there for a long time.

"I remember when you used to ‘borrow’ my notes during our study sessions, and somehow they’d never make it back to me.” I say, a teasing edge in my voice.

Soobin casts me a glance I can’t quite read, then shifts his eyes upward to the ceiling. “They made it back… eventually.”

I raise an eyebrow. “After like two months. They were all crumpled by the time they came back to me, especially that one time you spilled banana milk on the cover of my notebook.”

“It was still readable.” He chuckles, unbothered.

"Barely. My color coded notes and neat handwriting deserved better."

Soobin smiles a little at that. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have let me sit next to you in class. That’s on you.”

I shake my head, lips twitching. “Unbelievable.”

“Resourceful,” he corrects, tapping his fingers lightly on the blanket.

I shift my body to completely face him, "You're still the same, Choi Soobin.." I chuckle softly.

Soobin mirrors my movement, turning just enough so we’re facing each other now, the space between us dim and quiet except for the rain outside and the faint hush of our breaths.

After a beat, he asks quietly, his voice softer than before, almost careful. “So… what are you thinking right now? Just between us.”

I offer a small, almost shy smile—less teasing, more real. “And what makes you think I’d just spill everything that easily?”

“Maybe because it’s just the two of us here, might as well keep things peaceful instead of turning this into another argument.”" He says, his voice soft but steady.

I’m not even sure when it all started—this endless back-and-forth between us, like kids fighting over the last piece of cake. What began as silent, resentful looks slowly turned into quiet digs, and now it’s just occasional sharp remarks whenever we cross paths.

It’s feels almost automatic now—like a reflex to sink into that sour mood when he’s around, the weight of all those old grudges clouding, filling me with disgust at the thought of Choi Soobin. But tonight, I'll take a slow breath and try to let it all go. I want to focus on staying civil, pushing all those unspoken frustrations aside, pretending for now that the tension between us doesn’t exist.

I let out a sigh. “Honestly? I’m just counting down the minutes ‘til the storm lets up and the power come back on.”

"Really?"

"Really." I lift an eyebrow, giving him a look.

"That’s all that’s on your mind?"

"What, were you expecting a secret confession or something?"

Fuck.

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “I don’t know... it just looked like your brain was running a marathon.” His voice is gentle, but there’s something curious laced in it—like he’s hoping I’ll prove him right.

I offer a small smile. “Well, I was also trying to figure out how we’re supposed to survive the next few days without driving each other insane.”

He laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “That’s fair.”

A quiet moment stretches between us, the steady tap of rain against the window filling the space.

“But so far… I think we’re doing okay,” he says, voice thoughtful.

Then he glances over, meeting my eyes with a hint of hesitation. "Right?"

I hold his gaze for a moment, surprised by the softness in his voice—genuine, almost unsure. The kind of tone I wasn’t used to hearing from him anymore. A small part of me wants to scoff, to brush it off with another sarcastic remark. But instead, I find myself nodding—just barely.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think we are.”

We both exchange soft smiles before breaking eye contact, the moment passing like a quiet truce.

"How about you?" I ask, voice softer now.

"Hm?" he responds, barely turning his head.

"What’s on your mind, right now?" I press gently, tilting my head slightly as I study his profile.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thinking about..." he trails on.

"How many points I lost in my game when the blackout kicked me out mid-match.”

I laugh softly, playfully smacking his arm. “I’m serious!”

“I am too! Do you know how hard it was to build up that streak?” He winces dramatically, rubbing the imaginary spot I hit. I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Yeah, I’m sure your streak is definitely the top priority right now" He chuckles at my comment, the corners of his mouth twitching in that familiar, slightly smug way.

I glance up at him, locking eyes—steady, deliberate. His expression shifts just slightly, something unreadable passing through, but I don’t look away. Not this time.

"Really." I murmur.

He pauses for a moment, just long enough to stir my curiosity. Something about the hesitation feels deliberate—but I don’t push. I stay quiet, waiting.

"I guess...” he starts, eyes fixed on the ceiling instead of me. “I was just thinking about how this feels a little like... high school again.”

I feel his words like a pang in my chest, old memories stirring just beneath the surface—unwelcome but familiar.

“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “It does feel like that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then, more carefully, “Do you… still think about that time?”

“Sometimes,” I admit, eyes fixed on some spot beyond him.

“When I start missing how easy everything used to be. Before college got... complicated”

Before it got complicated between us, too.

"I think about it sometimes too, you know.."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah. I mean, I probably shouldn’t admit it, but part of me did enjoy the whole back-and-forth thing between us." he says quietly, almost sheepishly.

"Don't go soft on me now, Choi." I say, a teasing edge in my voice.

He grins, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Me? Never."

"Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, buddy."

We both let out quiet chuckles, the tension between us easing just a little. Before I can stop myself, the words slip out,

“Do you think about what happened between us?”

He freezes, just slightly. It’s quick—almost like a flinch—but I catch it. He doesn’t look at me right away. Instead, his gaze drops to the blanket, fingers absently tugging at a loose thread on the blanket.

“…I-I don’t know.” His voice is low, uncertain.

“I haven’t really thought about it in a while.”

It’s not cruel, not even cold—just distant in a way that feels practiced. Like he’s been telling himself that for so long it’s starting to sound like the truth.

“Right.” I nod slowly, even if it feels like something inside me just cracked a little.

“Seems like forgetting stuff like that doesn’t take much for you.” I try to keep my voice even.

That finally makes him look at me. His eyes search mine like he wants to argue—but doesn’t know how to without proving my point.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, quietly.

“Then what did you mean?”

He hesitates.

I can see him trying to come up with the right thing to say—something that won’t make this worse—but he doesn’t land on anything.

So I say it for him. “Don’t do that.”

His brows draw together, confused. “Do what?”

"I don't know... Be nice to me, and when you finally let me in, you just shut me out again."

“I.. I don’t really know what you want me to say.”

“I just want you to…” I trail off, frustration tightening in my chest. “I just want you to tell the truth. For once.”

I sit up from where I was lying, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

“I am telling the truth,” he says, sitting up as well, his voice firm.

I shake my head. “Bullshit.”

His lips part, but I cut him off before he can say anything. I don’t want to hear the excuses.

“I get it. It’s easier to pretend nothing ever happened, right? Like we can just go back to how things were.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

He looks at me—really looks at me. His eyes trace my face like he’s trying to make sense of me.

“Do you want me to say you didn’t mean anything to me?” I freeze. I want to meet his gaze, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Is that what you think?”

He doesn’t answer. The silence between us feels heavy, like we’re underwater. I finally look up, meeting his eyes—and there it is: a flicker of something, maybe pain.

"Don't act like you know what's going on inside my head" he mumbles.

"Then just fucking tell me."

He hesitates, jaw tightening. For a long moment, nothing but the sound of our breathing fills the space between us. Then he exhales, looking away as his voice drops, rough around the edges.

“You act like you’re the only one who got hurt.”

That throws me. My shoulders tense, heart stuttering.“What are you talking about?”

He laughs once, a bitter sound that only makes my irritation flare hotter.

“You’re really going to play dumb now?” he asks, turning back to me, eyes sharp and unrelenting.

I don’t back down, my voice shaking with frustration. “No, Soobin. Fuck—I don't even know what you're talking about right now.”

He narrows his eyes, voice sharp and cutting through the tension.“What? You think I was just some asshole who ghosted you because I felt like it? That I woke up one day and decided to cut you out for no reason?”

“Yes!” I snap, louder than I mean to. “That’s exactly what it looked like! You shut me out—no call, no text, nothing. You left me to figure it out on my own.”

His face hardens, but something flickers beneath the anger—something that looks a lot like hurt.

“Stop acting so damn oblivious about it, Y/N!” he snaps, the anger bubbling beneath his tone.

“Oblivious about what?” I demand, my voice rising.

“The fucking letter!” he spits out, voice raw and desperate.

I blink, caught off guard.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my heart pounding.

His expression tightens, confusion mixing with disbelief.

“The note I left in your notebook—the one where I tried to tell you that I…” His voice falters, trailing off before he can finish.

I look at him, confusion twisting in my chest, my heart pounding louder. He didn't even need to say it. We both knew what he meant. Silence falls—long and suffocating—like the calm before a storm. Neither of us moves or speaks. It feels like the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to break the tension. I could hear my heart thump in my chest so loudly I’m sure he can hear it too. Then, like a spark to dry tinder, the tension ignites.

“So you thought I was just supposed to know?” I burst out, voice sharp and trembling.

“That I’d just magically find your stupid note and feel the same—when you never even gave it to me?”

“I did give it to you, Y/N!” he snaps.

“I left the damn notebook on top of your locker before our final presentation that morning. You can’t tell me you didn’t see it.” he explains.

I go quiet, trying to pull the memory from the haze of that day. It was raining—I remember that. I was soaked, rushing through the hallway, trying to dry myself off. I’d thrown my umbrella carelessly on top of the locker… never even looked. His voice cuts in again, bitter.

“I found it the next day,” he says quietly, “In the trash bin. Not just the note—the whole damn notebook. Like you were trying to erase everything I said in that stupid letter, like I never mattered to you.”

He continues, "And you never said a damn thing! How was I supposed to read your mind? You shut me out just as much as I did!” His eyes flashing with anger again.

What?

“Shut you out?” I scoff, stepping closer. “You fucking disappeared! Left me in the dark. And now you act like I’m the villain?”

He scoffs back, voice low and bitter. “Maybe you threw everything away the moment you decided I wasn’t worth your fucking time.”

The air between us grows tighter, heavy with resentment and repressed frustrations. The heavy pressure building in my chest is matched with the rising intensity of the rainstorm outside. The atmosphere feels even more heated, caused by the swirling mixed emotions of hurt, frustration, and something else—something electric.

