#// + the thread with ask-painter we have had going for

[the-expendable]

// mmm Kari + painter & crystal doodles.. @ask-painter mention via their painter

I like to think that after losing your humanity, even bringing it back wouldn’t stop the haunting feeling of dread that you’re still a monster.

(Technically, “Good Ending” ‘ human ‘ Kari in a nutshell. The feeling of being unable to fit into society again after the horrors of what one has gone through.) I like to think that pAInter via ask-painter and i’s thread keeps Kari a little bit™️ more grounded than they would be without him + the misfit crew.

[alcordipper]

(short story under the cut)

"Making Progress"

Error belongs to @/loverofpiggies

Ink belongs to @/comyet

Gently, the painter offered his hand. A small smile adorning his face, patient as he could be.

Error hesitated, sweating slightly, they had been doing that for quite a long time. When not bickering and going for each other's throats, they'd simply coexist in peace, sometimes Ink would pop in the anti-void and watch something on the screens with him, other times Error would find him and crochet as Ink blabbered on and on and eventually forgot what the topic was in the first place. But he seemed to never forget that little ritual they had made a long, long time ago, probably when they first met? Who knows, time is hard to tell when you don't have a way to keep track of it.

Still, he wasn't sure. "It's okay, take your time, Glitch... Or if you want, we can do this another da-" he tried to calm him, comfort him even, but quickly got cut off. "N-NO! I... I c-čÅn dØ iT." His voice distorted and he spoke way louder than he wished, but quickly hushed himself. "Alright. But remember, please? Don't force yourself." Eyelights changing from a sun and tear, to a gray spiral and heart. Worry but also proud, proud that he actually was determined to continue.

He closed his eye sockets for a second, mentally preparing himself before opening up again. Slowly he put a trembling hand in front of the other's. "I'm going to move, okay?" Ink asked, looking at Error with a soft gaze. "O-Øk-kay.." slowly, he took the other's hand, seeing the other glitch a bit more, way less agressive than the time before, but wincing slightly. "You can let go when you want, remember. Don't force yourself, you will crash." Eyelights changing from a tear and sun yet again. They stayed like that for a bit, it felt uncomfortable for Error, the surface of his bones almost felt like burning, but not enough to actually burn and hurt him, but he stayed still for almost five minutes. Choking an uncomfortable sob, he pushed himself away, eye sockets glitching slightly, but otherwise, he wasn't a mess of glitches and error messages outside. It felt... Tolerable. It felt less awful and terrifying.

The other merely observed. "You did well today, Error." He praised the other, getting up as Error tried to calm his nerves. "Does it hurt? Do you feel okay?" He asked, keeping distance. Error nodded, shaking slightly, but already somewhat calm. "It d-D-Dœśn't h-H-hûrT.".

"Your voice is too glitched." He murmured making a pout, but decided to not press further. The dark skeleton got up, already back to normal. "Hey, you look better! I think this thing is actually working!" Ink sang in a happy tune, putting his hands in the air, a small celebration for a possible milestone. "I think it's better for me to go then. You're probably tired after all this" he said, not finding strange the lack of response, already making a splash of the condiment he named himself after on the blank void. "Take care, okay? I'll try to come by and bring something for you. As a reward."

And so, he went away... Well, tried.

Ink felt a thread quickly making loops on his ankles and pulling him back, almost making him fall, if it wasn't for Error using more of then to help him stay on his feet. "Uhm... Hi?" Eyelights going to target and tear to a question mark and a star. He was standing right in front of Error, he couldn't really guess what his expression meant. Was he upset?

Error stared at him, before loosing the blue material off, and then, enveloping the smaller in his arms in a gentle hug,,, well, maybe a bit tight, but it wasn't like Ink felt pain. He hugged back with featherlight touches and rubbed the other's back, before Error slowly backed away, with glitches all over himself, and a bit on his left eye. "YØu b-bētTer čømË bäCk LÅtęr, squid." The other demanded, Ink only looked amused, before laughing loudly, maybe a bit too happy to Error's taste. His voice was extremely glitchy, but he felt so, so happy that Error decided to be the one to initiate contact. That was just... He couldn't even put it into words!

"Alright! I'll be sure to bring chocolate." He beamed and waved as he walked away, gigglingly to himself, happy as one could be.

And so, he dissapeared into the black dye.

[irisintheafterglow]

Hello, I have a request. So I have these lyrics brain rotting me and I just know you, with amazing writer skills, will be able to bring it to life. So, from The Prophecy, "Don't want money, just someone who wants my company" and like reader being lonely for a long time before meeting katsuki. I see reader as a very important part of the society, like not a hero, but more as a spy that can also fight (the Hero version of a fantasy assassin) And she is paired with Katsuki for a mission and he sees her in her true colours. Maybe a series? It's up to you, or course, but thank you for writing and being so talented and considering this request <33 Hope you have a great day!!

lowkey this request broke me in all the right ways omg...i love the prophecy so so so much it's so heartbreaking and definitely one of my favorites off ttpd <3 ty for your ask and all the love, hope you like this :)) so sorry that it took so long to get to and ty for your patience, i haven't had much time to write lately

cw: explicit language, implied fem!reader but no she/her pronouns (reader does wear heels), angst/fluff with happy ending, angry forced coworkers to lovers, bkg being lowkey mean but he's just psychoanalyzing you

you liked the sparkle, to a certain extent.

it was nice to pad around in designer satin, your name embroidered in gold thread on the back tag. you could appreciate the crushed velvet sofas in the living room of your high-rise penthouse, the walls covered in abstract art gifted to you by painters whose names you don't remember. your closet was larger than your university dorm and lined with enough expensive fabrics to start a hospital. everything about your lifestyle screamed luxury, yet even a marble bathtub couldn't provide much comfort when you came home at two in the morning to a cold, lifeless apartment. tragic.

bound by contract, you weren't allowed to live with civilian roommates, and pro heroes looking for places to rent were as scarce as dust left behind by your cleaning crew. you figured it was better that way, not needing to explain to your roommate why you're gone for weeks at a time on assignments and coming back with several broken ribs and a staggering sum of money. instead of friends, you had your job, however dangerous it became sometimes. you were good at playing a character (it's why you had your current job in the first place) and made it look like you weren't lonely, but you'd be lying if there weren't times you were just begging the sky to send you...who? who do you even want? love was a foreign word, a privilege reserved for those not in your profession. so you withstand whatever life throws at you like a statue made to wait, constantly on the brink of crumbling.

it's mid-january when you receive the call informing you that you'd be working with a partner on your next assignment. you wrack your brain for the few people trustworthy enough to join you, only for the words to catch in your throat when your agent says they're assigning someone for you.

if you were bad at working with others, bakugo was unapologetically worse.

"could you walk any louder?" you hiss into his ear as you stroll through the lobby of the most luxurious hotel in the city. his bicep flexes under your fingers, something you can only perceive as him stiffening in annoyance. "your big-ass feet are gonna get us compromised before we even make it past the perimeter."

"i'm not trained for stealth, genius," he argues, adjusting his suit jacket with free arm for the fifth time in twelve seconds. "i usually go in, blast the shit out of people, and call it a day."

"well, your thundering steps are doing the opposite of helping us blend in," you reply bluntly with a pretty smile toward the concierge desk. "we're doing recon, not infil." you take an abrupt step to the right, simultaneously bumping bakugo in the hip and making him stumble. with the way you start to sway and lean into him, your perfume makes his brain go fuzzy and his ears pinker.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

"you are literally the funniest person i've ever met. i can't believe i fell in love with you, sweetie," you drawl, fluttering your eyelashes.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" he cringes away as you beam at him with a lovesick smile, one hand keeping him flush against your body while the other brushes the pant leg of a passing security guard.

"just play along, darling," you seethe through a fake smile. without taking your eyes off your partner's face, your prize finds itself between your fingers and you unbutton the keycard without blinking, bringing it to his chest and smoothly slipping it into bakugo's jacket pocket with the guard none the wiser. once you catch the guard round a corner behind you via the reflection of a gilded mirror, you drop your act and detach yourself from a very flushed bakugo. "yikes, you're worse at this than i thought you'd be," you deadpan.

"you-you just used me to get that guy's card," he sputters in pure disbelief while you continue to walk down the side hall in the direction of the bar and banquet room. "the hell is wrong with you?"

"i work alone, bakugo," you say boredly. your heels click against the glistening marble and you roll your eyes as his loud steps catch up to you.

"yeah, that much is obvious," he glowers. "we're supposed to be working together on this shit-"

"you are not my partner in this job. you are a tool." you have half the mind to think that your coldness was too harsh, but remember that working alone is what you're best at, for better or for worse. "look, i'll get the job done; you just sit there and watch so our agencies can get off our asses about this being done through 'official means.' got it?"

"you think you're good at being alone, but it's actually killing you," he states in a tone that barely echoes off the sparkling walls. "you think you're good at being alone, but what you think is the farthest thing from reality." if you weren't running four minutes behind schedule, you'd whirl on him and slap his pretty face. you settle for stamping his foot with your heel and he lets you, an ungratifying fuck you all you get as a reward.

"i should have told my agent that i'd quit if she made me work with someone else," you snap with your arms crossed as he fishes out the keycard from his jacket pocket. he gives you a look that enrages you further, something between loathing and sympathy.

"take my arm, for fuck's sake. let's get this over with so i don't have to deal with you and your self pity ever again," he snarls and, for the first time, he catches you off guard. you obey without a word, eyeing him warily while he swipes the keycard and guides you into the crime boss' exclusive campaign gala.

"you know nothing about me, so don't try to analyze me since i know it's not your strong suit," you mutter under the sound of blaring jazz trumpets, sidling past investor after investor as they chatter excitedly about the your target's recently announced run for mayor. "i've seen the leaks about you heroes' IQ scores."

"yeah, they were faked by some extra in the todoroki agency that wanted to undermine him. wanted to imply that he was a nepo baby or some shit like that," bakugo replies without missing a beat and you're barely able to detect any malice in his answer. it confuses you. shouldn't he be pissed that you just insulted his intelligence? "icy-hot's one of the smartest guys i've met, so don't you fucking dare discredit him for one second." he's angry that you insulted...a different hero?

"that doesn't change the fact that you don't know shit about what i do," you dodge, spotting your target at a table near the banner-flanked main stage. he's surrounded by a dozen women who fawn on him like moths to a fire, caressing whatever body part they can get their hands on. it's exactly the scenario you need to bypass his defenses. "there, 3 o'clock. he's got his harem with him."

"so what's your play, lone wolf?"

"dance me toward him and then get out of my way," you order, dragging him onto the dance floor while the jazz band in the corner eases into a mellower tune. "what, got two left feet?"

"no, i'm just trying to figure out why you are the way you are," he questions, slipping one arm around your waist while his hand intertwines with yours.

"don't go hurting that handsome head of yours," you reply coldly without thinking, suddenly feeling your ears go hot when he smirks. "what?"

"nothing. 's just funny when you actually act human rather than the killing machine you were made to be," he admits and your jaw clenches.

"again, you know absolutely nothing about me." you subtly try to move your dancing bodies toward the crime boss' table, but meet bakugo's eyes with a glare when he actively spins you in the opposite direction. "we should be going that way, idiot."

"what if i wanna keep dancing with you, idiot," he retorts. "now," he takes a deep inhale, "i'm gonna tell you exactly what i think you are so maybe your next partner doesn't have to dig into your ass and get your head out of it."

"you are putting this whole operation in jeopardy--"

"don't care, especially if i'm being told by a self-pitying, pathetic excuse for a public servant who hides themselves away because they're too scared to make human connections," he rants, looking you directly in the eyes so you could see just how molten they were.

"stop," you warn, looking for any excuse to go in on your target so you could get out of the spotlight that bakugo was putting on you. he doesn't let you, though, effortlessly dipping you in a way that outsiders could consider flirtatious. it's an unfamiliar sensation, your spine curved under his steady hands, but all you can register is the intensity of his expression inches away from yours.

"you hide behind your callousness and say you don't need anyone fucking else because you've never had anyone else. and then, one day, when someone comes along who actually wants to know you for you, you're gonna be too much of a little bitch to realize that there are people who care about you. even if you are the most irritating being to call themselves human." he abruptly stands you both up and steps back, both of you burning and withstanding each other's wrath. your voice is smaller than you want it to be when you finally manage to speak.

"how would you know any of that?"

"because i was that." his attention flicks to behind you, toward the boss' table. "now would be your best chance. i'll sit at the bar and you finish the job, alone."

"...alone?"

"that's what you want, isn't it?"

no. i don't want it.

you don't catch him in time, some shackle like pride chaining you to the floor. it doesn't feel like relief, you realize when he turns to leave and disappears into the crowd. it feels like a punishment, an unbreakable curse that you'd put on yourself. you were a fool in a fable and it was sinking in, even as you worm the information you need out of your target and slip out of a back window, alone.

always alone.

---

it's not until ten months after your initial mission with bakugo that you finally work up the courage to tell off your agent.

"you have no place to be making such demands!" you lean away unbothered while your agent screams, her anger distorted by your phone speaker. "you have no idea how to--"

"don't care. i'm done working alone in the shadows," you interrupt with the callousness that once benefited you in your job. now, you realize, it was only impeding you and making it harder to find people who saw you as a human, not a tool. "put me in the infil mission or i'm quitting. for good."

"you don't know anything about infil. they'll eat you for breakfast if you join the op now," she hisses. "you need me."

"you made me think i needed you. you and the sparkle, and the fancy pajamas, and the smelly bath salts. you made me think that, to keep all the nice shit, i needed to be alone. but now i know i don't need to be."

"how would you know anything--"

"i know that you've purposefully delayed the infil operation so that you can cover up your ties to the boss' campaign, and that you sent me in with bakugo that night thinking i'd take the fall for your corruption. too bad he caught on and helped me investigate the todoroki IQ files you gave me and said they were official leaks."

"you're making a big mistake."

"and you should have learned sooner that i don't want the money. i never did."

"bullshit. money is all we have in this hero-run society, the only way we can be equal to them. what else would you want?"

"company." your agent falls silent at the same moment you hear a faint knocking on her line. "speaking of, looks like you have some." the tell-tale beep beep beep! of the call being ended echoes off the walls of the apartment and you sink further into the plush couch cushions, counting down leisurely on your fingers.

five,

four,

three,

two,

one.

"got her, babe!" you hear from down the hall. "and we got her good," katsuki says as he appears from your shared bedroom and grins at you. he leans against the door frame, waiting patiently as you delete your ex-agent's number from your contact list and show him the phone. "i ever tell you you're a natural at getting confessions out of people?" you giggle and let him pad over to you on the couch, sliding down so that he could lie his entire body on top of yours. even after all the time he'd been with you, the skin to skin contact still made your stomach burst into uncontrollable butterflies.

"i guess it comes with being a spy for so long," you suppose with a shrug. "but i'm not one anymore." your fingers absentmindedly trace the creases of back muscle through his shirt and he hums like a cat purring contentedly.

"yep, and now you're stuck with me until one of us dies in combat." you click your tongue with a tsk and lightly pinch his side, feeling him snort in triumph against your sternum.

"why can't you just say you love me like a normal person?"

"because neither of us are normal, genius," he explains, his eyes shut against your chest. "how normal is it to be so lonely that when you're around another lonely person, your shit cancels out?"

"i guess not that normal," you concede. "but still...what do i do now?"

"as much as i wanna say it, i don't think 'me' is the correct answer," katsuki proposes and you burst out laughing. "but really? anything you wanna do, baby. your hand's off the throttle, so now you're just cruising."

"since when did you use so many metaphors?" you ask with a teasing smile. "last week you said 'lightning in a bottle' and 'cursed like eve.'"

"since i met your dramatic ass."

"you know you love me."

"mmm, now you're finally starting to get it."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[sarcasticscribbles]

Artschool Dropout

I made a thread about how and why I became an artschool dropout, and want to share it here too. Storytime! It's mainly a highlight of parts I despite in the art worlds; capitalism and superiority. My experience was affected by the environment, and hell was a bad environment

Back in the distance year of 2019 I went to an(community) art college in like the *fancy* part of my area. I lived across the lake on the countryside, so I was not prepared for this environment. Rich people cosplaying poor is the best description. Fancy clothing made to look dirty and no-one wore shoes. It was very networking-vibe, with "omg we HAVE to talk more later" but never doing so. Like nurses energy. To be fair I became more and more non-approachable as time went on.

A good note is that Swedish education is normally free, even uni degrees, but this one cost money. It was that was never addressed or mentioned when I applied; that's on me maybe, but the few friends I had didn't know either. A lot was beaten around the bush when it came to expenses. A big draw for the school was a trip they made to Berlin during a film festival. Once the time came around they mentioned the cost for the trip (which was not mentioned before, I thought it was included) and kinda of shamed people if they wouldn't pay and go. Saying how its a highlight of the education and the few staying behind just watch movies for a week. In addition, the film festival wasn't included in the price, and we would have to pay extra to go. It was supposed to be a week, but two days was for travelling by train.

The price was something I would rather use for a private Berlin trip. It wasn't a lot, but I refused to do it, mainly for how indirect they were with everything. A friend and I said we wouldn't go and a staff complained how they would have to keep the school open just for us.

My classmates weren't an issue, it was the teachers and system, which all just felt like a money laundering scheme. One day we travelled to Stockholm, and we were tasked to go four hours alone, sit and stare at an object and think what it made is feel. Those were the instructions.

Four hours. Alone. Then home.

I and one other instead went to grab a coffee and trash talk. Once the time was up, I just made up on the spot "what it made me feel" and he gave me a job well done. I understand the assignment, but the execution from the teacher was all wrong.

It wasn't my crowd tho, I came from a gaming development High school while these people were like, social studies. I'm used to a nerdy crowd, is what I'm trying to say.