Without a second thought, my hand grips the collar of his shirt, yanking him toward me. His eyes widen in surprise for just a second—then I crash my lips onto his. His hand immediately finds my face, the other wrapping itself around my waist, pulling me even closer against him like he was afraid I'd disappear. The kiss felt raw, unfiltered, like the argument had just shifted into rougher means of showing our anger toward one another.

The taste of his minty toothpaste still lingers on his lips, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo, silently begging to let it drown out every logical thought as we pour all our frustrations we had been dragging for too long into the kiss. I move instinctively, sliding into his lap, my fingers tangling in his hair.

It all felt so messy, so chaotic.

I can almost hear a tiny voice in the back of my head saying we should talk this out like rational adults—that we shouldn’t be tearing into each other like this.

Fuck that.

I don’t stop. I know I don’t want to. Not when he's kissing me like this.

His hand slides from my waist to grip one of my thighs, anchoring me to him as I shift deeper into his lap, craving the friction. He catches my bottom lip gently between his teeth, and I gasp—just enough for him to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. My whole body reacts, heat pooling in my chest as my heart thunders louder than the storm outside. When we finally pull apart, breathless, neither of us moves.

Our foreheads pressed against each other, our breathing uneven, as our eyes lock into one another like we were trying our best to make sense of the situation I had pulled both of us into, not uttering a single word. Maybe we were both too afraid to break whatever this is—to say something that would snap us back into reality. A reality where we call this a mistake and pretend like this never happened, like we’ll be switching rooms tomorrow and going back to whatever we were before.

Quiet. Resentful. Or maybe.. we just don't know what the hell to say at all.

His fingers twitch slightly against my thigh before slowly loosening their grip. A flicker of disappointment stirs in me, my thoughts racing at the possibility that he might actually pull away. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to find the right version of me—one that isn’t clouded by all the assumptions he’s built up over time.

"I… I didn't know you didn't get it," he finally says, voice low and hoarse. "The letter."

I nod gently, swallowing hard. "I didn't. I would've said something if I had."

"Would you?" he asks with no accusation in his tone. Just uncertainty. His voice is wrapped in hesitation, like he's bracing himself for something.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I would've."

He exhales sharply, eyes closing for a second like something inside him just gave way. The tension hadn't disappeared. It was just softer now. Everything between us feeling a little more fragile now, like we’re standing at the edge of something that could finally make sense.

“You really didn’t know,” he says, more to himself than to me.

I shake my head. "No. I think it got tossed before I even noticed it was there."

A beat passes as we continue to hold onto each other, like we're soaking in each other's presence for the first time without all the static.

“Then everything I thought… all this time…” His voice fades, but I know what he means. I feel it too.

All the distance, the biting remarks, the resentment (as much as they were all bullshit)—it wasn’t for nothing. It was built on misunderstandings we never cleared up. Feelings we were too scared to admit out loud, even to ourselves. We’d been stuck in denial, hiding behind the label of rivals—enemies, even—just to bury whatever this was… whatever it’s always really been.

“I thought you didn’t feel the same. That you never would,” he admits quietly.

“And I thought you never cared at all,” I say. The silence returns, but it’s different now. Warmer. Less hostile. There’s a tenderness in the space between us that wasn’t there before.

I start to feel a strange warm fuzziness blooming in my chest, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. His dark brown eyes lock onto mine as he brushes a loose strand of hair from my face, his fingers barely grazing my skin.

“I always did,” he whispers. My heart flutters at his confession.

This time, when I lean in, it’s slower. Softer. Soon, our lips meet again, it’s not rushed or angry. It’s quiet. Vulnerable. It’s everything we never said, everything we were too afraid to feel, poured into something that finally makes sense.

We hold each other tightly—like we’re learning how to, for the first time.

The next morning, the rain finally lets up. The air is crisp, the ground outside still damp and dark beneath the trees. Inside the cabin, the quiet is soft and unfamiliar, broken only by the rustle of clothes and the occasional creak of the floorboards.

I stir at the sound, blinking against the pale gray light filtering through the curtains. Soobin’s already up—half-dressed, moving carefully around the room like he’s trying not to wake me. Or maybe like he doesn’t know what to say if I do.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither do I.

There’s no bitterness in the silence—just a heaviness. Like the weight of everything we let slip last night hasn’t quite settled. He moves around the room quietly, slipping on a shirt, brushing his fingers through his hair. I watch him from the bed, the blanket pulled loosely around my waist, heart still beating slower than usual—like it’s unsure what rhythm to follow now.

He doesn’t meet my eyes. Not once.

Something about the way he avoids my gaze makes my chest tighten. Last night had felt like something cracked open. But now, in the soft gray light of morning, I’m not sure either of us knows what to do with the pieces.

Soon, we both step out of the cabin together, walking in silence toward the shared dining area. But the silence isn’t biting today—it’s just… tense. Like we both said too much last night and didn’t say nearly enough.

When we arrive, the others are already gathered around the long wooden table. Kai is in the middle of attempting to roll a grape down from his forehead into his mouth, much to Nari’s delight. She sits beside him, another grape pinched between her fingers, cheering him on like it was a sport.

The table erupts with laughter and exaggerated complaints about who snores the loudest. I smile at the sight.

“Look who finally made it,” Beomgyu grins, raising his cup of coffee. I roll my eyes, grabbing a seat beside Yeonjun. Soobin wordlessly takes the one across from me.

“Did you guys sleep in, or were you just avoiding us?” he adds.

I force a tired smile and settle into my seat. Soobin just nods. “Yeah. Just tired.”

"Last night’s storm kept us up pretty late.” I add.

“We didn’t sleep much either!” Yunjin jumps in. “Nari wouldn’t stop talking about the possibility of the lightning hitting one of the cabins that it got me fearing for my life too."

“I was being realistic,” Nari protests, and the table erupts again.

I laugh softly, eyes flicking to Soobin without thinking. The memory of our conversation the night before lingered at the edge of my thoughts.

I knew I made the right guess.

“We were talking about the storm earlier too,” Kai says, reaching for a slice of toast. “What did you two end up doing when the power went out?”

I see Beomgyu wiggle his eyebrows from the corner of my eye.

“Soobin lost his mind for a bit,” I say, voice light. "He got disconnected mid-game and wouldn’t shut up about some ranked streak,”

“And Y/N kept hogging the blanket,” Soobin adds, not missing a beat. “I don’t even know how she managed to wrestle with me while dead asleep.”

Groans erupt around us—dramatic and exaggerated. But underneath the teasing, something subtle lingers. A shift. They’re watching us now.

Not the way they usually do. Like they’re waiting for something. Like they know something’s changed—and they’re waiting for us to confirm it. Soobin stands abruptly and brushes crumbs off his shirt. “I’m gonna get some orange juice. You want anything?”

It’s casual. But the silence that follows isn’t. I glance up, just in time to catch how heads turn—slight, slow, like they’re trying not to make it obvious. But it is. Too fucking obvious.

They weren’t expecting that.

“Apple juice,” I reply, voice even. He nods once and walks off.

Taehyun leans in just enough to lower his voice. “You two okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired,” I repeat, too fast. Too practiced.

"Riiight," The boy hums, unimpressed, dragging the word out a little. His gaze lingers longer than it should. I don’t meet it.

I busy myself with the glass of water in front of me, pretending not to notice how the table feels quieter around me. Even Hueningkai, who’s usually the first to fill silences, pauses mid-bite to glance back and forth between us. It’s subtle, but they can tell. Everyone can.

The air between me and Soobin is heavier, different—like something broke open last night and we haven’t figured out how to patch it up again.

We don’t bicker. We don’t talk.

We were just stuck in this strange, unspoken truce, careful not to look too long or say too much.

Nari cheers suddenly, loud and triumphant.

“I did it! It actually landed in my mouth!” She beams, holding her hands in the air like she’d won a medal. Everyone laughs and claps, the attention shifting with relief. The tension breaks—but not for me.

Because a second later, I feel someone lean in from my left, too close to be casual. His voice lands soft and deliberate right at my ear.

"Orange does suit you, Y/N." Yeonjun murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

My gaze snaps to him, confused—until I see where he’s looking. Not at me. Not at my face. But at the purple mark hidden just behind my neck. Faint. Barely there. Not invisible, though.

Oh.

My heart skips, and I swallow. Across the table, Soobin sets down the two glasses—one in front of me, the other by his seat. His fingers brush the rim of mine for just a second longer than needed.

When I meet his eyes, he’s already looking at me.

There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze—something unspoken hanging between us. But instead of holding his stare, I look away first.

It feels easier this way.

a/n: heyyyy!! :D uhh im backkk akjsbfjasbf. I want to start posting wayy more like actually, like legit i promise. i'll also start replying to my requests and will open them soon again!!

anywayy, i still don't know how to feel about this fic since this is my first time writing something thats not a research paper in a hot minutee, but i hoped u guys like itt!!

(im also still trying to get comfortable writing a bit more suggestive fics, so this is my first entry on that!!)

also,, the way i kept giggling a bit to myself at the thought of Nari with her head just tilted up, mouth agape, moving around trying to catch that grape while everyone at the table sat in silence HELPP i find her soo cutee!!

[egophiliac]

How do you draw your high contrast, shape-y pieces? I’ve tried something similar but it always end up off, any recommendations on brushes or exercises that could help with improvement?

(I wasn't sure what part was giving you trouble, so this is sorta an all-over smattering 😅 hopefully some of it helps!)

• the kind of brushes don't really matter, just what you're comfortable with using! more chisel-shaped or calligraphy-style brushes might be harder to control strokes with though. I do personally like using brushes that are like...Mostly Round But With a Little Grit to 'Em!