I have two funny examples:

I was talking to some guy during a break the ice get together with the whole school (very small school) and I explained I studied video game development before, and he said "omg that's so cool!!" And I answered, "yeah! Do you play?" And he said "yes, the piano :)"

And other time we were talking about painters, and when they asked me who my favourite was, I thought I would joke and said "oh, donatello :) because I love purple" and NO ONE got my tmnt ref and instead thought some Italian Renaissance was my favourite artist.

But back to the main issue, it was the school: First day our teacher handed us supplies from a closet and I was like "wow! Thank you! When these run out (BECAUSE WE'RE FKN ARTISTS) can we grab new ones in the closet?" And she said "no :) this is for the two years you are here" Like eight different hardness pens and a block of paper.

My worse experience was that every Tuesday was lecture day (although we didn't have grades nor exams) and all students gathered in a dark room to look at a PowerPoint about culture and people.

Fun in theory, but again executed so badly. My last lecture one teacher said "oh, and we gotten complaint not everyone can take notes during the presentation, so we thought one from each class could take notes and share with everyone else later :)! Any volunteer?"

Like ??? What? I raised my hand and said "you have a PowerPoint there? Why can't just share the presentation with everyone if they want to go back later?" AND SHE ANSWERED "that is a great idea, but unfortunately that would take weeks. So this is a better alternative:)"

TO THIS DAY, I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE MEANT BY THAT

Smaller details ; expensive lunch, creepy teacher keeping images of women's privates on screen (and I'm an artist I don't mind nudity) pointless activities and little progression. I can't give it a fair judgement, I only lasted three weeks but jumped in the opportunity to leave.

Cherry on top was I had communicated in private with my mentor about quitting and the day it was decided I had to go back to get my stuff and have one last day and the teacher (not my mentor) exclaimed in the shadiest way "Sophie? I thought you quit" I hadn't told my friends yet.

Last day I replaced all my supplies with new from the fancy closet, and me and my friends stole coffee from the cafeteria during lunch (it was only included if you bought food) to celebrate my time. We all hated the system of the school, but all of us loved art.

My experience is mainly the environment the school was located in; upper-class pretending not to be. The people were alright and i got a few friends before quitting. It was also traditional, general art when I prefer digital art. The school, system, and teacher were hell, which is a shame because it took something I loved and turned it into all the things I hate. i don't regret going and I don't regret quitting when I did. Best thing to come out of it was my literal label Artschool Dropout

[kowaindar0u]

"Dear Diary" ask! 6 and 13 for Yuichi ;3c (@zantedeschia-praesul)

[ DEAR  DIARY          .    .    . ]

06.     entry made discussing travel they’ve done or hope to do.

[dated December 29, 2019]

This was so stupid. Why did I think this would be helpful? How did "I need to get out of the house" turn into "I need to get out of the city?" I don't even BELIEVE the first one most of the time.

I didn't plan anything specific to do. Maybe that's part of the issue. I get too stressed out just thinking about it-- and then, of course, I just remember that I'm here alone, and then I just... feel pathetic. Even in a city known for such friendly people, I can't bring myself to go out, be among them, and enjoy any of it. I tried to psyche myself up to go to a cafe or something, just to say that I did, but instead I worked myself into a panic attack. I ordered in and ate in my hotel room. I did eventually go for a walk, but it was cold as hell and pretty late, so... I came back before I got too far.

I know I took off a week from work, but... I think the past two days is just proof that I truly should just stay home. I'm getting on the first train from Osaka back to Kamakura tomorrow. I know I'll be more comfortable once I'm home, but I hate that. I can't do anything without getting so stressed out, and none of it is even that deep. Maybe someday I'll be able to just. Go sit down somewhere and eat a fucking plate of crepes!!!!! But until then... at least there's delivery, huh.

13.     entry made featuring mention of (sender’s) muse. (Saseki)

[dated the first night of Saseki's arrival to Nagame honmaru]

Today was so exciting. I was so nervous about the visit from Saseki-san all these weeks leading up to today, but as is usually the case, I was worrying for nothing. This other saniwa is so friendly, and I think I could learn a lot from him. I'm not sure how long he's been doing this. But... I feel like he's got a lot of experience, especially compared to me-- Not to mention the touken danshi he brought with him seem to have gotten much stronger than their counterparts of mine are right now (thankfully they all seem to be getting along quite well, though perhaps I should expect as much with them being so similar to each other). Given Nagame's first year, I can only imagine what all Saseki and his men might have been through in all this time. Still, even with all he must know, he feels very down-to-earth and trustworthy. I think... we will become friends, if I'm going to be optimistic. We had a good time at the welcome party, and he and his men didn't seem to mind our rain too much. Speaking of the party, I ate a lot and it was quite lively, so... I think I'm going to bed. Good night. P.S.-- Saseki-san is a painter, too! I hope he will show me some of his work while he is here.

13.     entry made featuring mention of (sender’s) muse. (Nagasone)

[dated the day before our current thread :3c]

I write this as I hide under every blanket I have in my room. I think I'm gonna cry. What do I do? Oh.. what do I do??? All of my touken danshi are irreplaceable, such rays of joy, so dear to me, and I love them so much. That much will never stop being true.

But... There is ... It's Nagasone. What do I do?! I don't know what this is. It's more than a crush. I know what that's like. But this... Oh, I don't know...

Is it bad of me to have assigned him as my attendant the last few days? I mean-- I trust him completely, both in his capacity as attendant, and just... in general, which... I appreciate so, so much... But that's... that's not all. I just... I've just wanted to see him more, and be near him, even though every time we lock eyes or he touches me I feel like dying but... in the best way possible. Which in some ways is unfortunate because his sweet, attentive self always seems to pick up on when I'm stressing and then he takes my hands and I swear to all that is holy that I just short circuit and black out for a few seconds.

Even so, I... find myself not wanting to be away from him. I want to keep him close, for me, but also... I want to be there for him, too. It's a little awkward when he's my attendant, but I just can't help it, I... I want to do anything I can for him. I don't know what, and he practically never asks for anything. I wish he would ask, or I wish I was as intuitive as him so I could just... know what he wanted, and do it for him. Anything. Even something as simple as bringing him a treat from the kitchen, or brushing his hair, or...

My god. I sound insane. I don't know why I feel the need to justify this to you, my own journal, but. I promise It's not anything uncouth. I just... Journal, what do I do? It's clear to me that he cares for me very much. But I don't know if it's... the same. Even if I had the guts to bring it up to him, I think with my position...It's best if I don't put it forward. It hurts, but... For now, at least... I think I will just... try and sleep. And probably hug that body pillow that Sayo gave me. Don't you dare tell a soul, Journal.

[victorboullet]

2nd Cannons  Los Angeles, CA 90031 ACHING by Victor Boullet 18 February – 18 March, 2025

ACHING 

I whinge and complain  Always the same / whinge and complain, literally with no gain  I whinge and complain / no gain  When should I complain?  Complain with no gain 

This is a part of a lyric I wrote in 2014 while walking up and down Ullet Road in Liverpool. Today the lyric feels a tad embarrassing. 

I insist upon standing in what is embarrassing: I refuse to be interesting.

I’d like to apologise for several negative remarks that I made at the Dulwich Picture Gallery about the painter Berthe Morisot. A few weeks after seeing her show, I came to understand, that my comments may have come from my perspective as a male painter. I said things like, she’s flimsy, unfocused, she’s in a rush, that’s badly painted and why paint that? It’s rubbish. 

Berthe Morisot was married to Manet’s brother, Eugène, who was also a painter. They had one child and how I understand it, in the late 1800s women had to look after most things in any household. I am certain that it was even Berthe’s job to ensure that Eugène had time to paint. My judgment was perhaps hasty; her paintings must have been like a sponge to her daily chores, becoming her swift strokes that we see today. In other words everything soaks into your work and absolutely everything matters and counts. 

A few years ago I invited 2nd Cannons to make a set of fanzines for Frenetic Happiness, which was my Social Publishing House. A project which is dead today. At the time of this invitation, we were moving house and studio, and I was asked to send images of my empty studio in Liverpool. I was stupid enough to include several unflattering pictures of myself, which I badly regret, because 2nd Cannons used the images for an entire fanzine. Size A4. 

There was never a moment that I thought that the fanzines should not be printed, but rather the opposite; as long as my vanity suffered I was happy. 

This is my third show with 2nd Cannons and I am showing fourteen self-portraits, 30cm x 35cm, oil on canvas, with tacks and staples. Because 2nd Cannons is an artist-run publishing project, with an exhibition space, I’m printing a fanzine and had plan to recreate a missing cassette for this show.

But sadly, because of licensing and copyright laws I wasn’t allowed to have the cassette made in England. I have uploaded the rejected folder so you can download and make the cassette yourself. http://www.boullet.com/ride/roger.zip 

The following text is the bridge that connects the printed matter to the paintings: 

The spring of 1986 I recorded Ride the Lightning by Metallica from vinyl to tape. While recording this tape I had two friends there with me, Petter and Roger. From what I can remember, Petter arrived by car after work and Roger came by moped. Lol. While I recorded and discussed the album, Roger asked if he could borrow the tape until the next day, he wanted to make a copy. I gave him the tape, and I never saw it again. 

Here is an email I just received from Roger. 

On 21 Nov 2024, at 01:00, Roger Gxxxxxx <rogerxxxxxxx@gmail.com> wrote:

"Hi Victor. Did you know that I am trained as cabin crew for the SAS? I never took the job, as I had to go to the US to get to know my onion. That’s all I have to say, as I didn't see much. 

Second vers. You had a blue Suzuki with red chocks and an effect exhaust system. I had a ZR 50 SL SK with 76 cubic meters 11 horsepower cylinder with a Nikla effect exhaust system from SAS. Your father arranged that. He was a baker in the SAS. Mamma, my Mother has a permanent job as a secretary in Banana Mathisen from Bodø. And as a ground hostess in SAS. I don't know why I'm writing this. I just lost the thread. 

I had a dream many years ago, back then and every time when. I saw you walk in the park with a long, long beard. With God.

Well, fuck it. Here you have Metallica  https://youtu.be/ZZ9cyFnkb38?si=7Hg52UlDtwXR9s

Vicki the Dicky.

I’m a bad mamma fuccer Rog the Dog 

Email is translated from Norwegian.   SAS / Scandinavian Airline System.  Onion is Norwegian slang for dick. Løken

Roger was a close friend. He would show up and stay for entire summer holidays. At the tail end of the 80’s I severed all childhood friendships. Why? I felt stuck in the ethics of that working-class environment, and also the aesthetics felt suffocating to me. But Roger was upset, and other friends threatened me because I turned my back on them. There is no escape. 

When I am in Oslo today I stay in the house where I was brought up. Therefore I occasionally bump into old faces; that is if I don’t manage to hide before they spot me. One summer day I saw Roger walking down our street. I shouted out of the window and ran downstairs for a chat. He seemed happy to see me. We talked. He came across as different and anchored in the past. Halfway into our conversation, I looked at him and said: Roger, when will you return my tape? He looked at me with a stare and answered: I’ll find it. It might be broken. To my surprise, two days later the doorbell rang and it was Roger. He said: Here’s your tape. I fixed it. I got to go. See you. 

Thirty-seven years later, he returned my tape. For those thirty-seven years, the tape was never a daily nagging thing in my head, but the bloody cassette was stored in my memory. When I say I refuse to be interesting, I want to bring that back into this text because I feel it is urgent. I would rather that this stupid cassette became a layer of content in my work than some correct academic or zeitgeist approach to the same matter. And let me be clear, this is not nostalgia. I try to activate the idea that everything soaks into your work and absolutely everything matters and counts without thinking about the consequence or situation or who I think I am.

I emailed Roger to ask if he would write something for the 2nd Cannon show.  

On 25 Nov 2024, at 17:03, Roger Gxxxxxx <rogerxxxxxx@gmail.com> wrote:

Hi Victor. I'm a bit busy at the moment. I am in the process of furnishing my new residence.

https://no.pinterest.com/pin/425168021090094063/visual-search/?x=16&y=16&w=532&h=527&surfaceType=flashlight

Last time I was home, I bumped into him in the supermarket, and he kindly dropped me home in his late father’s BMW. Roger told me that he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, something that actually made sense to me, and I had, of course, heard talk of it. To me, his memory is still so sharp about the time we were best friends, while my memory is cynically selective.   

Victor Boullet

Padbury 2025

[superfluousmen]

A Countless Billion Lights

Have you noticed how things feel different? Have you noticed how your mind’s creative spirit feels less than what it once was or weaker than what it could be?

You work and you earn and tell yourself ‘things are good’. Then you come home, eat dinner that you bought at the grocery store, sit down and blankly stare at YouTube, Netflix, instagram, TikTok, mesmerized by the images on the screen. You readily become stuck to it. Silence is a stranger to you and is rarely allowed in your life, thoughts spend only as much as a few measly minutes in your media-crowded mind, but that’s the way you like it, it’s what your used to. And when it’s time to take your dog out for the night, you step outside and just as soon wish he would hurry so you could go back in, back to the show you were watching or thread that had your full attention. Hurrying back in, you leave the real world behind. For the rest of the night you’ll end up sitting there, being as much tormented as you are entertained, until it is time to close your eyes, sleep, wake up, and begin it all again.

I ask you, when you had the chance, did you hear the owl hooting, a formless voice singing claim over her dark and quiet kingdom?

When your skin recoiled in goosebumps, did you realize it was the wind, the cold north wind, politely telling you with its touch, “winter cometh.”?

As you stepped back into your artificial reality of blue light and cozy warmth, did you feel the downcast gaze turn desperate as it watched you go, of the twinkling star that follows you, watching one of its beings most beloved turn away with no glance repaid and love unrequited.

Would you have looked up, and stargazed back at yon sweet gazing star, as our kin have always been want to do, you would have seen its peculiar twinkle, brighter than usual, as if in its brightness, begging a silent plea:

“look at me! please do look at me!

I’ve watched this world with my thousand blinking eyes, night on night, eons upon eons of black,

And more than any is your dear Earth my favorite to look at.

What a joy it is to watch and to be watched back.

For in the one hundred and ten times a million nights,

the episodes of your race’s run,

my unfriended eyes of a countless billion lights

have been in there nightly quest befriended,

and with each new night a new friend of mine is won. 

Yet now, fewer and fewer trace a wish upon our fall,

Fewer still are the artist’s eyes who sing us as their muse

Like those of the painter, which we so lovingly recall

Had in his sad eyes reflected, the bluest of our hues.”

Woe to those who are dreamless. Woe to those whose dreams have been confined to a screen, those who have been told it is best to consume but never create. Our ideas are no longer our own. Our imagination, that once soared as far as the furthest star, is now housed in a data center. Take your attention back and smash the world of artifice. Art is the revolution. Freedom is the dream. Look up and never look down again.

[conceptsformyowner]

Wearing a sign around my neck while getting walked around, gagged and chained

PTJ #24

This week, I was a mummification model at a bondage workshop, we went to a queer kinky event, my Owner added a rule, and we progressed on my pain training. Enjoy!

Sunday 🤕⛓️😷🪧

On Sunday, we went to a bondage workshop given by @musingsformyowner and Mr H, which would be followed by a (the first?) local queer kinky event!

The workshop was great; at a show of hands we were revealed to be pretty much the only D/s couple present in the…audience? yes whatever, audience. Things were explained about wide cuffs, thin cuffs, use of scarfs and handkerchiefs; a lot was said about BDSM and SSC, RACK, CCCC. At one point when discussing padlocks they gestured at us when not remembering what the spanish word for keyed alike padlocks was(candados hermanados).

It was fun to notice just how many examples seemed sometimes strangely specific to things we do ourselves hasha

Then came the mummification part, for which my Owner was kind enough to lend them their toy. After asking me a bit about which parts of my body to touch or not, I served as the model for the mummification portion of the workshop. The teachers demonstrated on my body how to wrap the torso with wide plastic wrap, and then they went to my head, where they used package wrap and painters tape to seal my head in a couple layers of plastic.

It was amazing.

I knew my Owner felt nervous about lending me out so I tried to keep eye contact with them, but it didn’t take long for them to be more interested in the actual explanation and (I think) forget about it a bit.

The torso wrap was a lot more interesting than I thought. It felt amazingly tight and surprisingly unforgiving as bondage. I found out the heat build-up I’d read so much about was not an exaggeration, it didn’t take more than 5 minutes for me to start to feel my body getting hot. To be fair, I was wearing a thick-ish t-shirt and it was already a very hot day.

And the head wrap? Ugh. We’ve done head wraps a lot with my Owner, going as long as spending 5 hours with bondage tape encasing my face, but it did not compare to this. The most surprising thing was that it was fast. The tutor had my mouth, ears, and eyes completely covered within seconds. Given, he is a specialist, but still, we’ll definitely be spending some money on the material he used. The hardest part was cutting it off, but with caution, communication, a slow pace, and safety scissors, we should be fine.

The only concern we have, which is the same we had before, is waste. Not bodily waste, but the incredible waste of material such an activity generates. We’re talking about a minimum of tens of square meters of plastic wrap for just a single-layer full-body mummification. It’s a lot of plastic waste. We’ll try to use the package wrap material and see if its unwrap-able without cutting it. In any case we’ll still want to do it every now and then as a little luxury.

The workshop ended in a bit of a rush, and we got the extra tip of using a pet training clicker as a safeword sign for an extremely-bound sub. Its pretty good! They’re supposedly very annoyingly loud and fit in the palm of the hand so it should be perfect.

Once it was over and the space started transforming from ‘bondage workshop’ into ‘queer kinky event’ we helped out a bit, got some food, and then got me all set up for the rest of the night. My Owner tightened my muzzle gag around my head, grabbed the chain and threaded it through my right wristcuff, then my right anklecuff, left anklecuff, left wristcuff, and then finally attached it back to the right wristcuff with a carabiner that looked like the end of a leash. Having all my limbs caught in this loop allowed me stand by keeping my hands and feet together, and to walk by crouching a bit. It greatly limited my motion if I attempted to do any regular person action while still letting me walk around with my Owner grabbing the leash and keeping me tightly at their side.

Based on the Party Protocol concept, my Owner instructed that my protocol would be:

I would be kept gagged at all times.

I would not interact with other people, even if for some reason I was ungagged. I would not even attempt to communicate with other people but instead generally try to keep my gaze down.

If for some reason I was ungagged, I would only speak in toy-mode phrases.

I would only move around if led by my Owner. Otherwise, I would stay in place and not initiate any motion by myself or by following the action of any unauthorized person.

A sign would be kept around my neck, reading:

And that’s what happened. They walked me around the event with me chained, gagged, and with that sign on my chest, hanging from my neck.

Owned toy

Do not use nor release

We saw several sessions happening around the place. Partial mummifications, impact play, pet play, a little space, sensation play, shibari. The event was targeted at beginners, so there were various people acting as service tops and bottoms to introduce people to the whichever practices they would like to try. It was an amazing display.

Throughout the night, I was left in place a few times by my Owner simply letting go of the leash and leaving me there. Sometimes telling someone to watch over, sometimes just leaving me there, alone, waiting.

We also met up with several friends. Some of them ignored me, as my Owner wanted, others asked for permission to interact with me and were allowed to give me pats on the head and talk to me but knowing that I wasn’t allowed to respond. Others, when being made to watch over me for a bit, mocked me by talking excessively to me as a tease for me not being able to say anything back.

It was really fun.

cw talk about misgendering: one paragraph, skippable {

Sadly, there was also a lot of misgendering happening. This happens to me a lot, even on queer spaces, since ‘gender-neutral pronouns’ aren’t a previously existing part of our language but are instead something that has only recently, within the last 6 years or so, emerged from the queer and feminist communities towards the public. This was a queer place, so everyone knew about spanish language ‘neutral’ pronouns, but: first, not everyone’s used to using them; second, some people might not know that they’re the ones I use. Sadly the second case wasn’t really happening, everyone that misgendered me knew my pronouns and my Owner even added them to the big sign on my chest, so it was mostly the first one: people were simply making mistakes. And it’s ok, I understand; it’s just exhausting, and it can get me feeling pretty bad after a while if repeated. When that last repetition came, the one that finally tipped over the misgendering glass, I asked my Owner permission to sit down.

} cw talk about misgendering

They took off my gag and then gave me some aftercare, giving me some tasty drinks and allowing me to move a bit. Before leaving, several people reacted while seeing me pass by with “oh, you’re free!” which I think is beautiful.

Before the aftercare, when my gag was still on, a friend had also looked at me and said hi enthusiastically. “What does that say?” I got closer so they could see. “Owned toy…do not use..nor release. Oh good, very good, I think that’s very good. You look really pretty.”

It was so nice.

Finally we went back home. All in all I had a really fun time, I really liked being publicly my Owner’s property, and the event in general was amazing. We even met up with friends that had never seen us like this, which was really nice.

💢 Pain Training

While we’re waiting to have our beautiful wooden paddle my Owner ordered, we’re upping the pain training both in intensity and in duration. My Owner is now sometimes doing 30 spanks, 40, or 60, also depending on if we had to skip it the day before.

One day, I don’t remember which one, they linked my wrists to the front of my collar, then had me press my face against the mattress and spanked me 60 times in a row. We’ve built the trust and confidence to be able to do that. It was amazing. I’m enjoying the spanking sessions a lot. I think I’ve mentioned it before but I’m getting those thoughts of harder, I can take harder. I love it. Makes me feel like I’m a really good toy. 😊

My Owner is now also pulling down my underwear (the only clothes I wear) before spankings. It gets a little surprised aa from me every time, the sudden vulnerability and deeper intimacy makes it feel a lot more intense. Not as in more painful but as in that it makes me feel a lot more submissive. I love it.

The same thing happens when they do the spankings with their hand instead of their paddle. It’s suddenly a lot more intimate and sort of...focused? It feels more personal, like their hand feels a specific way, like their hand knows me more. I don’t know if it makes sense.

🤝 Handholding Rule

My Owner has invented a rule for me when I’m outside with them: Handholding

The idea is that I should only be able to walk if they’re leading me by holding my hand or grabbing my arm, waist, simply by physically guiding me. Otherwise, I can only stand in place and am forbidden from moving from the spot where they left me.

After trying it out a couple times, they added specifications on when I’m allowed to walk without them holding me. This should preferably happen with me holding on to their shirt, but even that may sometimes be allowed not to happen.

The allowed circumstances are, basically, when the environment prevents us to easily navigate like that. This means getting in and out of busses, getting on and off escalators, and generally moving through crowded spaces.

At first I got a bit anxious about being unintentionally left behind. Strangely it didn’t activate the abandonment and degrading part of my brain. I think partially it has to do with it making me feel little, so if I feel little and I’m accidentally let go of, I might start feeling bad. Luckily this didn’t last long, since the exceptions to the rule that my Owner then settled on mean that now my Owner pretty exclusively only lets go of me either when we’re mid-walk and I’m to follow closely and hold their hand again as soon as possible, or when we’re standing somewhere and then they leave without the intent of having me follow them. This has made the anxiety disappear completely. Why? I don’t fully understand it, but now whenever they purposefully leave me standing somewhere while they leave I feel really nice and helpless. Just a toy. I love it.

🌃 Final thoughts

This week was very very busy, so there’s not much to tell. Sometimes when this happens I feel a bit sad, and I think so does my Owner, but we shouldn’t! This is a log of all the particular things that happen, but our everyday lives are so incredible. I’m almost naked 24/7, as well as chained, I only take cold showers, only eat with my face, am deprived of food, left scraps, am in chastity, have my comings and goings controlled, train my throat, butcheeks, and face for usage, and am not allowed on human furniture! That’s our normal!! That’s when there’s nothing to write here!!

Sorry for the shouting, I’m shouting at myself just out of disbelief of how amazingly lucky I am to have found my Owner, to have this dynamic with them and be able to communicate so clearly.

A year ago I would have never believed this would be my life now, I thought my imaginings of being a 24/7 toy were far-off dreams, not something that would start happening a few months later.

I’m incredibly grateful for my luck. And I’m very credibly proud of our work, this isn’t an easy thing to maintain both logistically and emotionally. But it’s so, so worth it for the sheer joy it brings us both.

I’ll see you next week, and even if there’s nothing to say, it will be an amazing week for our kink selves.

[rmelster]

With pleasure. (I always love some good theology rant, therefore:)

I first came in contact with this fact in Pinterest, upon finding this gorgeous art ( https://x.com/liridi_art/status/1739317574767112618 ) which represents a young Jesus with his six younger (half) siblings. In Pinterest, it was a Twitter caption of another who was criticising how certain groups had heavily shunned the image and the artist because they believed in Mary’s perpetual virginity (which is a theory of seemingly Catholic origin that is very extended) and could not possibly fathom that other branches of Christianity or people in general could have another interpretation of the Holy Family.

This sparked my interest greatly. I obviously did what anyone would have done, which is searching whether Jesus had any siblings or not (I am going to check it on my own Bible later). THERE, I found many a heated discoursed of “NOOOO, how DARE you think the VIRGIN Mary possibly had intimate relations with st. Joseph, you filthy filthy heathen!!”, “that’s irrelevant, why would you ask that” and “well, I read the Bible thoroughly and I found no direct evidence of that, THEREFORE IT DOES NOT HAPPEN THAT WAY”. But other than that, I found a few KEY quotes.

When Joseph woke up he did what the angel had told him. He married Mary, and knew her not till she had brought forth her firstbornson and he called his name JESUS.

Matthew 1 : 25

It must be noticed how Matthew states that St. Joseph “knew Mary not” UNTIL Jesus was born, which hints that it is likely that, at some point after Jesus’ birth, St. Joseph and Mary met each other in the biblical sense. To the question of whether their supposed marital relations resulted in offspring, the following quote responds:

 “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son? Isn’t his mother’s name Mary, and aren’t his brothers James, Joseph, Simon and Judas? Aren’t all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?”

Matthew 13 : 55 - 56.

According to this, Mary and Joseph appeared to borne no less than four sons and (at least) two daughters. Many fervent Catholics quickly jumped to say that Joseph’s brother, Cleophas, had married another Mary, with whom he borne the previously stated brood; conversely, others (I think Protestants) suggested than in their tradition, this were the children begotten by St. Joseph with a previous wife, therefore Mary’s stepchildren.

As for my insight on this matter, I do think St. Joseph and Mary cohabitated like any other marriage of their time did, messianic firstborn aside. Although Holy, the Holy Family was that, a family. I think the main reason why certain people seem unable to accept such theory may come from

1)The Perpetual Virginity of Mary’s tradition (and likely purity culture). 2) St. Joseph is traditionally represented as a dutiful and old man. 3)The symbolism of Jesus being Mary’s only child.

Personally, I am fond of any theory that humanises the Holy Family. We do know that St. Joseph accepted the role of being Jesus’ earthly father and agreed to be Mary’s husband; he took Jesus as if he were his own, protected him and Mary during the perilous and strenuous flight to Egypt and, once Jesus started to grow up, he taught him his office. Whether it was solely for his obedience to God, or for love of Mary and later, for love of their child, it is something that escapes my knowledge on the matter. I like to think that St. Joseph wasn’t a detached father.

Spanish painter Bartolomé Esteban Murillo’s “Sagrada Familia del Pajarillo” (Holy Family with the Little Bird), c. 1650.

(Here, Murillo represents the Holy Family with such a sense of domesticity it would pass as any other family; but aside the stereotypical family roles, in which we see Mary in the background working with the thread, there is a sense of tenderness in the way St. Joseph holds his son. Besides, other portrays of Jesus by Murillo have bear a certain resemblance with his St. Joseph here)

Georges de La Tour’s “St. Joseph Carpenter”, c. 1642.

(Here we see St. Joseph teaching Jesus his office of carpenter; again, here we see the closeness between father and son, reflected in the fazes)

Anton Van Dyck’s “Rest on the Flight into Egypt”, 1630.

(Though idealised and carrying the traditional view of St. Joseph as an elderly man, this portrayal has a sense of realism. In reality, the flight to Egypt must have been a strenuous trip for a young woman who has just given birth in very distressing circumstances and her newborn baby)

It appears that the Virgin Mary had four sons and (at least) two daughters with St. Joseph beside Jesus.

[dothwrites]

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3 

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes. 

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers. 

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice. 

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave. 

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here. 

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?” 

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy. 

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story. 

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words. 

That’s not who I am. 

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets. 

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...” 

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking. 

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.” 

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon. 

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.” 

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what. 

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?” 

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems. 

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed. 

He does make one stop, however. 

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.” 

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...” 

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his. 

“So what happened?” 

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack. 

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.” 

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved. 

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses. 

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem. 

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle? 

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...” 

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does. 

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out. 

There’s work to be done. 

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” 

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human. 

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.” 

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back. 

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?” 

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.” 

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.” 

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.” 

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.” 

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing. 

---

Bobby is wrong. 

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him. 

There’s still time. 

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt. 

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow. 

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--” 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him. 

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon. 

It’s always too soon. 

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?” 

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer. 

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.” 

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him. 

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology. 

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care. 

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier. 

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere. 

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before. 

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around. 

Dean Winchester is there. 

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world. 

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move. 

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.” 

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.” 

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm. 

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.” 

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them. 

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.” 

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--” 

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?” 

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.” 

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his. 

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more. 

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.” 

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them. 

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?” 

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.” 

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing. 

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest. 

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed. 

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure. 

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s. 

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.” 

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say. 

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?” 

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition. 

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought. 

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him. 

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place. 

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles. 

“Dean,” he says. 

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo. 

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.” 

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to. 

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?” 

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.” 

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair. 

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him. 

You are valued. You are loved. 

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies. 

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years. 

There is so much work to do. 

But they have time. They have all the time they need. 

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

[boasource]

230206 BoA anecdotes from the GOT the Beat fansign events for Yes24 and SMTOWN&STORE

Hyoyeon was talking about members’ upcoming concerts and accidentally spoiled that BoA’s concert will be held this March. 

BoA: “Hyoyeon-ah, the article [with the formal concert announcement] hasn’t come out yet!” Hyo: “Really? Uh… there is no concert.” (x)

Taeyeon quietly said at the end of fansign that this was GOT the Beat’s first and last fansign event (x)

‘Rose’ is BoA’s favorite song off ‘Stamp On It’ (x)

Hyoyeon wore a backless top with a heart accessory pinned to the left side of her chest. When BoA pointed out her backless top, Hyoyeon replied, “I wore this because I wanted to show it to you, unnie.” Then she started singing “Sexy back~” (like the Justin Timberlake song). Everyone laughed, and BoA said that Hyoyeon should go to a wine bar after the fansign. Hyoyeon replied, “With my unnie. I want to go with my unnie.” (x)

BoA kept poking Hyoyeon’s heart accessory while their hoobaes were doing their parts of the fansign (x)

BoA gave a lot of restaurant recommendations in the Apgujeong area: Bat-Godong (a restaurant that she has been going to since she was a trainee), Dakeuro-ga (per Wendy’s suggestion), Young-cheon-yong-hwa, Songok, Cheongdam, Miss Saigon (x)

A fan told BoA that their dream was to see Seulgi become an SM director like BoA. BoA told them that the line of succession might be too long because Seulgi has many seniors, so she joked that she might as well give up her own spot in the Board of Directors for her. (x, x)

The word for “director” and “moving houses [residency]” is the same in Korean, so Hyoyeon joked that she thought BoA was handing out houses and that she wondered if she should ask for a house from her too. (x)

Wendy asked if Seulgi was within the next top 10 in line to become an SM director; to check, BoA began listing off the SM seniors who were probably next in line. Seulgi was 8th, so she said yes. Wendy said that as long as Seulgi is in the top 10, that’s perfectly fine. (x)

BoA forgot to mention SNSD in her list of seniors who were ahead of Seulgi in the line of succession. So Hyoyeon joked, “Should we join the queue as well?” BoA said, “Oh, you’re right, SNSD is missing on the list.” Hyoyeon replied, “That’s right, we have leader Taeng!”  (x)

A fan asked if BoA enjoyed herself during GOT the Beat’s activities. BoA replied that she had a difficult time (x)

A fan asked BoA about her health [presumably from long COVID-19?], and she said that she’s recovering well. (x)

When asked to give a spoiler about her March concert, BoA said, "이번엔 타이틀곡만 다 불러도 세트리스트가 ㅎㅎ 확실한 건 엄청 신나는 콘서트가 될 거예요!" [someone who speaks Korean, please take one for the team and translate this because my Japanese and Papago powers can only do so much, but she basically said it was going to be exciting!] (x)

A fan asked if BoA was preparing for Forgive Me, Stamp On It, and her own solo concert all at the same time. She said, “Yes, I’m going to die.” (x)

A fan asked BoA if she was interested in other artists aside from Van Gogh, since she’s been going to exhibits a lot recently. She said that she’s become interested in Park Seo-bo, a famous Korean abstract painter. (x) BoA said that she’s at the early stages of becoming interested in viewing and collecting art. (x) 

A Japanese fan mentioned that they were very thankful for BoA because she was the only one among the members who was able to speak to them in full Japanese. (x)

While waiting for their turns in the fansign, Taeyeon and BoA apparently kept talking to each other and seemed to get along really well. (x)

These anecdotes were all taken from from Twitter threads written by GOT the Beat fans who attended the event!

[sundaysundaes]

Monochrome

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

CHAPTER 1 OF 2. Part 2, titled Spectra, can be read here.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

It was the color of amaranth red, Donghyuck remembers now, though he was still too young back then to know the name. It was the color of amaranth red that painted her cheeks and the tip of her nose as they were kissed by the morning breeze. It was the color of amaranth red that tinted her shoes, her knitted sweater dress, the two ribbons she wore on her hair. And it was the color of amaranth red that burst onto his cheeks, as his eyes widened in both glee, curiosity, and sheer excitement. He was four years old and she was five, but the way she spoke so courteously as she introduced herself upon their first meeting was something little Donghyuck could only imagine doing.

But it didn’t matter, Donghyuck was too distracted anyway. If he was older maybe he would’ve been left dumbfounded at the sight of her breathtaking smile, or the perfect curves of her lips, or the vibrant eyes she had hidden behind her symmetrical bangs. But he was merely a four-year-old, so he was more distracted with a jar full of chocolate cookies she carried in her arms.

“We’re the family that’s just moved in next door.” The older lady, who looked like the exact doppelgänger of the little girl, mentioned with a polite smile and a formal bow. “I hope we can become friends.”

Donghyuck’s mother cheered and took her hand in a friendly handshake before she beckoned the little girl to come closer. “Oh my, look at how adorable you are! You’re about the same age as my son. I hope you two can get along.”

Donghyuck, who had been hiding behind his mother’s legs, took a step forward. He was only interested in the jar full of cookies that she carried in her arms, licking his lips once as his eyes bore into it. But when the little girl offered the jar, grinning widely from ear-to-ear, and chirped, “Brought you some cookies! I helped my mother with these so I bet they’ll taste great!”, Donghyuck decided that he liked her more.

It was the color of azure, the crayon she held between her fingers back then, as she tried to imitate the look of his clothes on a stick figure. She was quite a painter, four-year-old Donghyuck thought, because there was no way for him to know how to draw mountains and the sun lurking behind them with that little head of his.

“Okay, so this is you,” she told him, smiling to herself as she finished perfecting her sketches of him. “And this is me. And this is our pet dog, Jelly Bean.”

“But we don’t have a dog.”

“We can have one in the future.”

“We can?”

“Of course. When we grow up, we can have whatever we want.”

Donghyuck believed her. He believed everything she said because she believed everything he said, even about the monsters living under his bed that his parents completely ignored. During their sleepovers, which occurred nearly three times a week in his room, she would always stand by as a guard, saying, “I’ll keep watch. If it appears, I will destroy it with my sword. Nothing can hurt you when I’m around.” And he would feel content, knowing she was there to protect him, even when in the end she fell asleep way before he did with her toy sword hanging loosely around her fingers.