• work at a higher size and/or resolution than your final size (I usually work at ~3x final size). scaling down will smooth out little imperfections and some of the little aliasing weirdness that comes from raster transformations (scale/rotate/etc.)

• drawing with your arm, as in moving from your elbow while keeping your wrist pretty still, makes big smooth curves much easier (you can also go from the shoulder for BIG movements)

• most drawing programs will let you rotate the canvas -- drawing downward strokes tend to be easier to control (extra cheat: if a stroke is proving troublesome, I'll sometimes draw it as best I can on a new layer, move/rotate it into the exact position I want, and then merge it down again)

• instead of trying to draw a super precise shape and fill it in, I usually draw a bigger, shittier shape, and then use an eraser or layer mask to kinda chisel it into the shape I want:

• Always Check Your Values -- especially if you're finding your colors feel kinda muddy or not contrast-y enough, it's a good idea to make sure there's contrast in the light/dark as well as the hue/saturation! I usually have an adjustment layer set to 0 saturation that I keep on top of my document, and just periodically toggle on and off to check. (there's some debate about the most accurate way to check values, but this works well enough for high-contrast solid blocks of color.)

• on the same note, instead of using pure grayscale colors, particularly full black (#000000) and white (#FFFFFF), adding a little bit of color into them can give you a richer, more interesting and more cohesive result.

(and even when using pure grays, using slightly "off" from full black and white can be more interesting! and it's not to say DON'T use black and white and gray, more just...use them thoughtfully, instead of by default?)

• color thumbs/sketches/roughs, whatever you want to call them. people get SO weird at me about these for some reason, but they're literally just...a little sketch of figuring out colors before you start painting. they don't have to be final or detailed or any good or whatever, it's just to get a starting idea! working super fast and loose especially helps to get out of the mindset of Doing A Good Drawing and more into messing around with shapes and negative space and all that fun stuff. :> then later you can focus on the Doing A Good Drawing part, without having to also think too hard about the other stuff.

• Keep It Simple -- 100% the hardest part. I have absolutely not mastered this in any way. 💀 it's SO easy to overwork this style and end up too detailed/too unfocused/just too much going on -- half the time I spend on these things is just adding details -> squinting at it for a couple of minutes -> erasing all the details again. you gotta keep in mind that it's about getting an idea across more than anything else, and when it comes to that, less is almost always more!

(this is one of the reasons I sometimes make myself use SUPER restricted palettes; when you only have three colors, it forces you to really think about what's important to show and how to leave things implied. ✌️)

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 8 | ln4

summary: if i had choose her or the sun, i'd be one nocturnal son of a gun.

warnings: fluff!!!!, meeting the parents awkwardness, walking along this thin line between a relationship or not (i'm really not sure how to describe it), language, some suggestive stuff in the beginning, things are heating up for them... kind of...

message from jordan: okay 1. unfortunately i am a stupid american, so pls excuse the lack of knowledge i have of england 😞 i am simply just a girl trying, and 2. the more i write for this series the more i hate it, i feel like everything's all over the place. idk, i hope you guys are enjoying it, though! also this is kinda short... pls don't kill me

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the early morning sun was shining brightly through the light colored curtains, shadows bouncing off the walls. you had gone back and forth between scrolling through your phone and looking around lando’s childhood bedroom. catching glimpses of trophies, photos of him and his friends, and posters of different cars.

you two had gotten to his parent’s house late last night, cisca and adam staying up to greet you two as soon as you pulled in the driveway. cisca was quick to pull you into a hug, making it very clear that lando was right. she was excited to meet you. adam introduced himself kindly, helping lando bring your things inside before you all made small talk and headed to bed.

deciding you should probably get up and get started on your day, you gently moved the covers more to lando’s side before getting up and walking over to your suitcase. you rummaged around for your toiletry bag before quietly making your way into the connected bathroom.

you managed to take a quick shower, stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel before you looked around in the bag for your toothbrush. however, the door suddenly opening caught you off guard as you let out a gasp while pulling up the towel more to make sure you were covered.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” lando’s voice was still raspy and filled with sleep, him covering his eyes as he pulled the door towards him, blocking his view but it not shutting all the way.

“no, no, it’s okay,” you said softly, rushing to get ready now, "just hold on one second-"

"no, i don't want to rush you, i'll run downstairs-"

"-i'm done, i swear."

he sighed in defeat when you pulled the door closed again, his eyes falling to the hoodie he had lent you the night he brought you home from the party. he smiled softly to himself as you stepped out of the room, gesturing it was all his.

he sent you a soft smile in appreciation, closing the door and taking a deep breath. the room smelt faintly of the smell of your perfume and it was still a little steamy from your shower, he laughed softly at the little smiley face you had drawn on the corner of the mirror.

once he was finished, he opened the door again, "thanks,"

you nodded, shoving your phone in the pocket of his your hoodie, "i mean, it is your bathroom."

he laughed, shaking his head, "for now, what's mine is also yours."

you joined him in the room now, settling on the fact that sharing the space would be easier than waiting for the other to be done. you reached for your toothbrush in your bag, finally being able to brush your teeth uninterrupted as he did the same.

you were finishing up when you heard him let out a soft sigh, looking over and seeing him running a hand through his hair, "i look like a mess!"

you chuckled, shaking your head as you took a step closer, "it's not that bad,"

it really wasn't. his curls were a little flat and a little frizzy, but no where near a hot mess. they were a hot kind of messy, one particular curl wanting to fall against his forehead no matter how many times he pushed it back up.

"here, let me," you said softly, moving to step between him and the counter. he let you reach up towards his hair, taking some water from the sink before raking your fingers through the curly mullet. he watched your face intently as you fixed the unruly curls.

you looked down, meeting his eyes as you softly laughed, "what?"

"nothing," he shook his head, "you're just... absolutely beautiful."

you couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks, "don't start,"

"no, i'm serious!" he protested with a smile before turning you around so your back was against his chest, the both of you looking at your reflections in the mirror, "i mean, c'mon. look at you,"

you smiled at your reflections before turning your head, "is this your way of smooth-talking?"

he chuckled, smirking as he leaned down to your level, "is it working?"

two can play this game, "wouldn't you like to know?"

"kids! i made breakfast whenever you're hungry!"

the two of you pulled apart at the sound of cisca's voice. he cleared his throat as you nodded your head, "you should uhm.. probably get dressed. i'm gonna... go talk to your mom."

"yeah, i'm gonna.. do that..." he said, "i'll see you downstairs."

you nodded, walking out of the bathroom and making your way down the stairs. cisca wore a smile on her face as you entered the kitchen, "morning, honey! how'd you sleep?"

you nodded, "pretty good,"

"good!" she smiled, "coffee?"

"please," you smiled as she poured some into a mug for you before you moved to fix the cup to your liking, "thank you."

"of course!" she smiled, "i made some eggs and french toast, so help yourself! they're still on the stove," you nodded and fixed yourself a plate, "what do you guys have planned for today?"

you shrugged, looking over towards her as you sat at the table, "not sure. i think lando has a few ideas, but i'm just here for the ride, really."

"he was telling me you don't visit home much," her voice was sweet and sympathetic, "you're always welcome here, dear. anytime. holiday or not, and with lando or not also. he's a bit much at times."

you laughed with her as you heard lando's footsteps approaching the kitchen, "i have ears!"

"just making sure they work, love."

"uh-huh," he joked back with her, lightheartedness hanging in the air, "looks good, mum."

she hummed, looking towards lando who was making himself a cup of coffee at the kitchen island, "don't forget, we're having family dinner tonight. everyone's coming over."

"everyone?" lando asked.

she laughed softly as she rose from the table, "yes, child. everyone," she made her way back into the kitchen as she started cleaning some things up, "i'm heading into town to get some things for dinner, do you guys need anything?"

you both shook your heads, "we're good, thank you."

she bid her goodbyes, giving lando a motherly kiss on the side of his head before she left. you cleaned up after yourself, lando helping you put the breakfast foods away before he looked down at his phone.

"well, what did you wanna do today?" he asked, leaning against the counter as he sipped on his coffee.

you shrugged, "anything interesting around here?"

"not unless we head into town."

you hummed, watching as it looked like an idea sprung into his head as he pulled his phone out from his pocket. a few seconds later, he looked up at you with a smile.

"you ready?"

you hummed, swallowing your own sip of coffee as you gave him a confused look, "i need my shoes, but where're we going?"

"c'mon," he grabbed your hand as you put your mug into the sink.

"i'm coming, i'm coming!" you laughed softly, grabbing your shoes and slipping them on before following him out the door, "are you gonna tell me where we're going, though?"

"no, but i have a feeling you'll like it," he smiled, unlocking the car door and opening the passenger side door, "at least, i hope you do."

you chuckled softly, shaking your head as you got inside.

there was one thing lando was good at and it was keeping you on your toes.