Donghyuck would sleep next to her, curling up like a baby that he was, seeking her warmth. Their little feet would dangle out of his teepee tent and he would breathe in the scent of his grapefruit shampoo from her hair. And secretly, under his breath, as he tangled his pinky finger around hers, Donghyuck would say, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Why do you always draw the sun?” Donghyuck questioned one day with his round, chocolate brown eyes scanning the giant yellow circle that she drew repeatedly with her crayon.

“Because I love the sun,” she answered, searching for another yellow crayon so she could paint it even more. “It’s bright and it’s warm, and I can play outside when it’s out. Don’t you feel happier when it’s sunny outside?”

Donghyuck thought about it, he really did with the very little experience that he had. “Probably. I can play soccer when it’s sunny.”

“See? The sun is amazing. Nothing can beat the sun. Do you know that the sun is the biggest star in our solar system?”

If he was smarter, he would've told her that of course, it's the biggest star, you idiot, it's the only star in our solar system. But little Donghyuck, who could barely remember what came after the letter S, innocently asked, “What’s a solar system?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I forgot that you’re only four.”

“Hey, you’re only five!”

“But I know what a solar system is and you don’t.”

Donghyuck pouted. If only he was older, perhaps he could reciprocate with a better argument. But then again, she was quite smart—the smartest girl he had ever met. Well, in his whole four years of living anyway.

“You’re kinda like the sun, actually,” she suggested, gathering his attention back to her. “You have a bright smile and whenever you smile, you make me want to smile too. You’re like the sun because you always make me happy. Oh!” She suddenly jabbed one finger into the air, making him jump on his little feet. “I know! You should be called Haechan, as in Full Sun! And I’ll be calling you Haechannie because we’re friends.”

And Donghyuck smiled the way he always smiled, which made her point a finger to his face, shouting, “Yes, that’s it! That’s the smile! That’s my Haechannie!” And he liked the sound of it. He liked the way she called him Haechannie but not as much as he liked being called hers.

Because he’s always been hers, from the beginning of time till the end. It’s always been her who owns his heart, who paints a spectrum of colors to his monochromatic life, and who breaks his soul to pieces and tones everything down into black and white.

It’s always been her. No one else owns him but her.

***

It was apple green, the color of the duster his mother was wearing when she had her eyes glued to the TV screen, watching another episode of her most awaited romance series. It was way past their bedtime so Donghyuck performed his best ninja skill which was tiptoeing his way out of his room with his bunny socks enveloping his feet and his deer plush toy accompanying him in his arms.

He was five and she was six, but she had learned how to forgive when he could barely remember to send an apology after making a mistake.

“You stay here and be on guard, okay, Haechannie?” She whispered before she tiptoed her way to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the hallway.

He grabbed the sleeve of her rosy pink pajamas. “But what if my mom finds out?”

“She won’t find out. She’s busy watching TV.”

“What if she walks into the kitchen?”

“Then that’s the time you should give me a signal, Haechannieeeee. Will you ever listen to me?”

“I don’t wanna stay alone. Mom can be scary sometimes.”

“Ugh, fine, take my hand. We’ll get in together. You can help me hold my chair when I reach up to steal those cookies.”

“Can we just go back to bed? I don’t need any cookies.”

“No, no. When you have nightmares, you have to eat cookies.”

“But will you still sleep beside me?”

A delicate hand ruffled his raven hair until it got all tousled and adorable. “Of course, Haechannie.”

The moonlight did not shine as bright as the girl’s cherished smile. But it was okay, he thought, she could replace the moon with her lips. She could replenish the stars with her eyes. They did not sparkle nearly as beautiful as they were anyway.

On their way back to their room, Donghyuck heard two sentences being exchanged by the lovers inside the screen so he stopped and listened, carving every word into his memories. When he arrived back in his room, he ran toward her, circled his short little arms around her waist, and muttered the exact same words.

“There’s no life without you, Noona.”

And she didn’t question him anything, wasn’t surprised of him, wasn’t disgusted with it. She simply smiled back, turning around to embrace him properly, and whispered.

“There’s no life without you too, Haechannie.”

***

It was the color of cherry blossom pink, the petals of flowers that flown into his room, coming from the window that he just slid open. He stood up on his little wooden chair, waving his hands back and forth like a drowning man desperate for attention, as he shouted, “Noona! Wake up! They’re blooming!”

He was six and she was seven, but she had memorized how to count one to ten in three different languages when he could barely count all the planets in the solar system.

When she opened her window, her eyes were all squinted trying their best to adjust themselves to the brightness of the sun—or Donghyuck’s smile, considering it shone just as bright. “I’m still sleepy!”

“But you promised we’d go for a walk!”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll meet you outside my house in an hour. Don’t forget to wear your jacket, Haechannie, because I’m not lending mine again!”

He nodded, smiling all the way. But by an hour later, he had forgotten yet again to carry his coat with him because he was too busy remembering the look on her face whenever she called his name, and too excited to have her hold his hands during their little trip outside.

And it was fine, really, because she already brought two jackets with her, knowing him like the back of her hand.

***

It was the color of crimson, the droplets of blood that stained his shirt. He could barely breathe through his broken nose, and the pain stung so much that his eyes began to water. But knowing that she was there, sitting beside him on the side of the pavements with worried eyes observing his expression, he had no other choice but to rub his tears away before she could catch the sight of them falling to his cheeks.

He was twelve and she was thirteen, but she already had her own preferences of clothing, knowing exactly what kind of dress could accentuate her beauty, while he, on the other hand, was still pretty much wearing the exact same type of clothes like what his mother bought him two years ago.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes examined his face as she dabbed an ice-cold napkin to his bruised jaw. Donghyuck swatted her hand away, stealing the piece of cloth from her fingers so he could do it himself.

“I’m fine. I’m not a baby,” he muttered and he knew how harsh the tone he was using but he did not apologize for it. She most likely had forgiven him anyway.

“What happened exactly?” She was still tentatively reaching out to him, tidying the tousled strands of his brown hair. “Why did you get into a fight?”

“Who said I was in a fight?” He was. He absolutely was. It was against a boy with the stupidest haircut he’d ever seen on a male, in his classroom after he caught him stealing her sketchbook. Donghyuck saw him raking his pen back and forth on her drawings, grinning mischievously to himself as he did it. He didn’t stop to ask for an explanation. The second he saw her beautiful drawings get tainted by something that wasn’t made from her hands, he began to launch his fist, directly to the boy’s poor face. Donghyuck had always been more temperamental, so he fought more with his rage than his strength, which usually ended up with him getting a fair share of beating as well.

“Here.” He handed her sketchbook back and saw her widening her eyes in surprise. “That’s right, stupid. You forgot your stupid book. I was on my way back to the class to get it when I tripped down the stairs.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I even took this out of my bag.” She blinked, checking her book and stopping after she flipped a few pages. Donghyuck froze on his seat. He’d already predicted that she would find out sooner or later that one of her pages—the one that was ruined by that asshole—was missing; he just hoped she wouldn’t notice right away. But maybe she also noticed the anxious look on his face when she went through the pages, which was why she decided to close the book, and do nothing but smile that stupidly blazing smile of hers.

“What?” He asked, already feeling quite flustered even when she hadn’t said anything yet.

“I’m just happy,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for, uhh, for getting this back for me.”

And he looked up to the sky, not caring if the sunlight was burning every inch of his skin and blinding his eyes, as long as she didn’t notice the rosy blush that painted his cheeks.

***

It was the color of lemon meringue, the chunk of tart that Donghyuck shoved into his mouth. They were celebrating his fourteenth birthday and he had a bunch of friends coming over. And yet, there he was sitting on the bench in his backyard, next to a girl dressed adorably in a yellow lace party dress, who was scowling at him.

“What?” Donghyuck muttered, yet plopping another big chunk of the tart. “Why do you look like you want to murder me? Is it that time of the month already?”

“No, jackass.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s my tart.”

“Sure, but,” he pierced the cake with his fork, taking another piece into his mouth with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “It’s my birthday cake.”

She sighed—a habit that she did a lot whenever she was with him. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be opening the presents right now? I think your friends are looking for you.”

“Nah, I’d rather talk to you.” He shrugged, pushing the empty plate back now to its owner. “Besides, you look like you’re seconds away from crying. I figured I can be a jerk to you another day and play the role of your prince charming for the rest of the evening.”

“You literally just ate every bit of my tart.”

“You’re welcome.” He sent her a flying kiss and a wink.

They both leaned backward, resting their spines against the bench, staring blankly at the cloudy sky with their fingers lying idly just a few inches from each other.

“Have you heard about that thing with our soulmates?” Donghyuck suddenly asked, his tongue still tracing every little bit of the sugary taste left inside his mouth. “About how we’ll begin to constantly dream about them after we turn eighteen, even if we’ve never met them before.”

“I thought that was just a rumor?”

“I thought so too, but then my parents told me that the exact same thing happened to them.”

“They met each other in their dreams?”

“No, it’s like—” Donghyuck scratched the back of his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s like your dreams are a mixture of your soulmate’s past and present memories. My mother said that she lived through his memories every night, until one day she met my father by coincidence during the day, and then she saw herself in the dream the following night. That was when she realized that he was her soulmate.”

“This is giving me headaches, but I kinda get the idea.”

“So whose memories do you think you’re going to see in your dream?” Donghyuck wiggled his eyebrows. “Mine?”

She snorted. “You wish your soulmate was me.”

“Actually, I do,” he stated, making her froze for a split second before she looked at him in bewilderment. “No, wait, don’t get me wrong,” he immediately corrected, raising a hand in the air. “It’s not like I’m into you or anything, ‘cause that’s, like, so gross since we’re basically like siblings by now, but if it really is true—this soulmate thingy—I wouldn’t mind if it turns out to be you because we get along really well, don’t we? Being soulmates doesn’t necessarily mean we have to marry each other—eww, God, no—” He made a show about it, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “It’s more like saying we’re connected. Know each other’s mind—like, we understand each other, you know what I mean? Don’t you feel that way about me?”

She thought about it, and with every second passing by, Donghyuck became more aware of how embarrassing his lines sounded in his ears. “You know what? Forget it. It’s dumb. I don’t know why I said—”

“Well, I guess, if you put it in a non-romantic way, then yeah, sure.” She smiled, a bit awkward and shy but sincere like always. “We can be soulmates. But I will only marry you if we’re the only two people left in the world. And even then, I would still think about it.”

He rolled his eyes but inwardly thanking her for not making this even more awkward than it already was. “Right, but for our friendship’s sake, let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed.”

They stood by in silence, hearing a bunch of children laughing in the background as they danced to the blaring music. “So on that note,” he said again, slicing through the awkward tension. “What are you so upset about today?”

She huffed, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know, I feel like everybody’s looking at me weird. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this dress—I know it’s too much—everyone is wearing shirts and jeans and I’m here looking like—”

“—a pretty girl,” he finished, staring nonchalantly at the clouds as he said it. “I don’t know what these guys think, but you’re prettier than any girl in the room today. You’re prettier than me, even, and that’s saying something.”

She bit her lower lip, holding back a laugh. “You just turned fourteen today and suddenly you’re old enough to flirt.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

He looked to his side, a lopsided smile on his face. “Feel better now?”

“A little.”

“Good. Now go fetch me another plate of that thing I just ate ‘cause I’m still hungry.”

***

It was the color of ruby, the lipstick she wore on her lips for the very first time, which made Donghyuck knit his eyebrows together, both in confusion and bewilderment.

He was fifteen and she was sixteen, but she already read a bunch of novels about first kisses and sappy love stories when he barely even owned a novel.

“Are you wearing make-up?” he uttered with a frown, scrunching his nose. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his black Michael Jackson shirt falling a bit loose around his shoulders with the bottom edge of his light-blue jeans folded.

“Yes, and before you judge me for it,” she began, but Donghyuck was already sticking his tongue out at her, making the most disgusted look on his face. “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“You look like a clown, honestly.”

“Well, this clown is going on a date.” She looked proud, which made him furrow his eyebrows even deeper. “And if she’s lucky, she’s going to get her first kiss by the end of the evening, while you, on the other hand, are just going to sit there in your room watching The Kissing Booth for God knows how many times and pretend like you’re handsome enough to date the female protagonist.”

“I am handsome enough to date the female protagonist. Handsome enough to date the male protagonist even.”

“Yeah, in your dreams. You’re just a virgin with a stupid bowl cut in reality.”

“Whatever. You still look like a clown.”

“Whatever. Now turn around, I need to change my clothes.”

“To your clown costume?”

“Turn around!”

Donghyuck had little options in his hand, when she brought her high heels in the air, ready to hurl them to his face, so he exhaled loudly in annoyance and lied down on her bed, turning his body around so he was facing the wall.

“Who’s this idiot you’re going with?” He eventually asked, because the rustling sounds of her clothes hitting the floor were getting too distracting.

“Na Jaemin. You know, that extremely cute boy from P.E Class.”

He knew who exactly Jaemin was. Heard his name being spoken several times as he walked down his school’s corridor. Girls were obsessed with him, and they would scream as if the world was ending whenever he played a game on the basketball court. They might be thinking why is someone as perfect as Jaemin interested in someone like her? And he hated the fact that he was thinking the same thing, just the other way around.

Why is someone as perfect as her interested in someone like him?

But on the outside, he toned it down to a simple grimace. “What the hell is a Na Jaemin?”

She threw her heel at him, hitting his spine and making him groan. “Hey, that hurts, you bi—” But his words died on his tongue when he saw her standing in front of her mirror in nothing but her matching underwear, with her dress threatening to fall from her arms.

“Hey!” She shrieked, squatting down to the floor and trying her best to gather as much clothing to her body to stop herself from being so exposed to his eyes. “I didn’t say you could turn around!”

And Donghyuck would’ve played it cool, he really would have, if he wasn’t too aware of the heat rising to his cheeks. “I, uhh—” He turned around again, clearing his throat. “Well, it’s your fault for throwing your shoe at me! I turned around in reflex.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! From now on, you wait outside!”

“Fine!” He scrambled to his feet, making sure that he didn’t spare any glance at her—no matter how badly he wanted to—as he made his way out. “You have small boobs anyway.”

She screamed his name in both shame and anger but he was walking out with a cheeky grin on his face. He waited outside her room with his hands buried deep in the pocket of his jeans, yawning as he pressed the back of his head against the wall. A moment later, she opened the door with her face down, trying to tuck her bra strap under the collar of her dress. When he called her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Damn it, Haechannie, I thought you’ve left!”

“I wanted to see your clown costume.”

“Why you little—” But this time, it was her turn to be lost at words because Donghyuck was staring at her in the way he never stared at her before. His eyes were gleaming as they took in her features—her lace cocktail dress that matched the color of her lipstick, her red ankle strap heels, her natural make-up that gave prominence to her eyes, and the way all of her clothing just fell perfect on her skin, embracing her every curve.

“W-what is it?” She asked, carding her fingers nervously through her hair—her soft, beautiful hair that always made him a little bit weak whenever she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “Do I look weird?”

He forced himself to close his gaping mouth and act nonchalant again. After nine years of training, he was beginning to master his act. “Well,” Donghyuck said, shrugging, “It’s not exactly like the clown costume I remembered it to be, but it’s okay, I guess. So now tell me where is this Halloween party you’re attending because I’m going too.”

“I can no longer tell whether you’re joking or not, honestly.” She waved him off, tightening the straps of her heels. “Look, it’s my first date with a really cute boy who I really like. Can’t you at least wish me luck?”

Donghyuck didn’t answer right away. His heart was still conflicted about the whole thing and his head was still swirling over the thoughts of how pretty she looked. “I can’t believe you’re blowing me off for something as lame as Na Jaemin.”

“Someone as lame as—wait, he’s not lame!”

“But does he know you the way I do, though? Like, does he know how loud your snores are? I know that, and I accept that.”

“Haechannie, we literally spend every weekend together for the last nine years. I’m just taking one night off.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still blowing me off.”

“Look, if it wasn’t a date, I would’ve asked you to come but since this is a date,” she stopped to smile, tapping her fingers against his cheek, “You be a good boy and wait for me at home, okay?”

As she walked out of her house, with him trailing behind her with heavy steps, Donghyuck said, “I hope his breath smells like shit when you kiss him later tonight!”

She laughed it off, raising her middle finger playfully at him, probably thinking he was upset because they didn’t spend the weekend together when he was entirely livid about something else.

He wasn’t sure how he felt towards her, but he was pretty certain that he didn’t like the fact she went out with some boy who probably wasn’t aware of her full name—or the way she would bite on her bottom lip from being too deep in concentration whenever she sketched something down, or the way she would puff out her cheeks in the most adorable way when she got teased too much. That fucking Na Jaemin wouldn’t understand her the way Donghyuck did.

So for the first time in his life, Donghyuck prayed something bad happened that night so her date would get canceled and she’d come running back into his arms, snuggling close with a popcorn bowl on their laps as they watched the same movie for the hundredth time.

Unfortunately for him, his prayer was not answered.

***

It was sapphire blue, the color of his hoodie was when he swung by to her house again, casually letting himself inside without even greeting her parents because he did it so many times within a day. It started to feel more like his house compared to hers.

“Oh,” she sneered, a smile appearing on her face. “You again.”

“What’s with the under-appreciating tone?” He clicked his tongue. “Most girls would actually scream in joy when I graced them with my presence.”

“Scream in horror, more likely.”

He ignored her banter, taking a seat on her bed again. She was lying down on her duvet, stomach pressed against the fabric with a fashion magazine under her fingers. “So,” he began, casually laying his head down on the dip of her spine, staring at the ceiling and secretly loving the feeling of knowing directly every time she took and released her breath. “Did he smell like shit when you kissed him?”