[iamtired10]

hiii, could you write a one-shot or headcanons, whatever you fancy the most, of newjeans (or just danielle, i dont mind!) with a thoughtful, attentive gf? someone who does not actively demonstrate that she makes an effort to remember their habits and preferences but deep down knows everything about them... 😍

and not in a "stalker" way! (☠) more like in a "I care so much about you it just comes naturally" way

thank you!! have a nice day♡♡

masterpiece in your eyes

pairing - gf! danielle marsh x female reader

synopsis - you love knowing all the little things about danielle marsh—everything that makes her, well, her. but it’s not in an obsessed way; it’s just the kind of deep connection you both share.

genre - FLUFF (someone please request angst. and teach me how to write it too! im so over fluff)

warning - nothing just cringe and boring ig, dani have blonde hair here :(

word count - 831

a/n - fun fact... i always update before i go to sleep 😪

the museum air was still.

the kind that made you want to talk in hushed whispers, but that didn’t stop danielle from bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

she was in her element—curiosity and wonder radiated from her as she stood in front of an art piece that you, frankly, didn’t quite understand.

but that didn’t matter.

what mattered was the way danielle’s face lit up, her soft blonde curls bouncing with every little skip she made from one exhibit to the next.

she turned to you with that signature spark in her eyes. “babe, look! isn’t this one so cool?”

her aussie accent mixed with the sound of wonder in her voice made it impossible not to smile.

you tilted your head, pretending to examine the piece like you knew exactly what she was seeing. “yeah, totally. the… uh, colors are super deep.”

she giggled, knowing you had no clue, but appreciating the effort.

that was the thing about danielle—she never needed you to be into the same stuff she was, but you loved the way she came alive around the things she loved.

you’d always made mental notes of her little habits, what made her smile, what made her laugh.

even though you weren’t the type to be super showy about it, you made sure she felt seen.

like how you always brought her that lavender-scented hand cream she liked when she forgot hers or when you made sure to grab the spicy ramyeon whenever you both went grocery shopping because she secretly loved the heat.

she never outright said it, but you knew.

you knew she loved it when you held her hand in museums, quietly slipping your fingers through hers whenever she got too excited and started wandering off like a curious little puppy.

and so, as she moved to the next exhibit, you reached out, lacing your fingers with hers.

danielle smiled at the touch, her gaze softening as she glanced at you. “you always know what i need,” she murmured, squeezing your hand gently.

she pulled you closer until your arms were lightly brushing.

“of course, i do. i’ve been taking notes,” you teased, nudging her playfully with your shoulder.

she blushed, that adorable pink creeping up her cheeks that always made your heart flutter.

across the room, you heard the unmistakable laughter of hanni.

your friends, they were gathered around an interactive display, messing around with a touchscreen that let you create your own digital art.

haerin was tapping through the colors with focus, while hanni was trying her best to mess it all up.

danielle waved over to them with her free hand. “come on, let’s go see what they’re doing!”

the two of you wandered over, still hand-in-hand, joining the chaos. “unnie, you’re ruining haerin-ah’s masterpiece!” danielle laughed, nudging hanni playfully.

“i’m adding to it,” hanni said with a grin, barely holding back her laughter as haerin shot her a death glare.

hyein was watching from the sidelines, clearly amused. “it’s abstract art now.”

you leaned into danielle’s ear, whispering, “they’re all such nerds.”

danielle giggled, nodding in agreement. “and we love them for it.”

minji, the mom of the group, finally stepped in. “alright, alright. give hae a chance to finish it.”

then she turned to you and danielle, raising an eyebrow. “enjoying the tour?”

“yeah, it’s been amazing!” danielle beamed, her excitement spilling out. she turned to you with a wide smile. “i love that we’re all here together.”

minji smirked. “she loves you being here.”

you rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart was swelling. danielle was so effortlessly herself around you, and that’s what made everything feel so perfect.

after wandering around for a bit more, you both found yourselves in front of a painting that seemed to catch danielle’s eye.

she stood there, staring at it, her expression soft and thoughtful.

“what are you thinking?” you asked, watching her closely.

she didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued gazing at the painting. “it’s beautiful, isn’t it? it makes you feel something, like… warmth.”

you looked at her, not the painting, and said softly, “yeah, you're right, it’s beautiful.”

danielle turned to you with a shy smile, and your heart skipped a beat.

you didn’t have to say much for her to understand.

she rested her head on your shoulder, her hand still holding yours. “you’re such a dork,” she whispered, her voice light and teasing.

“but i’m your dork,” you teased back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

in that museum, amidst all the art, the real masterpiece was the love you both shared—thoughtful, quiet but so deeply understood.

the kind of love that didn’t need to be shouted from the rooftops because it was already written in every soft glance, every gentle touch.

and in that moment, you both knew — this was the kind of love that felt like home.

a/n - SORRY TO THE ANON IK IT'S NOT GOOD :( MY HEAD IS TOTALLY BRAINDEAD SAURR I JUST WROTE WTV POPPED INTO MY MIND LMAO. IT'S A MESS, SORRYYY! ANYWAY IM GONNA HEAD OUT NOW. BYE-BYE GOODNIGHTYYYYY!

[lokorum]

Your art so surreal, did you take inspiration from African masks it’s amazing. You have probably gotten this question before but what’s your process and how do plan these beautiful pieces out. I am a beginner artist and would like some advice on how start doing digital painting.

thank you for bringing me back from the dead with your kindness, (i was so sad today ughhhh i think watching vampire diaries starting to affect me hjkhjk), i really, really deeply thankful that you spend your time to write something so sweet (also sorry it took me literally ages to reply phphp THE USUAL)

yeah, in buryatia shamanism like the big thing, so when i went to search what's out there in the masks department - google's mess of the results for once was helpful and showed this massive collection of beautiful african masks. the one that was inspo for tiisha lived in my head rent free for weeks before the character was even born phphph now i cant even imagine her without it 

(here is little tiisha for you before i'll proceed to be not helpfull phphphph)

oof advices are not my strong side , like..........my process mostly is just sleep through the whole thing i guess..........................i very rarely do sketches, i hate study anatomy and perspective, drawing cubes makes me physically sick etc etc my approach to drawing were "fuck around and find out", always about chill and fun and barely ever about learning. imho thats why im so shitty at drawing simple things but not bad at coloring. so yeah, my biggest advice always and forever will be - be gentle to yourself, please

digital or traditional or whatever else is out there, dont forget you make it for yourself and for yourself only okay? it supposed to be fun, not sad tiring and competitive 

advices for digital specifically tho - very objective, apply with caution

learn all the keyboard shortcuts, ideally to press them without thinking 

explore more instruments than just brush. it will be tedious and sometimes feel like a chore so mb pick one victim once a month and browse youtube for a stuff like SECRET ULTIMATE TIPS ABOUT MAGIC WAND TOOL THAT WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE (they indeed will save your life) 

check if your drawing program has artboards - turning it on will give you more freedom over canvas positioning  and your refs will always be there and not in the separate window 

idk about others but using auto tone, auto contrast and auto color often gives me well needed perspective on what im doing 

in 99% cases be sure that you can reanimate even the most messiest artpiece you ever did. working in digital gives you the chance to mess with shapes, colors and perspective at any time so if you dont want to gave up on something - you absolutely didnt have to

from time to time while you are still learning - go out there in the wilds and search for the new brushes. tweak with them if you want. i have like ~500 and i use 6 max, but those 6 i found by at some point trying to draw with all of the 500

MADE. BACK UPS. and i mean not like save layers just in case before merging them (tho that's too will help) no, i mean click SAVE AS once an hour and create A NEW FILE. PLEASE. i lost so much stuff to sudden power outage. its never pretty and you loosing will to work for days

watch at least one tutorial about the whole rgb srgb and cmyk thing - i did, understood not a thing, but at least im not playing dora the explorer with my colors after the export now 

uh idk think thats it? tried to think about those that id hope i knew when i started so hopefully something will help 

have fun with your drawings!! 

[robloxmythoids]

might as well send a headcanon to myself to actually get some traction again ^_^''

forsaken hair & hair routine headcanons!!! for all of the characters

noob - I think noob's hair is decently curly and they took nice care of it..... at least when it's natural. realistically they've probably fried it to hell and back with straightening and dying it all the time. but pre-forsaken they were at least Trying to let it heal so it's not as bad as it was, say, about 6 months - a year prior to being forsaken. guest666 used to help them with their hair a lot!!! noob would convince them to dye their hair matching colors :-)

elliot - Hear me out...... Elliot who's like. half pizza ingredients. his hair has the appearance of like... really drippy cheese. or string cheese which was a hc I saw on Twitter somewhere !!!! it's fairly straight but has a good amount of volume :-) he likes to use productsw in it but his go-to hairstyle is a simple ponytail.... quick & easy to do when he's in a rush in the morning

two time - Greasy asf hair. We don't really know how they got forsakened other than it was sometime after they killed azure, so I think post-azure sacrifice they were in a big funk- because who wouldn't be after slaughtering their partner? thus led to them neglecting their hair a lot (among other health things) . before all of that & when things were a little better their hair was also pretty straight but it was nicely wavy.... they liked when azure ran his hands through it (azuretime for the win!). I think Elliot helps them take care of it to the best of his & their ability while they're forsakened (pizzatime also for the win!!)

chance - (they/he chance Ily, they/them used for chance cause not enough ppl use those for them) They have long beautiful luscious hair. they used So many products on it and it PAID OFF!!!!! their hair routine was pretty tame but all the products were ones they specifically chose for very desired effects, mainly because itrapped would compliment them on it and it'd make chance really happy. they normally have their hair down but whenever they're stressed they tie it up to stop the weird feeling of it brushing their neck. it's gotten a little more frazzled in forsaken, but they let a lot of the other survivors play w it for fun

builderman - hmmm.... like thick hair. not sure what kind of curl pattern but thick- not too thick though, and pretty long. I'bve always headcanoned any builderman to be this stressed out workaholic who wakes up at 4 am for work so I think he'd neglect it a little.... roblox & shedletsky would normally remind him to take care of it and he'd just wave them off. he normally has it tied up to try and keep it out of the way so it doesn't mess with him during rounds.

shedletsky - curly hair... thick at that. straight haired shedletsky scares me. he takes decent care of it but doesn't necessarily care too much. he washes it and detangles it sometimes & calls it a day. he probably hides pencils in there for dumb tricks, then forgets he put them in there, and wakes up covered in random stuff. idiot I love him (affectionate)

guest 1337 - militant w his hair care. he probably just uses like head and shoulders shampoo & calls it a day cause in the military there was no room for such luxuries like conditioner - much less in a torture dimension like forsaken. even so, he manages to keep it looking pretty nice, even if it's a little damaged. probably keeps it short, but he's let it grown out to like... just around neck length probably. he does a lot of the other survivors haircuts for them though (and he's gotten fairly good at it!)

007n7 - call me crazy but I think after losing c00lkidd he started growing his hair out because he could never bring himself to cut it on his own. it's around shoulder length now and it swoops at the bottom, while still being fairly straight. at LEAST a little tangled... he never really knew how to take care of hair & only learned curlier hair routines (ones that wouldn't work for him) cause c00lkidd had curly hair and he wanted to make sure his son would grow up to be a more functional adult than him. him and guest 1337 have similar hair (not entirely, guest 1337's hair is a little fluffier and 007n7 has a bit less volume) so they try trading tips but they're. Kinda bad at it. dumb dumbs /aff (133n7 for the win!)

dusekkar - does dusekkar even HAVE hair??? I think he like fantasizes about it a little. like he wants hair to run his hands through He's just kinda a nerd. I've seen people draw his pumpkin leaves similar to his hair so I guess that counts!!

taph - does TAPH even have hair too???? I don't know. I guess if they did it'd be really messy because of how often they wear their hood. it's super long and kinda tangled (again, cause of the hood) but it's pretty thick.... sorry I don't like normal long hair as u can tell. they probably like to play with it absentmindedly, and then anyone around them is like "HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE HAIR???" and they get embarrassed. they have a pretty decent hair routine but they don't really care a lot about it

mmightve forgot a survivor but it's cool. anyway YAY Yipee! finished !!!!! WOHOO time to post this - YLSA (<- organization purposes)

(wonder who this is!! /silly)

[skyward-floored]

first of all HIII HOW YA DOINNN :DD I HOPE UR GOOD YIPPIEEE

second, so i've heArd ur taking requests on ur incredibles au (IAU),, im right?

so in the first place i was going to ask something for Four (cuz Four my baby in every universe), BUT then Hyrule came to my mind, so maybe something about them both?? like, idk the relationship with those two (i'm really sorry if you already said that-), but i'll love to see the boys being bros, like, Four coming home after a bad day at school? idk like so much homework or something?? and then Hyrule comes and says: "yeaaah, you need a hug" or something Hyrule would do in this au

idk i'm not the best at expressing myself ;-;

HI THERE HELLO I’m doing ok at the moment! life has been kind of insane lately but we persist 👍

I tweaked your request just a tiny bit but here’s something with Four and Hyrule! Hope you enjoy it :)

————————————————————

Hyrule looked up from his book as he heard his brothers all troop in, kicking off shoes and backpacks and chattering about the day they’d had at school. Hyrule didn’t mind being homeschooled, but he did like to hear about the stuff that went on in his brothers’ days. Usually he rode along with his mom to pick everybody up and he heard everything then, but they’d needed an extra seat for some reason that Hyrule didn’t remember. Maybe they were dropping somebody extra off? He forgot.

Well long story short, Hyrule had five brothers’ news to catch up on, and he wanted to hear it.

Hyrule set aside his book, finished with the chapter he’d been in the middle of, then got up to grab a snack and listen to the gossip. He’d just made it to the doorway when a hand suddenly snagged his arm, giving it a little tug.

“Oh, hey Four,” Hyrule said, looking down at his little brother who’d suddenly appeared beside him. “You have a good day at school?”

Four shifted his weight, his face half hidden behind both his hair and the hood of his jacket. “Um, sorta. Can... I talk to you? Alone?”

Hyrule blinked. “Uh... sure?”

Four nodded and quickly tugged him down the hall, and Hyrule followed, feeling a mixture of bemused and worried. Why was Four so eager to talk to him? Was something wrong?

Four pulled Hyrule into the laundry room, the thump of the drier running blocking most of the noise from their siblings. It was a good place to go if you didn’t want to be overheard... which only made Hyrule more concerned.

“Okay Four, what’s this about?” Hyrule asked, and Four shifted his weight, then pulled his hood down and brushed back his hair.

Revealing a black eye and swelling up cheek to match.

“Whoa! Four, what happened?!” Hyrule asked in alarm, and Four frantically shushed him, looking around for any of their other siblings. Everyone was still down the hall though, and nobody seemed to have heard him over the drier.

“It’s just a black eye,” Four said awkwardly, and Hyrule got to a knee, carefully taking his cheek into his hand so he could look at it. “Um... can you fix it?”

“Well yeah, I can, but I kinda want to know what happened first,” Hyrule said. “Did someone hit you?”

Four shuffled his feet, looking awkward. “Just some other kids,” he mumbled, messing with his hoodie sleeve. “They were bugging me about my height, and I tried to just leave but they wouldn’t let me and I fought back... not very well.”

“At least you tried,” Hyrule said sympathetically, swallowing back his anger. Why would someone pick on Four? “Here, I’ll see what I can do. Bruises are tricky sometimes, but I’ll do what I can.”

Four nodded, and they both sat down with their backs against the washing machine. Hyrule lightly ran his hand along Four’s cheek and eye, wincing as he studied it. The whole side of Four’s face was beginning to swell, and his eye was mostly closed, the color dark and shiny. His little brother winced as he lightly prodded it, and Hyrule gave him a sympathetic look. Black eyes hurt.

Hyrule drew his healing powers up, lighting a hand in blue, and carefully ran his palm over Four’s cheek again. The swelling began to go down, the bruised color slowly fading with it. Hyrule managed to get it to the point where the bruise was just barely visible and the swelling was mostly gone before he stopped, and he smiled at Four.

“There you go. I did what I could— it’s still a little off, but hopefully nobody will notice too much. I’ll look at it again tomorrow to make sure it’s still good.”

“Thanks ‘rule,” Four sighed, leaning against him. He still seemed glum, and Hyrule fixed some of the hair that was falling from his ponytail.

“Did they hurt you anywhere else?” he asked gently, and Four hesitated, then shook his head.

“Not really. They pushed me around some, but the face was the big thing.” Four sighed. “I wish Dot hadn’t been at the dentist. Nobody messes with her.”

“Really? Nobody?” Hyrule said, and Four nodded his head.

“Yeah, her dad is on the school board,” he replied back with a smirk, and Hyrule chuckled.

Four fell quiet, and Hyrule looked down at him, still feeling worried. He could heal physical injuries, sure, but the emotional part? Hyrule didn’t know how to fix that. And if Four had been bullied... that was more on the emotional side than Hyrule was good at.

Should I go get Twilight? He’s way better at this than me...

Hyrule swallowed. He’d give it a try first.

“So... you didn’t tell anyone else about what happened?” he asked, and Four looked at his lap.

“No. I didn’t want a big fuss, and you know everybody would go on the warpath,” Four said with a sigh. “It wouldn’t help.”

“You can’t let those guys beat you up, though,” Hyrule said. “And if Mom and Dad find out you’re hiding injuries from them...”

“I know, I know. I’d been avoiding them okay up until now,” Four said with a miserable sigh. “I just slipped up today. I’ll be more careful.”

“You’re sure?” Hyrule asked seriously, and Four nodded.

“Sure. And anyway if they try again I know what not to do this time,” Four said with a wave of his hand. Then he winced a little and rubbed his cheek. “I don’t want a fuss.”

Hyrule nodded sympathetically, and Four was silent for a minute, head resting on his shoulder.

“You said they were teasing you about your height?” Hyrule asked quietly, and Four nodded.

“Yeah. And something about being a nerd too, but I think that’s just cause I won the spelling bee last week. I don’t know.” Four sighed and nestled a little closer against him. “...You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, are you?”

Hyrule hesitated. That was a loaded question. “...Not if you don’t want me to. But Four... you can’t just let those guys keep bothering you. You can’t tell a teacher or anything?”

Four squirmed, and fiddled with his hoodie strings. “I mean... I could. I just... everybody always thinks I’m too small to do anything. I want to solve this by myself. I don’t want to be useless,” Four said miserably, and as he shrunk into his jacket, Hyrule felt his stomach sink.

“You’re not useless, Four,” he said softly, and Four grumbled.

“Sure. I’m just tiny and powerless. Those are both useful traits,” he said bitterly.

“Being small doesn’t mean you’re useless, and neither does being powerless,” Hyrule argued. “You’re the smartest kid I know, Four. You’re seven years old and you know almost as much math as Wild does!”

“Well... yeah, but—”

“You won the school-wide spelling bee!”

“Okay but—”

“You made that working model of a catapult that dented the wall when you demonstrated it!”

“Okay okay, I get it,” Four said, face red. “But I still want to fix this myself. Please don’t tell anyone?”

Hyrule looked at him intently, and Four met his gaze, eyes determined and pleading.

Hyrule sighed.

“Okay. I won’t say anything. But if those guys hurt you again, you have to tell Mom and Dad, okay? And if you won’t then I will. I don’t want you to keep getting hurt,” Hyrule said worriedly, and Four agreed with a tiny nod.

“Okay. Thanks Hyrule,” Four said gratefully, giving him a quick squeeze, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Hyrule returned it.

“No problem. I’m glad I could help,” Hyrule said softly. “And... I’m sorry they said those things about you.”

“It’s okay. They were just jerks,” Four mumbled, but he tucked his face a little more against Hyrule’s shirt.

Hyrule patted his back, and they sat there in silence for a little longer, the drier’s steady thuds still blotting out any conversation in the rest of the house. Hyrule still wanted a snack though, especially after healing, so after a little while he gave Four a light poke.

“Want to get some food?” he asked, and Four raised his head and smiled.

“Yeah, I do.”

The two of them finally stood and headed off to the kitchen, and got there just in time to hear Wind’s story about how Tetra had convinced their substitute teacher to let them watch a movie in class.

[traflawgar]

love is in the air

koby x f.reader

what kind of date is koby planning for valentine's? is it a romantic date? and adventurous one? keep reading to find out!