She flipped through a page. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t kissed. But that’s none of your business anyway.”

Donghyuck couldn’t help a smile creeping up his face. It was his luck that she didn’t notice. “Oh, but it is my business,” he said, trying not to sound as gleeful as he felt inside. “I really want to know whether he smells like shit or a dog's piss so I can make fun of him every time I see you.”

“Well, from the close proximity I had with him during our conversations inside the cinema, he smelled deliciously wonderful.”

“Deliciously? So he smelled like tacos?”

“Smelled way better than you, at least.”

“You’ve never kissed me so you wouldn’t know.”

“I already can tell without having to kiss you, asshole. You reek from a hundred feet away.”

“But just to be sure, wanna make-out with me for a while? I won’t bite.” Then he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“AUNTIEEEEEEE, SHE’S SAYING THE F WORD!”

“SHUT UP!”

***

It was Navajo white, the color of her knitted scarf was, as it hanged loosely around her neck, matching the color of her duffle coat.

“Oh,” Donghyuck flatly said as he opened the door to his room, answering her persistent knocks. “You again.”

“Haechannie.” The way she said his name sounded like she was desperate for help, and that made his heart flutter a little bit at the thought of being needed. But the words that followed soon after, crushed every bit of his happiness within an instant. “Jaemin asked me to be his girlfriend.”

He could feel how tightly his fingers were sinking into his palms but he tried to keep his voice steady. “And you’re confused because you just found out he’s a girl?”

“What should I do?” She whined, completely ignoring his sarcastic reaction. She seemed anxious, jumping a little on her feet every now and then, which was so adorable for his eyes to take but whenever he remembered the reason why she was acting that cute, he could feel his jaws tightening again.

“Do whatever you want, it’s not my business,” he muttered, walking back to his room but leaving the door open for her to follow.

“I like him, Haechannie,” she continued, and with every word that came from her mouth, a javelin seemed to strike him even harder in the chest. “I really do, but am I ready to have a relationship? Like what do I do? I know I joke a lot about having my first kiss but now that we’re about to become official, and knowing that he’s most likely going to kiss me soon, I get so nervous.”

Donghyuck didn’t say a word. He had nothing nice to say, so he kept himself in silence.

“W-what would you do if you were me?” She sputtered. “I mean, if a girl you like asked you to be her boyfriend?”

Donghyuck had his hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, so she wouldn’t be able to tell when his fingers curled into balls of fists. He had the back of his hips pressed against his desk, locating his eyes on his shoes instead of hers. “This girl I like is actually talking about being someone else’s girlfriend,” he professed, “So I’m not sure I can give you proper advice.”

“Stop messing with me, Haechannie, I’m seriously begging for your help here.”

It was goddamn annoying, he thought, how she could be so dense when it came to things like this. Well, to be fair, he did have his fair share of flirting with her from time to time whether he meant his words or not, and knowing how playful he was, it’s a given that she grew to become accustomed to his teasing personality. It was nearly impossible for him to be taken seriously nowadays.

“Why are you even asking me?” He spat out, now looking at her eyes—almost glowering. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know, I really need someone to talk to, I guess.” She played with her hair, biting her lower lip worriedly. “And you’re my best friend so I naturally just come to you. You always seem to have the answers to everything.”

There was a pang in his heart when she singlehandedly decided on their relationship status and he knew he shouldn’t have asked for something more but with more days passing by where it was only the two of them walking side-by-side under the first snow, or calling each other’s names the first thing in the morning through their windows, Donghyuck couldn’t help but to hope for something more.

“Well, like I said,” he repeated, voice sounding low and foreign even to his own ears. “Do whatever you want. As long as it makes you happy.”

She took a proper look at his face. “Are you angry or something?”

“No.”

“What, like, did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I said nothing’s wrong!” His voice thundered through the thick tension that was hanging between them and he felt his own heart shaking in pain from the tone he just made. They stared at each other’s eyes in what felt like hours before Donghyuck finally covered it with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just really tired right now. Didn’t catch any sleep last night from playing too many games.”

It took a good few seconds for her to regain back her composure. “Well, I don’t want to bother you then.” She didn’t sound angry, but she did sound hurt. Donghyuck was still in the middle of sorting out his feelings when she walked out of his room, saying, “I’m sorry for pestering you like this. Goodbye, Haechannie.”

He had never hated someone as much as he hated himself then.

It took him five hours for his mind to finally make up the decision to go into her house and apologize in person, but only a second for him to immediately do it once he’d made up his mind. He ran down the stairs so fast, he almost fell face-first on the carpeted floor. When he stood in front of her house, desperately pushing back air into his lungs, the door was locked and no one came to answer no matter how many times he rang the doorbell.

Muttering a train of expletives under his breath, he turned to his iPhone and found the first number in his emergency contacts. He was about to press dial when suddenly her name popped out on his screen, asking him to answer her call.

“Noona?” Donghyuck called, breathing in relief. “Hey, I was about to call you. I wanted to apologi—”

“Haechannie.” She sounded so happy, almost to the point of shedding tears. “Haechannie, he just kissed me.”

Donghyuck’s lips were parted in shock, his throat felt like burning, even though puffs of air still tumbled down from his mouth. His heart almost stopped beating entirely.

“What do I do, Haechannie, I’m so happy,” she said, laughing between tears. “I’m actually crying right now. I’m so lame, I know, but—God, I can’t believe I got kissed by my crush—no, wait, my boyfriend—oh God, it’s still embarrassing to say that but—”

As if turning deaf, her voice in his ears was reduced into a silent murmur before vanishing entirely. The loud beating of his heart soon replaced it as it pumped more anger and jealousy through his veins but Donghyuck wasn’t going to repeat his previous mistake. He wasn’t going to let his emotions take control again.

“Well,” he breathed out, unfamiliar with the sound of his own voice. “I’m happy for you then.”

“You are? Oh, thank God, because I thought you’d whine about me for not spending time with you anymore.”

“Do you really think that lousy of me?”

“I’m kidding, Haechannie. I love you. You know that, right?”

And it hurt, the way she said it, because it meant nothing more than a platonic love and he wanted it to mean more. Perhaps he had been waiting for those three words to mean more for the last nine years of his life.

“Of course,” he simply said, hoping she wouldn’t hear the crack in his voice. “There’s no life without you, Noona.”

It took her a while to respond, and he was worried whether the cold tone in his voice stood too vividly again, but she laughed before he could think too much.

“It’s been a while since we said that. Of course, yes, there’s no life without you, Haechannie.” She giggled again, “It’s kind of embarrassing to say that when we’re already this old. Maybe we should start looking for another catchphrase. I don’t want Jaemin to catch me saying that to you either—”

“No, don’t—” Since when did speaking to her become this hard? “It’s something that we’ve been doing since we were kids. I’m not gonna change our tradition just because of one asshole that you happen to like.”

A silence, then a chuckle. “Seems like you’re back to your old self again. I was beginning to worry. All right then, let’s keep it that way. I’ll just have to be more careful.” He could tell that she was smiling all the way when she said her sentences.

“When will you be back?” I miss you. “I want to see you.” I want to hold you. “We haven’t really talked these days.”

“Oh, umm…” She sounded so apologetically soft, so quiet, so out of his reach. “Jaemin actually just asked me to go somewhere with him, but I’ll be back soon. Is there something you need?”

He curled his fingers. “Nothing important. It can wait.”

“Great. Oh, Jaemin just called, I gotta—”

“Stop saying his name.”

When a small gasp came from the other line, Donghyuck raised his head, startled by his action. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, his stomach doing somersaults. “It’s just—” He couldn’t think of anything fast enough. “You’re right. I’m sorry for taking your time.”

“Oh, no, it’s…” A pause, which struck like a hurricane. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t hold her on her promise, because she now belonged to someone else.

He just had to get used to being alone.

***

It was the color of eerie black, the denim jacket that he wore above his white shirt as he prepared himself for his date. Donghyuck had cut his hair short, ran his fingers through his bangs so they no longer covered his eyes, and sprayed the new bergamot perfume he bought around his neck.

He didn’t notice it at first, but he had become more popular in school for the past few months, after being a vocalist in a band and performing during the school festival. Girls were approaching him, asking from what class he was, wanting to know whether he wanted to hang out with them from time to time and it felt weird, although he had been quite popular back then too, it was more because he was the funny kid—not the hot kid in school.

So eventually he started going on dates, and every time he managed to spend a day with a girl, he’d come home to brag about it to his neighbor, wanting to evoke a reaction but what came out of her was only a small chuckle and a shake of her head, “What are you talking about? You’re just a boy. You know nothing about girls, let alone going on a date with one.” And he would drop the topic, fuming for the rest of the day.

“There.” He straightened his jacket, gazing at his reflection in the standing mirror. “New day, new beginning, Hyuck. You can do this.”

You can forget her and move on.

So he checked on his phone, noticing a new chat just popped up under the name of the stranger he had been seeing for two weeks, and felt his heart beating as steady as usual. Everything felt the same. Even after he’d kissed her for the first time, intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked from one cafe to another, or hearing her laugh over his words even when he didn’t try to be funny—everything felt the same. So… plain. Unexciting. And after two weeks had passed by, meeting this stranger—the girl with the auburn colored hair, crooked teeth, and waist thinner than most—began to feel like a chore.

No, you said you’d do this. You said you’d move on from her.

“Ah, Haechannie!” The way his childhood friend immediately smiled upon his presence, waving a hand back and forth as if they were long lost companions instead of neighbors, almost made him stop in his tracks. “You’re going somewhere? You look so nice!”

His resolution faltered as simple as that. Only by the sound of her voice calling his name, only by her contagious grin creeping to his face, only by simple praise that made his stomach flip most delightfully.

“What do you mean, I look nice? I always look nice.” Donghyuck was proud of himself to be able to conceal his feelings most of the time, and not actually acting like a blushing seventeen-year-old boy with the hugest crush on his childhood friend that he was.

She took her time analyzing him and for the first time in his life, he began to fidget on his feet, swallowing his breath.

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me feel weird.”

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re this big,” she said, her eyes sparkling in amazement. “Like, I know we’re neighbors but we’ve been busy dealing with our own things these days so I haven’t really taken a closer look at you but man, look how much you’ve grown. You’re way taller than me now.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t too busy playing tonsil hockey with that fucking Na Jaemin all the time, you would’ve noticed.”

“Indeed.” She looked amused, even proud somehow. “But I got to make-out and stuff. What have you done so far, cherry boy?”

He clenched his jaw, jealousy coursing through his veins. He tried to shove the picture of Jaemin running his hands all over her body—her perfect body—to the back of his head and he thought he did a remarkable job at it. But when he smiled, his eyes didn’t follow through.

“None of your business,” he simply said, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and walked away. “I’m going on a date. See you later.”

“You’re going on a date?!” She shrieked, eyes wide. “With who?”

“A pretty girl.”

She took a hold of his hand, stopping him from walking further. “Is this the girl you’ve been seeing for the last two weeks?”

He didn’t realize she kept count. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing, I was just…” She awkwardly shrugged, her fingers hanging loosely around his arm. “Just curious, that’s all. So, like… Do you like her? What’s her name?”

It was almost possessive the way she asked the questions which on one hand, made him feel happy, hoping that she was jealous about it, but on the other hand, also pissed the hell out of him because if she was indeed jealous—if she ever felt the same way as him, even if only slightly—why did she go to Jaemin’s arms instead of his?

“Her name,” he glanced at her with lifeless eyes, “is Miss None-of-Your-Fucking-Business.”

Her smiled dropped instantly. “What is your problem? I just wanted to know—”

He knew he had the worst temper and patience in the world when it came to her, and he was not always like that before. Ever since the feelings he harbored for her grew bigger and bigger with each day passing by no matter how hard he tried to make himself fall in love with somebody else, he grew even more anxious, even less patient, and he hated the way he’d become.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Want to know what?” He asked, now facing her, circling his long fingers around her wrist and raising it in the air. “What do you want to know, exactly? It’s not just her name, is it? You want to know the things I do with her too? Want to know how I feel for her?”

Her eyes began to shake, frantically trying to understand him. “What—why are you so upset?”

“I’m not, I—” He sighed with a groan coming from the back of his throat, letting her go before he massaged his temple. I’m just so stressed out knowing how clueless you are of both your own feelings and mine. “Look, I gotta go. I’m running late.”

When he walked away, taking just about three steps ahead, she shouted. “Haechannie!”

He turned his head around, just enough to see her smiling softly at him. “This weekend,” she said, “Spend time with me this weekend. Please.”

“Noona, I—”

“I miss you.”

Just like that, she had him wrapped around her fingers again. It’s not fair. You’re not fair. You can’t keep doing this to me. But he smiled back, his gaze growing gentle, almost longing. “Then I’ll see you this weekend.”

He was in a fight he knew he’d lose every time.

***

It was coral pink, the color of the girl’s lip cream but he felt it pressed against his lips before he could see it properly. He felt his collar being tugged as his body was pushed further into her room, hasty hands pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

“You smell so good,” she said, giggling as she brought his bottom lip between her teeth. “And you look so fucking hot in this outfit.” Donghyuck hit the back of his knees against her bed and tumbled down onto her sheets, with his self-proclaimed girlfriend following shortly after.

“Wait—” he said, his eyebrows joining together in the middle from feeling both confused and uncomfortable. “What about your parents—”

“They’re not home,” she said in a rush, climbing onto his lap. “And I want you.” She tangled her lean fingers around his locks, pulling his head back to expose more of his neck. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, Hyuck,” she gasped, her mouth latching on his skin, tasting his bergamot perfume with her tongue. “And we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

A little more than two weeks had passed since they first went on a date, and he really thought he could like her but whenever he closed his eyes during the kiss, his mind would start acting on its own, morphing her face to someone more familiar. Someone who could pull on his heartstrings and play with them only by the sight of her smile.

It felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. But he said he’d move on, he promised himself he would, and this was one of the ways to do it.

“You seem distracted,” she moaned softly against his ear, pressing her hips against him. “Am I boring you?”

He didn’t say a word and instead forced himself to kiss her better. He held her by the nape, angling her head to the side, and she sighed against his mouth, hooking her fingers around his silver necklace to pull him even closer.

Donghyuck was lost deep in his thoughts, and his heart just wasn’t there, but he didn’t push her away. She spread her legs and tangled them around his waist, pressing herself down until she could feel the zipper of his jeans grazing against her underwear. Donghyuck hissed under his breath, not agreeing with how his body reacted on its own and she grinned against his lips, guiding the hands he reactively laid around her waist to move further down her body.

“Touch me here,” she begged, taking his right hand and slipped it under her shirt, pushing her breast against his palm. Donghyuck let out a heavy breath as he let her tongue slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes again because that was the only way that this could all feel right to him.

Noona…

But no matter how good her touches felt on his skin, guilt was the only sensation he could feel in his heart. The more they kissed, the more he realized that she was not her, and she could never be her. He couldn’t smell the scent of strawberries from her hair. He couldn’t hear the cute giggle she made when his jokes got to her head. And no matter how they seemed physically similar—the look of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the way she dressed—he still couldn’t lie to himself and pretend she was her.

“Wait—” He pushed her gently off his lap by landing both hands on her shoulders. “Let’s stop.”

“Why?” She was upset, he could tell. “What is it?”

You’re not her. “I feel like we’re going too fast.” I don’t want you, I want her. “And what if your parents come home?” I feel sick. I need to get out of here. I need to see her.

“They won’t be home until midnight, I promise.” She had her fingers curled around his nape again. “Please, Hyuck, don’t you want me?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer, swallowing his protest with her lips, tasting more of his mouth with her tongue. “Mmph—no—wait!” he pushed her away again, firmer this time to the point she almost toppled over. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” His tone was getting harsher, which only led her to feel even more agitated.

“Why the fuck are you even here then?” She spat out, throwing her hands in the air.

Donghyuck shoved her away none too gently this time, stepping down from her bed. “I don’t fucking know,” he growled under his breath, putting his denim jacket back on. “I’m leaving.”

“What are you, gay?!” She was screaming as he stormed off, slamming her bedroom door on his way out.

***

It was the color of sunset that illuminated her face, as she sat on her porch with her knees pressed together to her chest and her spine glued to the wall. Her eyes were blank, almost lifeless as she stared into space, her previous conversation with her beloved childhood friend replaying non-stop in her head.

Does he really like her? Why didn’t he tell me anything about this? How far have they gone? Has he kissed her yet?

The heat was spreading to her cheeks at the thought of Donghyuck leaning in close, his eyes going half-lidded before he closed them entirely, his lips—his beautiful, plump lips—slightly parted in anticipation before he—

She buried her hands in her palms. What is wrong with you?! He’s practically your brother!

It wasn’t like she never thought about him as something more. She just never allowed herself to think about him that way. What they had was special—Donghyuck was special. He was her only true friend, the family that always stood by her side even when her parents didn’t. The one who noticed the simplest things about her without having to be told—like handing her a brand new sketchbook whenever she was about to run out of pages, or the way he would always take a day off school whenever she was sick in bed so he could accompany her the whole day, watching re-runs of her favorite show while munching red velvet cakes the way he knew she liked.

He was the one who could see behind her lies and excuses, and the only one who would come over to her side at any hour just to fulfill her dumb requests—even though he whined the whole time. And she knew she was special to him in some ways as well, because she was the only one who he allowed to see him cry while watching Titanic which to this day, still brought a smile to her face whenever the thought came up.

It was getting pretty distracting when puberty hit him like a truck somewhere in his first year of high school. His shoulders got broader, his jawlines became more prominent, his voice got a tad deeper, and he was getting taller and taller that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face properly during conversations. He was packing more muscles too, from all the soccer activities he did after school, turning his complexion from slightly pale into the perfect color of a sun-kissed tan. While she, on the other hand, only had two pimples appearing on her cheeks and her chest growing slightly bigger.

She adored him. To her, his existence had become such an integral part of her life that whenever she didn’t see him for a day, she would sit on her porch, counting the minutes until he walked past her house, calling her, “Noona,” with that cheeky smile on his face before he told her about his day.

That was before she dated Jaemin, though. Because after that, he became quite distant. It felt weird and slightly out of character for him to give her the cold shoulder whenever she mentioned his name, but she thought perhaps it was just a boy thing. The whole conversation about her drooling over her boyfriend was probably too boring for his ears, and Donghyuck was always straightforward with the things he wasn’t fond of so she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Maybe he just wanted to give her the time she needed, so she could spend her days with her boyfriend—like what she was supposed to do—but she couldn’t help it that whenever Jaemin called her noona because he was also a year younger than her, the thought of Donghyuck’s teasing eyes and lopsided smiles crossed her mind.

And then the thought of him, holding another girl on his bed, his lips brushing against hers—

Ah, she mentally groaned, attempting to massage her scalp but ended up yanking on the roots of her hair. Lee Donghyuck, what am I supposed to do with these thoughts of you?

“You look like you’re going insane, honestly.”

She’d recognize that voice in a heartbeat even if she had her eyes closed and when she saw him slouching over her fence with a teasing smile painted on his lips, she nearly crumbled to the ground.

“Were you waiting for me, Noona?” He questioned with his eyebrow raised in a teasing manner, causing her to blush even harder.

“Of course not, idiot, why would I?” And the sound of his small chuckle warmed her heart. “You’re coming back pretty early. I thought you were going to spend the night with her.”

“Yeah?” He dragged open the fence, walking closer to her spot. “You were thinking about me spending a night at her place? Doing what, exactly?”

“Shut up.” She threw her sandal at him which he easily dodged before he took a seat beside her. “Did something happen on your date?”

“We had sex.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of the way he just casually said the words as if he was talking about the weather, or simply because he said those words at all, but she found herself frozen to her toes, her heart dropping into a bottomless pit, her chest suffocating.

“O-oh…” She gulped, bringing her eyes down to her fingers. “That’s great… I guess.”

“It was great,” he said, leaning back to press his spine against the wall as well. “But her parents came home soon after so I had to bail.”

He was still talking but she could no longer hear him, as if he was drowning in the background, his voice turning into whispers.

There was a feeling she couldn’t understand that kept appearing in her chest, sending fire to her fingertips. It felt like he was crushing her heart little by little with every word he said, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She never felt like this before. Was it sadness that she felt—knowing that her little Haechannie was not her little Haechannie anymore? Or was it loneliness, knowing that he had someone else in his life—someone who could feel his touches, and made him feel theirs, in the way she could never do?

“Noona.”

She blinked herself awake. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“I was just…” She desperately sought an answer. “I’m sleepy.”

It was a terrible lie and he could tell, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his shoulder. “Come here, then.” And she obliged, lying her cold cheek against his warmth and for the first time in her life, she began to be more conscious of everything.

Of his intoxicating scent. Of his slow breathing. Of his velvety voice sounding dangerously close to her ear.

Of his presence, entirely.

“So,” he pressed the side of his head against hers, voice turning gentle and quiet. “You’re not playing tonsil hockey with your stupid boyfriend today?”

“He had something to do, like a group project or something. And it’s fine, I needed some time alone to sort out my—” feelings. “—thoughts anyway.”

Donghyuck snorted. “Thoughts? Like, plural? You with that one brain cell of yours?”

She poked him on the side of his abs, forcing him to laugh in the way he usually did in the past. “All jokes aside though, Noona.” He sighed, staring at the way their hands were lying side by side on the wooden parquet. If only he could just move slightly… “Are you happy with him?” was the question he asked, but he actually wanted to hear the answer to Are you happier with him compared to when you’re with me?

“I think I am,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her words which ironically sparks pain to his every nerve. “I mean, it’s my first time being in a relationship so I barely know anything at this point, but… He does make me feel something in a way that no one has ever made me feel before.”

“What, like, horny?”

“That too, but—” She huffed. “I don’t know, like, he makes me feel wanted. Desired. He makes me feel pretty and I feel like I’m more confident now as a person, knowing that there’s someone out there who wants me that way, you know?”

Donghyuck stared into space, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “But does he need you, though?” Does he need you like I do?

“Is there a difference?”

“Well, wanting you would be like he wants to hold hands with you, kiss you, touch you, be intimate with you or something but you can be replaceable as soon as he’s satisfied with you and starts wanting someone else.”

“I don’t think Jaemin is the kind of person who thinks like that.”

I don’t fucking care about Jaemin. “Yeah, I hope not. I don’t ever want you to have your heart broken.”

There was a silence that hung around them, and it started to make him feel flustered at his own words so he immediately added, “By anyone else but me. The only one who can mess with your head and your stupid heart is me. That’s like the reason for my existence—to make sure your life is a living hell.”

She smiled, taking his hand in hers, and squeezed him softly. “Yeah. You’ve always been my little devil after all.”

The word ‘my’ had a nice ring to his ears, enveloping his heart in a warming sensation, and Donghyuck blushed again, for an entirely different reason but as long as she didn’t notice, he would be fine.

***

It was ash grey, the color of his sweater that she borrowed to be worn as her sleeping attire during their sleepover at his house. It felt strange for two young adults in their primal stage of life to be sharing a room, but Donghyuck was more than pleased to offer her his bed while he slept on the floor, and his parents also didn’t mind, as long as they kept their bedroom door open.

“Final chance to back down, Noona, because I’m not stopping once we go all the way,” Donghyuck warned, suggestively raising his eyebrow, making her gulp nervously.

“I-I’m ready,” she said, nodding her head shakily a few times.

“You sure.”

“Just do it.”

“Well then, here we go.”

And as he clicked play, the movie started. It felt like it had been years since the last time they watched a movie together, sitting side by side on a carpeted floor, with a popcorn bowl on her lap, and a MacBook on his. They shared earphones, forcing them to sit as close as possible to avoid having them slipped out of their ears. Horror movies were her weakness so he always insisted to watch one of them to torture her—and also to see her cute reactions but Donghyuck scratched that off his mind—and somehow, she always ended up agreeing to it.

Donghyuck could watch every jumpscare in the movie without batting an eyelash, but his heart jumped every time whenever she clung on to him, her arms wrapping tightly against his, her head sinking at the crook of his neck, her frantic breath fanning his skin.

“What are you so scared about?” He asked, thanking God that he didn’t stutter. “It’s just a ghost of his dead girlfriend, haunting him for vengeance while singing a creepy tune as she does it.”

“Literally everything you just said!” She sobbed, her fingers clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt, her fingernails nearly scratching his skin.

Donghyuck knew he was blushing and he hated it, and if she kept doing that, who knew what he’d become. “Let’s just stop then.”

“But you want to see this movie, don’t you—AAAH!”

His ears began to ring. “Not with you screaming like this!”

“It’s okay, I can handle this.” She puffed out her chest, taking a deep breath. “But can I hold your hand, just in case?”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. “Sure.”

It was scary, Donghyuck thought, how his mind could pay no attention whatsoever to what was showing on the screen, and instead focusing every nerve in his body on the sight of her fingers resting on top of his, squeezing them tightly whenever she was scared out of her mind.

There was a knot in his stomach, making him feel lightheaded and he tried to push the thought of lifting her fingertips to his lips and kiss them until she could think about nothing but him away from his mind.

By the end of the movie, he knew nothing about the storyline but she was bawling her eyes out. “I can’t believe I’m crying over a ghost’s background story, this is so stupid,” she said, sobbing fervently until her entire shoulders began to shake.

Donghyuck lifted one knee to his chest, laying his arms on top of it before he rested his cheek on them, He gazed at her with a pair of longing eyes, gleaming in adoration. “You’re so cute,” he sighed in a breathy voice.

Still rubbing the tears out of her eyes, she asked, “What?”

“The way you get so worked up over stupid things like this is just—cute. You’re so cute.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop saying those kinds of things to me. You already have a girlfriend. It’s not right to do this to her, even if you’re just joking around.”

Maybe it was because she seemed a bit hurt, her voice sounding strained and plaintive, or maybe it was just her line entirely but whatever it was, it made his skin crawl and he could no longer control what came out of his mouth.

“What if I didn’t have a girlfriend then?” He questioned, eyes deadly serious. “What if I wasn’t just flirting with you? What would you do if I told you I meant everything I said, every praise, every feeling I had for you?”

Her hands froze mid-air as she tried to wipe the rest of her tears away from her eyes. “What are you—”

“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” He leaned closer, brushing his fingertips against her tear-stained cheek. “Would you believe me if I say I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you?”

Silence struck like a hurricane, and there was a storm swirling in her chest. “I…” Her throats felt dry. “I, uhh…”

She looked so conflicted that it began to hurt him even when she didn’t intend to, because Donghyuck wanted her to immediately say, “I would’ve said the same thing,” straight to his face without having to trip on her words. Without her voice sounding so brittle. Without her face looking like she was about to break someone’s heart.

So he simply got up to his feet, forcing a train of laughter to erupt from his mouth. “I’m just messing with you, idiot. Stop looking at me like you got your panties in a twist, I was just kidding.”

And he expected her to be angry. Angry enough that she would shout while throwing things at his face, but instead, she broke down in tears again but smiling so widely in relief.

“I’m so glad,” she said, nearly choking on her tears. “I’m so glad you were just joking.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the pain that fleeted on his eyes, so he turned around, sinking his nails deep into his palm so he could focus on that pain instead of the one in his heart before he gathered his quilt with both arms. “Let’s just go to bed, it’s late.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor again?”

“What do you think?”

“But…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s, umm, I don’t mind if we sleep together—I mean, on the bed, like, side-by-side, not—” She caught herself, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s big enough for both of us anyway, and also…” She grew quiet, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m still so scared right now so if you could just, you know, sleep right next to me, that would calm me down a lot, I think…”

Donghyuck had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, glaring at his ceiling, asking his Lord, why must you test me like this?

“You do know that your boyfriend would kill me if he knows I’m doing this with you, right?”

She winced, smiling sheepishly. “Can’t you just keep it a secret?”

He sighed, making sure that he had the expression that said I’m-so-done-with-all-your-bratty-requests when deep down inside, he was shaking in both excitement and fear of not being able to hold himself back.

“I’m a man too, you know,” Donghyuck grumbled, slipping himself underneath the comforter. He didn’t take off his shirt this time, unlike the other nights when he slept alone. “I could attack you in your sleep.”

“Isn’t that the very reason why we’re keeping the door open?” She giggled, though the tremble from her previous breakdown was still there. “This is actually rather exciting. It’s been years since we slept side-by-side like this. It reminds me of our good old days.”

“Yeah?” He jeered. “Remember what else we do in our good old days? We take baths together.”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Donghyuck slept on his side, facing the other side of the wall while she laid on the bed with her spine pressed against the sheets and her eyes glued to his ceilings. Though she was the one who said those words, it took her forever to fall asleep. “Haechannie?”

“What?”

“You’re still awake?”

“No, this is his voicemail speaking.”

“If you’re too tired to talk, could you sing me a song or something? It’s too quiet and I can’t help remembering that creepy tune she sang every time she showed up.”

“My God, what are you, a kid?”

“You forced me to watch that, so take responsibility for it!”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned, turning to his back with his eyes locked on his ceilings and then started to hum. She listened to it wholeheartedly, a smile popping up on her face but it didn’t stay long before she realized something.

“Are you singing the theme to Mario Bros?”

“If you even begin to complain, I’m going to kick you off the bed.”

“Right, okay, continue then.”

She listened again, prepared for the same tune, but he changed it at the last second. “I can’t believe you changed it to Spongebob’s now.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, just go to sleep!”

“Okay, geez!” Her smile became permanent on her face. “You just said the F word. Mommy’s gonna be pissed at you tomorrow.”

It ended up with them throwing playful punches and kicks under the duvet and Donghyuck laughed a lot, missing and loving every second of it because this was how they used to be—playing around like kids, messing with each other’s hair and faces. At one point, he began to hover over her, trapping her body between his arms, his knee placed on the small space between her thighs. The pendant of his silver necklace was grazing along her collar bone, making her shiver slightly from the cold.

She was sweating, her bangs sticking to her temple, and she was as breathless as he was, panting for air. It felt like time began to slow for Donghyuck the second his eyes were locked on hers, his surroundings vanishing into a blur. He was so close, too close, that he could feel her breath on his lips, could almost taste the scent of her shampoo on his tongue, and if he could just lean in…

The sound of his name tumbling down her lips in a soft, almost inaudible manner was what stopped him from pressing his lips against hers, and he was thankful because otherwise, he could’ve done it, and then everything would be ruined.

He couldn’t afford that to happen.

“Your breath stinks,” he said instead and pecked her quickly on her forehead. He immediately scrambled to his other side of the bed, shouting, “Go to sleep, you idiot,” as he gave his best effort to pretend he was sleeping.

You were so close, Donghyuck thought, you almost ruined everything. Pull yourself together.

And if I can’t have her, just let me have this moment for the rest of my life.

***

It was the color of ivory, her trench coat was as she wrapped it harshly around her body, all the while fuming in anger. Her phone was buzzing non-stop, alerting her to the new messages that arrived almost at the same time and she knew exactly who they were from.

I still can’t believe you’re choosing him over me to celebrate your birthday. - Haechannie, 09.10

We do this every year, Noona, we PROMISED to always celebrate our birthdays together. - Haechannie, 09.10

And now that you have Na fucking Jaemin giving you sloppy blowjobs as your birthday gift, you suddenly just forget about me?! How fucking ridiculous is that?! - Haechannie, 09.11

Does he even know it’s your birthday today? Did he congratulate you on it like I did? Showing up at your door at midnight, carrying the world’s most gigantic alpaca doll in my arms when it was fucking freezing outside?! Because I sure as hell didn’t see his stupid donkey face! - Haechannie, 09.12

Also, not trying to be an ass about this, but do you even know how hard it is to find a one-meter tall Alpaca doll?! Why can’t you just like teddy bears like everyone else for fuck’s sake. - Haechannie, 09.13

“Oh my God,” she groaned loudly to the air, almost stomping her feet in fury as she texted back, “I’m not ditching you, you selfish idiot! I’ll be back before dinner and then we can spend the rest of the day together so for once in your life, stop sounding like a fucking asshole!” She paused, thinking more words to add before she jabbed her thumbs to her phone screen again. “Also, I didn’t ask you to get me anything so you can take that stupid ugly doll back if you’re going to be a bitch about it because I don’t need it!”

And she pressed send. But before she could catch her breath, another response came by.

Great. Do me a favor, will ya? Don’t show up at dinner. I’m not your fucking backup plan. - Haechannie, 09.15

She was so close to smashing her phone against the wall, but the text coming from her boyfriend, telling her that he was waiting for her downstairs, made her heaved the heaviest sigh she’d ever made, shoved her phone into her purse, and stepped down the stairs with angry clicks of her heels.

The entire birthday date was a disaster for her because Jaemin was discussing something important but she couldn’t decipher a word he said. The look on Donghyuck’s face when she said she had promised Jaemin she’d go on a date with him on her birthday—how shocked and disappointed he was, not to mention furious—was the only thing that she could focus on. She kept replaying it over and over again in her head, until Jaemin took her hand and called, “Noona? Did you hear what I just said?”

And she was so terribly upset that she began to lose control of her mouth. “Don’t call me that. I have someone back home who calls me that a lot and it’s getting annoying.”

“O…kay,” Jaemin awkwardly said, pulling his hand away from hers. “I was just trying to be respectful.”

She threw her head back, sighing loudly in exasperation. “You’re right, sorry. I didn’t mean to take this out on you.” She took a deep breath, waited until she calmed down a little bit before she continued again. “I just had this fight with someone and it keeps bugging me.”

“Let me guess. Is it Lee Donghyuck again?”

She raised her head in surprise, looking at him. “What do you mean again?”

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about, for as long as I remember.”

“Yeah, because he’s like a little brother to me who annoys the hell out of me.” She rubbed her temple, feeling her energy drained. “Well, he’s not actually my brother, but he acts like one—he gets on my nerves, teases me a lot, calls me stupid all the time—”

“Why do I get the feeling that he’s more than just a little brother to you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not listening to me—”

“Look, you know what?” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best to end this.”

“What?” She nearly dislocated her jaw. “What are you even saying—are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, you’re going to graduate soon and you told me once that you’d probably leave town for college, and with all this Donghyuck thing going on…” Jaemin sighed. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

***

It was the color of dark grey, the heavy clouds that hovered above the earth with thunders flashing between them. She stood in front of Donghyuck’s door, fingertips shivering slightly from the cold as she rang his doorbell. The boy came to answer shortly after, his usual gaze quickly turning into a menacing glare at the sight of her. He was about to rave over their previous fight when he noticed how she was all drenched from the rain with tears streaming down her face. She glanced up at him, murmuring his name between sobs, and Donghyuck hastily gathered her in his arms, not caring one bit how the rain seeped almost instantly to the grey Nirvana shirt he was wearing.

“Are you okay?” He attentively asked, cupping her cheek with his lean fingers. He lifted her face, examining every detail of her features, making sure she wasn’t hurt in the slightest. “Did something happen?” His voice suddenly turned gravelly. “Did he do this to you?”

She sniffled, burying her face in his chest. “Jaemin broke up with me.”

“On your fucking birthday?!”

She nodded.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Donghyuck said, almost growling as he embraced her tighter. “I’m gonna keep you company today and make sure you’re okay first, and then I’m going to kill him.”

There was no need for apologies to be exchanged, because Donghyuck already had his arms around her, drying her hair with a towel and lending her his sweater that he knew she loved. His parents weren’t home at the time, so they sat on the kitchen counters, legs dangling a few inches above the porcelain floor with a cup of hot coffee in their hands.

“This is the worst birthday in the history of mankind,” she said, slurping her coffee. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, there was actually this girl who got murdered on her birthday—”

“Just humor me, will you?” He chuckled and patted her hair. “But to be fair, I don’t think he’s aware it’s my birthday today. He hasn’t said anything, didn’t give me anything. I also never told him, and he…Well, he never asked.”