TAGS: established relationship. fluff. modern au.

koby - painting portraits of each other

“Surprise,” Koby whispered in your ear, removing his hands from your eyes. He pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder, wrapped his arms around your middle and waited for your reaction. You spun around in his embrace. Koby chuckled as you took his face in your hands and kissed him. “I take it that you like it.”

“I’d love anything you plan,” honesty dripped from every word you said, a bright smile accompanying them, “and this is gonna be so much fun!”

He followed after you as you skipped towards the table. A soft smile graced his lips, his eyes followed your every move. You picked up various paint brushes and colors, analyzed them and put them back on the table a second later. Using your arm, you measured the canvas, commenting on how you weren’t sure if you’d be able to fill it all. As he watched you, Koby poured two glasses of wine and set them next to the platter he had arranged earlier.

Clearing his throat, he reached for a chair to pull it out for you.

“We need some music,” you declared, inadvertently ignoring your boyfriend, who simply let out an amused sigh and waited.

Soft tunes setting the atmosphere and paintbrush in your hand, you felt like an artist ready to capture your muse’s beauty on the canvas. Is this how Da Vinci felt when he painted the Mona Lisa?, you wondered as you tried to fix the mess of pink that was supposed to be your boyfriend’s hair. You were no artist, after all, and though the brush glided smoothly on the blank canvas, splotches of paint accompanied your uneven strokes. Using too much paint, you discovered, was as much of an inconvenience as not using enough.

Koby, on the other hand, appeared to be in his element. His movements were exaggerated, yet elegant. Eyes sharp and focused, he looked up over the edge of his canvas to analyze your every feature. Then he would tilt his head, squint at his painting and resume his carefully placed strokes. 

When he finally announced he was done, you took an apprehensive look at your own painting. That was not your boyfriend. What would you do if his painting was beautiful? God, please let him be a horrible artist, you thought to yourself as Koby suggested to do a countdown for the reveal.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” You finally exclaimed at the same time, turning the canvases to show each other the portraits you'd painted.

Silence fell upon you for all of two seconds, before it was turned to shreds by your boisterous laughters. Every concern of not matching his abilities faded as you gazed at his portrait of a vaguely you shaped blob.

“That looks nothing like me!” Said through laughing and wheezing.

“You’re one to talk,” came his retort, struggling to push the words out through his own laughter. “My eyes are not that far apart.”

Koby tried to imitate the expression of Not Koby, pushing you into a fit of even more roaring laughter. Your stomach hurt, tears pooled in your eyes, breathing became almost impossible. In a similar state as you, he sat doubled over, open hand hitting the table.

When your laughter finally subsided, you spoke up. “We have to hang them up in the living room.” Koby nodded, body still trembling with barely contained laughter.

A second later, the two of you erupted into laughter once more.

koby saw lots of people on social media doing this kind of thing, and thought it would be cute to do it with you. so, he went and got cute wine glasses, cheese and stuff for a platter, and way more art supplies than you'd need. now your closet has a box full of paint and paint brushes.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@softlypaintedseafoam

[nocturius8015ficore]

Fanfiction #6: Of All the Things I've Lost

Nocturius: 6th Republic Commando fanfiction!

This story is a very intimate and a bit experimental one about Fi's slow recovery from his brain injury. It also talk about his early relationship with Parja. The format is 30 ''datapad entries'' spread on about 200 days, so I suggest you to read it SLOWLY and take the time to imagine and feel the gaps in your head.

Enjoy!

I'M ALSO ON Ao3! -> click HERE

Title: Of All the Things I've Lost

Fandom: Star Wars Republic Commando books by Karen Traviss

Characters: Fi Skirata, Parja Bralor, Bardan Jusik

Rating: Teens and up. **Sensible topic (depression/suicidal thoughts)**

Topic: Fi's brain injury, physical and psychological recovery, memory loss, love

Pitch: To help Fi getting better, Parja told Fi to keep a personal journal. It was one of his hardest mission.

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Of all the things I've lost by Fi-Core/Nocturius Between True Colors and Order 66 Around 550 to 750 days after the battle of Geonosis Kyrimorut, Mandalore -------------------------------

Fi’s datapad journal entry #001 Parja tol me to keep jornal. Feel dubm doin i. Hansss messy & shaky. Diffikultt to ritwe. Fiefk

---

#002 Wgo is Parja? Missin my vode. ---

#003 Not sure wher i am. Where every1??? I scrared ---

#004 Knees hurt, I fell too ofte toda y ---

#005 Food good, happy belly, happi Fy!

--- #006 Parja makes me walk agan today. She kind & patient. She say I progess ---

#007 Bard’ika came today. Healing T-time! I wish I could takl to Dar about the bb… I miss my vode. I wan a to go home ---

#008 I’m so lost. Dont even know wehre home is. Where is Niner? Are they dead?! ---

#009 Parja is cute ❤ Hope she wont read that. oh well ---

#010 shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, osik, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, shab, copy-paste is my new friend! 😃

--- #011 I feel like osik. Im still unabll to put clothes by myself. All the Nulls are gone. I’m alonr with Parja. She is the 1 who helps me with that now. It's embarrasssing. Not the idea I had of a woman seeing my shebs for the first time… ---

#012 My legs hurt so much. I tried to walk by myself today. Feeling like I only have bones and no meat. Parja shaved me. I’m ugly as shab, way too skinny cheeks. At least I have nice hair growing back. Love when she brushes it. I might keep them long. 😝 ---

#013 Parja showed me how to cook uj cakes. I barely participated this time but she made me lick the spatula.😋 She said she will teach me bits by bits. It’s supposed to be good for me to have small goals like that. Not only work on physical or mental improvement but more ‘’day-to-day’’ and natural things. It’s the Mando way of life, she said. It was wonderful and fun. The freshly baked cakes are so tasty.🤤 Nothing like the ones Kal’buir smuggled on Kamino. ---

#014 I wish I was able to speak full sentences. Writing is getting easier if I take my time. It’s just frustrating, I sound like an idiot or a small child. My mind is getting clearer but I know I forget a lot. I suppose it’s good I know I do. I really hope I’ll continue to get better but my expectations are low. I’m supposed to be dead, they say.

---

#015 I work very hard to get better at coordination. Still can’t take a shower by myself. It’s so embarrassing. It would be simpler if it was a droid doing it but they aren't as soft and delicate as her. I like her touching me, but it’s so wrong. I try to keep my thoughts straight, she is only taking care of me. I’m grateful she never made any comment about… shab. Stuff going on. I can’t help it. It’s all pretty messed up. ---

#016 Memory is a weird thingy, I remember my vode from Teroch squad like it was yesterday but I don’t remember WHAT I ate yesterday. My stomach does tho. Oh dear, that was way too spicy hot…

--- #017 Bard’ika healing therapy is literally a miracle I swear. I’ll never say anything bad about Jedi. Ever.

---

#018 I spilled a full bowl of blue milk and cereal on Parja. So fierfek ashamed and angry about myself. Hate everything, hate myself, hate the shab of all. I never wanted to blow up something that hard in my life. A big ball of explosion would end all of this.

---

#019 Fierfek. I don’t remember why I was sooo angry. Get a grip, trooper. It’s only wasted food. She’s not even mad at me. I want a hug right now, but no one is there except the nurse droid. I feel so lonely.

---

#020 What is a soldier who can’t walk by himself? I’m useless. Actually I don’t want to fight. I just want people to leave me alone, I’m a burden. I don’t want to be alone really. I don’t know what I want. My mind so foggy. Kal’buir say I probably have some PTSD. I don’t know how to handle this.

---

#021 The way she smiles at me. I wish I could stand up and hug her tight, but I can’t hold a shabla spoon without dropping my food. Could she truly loves me one day? Does she see me as a man? ‘Cause I can’t stop thinking about her in an un-jedi-ly way. My chest hurts.

---

#022 Why my thoughts doesn’t align with my mouth? I’m supposed to be Fi-big-mouth-Skirata. More like Fi-big-never-able-to-finish-his-sentences-Di’kut. I don’t mind about my legs, I just want to be able to talk properly and not be so shabla lost all the time. I wish she could have seen me in my prime, I dunno. What is left of me anyway…

---

#023 First 4 meters with no help. Parja kissed me on the cheek to congratulate me. Feel like osik, but I got a kiss. 😃😃😃

---

#024 I can’t tell her how I feel. She will never want me. I’m a wreck. Stay focus trooper, the day you will be able to walk and dress yourself alone, she’ll be gone. She doesn't love you, she’s your nurse. That’s it. I wouldn't choose myself either. I can’t even make jokes. Maybe they should have left me behind. That healing process is so slow. I fear I’ll only get worse from here. My time is so short, I don’t have a lot of it ahead. What if the day I’m ok, I'm just too old for anything? She will move on and find another poor soul to fix.

---

#025 Love beskar’gam. I look good in it, a cool skirt around my shebs and that spear. That will do it. Plus, I can hide everything I feel under the bucket like the good ol’ days.

---

#026 Sometimes, I think of something clever, then laugh at my own jokes. Then I forget the so-called joke and don’t remember why that was funny in the first place. I don’t care too much about looking like a crazy lad. I’m just sad to not have been able to share it and be the only one laughing.

---

#027 I can’t live like this. It’s not a life. What am I supposed to be?

---

#028 I don’t remember how but this is the BEST DAY of my life. She kissed me. A real. Lovers. Kiss. On my fierfek lips. Oyaaaaaa it feels sooooooo good. ☺️☺️

---

#029 The shab, Fi from yesterday, you drank 2 bottles of tihaar instead of water or had a funky dream? Won’t happen anytime soon…

---

#030 WASNT A DREAM. SHE KISSED ME AGAIN. KANDOSIIIIIIIIIII! ❤️❤️ I love you Parja. You are my cyar’ika. I need to remember that. Fi, my boy Fi, you have a girl. Read that again and again. This is not a drill. Parja is your GIRLFRIEND. I love you I love you I love you.