“And yet, you still went out with him.” He sighed, now tucking a loose strand of her hair to the back of her ear. “I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t think you were this much of an idiot.”

She grew smaller. “Please be mean to me another day. I’m currently wounded.”

“Right, okay, come here.” He cradled her in his arms, placing his chin on top of her head. “You smell like a wet dog, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She was about to lean more to his touch when his phone began to ring.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” She questioned when he did nothing about it and when he kept quiet, she broke apart from his embrace, jumped down, and grabbed his phone from the table.

“Unknown number,” she mumbled when his ringtone stopped playing. “Wait, there’s a text.”

“Don’t read it.”

“It said aren’t you coming over.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Is this your girlfriend?”

He yawned. “A different one.”

“What, that fast? Were you supposed to meet her? Oh my God, I’m so sorry for taking your time, why aren’t you—”

“Rather than saying that,” he took a sip of his coffee, “We should begin our revenge plan on that stupid ex of yours. I mean, I could just straight-up punch him in the face, but you already know his weakness. It’s time to strike, baby.”

She blinked, her puffy eyes soon began to gleam mischievously. “I’ve already planned it all out. Do you wanna hear it in alphabetical order?”

***

It was the color of burgundy, the quilt that covered her body when she suddenly woke up from her dream with a jolt, surprising the man who slept on the floor next to the foot of her bed.

“What happened?” Donghyuck asked, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. “Nightmare?”

Her eyes were wide when she looked back at him, gulping hard before she said, “I just had the dream.”

“What dream?”

“The dream, Hyuck.”

“Wet dream? I thought that was only for boys—”

“No, you’re not listening to me. The dream.” She threw her blanket away, scrambling back to her feet, and kneeled in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “I just met my soulmate.”

Donghyuck almost shuddered. “What?”

“It’s true, Haechannie, it wasn’t just a rumor,” she said, looking at her trembling fingers. “They said the dreams would start sometime after we turned eighteen and I saw it. I saw him. And it felt so weird. It wasn’t like a dream, it was—” Realization befell her eyes. “A memory. You were right, it was a memory—his memory.”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He held up a finger in the air. “What exactly did you see? And talk like a normal person this time.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, deep in her thoughts. “So, you know how when you’re dreaming, you can’t tell if it’s a dream? Like you’re suddenly somewhere, doing something that you can’t remember the beginning of it but it felt normal so you kept doing that, until suddenly you wake up and you start noticing how weird it really was.” Donghyuck nodded, albeit still a little unsure. “Well, this isn’t anything like that. You’re completely aware that it’s a dream—at least, I was. I remember telling myself it was a dream but now I realized it was a memory.”

“My God, you’re taking too long,” he complained. “What exactly did you see? For fuck’s sake, just tell me!”

“I was in a classroom at some school that I’ve never seen before and there was this guy who looked just about my age, sitting on the last row—just right by the window. He had the softest hair, a pair of big, beautiful doe eyes, cute thin lips, broad shoulders—”

“Hold up.” He grimaced. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“One of these days, Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep, I swear to God, I will.”

“Right, apparently not then. Please, continue.”

She took another two seconds to throw ice daggers at him with her eyes before she finally started again. “He was scribbling something down on his book. And I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear me. I could hear him, though, and everything else that was going on in the classroom. I could hear him hum a song before he nodded his head, looking like he just figured something out, and then he was writing things down again. I tried to reach out to him, but I couldn’t physically touch him too. I was just a bystander that saw everything—like watching a movie or something.”

“A completely boring movie, if you ask me.”

She rolled her eyes, completely ignoring him. “Then, when I blinked my eyes, I was standing somewhere else. There was this lake, so beautiful, surrounded by mountains—like the entire scenery of it was just breathtaking, and I don’t think that’s in our country so he might have traveled somewhere overseas.”

He snorted. “Sounds like an annoying rich kid.”

“Can you just—” She sighed, calming herself down. “So, I saw him there with a camera in his hands and a guitar case strapped to his back. He was taking some shots of the landscape and, uhh,” she shyly chuckled, “I know it’s too fast for me to say this, but his face when he’s concentrating—“

“Constipating?”

“Concentrating,” she corrected and Donghyuck sent her a kissy face. “The face he made when he was concentrating was so cute.”

“Ugh, enough with the lame commentary.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Why are you so sure he’s your soulmate? Sounds like just another weird-ass dream to me.”

“I can’t really explain it, but…” Her eyes turned soft, cheeks going a bit rosy. “It feels like I just found something that I didn’t know I lost—something important, something that was a part of me, even. And it just makes me feel whole, you know? It’s weird saying this when I don’t even know his name but… That’s just how I feel. Everything just clicked.”

“Huh…” Donghyuck’s tongue was protruding against the inside of his mouth as he tried to process his thoughts. It suddenly felt like his heart was being cut into several pieces, the moment his reality sank in. He didn’t realize it was that serious. Or at least, he didn’t want it to be that serious.

She squeezed his hand. “You understand how I feel, don’t you, Haechannie?”

He sent her a timid smile before he pulled her body into him, pressing his chest against hers, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he muttered softly, his lips grazing the fabric of her sweater. “I get it.” And she giggled, embracing him tighter, thinking that maybe he was just as happy as her.

She didn’t notice the way his fingers slowly curled against the back of her sweater. She didn’t notice how he deliberately pressed his lips against her clothed shoulder as he spoke so he could hide the shivers in his voice. And she didn’t notice how his eyes were shaking in the fear of losing her, how he could barely bear the pain in his chest, how his mind almost made him vomit the words he’d been dreading.

It’s okay. She hasn’t met him yet. Maybe it’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

God, please don’t let it mean anything.

***

It was a shade of purple, the color she used to paint a lavender in her sketchbook before she drew the rest of the landscape. But before she could finish painting the next thing, she sighed dreamily into the air, closing her drawing book with both hands.

“He’s in a band,” she said as they laid side-by-side on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight on their faces and the scent of the pine trees in the garden near their homes. “Was. Or still is, I’m not sure.”

And she laughed, she always did whenever she talked about him and although the sound of it used to warm his heart, it made him struggle even more with jealousy. So he just hummed, scrolling down his Instagram feeds to distract him.

Three months had passed by ever since she had that dream, and Donghyuck was conflicted between wanting to know more or hearing none of it for the rest of his life. She had the dream every single night, reliving every single one of her soulmate’s memory—both past and present—every time she closed her eyes, and to him, she seemed more alive when she was about to go to bed, rather than after she woke up.

“I heard him sing once during his band practice when his vocalist had a sore throat. He sounded great but like, a bit hesitant, you know? Like he’s not confident with his voice.” She turned around to her stomach, staring at him with excitement in her eyes and a speck of scarlet painting her cheeks. “Well, he doesn’t sound anything like you, but I still think he’s great.”

“Good to know,” he coldly replied. She seemed to take notice of that.

“I’m sorry, Haechannie,” she said, “I must have bored you to death with all this soulmate talk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s your soulmate, not mine, so I couldn’t care any less.” He could’ve been nicer about it, but then again that wouldn’t be him.

“Well, guess what?” She landed half of her body on his stomach, knocking some of his breath with her weight but he just threw a glare in response and not pushing her away. “Somebody is having his eighteenth birthday in a month. So then, we’ll have your soulmate to talk about too.”

“Yaaay,” he weakly cheered, face flat and ignorant.

She pouted. “Why aren’t you excited about this? You’re gonna be dreaming about your soulmate! I’m excited to know who’s that lucky girl going to be.”

His chest felt heavy and it had nothing to do with the girl on top of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I hope she’s nice and pretty,” she said, smiling genuinely at him. “Because only the most perfect girl in this entire universe can deserve my Haechannie.”

But he didn’t want a perfect girl. He just wanted her, so why was it so impossible to ask?

“Wish I could wish the same for you,” he said, placing his phone on his chest and leaned back on his elbows so he could focus his gaze on hers.

“What do you mean?”

And he switched their positions, rolling their bodies on the grass until she had her spine pressed against the ground with him hovering above her. “H-Haechannie?”

She looked so perfect like this—trapped between his arms, her doe eyes widening in surprise, taking in his sight, her lips parted making a soft gasp of his name.

Ah, I want to make her mine. Why can’t she be mine?

He leaned down, the tip of his nose almost brushing against hers. And if he could just forget everything—their friendship, her future life with her soulmate—for a few seconds and allow himself to be selfish, he would close the gap, meeting her lips with his, bask himself in her warmth, and he would let her moan against his mouth, would caress her cheeks with his fingertips, and would just wish the time to stop so they could repeat that for eternity.

But this reality of his was not that.

This reality of his felt more like a nightmare—one that he could never wake up from.

So in this reality, he brought his lips dangerously close to her ear, and whispered, “I hope your soulmate picks his nose and eats his booger whenever you’re not looking because only then he’d be perfect for you.”

And before she could kick his abs in response, he already scrambled back to his feet, running away as if his life depended on it.

***

It was the color of cerulean blue, the scarf that Donghyuck wore around his neck because he was a bit sensitive to cold even when spring was about to come to an end.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Donghyuck said, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Anywhere. Just you and me.”

“What, now?” She frowned, looking at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was two hours before midnight—before he turned eighteen. “But it’s late—”

“I don’t care—”

“And it’s freezing outside—”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He was already tugging on her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He wrapped his scarf around her neck and placed his beanie on her head. “I don’t have my gloves but I’ll hold your hand all the way, so no more excuses and let’s go.”

Because it might be his last chance to spend his time with nothing but her presence filling his thoughts. He dreaded the possibility of having that dream sometime after the clock struck twelve. He didn’t want his heart to be taken by someone else—let alone, a stranger. And he knew he wouldn’t dream about her because she had found her soulmate and he was not him.

And if it was true—if having that dream changed his entire perspective where he could only love that one girl for the rest of his life then…

Just let me have this moment with her, where I can still love her with all my heart, even if she doesn’t love me the same way.

“Where are we going?” She demanded as they broke past the front door as quietly as they could since her parents were sleeping in their room.

“I don’t know—I don’t care—I just—” He breathed into the night air, puffs of warm breath painting the space between them. “Anywhere is fine. I just want to be with you.”

He saw her cheeks turning scarlet but he didn’t hope for too much. It was probably just the cold playing tricks on him.

“Okay, well then,” She tightened her duffle coat around her body. “Lead the way.”

He smiled, feeling blessed for having her putting so much faith in him, even after all this time.

There weren’t many places open at that hour, and it was fine because they already felt content just from walking side-by-side under the cherry blossoms that had withered all of their flowers. The way she held his hand reminded him of their younger days, both gentle and somewhat protective—like a sister to a younger brother and it made him feel both joy and sadness because he wanted to intertwine their fingers together as lovers, embrace each other under the dim glow of the streetlight, and connect their lips together while whispering loving words between chaste kisses.

“Haechannie,” she said, snapping him out of his reverie as she stopped them both in their tracks. “Happy birthday.”

Donghyuck blinked, not realizing how two hours just passed in an instant. “I’m as old as you, already?” He sneered. “I feel so gross.”

But she didn’t laugh the way he thought she would. Instead, she was looking at him with a glint of loneliness in her eyes which made him wonder why. “I bought you something.” She rummaged her coat’s pocket before she showed a little black box the size of her palm with a red bow wrapped around it.

Donghyuck faked a gasp. “No way, you’re proposing to me? But honey, I’m already carrying your child!”

She stomped her feet on his. “Shut up and just be serious for a sec, will ya?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He chuckled but he could hear how nervous he actually was from the little crack in his voice. He took the little present with a shy, slightly awkward smile. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t mock me for it.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her before he opened the box to find a silver oval locket necklace displayed inside it. He glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you have a picture of us taking our bath together as babies in it.”

“Interesting, but no. I did have something written on it, though.”

“Okay, but if you wrote something stupid, I will—” He froze, hands stopping mid-air after he opened the locket and read the words engraved on the silver plate.

To my first love, Lee Donghyuck.

“Okay, before you say anything,” she cut him off, fidgeting a little on her feet. “Let me explain about it first. I don’t want to come out as weird or anything because after this, we’re both going to find our soulmates and go our separate ways so let me assure you that I’m not saying I love you that way, but—”

He pulled her into his chest, wrapping both of his arms around her shoulders, his lips pressing against her hair.

“Haechannie—”

“Shut up,” he said, closing his eyes as he calmed his racing heart. “Just shut up and let me have this moment.”

She wasn’t sure whether he got her previous message but she no longer cared, because at the end of the day, he was her first love in every way—as a family, a brother, a friend, and even a lover once, though she never allowed herself to think about him like that. So she tangled her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and closed her eyes for as long as he would let her.

Donghyuck wanted this moment to last forever but he knew time was running out even if he tried to stand still. It would be over the second he had that dream and fell in love with someone else. It would end the day she’d meet her soulmate, treating his existence merely as a bystander in her love story.

But for now… Just for now…

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispered so softly against her hair, almost inaudible by the sound of the wind passing through their ears. “I love you, Noona. So much that it hurts.”

She chuckled, embracing him tighter. “I love you too, Haechannie.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye?

He pulled back, pressing his temple against hers. “There’s no life without you,” he said, a shy smile forming on his lips.

She cupped his cheek, rubbing comforting circles on his skin. “There’s no life without you, Haechannie.”

***

“So, umm, thanks for today,” Donghyuck said, as he walked her back to her house, rubbing his nape awkwardly as he said it. “And thanks for the gift. I’ll treasure it.”

“You better.” She playfully punched his arm. “It was pretty expensive, just so you know.”

“More expensive than a one-meter tall made-by-order alpaca doll I bought you?”

“Sorry, I’ll take that back.” She winced, and Donghyuck chuckled a little bit under his breath, patting her head and letting his fingers linger a little longer than usual on the soft strands of her hair.

“Well…” He retracted his hand, placing them in his coat’s pocket. “Good night.”

“See you tomorrow.” And she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek at the same time he was about to do the same and their lips grazed each other, soft lips meeting softer ones in the faintest of touch but carved something deep both in their bodies and minds.

They both took a step back at the same time, startled. He was busy looking anywhere but her face, and she concealed her lips with her fingers, bringing her head down to hide her eyes underneath her bangs.

There was a silence that made his skin crawl. “S-sorry, I was—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” she immediately said, forcing a smile before she hastily turned on her heels, her shaky fingers searching for her doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Donghyuck still had trouble breathing. “Y-yeah, sure.”

She timidly smiled again before she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Now that they were both out of each other’s sight, Donghyuck inaudibly cursed into the air, running a hand through his hair, feeling his heart ramming against his ribcages while she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and pressed her spine against the back of her front door.

The thought of their brief, accidental kiss was the only thing that painted their minds even behind their closed eyelids as they laid on their beds, hoping for exhaustion to take over their bodies. Once it did, they both fall into a soundless sleep where she began to think about another pair of lips but it wasn’t the case for Donghyuck.

Because, as he fell into his first soulmate dream, he was facing the same person—the girl who owned his heart, whose lips were just as soft as he’d imagined them to be.

Noona, he spoke inside the dream, staring at the sight of her, why am I dreaming about you?

***

[kyberphilosopher]

Dᴏꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴏ Dɪꜱᴄɪᴍᴜꜱ

The reader tries to paint the Colossal Titan from memory, and Bertholdt seems to know more than most people. 

Requested: no.

Word Count: 2092

Docendo Discimus is a Latin proverb meaning "by teaching, we learn." It is perhaps derived from Seneca the Younger, who says in his Letters to Lucilius: Homines dum docent discunt., meaning "Men learn when they teach”.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The human body is home to somewhere between six hundred and eight hundred muscles. There are two hundred and six bones, seventy-eight organs, one hundred thousand miles of veins, and roughly ten pints of blood. Every individual cell has a purpose, important and needed for the body to continue to function. 

Assuming the anatomy of a titan was the same to that of the average person’s, the Colossal Titan should be easier to render than this. You’d sketched the face of muscle and teeth over a hundred times by this point, and each one of them seemed to draw further away from realism than you liked. 

Sure, it was arguable that the Colossal just didn’t have the same anatomy in his face as the average human. But then there should’ve been more factors in his face that shouldn’t have worked. 

For example, the monster didn’t possess a muscle called the orbicularis. You could remember that specifically from the time you and your fellow cadets had gotten a bit too close for comfort. But based on the lack of orbicularis, he shouldn’t have been able to blink. And yet, he had. There was also a strange muscle in his temporal region with horizontal fibers, that couldn’t have simply been his temporal. It doesn't seem to have any particular function, either. 

God damn it. It’s appearance should’ve been the one thing about this bastard to make sense, but instead it had confused you just as much as the rest of it. Never mind how smart you were. If you couldn’t solve this simple turned complex mystery, why hold out hope for studying anatomy when the world would return to normalcy?

In your frustration, you slam the paintbrush back into your cup of water. A stain of red clouds erupts in the liquid at once, angry from how direct the solid hits the surface. In front of you, the canvas shines with the new layer of red paint. Beside it is a coat of salmon, also fresh and lined with the titan’s muscles. 

“So stupid,” you hiss, half to yourself. You grab your cadet corps jacket, shrugging it on swiftly before crossing your arms and stepping back. 

It was supposed to be a gift for Eren. He knew you were something of a painter and had once jokingly asked you to make a dart board for him. The moment you conceived this idea, you knew it had to be a stroke of genius. But you wanted to get it right, and for that, the artist and realist inside of you seemed to be punished for it.

Was it something with the eyes? No, it was definitely the anatomy of the titan overall. “For fucks sake,” you wave off finally, turning on your heel to walk away for a while. But when you turn around, you’re face to chest with one so broad you nearly stumble back. 