---

End

Fi-Core/Nocturius 5th of July 2024

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

[pixeldistractions]

content warnings (!!!) sexual situations, questionable consent // writing rated: 18+; pictures rated: hopefully safe for Tumblr // long—oh so very long—but I couldn’t chop it

January didn’t suit Colette, with the cold, the dirty road slush, and her skin dry as sandpaper. Granted, the summer rain and heat didn’t suit her, either. Colette preferred the specific two weeks of late September when the fall air was crisp and the colors were lovely, too early for all that gaudy Halloween decor, not too early for pumpkin spice everything, which she would scoff at in public and devour in private.

The boys were behaving themselves tonight. She ordered some pizza for dinner, after which the boys put on a movie in the living room and she sat at the dining room table with her laptop to do some work.

Jordan said he would be home late. Some work errand that had him driving hours out into the countryside for a delivery, and she tried to tell him, you know you should ask for per diem pay, for meals and gas reimbursement. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he would say, but he never complained about things when he should.

After he hugged the boys, he came over to the dining room and leaned down to hug her, his lips brushing across her cheek in a light kiss. It was all sweeter than she cared for and lingering with curiosity. He smelled like cake, which was not the worst thing he’d ever come home from work smelling like—motor oil, paint fumes, sweat—so she didn’t push him away.

“Oh, no, what do you want? The boys are still awake.”

He didn’t say what he wanted, he just stared at her with his eyes full of questions. She didn’t have time for questions if he wasn’t going to ask them.

“Did something bad happen?”

“No,” he said.

“Well, okay. I hope you got paid overtime tonight. You don’t work a twelve hour shift out of the kindness of your heart. That’s why you need to take a union job. There are rules for stuff like this. Besides, she’s paying you garbage. Oh, and the bathroom sink is leaking again.”

He lost interest in her opinions and went to the living room to watch cartoons with the boys for their last half hour before bedtime.

“They’re not staying up late just because you’re home late,” she called out toward the living room.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Come upstairs later, if you want.”

“Well? Are you staying or going?” she asked as he lingered near the door. “Why are you being so weird tonight?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“Good,” she said, then she finally put down her phone.

For all of his shortcomings, there was one way this man never disappointed her. As it should be, after so many years of practice. If he hadn’t learned what she liked by now, she wouldn’t have kept him around for so long. He was strong. He had endurance and stamina. She liked it just the way she liked it, vigorous, steady, and lasting. Not too long, of course, but just long enough. Which he delivered every time. She couldn’t fault him there.

But he wasn’t finished yet. He had his eyes closed, moving slowly, she suspected he was about to take his time.

“Mmm, hurry up, though. I have to work in the morning.”

He came to a full stop inside her, then pulled out. He let out a huff, exasperated, almost a laugh. “Jesus, never mind. I’ll use my fucking hand.”

She grabbed for him, but he had already moved out of reach.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a baby. Come here, I’ll blow you.”

He didn’t respond, just shook his head and left the room. They weren’t in the habit of romance and gentle words. They didn’t dwell on feelings and emotion. Out loud, at least. Tonight, though, he was touchy and acting strange.

For a man who was so hard in so many hard ways, he was also so incredibly soft sometimes. She didn’t know what to do with that softness. It was a language she didn’t know how to speak. She found it irritating and frustrating. No, you don’t get to end this, you don’t get to have the last word. He didn’t understand how much he needed her. He was a mess without her. Did he remember that? But she knew how to sort things out. She had her ways.

So she dressed again and came down to the couch.

She knelt in front of him, tugged on his pajama bottoms, but he wasn’t helping.

“I’m not in the mood anymore,” he said.

“You will be.”

He rolled his eyes and looked at the wall, but he didn’t push her away.

She stroked him until he aroused again. It didn’t take long. She knew his tricks. She’d been pleasing him for ten years, on and off, for better or worse. She knew his strengths, and she knew his tender spots, too. So maybe she poked those tender spots too hard sometimes.

She worked him hard and he finished in her mouth.

“See, you’re not mad,” she crowed.

“I’m still mad,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes. For the first time in too long, maybe, because she didn’t remember his eyes being full of so much spite.

“Well, suit yourself.”

If she had known that would be the last time they were ever together, she might have been nicer, let him stay longer, maybe committed the pleasure to memory a little better. But that’s the thing about last times—you rarely know when they’re about to happen.

Whatever. They were a bad match, probably, but they were family. Maybe they were shitty family, but they were the only family they had. He said that from his own mouth. Colette knew this man and she knew he didn’t lie, which made it a promise.

Too bad he always promised more than he could ever deliver.

— “why are you here? #1: birthday cake” part 7/7

authors note: it might be notable that the whole first chapter of Jordan’s flashback story was not told from his own point of view, but instead, from two women who both want something from him. That was a bit of an intentional choice. But you will hear from him directly in the following parts.

Next -> // WAYH #1 start // index

[a-literate-chicken]

Hiii! I absolutely love your art, you capture the personalities of the chickens so well! I was wondering what program you're using to draw, and if you feel comfortable sharing, what brushes you use? I'm just starting to get into digital art so I'm still figuring this kind of stuff out but I love your style and would love to hear more about the tools you use!

I love to yap so I will gladly share! I am also relatively new to digital art. I use the iPad procreate app and the 6B pencil brush mainly for drawing (I messed around with some settings but don’t know what I did tbh, it didn’t really change much though). For coloring I use the marker brush and decrease the opacity to it so that I can layer it more easily for shading. I’ll also just increase the size of the pencil and use it to color too. I’m most comfortable with the pencil brushes since that what I used before I got my iPad this last August.

I got a lot of digital art tips from TikTok that really helped me, and if I didn’t like them they were fun to experiment with at the very least.

Good luck on your digital art journey! 👍🏻

[egophiliac]

Hello! Sorry to bother but do you have any digital art tips? I’m quite new to it and any tips, tricks or advice would be helpful! Your coloring style is very beautiful and I love it a lot!

thank you! 💚💚💚 sorry this is a bit late, hopefully there's still something helpful in it!

(also, it got pretty long, sorry!)

I think the biggest thing is to just take things slow -- digital art feels different than drawing traditionally, and it's SUPER easy to get overwhelmed by the billions of cool features that the digital world offers. (I say, as someone who spends a lot of time downloading cool brushes and textures...and then never using them ever.) there is a ton of really cool stuff you can do digitally, but because there's so much, I think it's really important to take time to figure out what is and isn't working for you. spend some time doodling without any intent to do a finished piece, figure out how you like to hold (or not hold) your tablet, what keyboard shortcuts you end up using a lot (and therefore might want to map to your pen/tablet buttons for quicker use)...that kind of thing!

everyone's workflow and preferred program and style are different, so it's hard to give hard-and-fast general advice. but the things that I think of as the essentials for learning digital art programs, and what I think of as a good order to focus on learning them in (although YMMV, especially depending on what kind of art you're doing):

brush customization (e.g. flow, opacity, softness)

layers and layer masks

selections and transformations (e.g. scale, rotate, flip horizontal/vertical, skew) (skew is underrated and I will die on that hill)

blending modes (e.g. multiply, screen)

adjustments/adjustment layers (e.g. hue/saturation, curves)

and I think most stuff after that is gravy! often very good gravy though! but yeah, as overall advice I recommend just taking things one little bit at a time, spending some time just drawing and messing around with each feature and what you can do with it. whether or not you end up incorporating any of it into your workflow, it's always good to try things out and just see how they feel! :D

and just so there is at least a little more concrete helpfulness in here, here's a few more specific things that I think are super important to keep in mind!

use! your! tablet/pen buttons! I mentioned this earlier, but they are extremely useful for keyboard shortcuts that you use often! most programs will also let you create new shortcuts for other things -- personally, I use the magic wand tool to fill in big color blocks a lot, so I made shortcuts for 'expand selection' and 'fill' and then mapped them to my tablet buttons.

flop your work horizontally often! when you're working on something, you get used to the way it looks, so seeing it mirrored is a quick way to see it with fresh eyes! in my experience, it often feels like this:

(a common thing is to find that everything is sort of 'leaning' too much one way, which is where skew really comes in handy!) (seriously, I love skew, it is my savior)

if you're working with color, keep a hue/saturation adjustment layer (or a layer filled with black or white and set to Color) on top and toggle it on occasionally to check your values! a lot of people who know a lot more about color than me (and are better at putting it into words) have written about why values are so important, so all I'll say is that the rule of thumb is that your image should still be readable in greyscale:

there are some exceptions and grey areas (do ho ho), but it's a good general rule to keep in mind! (some programs also have a colorblind mode, so you can check to see how your work will look to someone with colorblindness!)

and finally, here's some digital art programs I recommend, if you're still looking for a good one!

free: krita, FireAlpaca

paid: ClipStudio, Procreate (iOS/iPad only)

[eltanin0]

I just found this blog and I noticed that a lot of your stuff seems, well, oddly 3D. I don't mean like in a bad way but it feels like rendered but untextured 3D models? I kinda want to ask what your art process is (sorry for mini-rant)

thanks for checking out my blog! and no need to apologize for anything.

hmm, my art process. honestly i have no idea what to say, i dont know how people normally answer this question so i cant base it off anything either. i'm still kinda new to this whole art thing but i'll try and answer, super sorry if i get this completely wrong and this was all a waste of time.

i guess i'll just talk about how i draw things step by step? for the high effort pieces at least.

ok, so for starters like step 0. when it's a high effort piece, i can already see the image in my mind. i see the pose, i see the general lighting, the layout of stuff, but it's a bit blurry. if i cant see this mental image, the drawing usually comes out extremely poorly.

this is kind of an example of what i see in my head? this might be all useless info idk, but this is i guess where i start.

well step 1 is just the sketch and line. i start with just sketching the general shapes, then slowly refining it until it fits close enough to the image in my head. then in the line layer i'll fix any mistakes the sketch had and add more details to it. oh and for brush, it's just a round brush, like default. i dont know how much of a difference using a drawing tablet does, but i dont use one so... yeah.

i should've put more effort into the sketch for this drawing, but i did not.

next i do flat colors. pretty simple, i just select the smart select the outside of the line layer, invert the selection and now i can't paint outside the lines. i dont really think about what colors i use, i just use whatever the characters normal colors are.

next i do the shading, but first. i duplicate flat layer and recolor it to like a cream color

like so. for high effort pieces, i was told online to shade in pretty much black and white. now actually onto shading. there's 2 kinda shading i do, 1 from the proper light source, and 1 that's kinda just a shadow because things are close together (like corners and stuff). and i'll shade them on separate layers so i can adjust them individually however i want. oh right, i'll either use a very dark color, pretty much black and the the layer blending mode set to multiply. or i'll use a light kind of gray, tinted slightly yellow or something and set the layer blend mode to difference. then i just use a soft air brush and shade in the ways i described above. shading from regular light source, and the corner stuff thing.

normal lightsource - - - - - corner thing

then toggle both layers on and mess with the opacity of each layer until you get what you want.

then you can toggle the normal flats layer, the one that has color and it should apply the shading decently. you can mess with the opacity again on the shadows.

next i do lighting. i just grab a very light color, usually pretty close to white and set the layer blend mode to overlay. then i use a soft airbrush and "light" it? idk i just do like the opposite of the normal shadows, lighter the closer it is to the light source

mess around with the opacity as usual. then i do pretty much the same thing if there's another light source. in this case there was a blue light kinda coming from underneath, so i did that.

now from here i would go back to the flats layer, make a copy, and mess around with different layer styles and properties and settings. sometimes just messing around is useful. in this case, i felt it was too bright and colorful, so i decreased the brightness and saturation of it.

i think it helped a little bit but who knows.

now i do some kinda highlights and details. i grabbed the colors that were in the background and used those. it was a weird pale blue. i had 2 layers for this, 1 of them was specifically for his antenna things at the top, and one was just for his "skin". anyway, the antenna layer was normal, just kinda gave it an outline with the random reflective circles you see normally in pictures, no thoughts behind them. the skin tho had the layer blend mode set to soft light, i thought it looked best this way. it was just more random things to imply it was slightly reflective.

together the layers looked like this. i think it makes him look glossier which is what i was aiming for.

next, and it pretty much the end for pebbles, i got someone to look at it and let me know if they think anything was missing. they said it looked a little unsaturated. which it does. so i made a new layer, set the blend mode to saturation, grabbed the airbrush and made it pretty inline with the lighting layer.

that's kinda it. the background i didnt really care about, just drew and colored it. blurred it a bunch and added a bunch of shadows. i did add some like, "overshadows" is what i call it, i just draw some big shadows down the screen as the top layer.

but yeah thats literally everything i did to draw this. i would like to apologize if this was not at all what you wanted to know, i'm certain i've screwed this up bigtime. super sorry for wasting your time. if there's anything i can do to help, please ask. i owe you a proper answer to your question, i'm just really dumb. sorry for rambling. sorry. and sorry if the drawing i used for example didnt showcase what you wanted to know.

also, i really like your art! please keep up the great work!

[p1oscar]

I just got ready for cinema and thought that I’d like to put makeup on Oscar. I think it would be fun. Imagine Oscar and Lando trying to do your makeup for some video. And they are just pure chaos. Oscar is so gentle and he knows some stuff because of his sisters but still he feels like he looks at an impossible to solve math equation so he constantly asks if it hurts? And should he do it like that? He wants to know what’s for what. Meanwhile Lando has a field day with everything that’s going on. He taps random stuff at your face, decides it’s not supposed to go there, wipes it off, does it again, then he discovers eyeshadows and ofc has to swipe every one. Yeah. Just chaos.

Maybe later ruin the makeup when he’d be eating me out but that’s not the point right

stop i once did this boys makeup with my friend while he was in my bed. we sat on either side of him and he looked sooo pretty. i took a picture of him and he told me to delete it and i lied n said i did. prettiest boy ever. prettiest bone structure. like a russian model or smth.

oscar would be nervous about having makeup put on him, but his girl wants to try out her new products on him and he easily gives in when she pouts and bats her eye lashes at him. imagine them sitting in bed with all her products around them and he’s completely relaxed, hands splayed across her thighs and he’s breathing so slow he might be asleep. she’s contouring his cheek bones and adding blush, she’d do really simple eye shadow just to kind of deepen his eyes or whatever. he’s scared of the mascara wand but she promises him a kiss if he lets her and he gives in. his makeup gets ruined bc hes so pretty she can’t help but take advantage of the fact that they’re already in bed

and omg landoscar doing readers makeup? lando gets the left side of her face and oscar the right. her right half is soft glam and looks surprisingly good, but lando’s side looks like a drag queen. she has six eyeshadow colors blended messily together, and a neon pink blush on her cheek. a red lipstick is smudged across half her mouth. oscar did a pretty nice wing and smokey eye, a mauve blush and a clear gloss with lip liner under. can see him watching their girlfriend get ready and he knows her routine while lando just grabs products and puts them wherever he wants. he tried putting neon blue in her smokey eye and oscar snatched the brush away before he could and told him to stay on his side, not to mess his up. gf trying so hard not to giggle underneath them as they bicker over who is doing a better job.

[creativeowlet]

and for Him

prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?

what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

Content warnings for this piece:

Abduction/Kidnapping, Stalking, Psychological Manipulation/Abuse, Obsessive / Delusional Behavior, Implied Grooming, Religious Guilt, References to Murder and Past Victims, Forced Identity/Loss of Autonomy, Discussion of Trauma/Survival Tactics (manipulating abuser for survival)

If you mean wearing jewelry, then it's gold. Dylann feels like it matches his skin tone better than silver since he has a warm skin tone. Still, he doesn't wear much jewelry, except for a ring now and then and maybe a necklace (most likely a cross, if he's feeling particularly guilty that day). He is particular about not mixing specific fabric colors when dressing himself, so that would also extend to jewelry. If you're speaking in general, it's silver because he has a lot of decoration that tends to be that color, since he feels it matches his house's ambiance better. It tends to have silver picture frames and the occasional cross or crucifix on the wall. For gemstones, he'd go for garnet cause it reminds him of blood without all the mess. The second runner-up is any lighter blue gems (the darkest would be Benitoite, and the lightest would be aquamarine) cause they remind him of Twiggy's eyes. 

There isn't that much in common with me. I created Him as a boogeyman-type character at first. Then Dylann just spiraled into being this outlet for rejected fictional slasher headcanons I thought were too out of character, a mixture of traits of real cases I've studied, along with shitty people I had to deal with throughout life. Though if I had to say, I guess we do have some OCD tendencies in common. We have a fascination with vampire media since I've been into vampire mythology since I was a kid. It's pretty self-explanatory on how we're different from each other, too, since he is an amalgamation of traits I find interesting to study. If I ever met him, I'd invite him for a walk in the woods and push him down an abandoned well hole if given the chance. 

Fire. Definitely Fire. It's dangerous and unpredictable if given the right opportunity. Still, it can also be warm and inviting at any other time. Most of the time, Dylann can be pretty charming but awkward, but most people brush it off as a socially awkward man who means well because he's soft-spoken and gentle. Besides this, though, he hides his urges and issues behind closed doors, but God forbid you look anything like Twiggy. He'll turn your life into a personal hell because his obsession burns strong for her. He's kind of like an oil fire, too; the more you try to put him out with water – in this case, logic and resistance – he won't go out and only becomes more deadly with each passing second and leaves anyone with permanent scars if they manage to escape. 

He loves receiving gifts, but he's a giver in his own twisted ways. One of his less sinister cases of gift giving would be buying Priscilla a My Little Pony she kept eyeing at his work. He doesn't understand why she is interested in these brightly packaged horses, but whatever makes her happy and lets her guard down around him more. I don't know if this would count as a gift, but since he does work with photography as a job, he has offered a few of his victims faux modeling jobs so he could figure out their schedule better to his liking. Besides that, much of his gift-giving is related to his obsession with wanting to remake Twiggy somehow. Shockingly, he has a lot of the makeup and perfume she wore pinned down despite not being into that stuff himself. He has to make sure he dolls his victims to look like his beloved Twiggy, or it won't be realistic. Going back to my previous post, he does make birthday cakes for Priscilla and his previous victims (that's if they even make it to Twiggy's birthdate while they're in captivity). He also goes out shopping now and then for his beloved reincarnate Twiggy, so they'll have something to wear; of course, the only requirements are styled to something similar she wore at one point and in her size. Sometimes, he has a meltdown and takes it out on his beloved "Twiggy." he ends up writing an apology love letter filled with crude doodles or clippings he cut out of a magazine about how truly sorry he is and how much he loves them.  He also occasionally gives pictures he took with victims to them, but he's learned to stop doing this after a few adverse reactions, so if his so-called beloved wants to see them, they'll have to ask him. In Priscilla's case, I would like to mention it is possible to manipulate and play with his emotions to get something she wants, like new music to listen to. Now, what is his ideal gift? That's hard to say. I guess his most ideal one would be if Prisllica or any of his past victims woke up and said with 100% certainty they remember being Twiggy in some way and love him so much, but if that's too much to ask for a simple kiss or hug would do – even if he has to force it.