The figure tenses up immediately. You tilt your head up to see who it is, recognizing the nervous, kaleidoscope eyes of your comrade. Bertholdt, you’re sure his name is. You haven’t talked too many times, but you’ve seen him in your circle of friends. There’s a memory in your brain of asking your bunkmate, Annie, about why Bertholdt would hang around someone so upstanding and obnoxious as Reiner, but you can’t recall her specific answer. 

“O-oh, Y/N!” Bertholdt nearly wheezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand so close.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your head as you step away. “What are you doing here?”

Yes, what was he doing here? A little closeted off room by the girl barracks? And aside from that, how does someone as tall as he even sneak his way inside? It’s suspicious, to say the least. 

“I was just-” Bertholdt stares down at you, sweat already beginning to form on his face. Oh, goddess. How is he to get out of this one? If Reiner was with him, he could just lie his way out of it. But now, looking down at your apathetic, borderline tired, frustrated face, he knows he’s never had much luck with girls. Especially not pretty girls like you. 

His gaze shifts to behind you. There, on a perfectly square parchment of thick paper, is a rough sketch of a long face without any skin. It seems to be all muscle, labeled and detailed. Half the sheet is colored in with pinks, browns, and scarlets, with the other half marked with insane little scribbled patterns that remind him of words. 

You’re still waiting for an answer. He sees your steady, patient eyes and your balled fists by your hips, and Bertholdt wonders if you already know. “I saw you bring in those cans of paint, and I guess I got curious.”

“Oh,” you reply flatly. “Yeah. That.”

“It’s um...” Compliment her. Compliment her painting. “It’s a nice painting. What’s it supposed to be of?”

“The Colossal Titan,” you tell him as you rub the back of your neck. Then you turn on your side so you can view your art, immediately narrowing your eyes in disgust at it. “It’s not my best.”

Bertholdt’s words come out a bit louder than he intended. “Actually, I think it’s really, really great, Y/N!”

You turn back to meet Bertholdt’s nervous, almost quivering eyes. You certainly wouldn’t call yourself an expert on the male gender, but this tall bastard was exactly the stereotype of someone who wasn’t an expert on the female gender. It was almost funny. No, it was almost ironic. 

“I just mean that... it’s really good. It’s easy to see that you have heaps of talent,” the brunette reiterates, seemingly calmer this time.

What a nice thing to say to someone. 

“That’s not really my point though,” you borderline sigh. “The point is that no matter what I seem to do to him, it doesn’t seem realistic does it?”

“What do you mean by that?” Bertholdt questions, his eyebrows furrowing. That’s right, he wouldn’t be able to squint without his orbicularis. Something your art model was currently lacking. 

Do you even bother to explain it to him? It’s not like either of you are close, or like he’d exactly understand what you were saying to him anyway. But where was the harm, really?

You walk back towards the parchment, with Bertholdt just a few steps behind. 

“See this area?” you ask, gesturing to the Colossal Titan’s eye area. “There's a muscle here that’s supposed to let people close their eyes. But the colossal titan doesn’t have that.”

“W-why is that?”

You shrug. “Damned if I know. But doesn’t it look wrong on him?”

Bertholdt observes the painting. He sees all the details, all the time you’ve put into it. While you are right about the image and the titan’s strange features, it’s now that Bertholdt realizes just how intelligent you really are. Unlike other people, you actually knew things. If he were an enemy, he might be starting to feel threatened right about now. Ironic indeed. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” the boy says shyly. “Why does it have to be perfect, though?”

Good question. 

“No real reason,” you tell him, trying to hide the hint of smile. “I guess it’s just how it is. Eren is the one who asked for this.”

“O-oh... you mean like a...”

Your eyes flit back to Bertholdt. “Like a what?”

Bertholdt can feel the sullen wave of anxiety wash over him. He hadn’t meant to let the stray thoughts fall from his lips, but now he can’t take it back. Now what does he say? “I just mean, is it a gift or something like that?”

“Sure.”

Were you and Eren...?

“I might be able to help you with it,” Bertholdt stutters, again, louder than he’d intended. He’s lucky at least one of you is level headed during this interaction. 

“How so? Do you paint?” 

“No, but I think I might know some things about the Colossal that you don’t,” Bertholdt offers. His right arm reaches behind to rub at his sweaty neck. In that instant, you can see that the boy has an almost identical structure to that of your subject. You’d have to note that the tall boy would make a brilliant model for something like this.

“Like what?” you question. “Could you give me some feedback on my piece then?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You were going to find out. 

Bertholdt pretends to be in deep thought for a minute, knitting his dark eyebrows together. His green, blue eyes sweep over the picture, watching the slick settle. “Well, you’re right about the muscle around the eye. I’d take that out, but maybe place the shadow of it?”

“The shadow?”

“The outline. And maybe make his eyes more glossy than this. Titan’s have a second set of eyelids.”

You don’t have time to question him further. Bertholdt continues the onslaught of information. 

“I think you should also make some of these areas here a bit lighter,” he says, pointing to the side of the Colossal’s face. “From the steam and the high body temperature, it would get a bit smoky.”

“Yeah,” you begin slowly, watching the shine in Bertholdt’s previously nervous eyes. “I hadn’t considered that.”

The lanky male in front of you lets his lips curl into a sheepish smile, closing his eyes as his fingers thread themselves between his hair. “I doubt most people do, so you’re not really in the wrong.”

“How do you know so much?” you ask. “You’ve been quiet with everyone up until now. Do the higher ups even know all this?”

“I mean, they’d have to right? I guess I just took a lot of notes in class.”

You hadn’t remembered your professor mentioning most of these things during your Titan Studies period. But maybe it wasn’t really worth questioning him over. Maybe Bertholdt was just more observant than you had ever really considered. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

Your eyes are fixated on him. Bertholdt was kind of cute, actually. His eyes are both big and slim, with pale green orbs. His skin was always a bit illuminated with a nervous sweat, and he was incredibly mild mannered. But maybe that was actually a good thing compared to all the boys in camp who seemed to lack any conception of manners. Pouty, chapped lips, a gentle smile, messy dark hair. He seems like someone reliable. Kind. Trustworthy.

“Yeah,” you say again, breaking eye contact. “So, are there any other suggestions you have for me?”

Bertholdt is still for a moment, thinking it over. “No, other than don’t think so hard about it, probably.”

“You two sort of have a similar face,” you say, staring at the muscled beast you’d attempted to replicate. “Maybe you should pose for me sometime.”

Bertholdt tenses. 

“I’m only joking,” you assure. Bertholdt’s broad shoulders fall as he relaxes, and a soft exhale leaves from between his lips. “But I would like it if you’d let me model after you.”

“Me?” Bertholdt stutters, shocked. “You mean you’d want to really paint me?”

“‘Course,” you say, nonchalant as always. “You’ve got one of those faces.”

Bertholdt smiles naturally. Soft, but noticeable. You return it after a few seconds, feeling your previous frustration and anger at the piece begin to wander away. 

“I should get back to work,” you say as you turn around. Bertholdt watches you unclip the parchment from your sturdy easel, place it on the stone floor, and grab another paper from a pile. 

“Y-you’re starting again?”

“Of course,” you say. Your dominant hand laces around a piece of charcoal, preparing to drag it across the page. In one swift and scratchy motion, an onyx line appears at the top of the paper. 

Bertholdt’s cheeks dust pink from behind you. He’s about to offer if you want him to pose for you so you can memorize what’s underneath his shy skin, but he stays quiet. Instead, Bertholdt is happy that he even got to speak to you in the first place. He wanders out of the room with butterflies in his stomach, and guilt in his heart. 

And you, with your eyes narrow, basing the monster that ruined your life off the boy who had just helped you. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I didn’t proof read this. I feel like I’ve just been cranking stuff out lately. someone remind me to go back and edit thank you

[girlucifer]

“tell me you love me

...because i don’t think i could handle it otherwise.”

one of my favorite quotes in the game is when lucifer and the mc are alone, where they choose to hug him after they returned to the devildom, and he whispers how he wants the human to tell him they thought of him everyday they were away- not of his brothers, but of him alone. because he ‘couldn’t handle it otherwise.” i love that soft, wanting aspect of lucifer, a side we don’t really see often. i wanted to expand a bit on this, so here is a small fic, lucifer x gender neutral mc, under the cut!

word count: 1200 or so

tags: lucifer x gender neutral mc, obey me! angst, fluff, romance, tension, slow build, spoilers*** for lesson 20 and below  

they knocked on the study's door that towered over them, its very aura dominating, fearsome- behind this door leads to him and his gaze, as sharp and red as the thin thread that ties the two together, cutting and suffocating. his gaze always lingered in the human's mind behind closed eyes, behind closed doors- his gaze, red as blood, as marks left on their neck after a daring evening alone, as red as the human's heart that beats wildly as they raised their hand to knock upon the door. warm firelight spilled through the crevice underneath the door. they knew he was inside- he had been avoiding them ever since the night they spent together- this much, the human could tell. he was a hard one to decipher; he always had a sort of cloudiness hovering over him, always a bit restrained, a bit hesitant. he would look over his shoulder, never wear his heart there. it wasn't until that night the human must've said something small, something innocent, an accidental graze of fingertips, a mistakenly seductive glance. parted lips, inching noses... he had revealed what really lurked in the depths of his soul with shallow gasps and light moans, interlocked fingers across black silken sheets.

the smell of wooded musk lingered in the air- his candles were lit. the forest from home, the human thought- he always seemed to smell of fresh orchards. it was fitting he'd smell of such, after all, the human reflected, as every moment with him seemed akin to taking a bite of a fruit from a forbidden tree- he was the first prince of hell, second only to the devil himself. lucifer, a name feared throughout the human world just as much as the underworld- a taboo name, malevolent, a name called by the evil and wicked. the human remembered the fear that took hold of their heart when meeting the brothers- six demons stood behind a particularly shining one, his presence far more immutable than the others. lucifer, the morning star. poison to the soul, pomegranate seeds to the tongue. they knocked once more- the door finally opened.

their eyes met immediately, as the human drew closer to him. he sat on one of the small couches that accentuated his study, holding a glass of dark, almost jet-black liquid. the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, his tie hanging down his chest, his collarbone just slightly exposed- enough the have the human avert their gaze, face flushing as if exposed to something far too indulgent. without another word, lucifer took another glass, pouring demonus for the other as they sat besides him. he reached out his hand, to which the human accepted the glass. no words were exchanged as the two drank silently, the human stealing glances towards the demon. the lit fireplace quietly danced behind him, his silhouette outlined with the warm orange color, flooding his features. in his light, he almost seemed holy, heavenly, like a fragment of his previous celestial incarnation was shining through.

"you're avoiding me."

"is that what it seems like to you?" his lips balanced on the edge of sneering and smiling. then like a flicker of one of the candles dotting his small study, he turned his head, downing the rest of his liquor.

"do you think... do you think I can be a bit selfish and ask you to listen to me? I might say things that don't quite make sense, or run off on long tangents, or maybe circle back and say nothing of any use. but maybe, maybe I'll say what I need to and we'll both be better off. could you? could you listen to me?" he reached out his hand, it wavering every so slightly before falling short just inches of the human's fingertips.

"my life is simply full of mistakes. just, utter grievances, embarrassments, all plunders on my part. I never acknowledge them- I'm the first prince of hell- I take pride in everything I do, even the mistakes. but, by heaven and hell, I regret so much. the fall- one of my most grand achievements, inspiration to renaissance painters, punishment to god-fearing populace, martyrdom to revolutionaires, but to me- a failure. the death of my sister... meant the death of me, my brothers. the one person who didn't deserve a single hair on their head harmed- they lost their life for my stupid, arrogant cause. at least, out of that wrath towards myself, satan was spawned, and seeing him grow to be a wise, powerful demon, it gives me solace that something came out of my foolishness. but, lilith's death could never be repaid. I remember thinking that, over and over, as she laid in my arms, her lifeless corpse... growing cold. lord diavolo, he saw the despair in my eyes, my heart, and he offered a resolution. something that just maybe, maybe I can redeem myself, if it meant lilith could have a chance at normal life. a life as a human, as a daughter, a lover, as a mother. if she could live in bliss for thirty-odd years, well that's all that I could ask for. my undying loyalty for all of eternity... a small price to pay for knowing she smiled one more time before my pride got her killed. but, after millennia, it's hard to remember what it was all for. living day in and day out for the prince, to subject myself to bootlicking work, to be a puppet to the most powerful demon in the devildom- what an ironic fate for the avatar of pride. some nights, I forget what it was all for- the pledge of allegiance to the demon king, twisting my brothers to do his bidding, locking belphegor away, spending nights in here," he raised his arms, drawing attention to the stuffy room, paperwork stacked atop his desk like endless buildings across the horizon. "it's all for lilith, it's all for her- like a mantra in my head every time diavolo asks for a kiss upon his boots, every time he embraces me with a whisper of an order to my ear. but, its just words- something to tell myself, lest I go insane. I never did have that closure that she did live her life, a grand life, full of love and happiness. I had no idea what had become of her, how she met her humanistic fate. until..." he trailed off, his hand clenched, knuckles white.

"until me," the human finished for him, their thumbs circling around each other as they looked down, intently focused on the wood flooring. "yes, you're living proof she lived, she loved. you're... comfort to me, that at least once in my miserable life, I had made the right choice." he raised his hand, brushing his fingertips across the human's cheek, a strand of hair falling over their eyes. like gravity, their very souls the source of attraction, the two inched closer, slowly, bit by bit, a journey to a land of milk and honey. his face was flushed- either from the demonus or because their faces were so close, they couldn't tell. lucifer took the fallen lock of hair, tucking it behind their ear, a soft smile gracing his features. "could you kiss me? kiss me once and tell me i'm doing fine? that lilith would be proud- that my brothers are too? tell me you love me. tell me, because I don't think I could handle it otherwise." and the human closed the gap between their lips, kissing him again and again and again.

[witchygirl212]

An Image of You

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Terms: (Y/n)- your name, (h/c)- hair color

Warnings: Contains kissing, otherwise pure fluff

Snow falls softly outside a simple small yet cozy apartment in New York. Its walls are filled with paintings of places and portraits of different people, but mostly portraits of a beautiful, red-headed powerful woman. She dominates the painting with her presence, dresses in dazzling gowns or in everyday outfits. The background, rich with objects or not, is obscured by the light the woman projects with a sweet, almost nonexistent smile that captivates whoever, even if subtly, gazes at her. The artist harbors a deep love for said woman- her gorgeous muse, and the muse harbors the same for the quiet painter, whose smirks melt the witch’s cold heart, hurt by traumas in her life.

They heal along with each other, sharing deep and long conversations that bounce along the apartment’s walls. They talk about their pains, the witch’s loss of her parents, her brother, her former lover. Though the painter feels no jealously- the past is the past, she says, it’s a part of you, and I love you. They talk about their insecurities, and how they are beautiful anyway. Through thick and thin, though the nightmares and sad days, thought everything, they are there for each other.

“How many have you already painted?” Asked Wanda, lying stretched out on a hipster-like loveseat, designed much like the rest of the apartment, radiating an indie vibe liked by both of its inhabitants. Plants hang around, most dangling from the ceiling. Bookcases filled with romance, adventure, mystery and so many other novels that the painter and her lover read together. It feels like home.

“To be honest, I don’t really know. I just really like painting you, so I don’t feel like stopping.” (Y/n) answered, dragging her brush along the canvas to give the finishing touches to her newest ‘masterpiece’, as she liked to call the paintings of Wanda.

Wanda smiled fondly, proceeding to pat the spot beside her, begging her equally stunning girlfriend to seat beside her. “And I really like hugging you so come and sit.”

“Fine.” (Y/n) sighed, putting down her bush and walking towards her lover’s open arms then slumping down on the couch, wrapping her arms around Wanda to passionately kiss her. Soon, it turns into a full-on make-out section, with Wanda cradling (Y/n)’s face in her hands, nipping her lips. The other woman threading her hands through Wanda’s curls, ending up grasping the back of her neck. Wanda’s lips continued to move against (Y/n)’s, her taste taking over the other’s mind. All she felt was Wanda, and all Wanda felt was her. The kiss was cut off as Wanda moved to nip at (Y/n)’s neck, the previous moaning softly in pleasure. After leaving a hickey, she moved away to tuck a strand of (Y/n)’s hair behind her ear.

“I love you so much.” Wanda cupped her cheeks, starring at her with nothing but pure adoration.  

“I love you too, honey.” The lovers share a soft and passionate kiss again, than break apart only for (Y/n) to place her head on Wanda’s chest and bush her lips against the warm flesh of her girlfriend’s neck.

“I really enjoy moments like this, when you don’t have too rush to save the world and we can just sit here together.” (Y/n) raised her head up, kissing Wanda’s chin, earning a moan from the woman.

“Yes, I enjoy them too. This is great.”  She caressed the (h/c) hair in front of her, leaving a peck on the top of her head.

As a surge of inspiration consumes her, (Y/n) got up from her seat and moved towards her canvas again, grabbing a brush and dipping it in paint and then brushing it across the canvas, slowly forming shapes of different colors. She kept her eyes glued to the painting in front of her, taking advantage of her surge of inspiration, never once stopping to think, just going with the flow. It didn’t take very long for Wanda to figure out what she was painting. Two women cuddled together, one buried in the neck of the other, nipping at the flesh of her neck.

“I thought you didn’t like painting yourself.” Wanda stated, getting up and walking towards her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her from behind and kissing her neck, caressing the other’s sides.

(Y/n) hummed, turned her head half way to face Wanda “Sometimes I don’t, but I just felt like I needed to paint us, to remember how lovely we look together”.

“We are, aren’t we?” Wanda’s mouth formed a loving smile, “When it’s finished, where are we going to place it?”

“No idea, maybe in our bedroom? Last time I put a painting of you naked on the living room Steve almost had a heart attack”. Both of them laughed, than gazed at the painting lovingly.

“We’ll figure it out, together”

“Yeah, together”. They kissed softly, downing out the sounds of the snow pouring against their window. No matter the hardship, they stick together like glue. Through thick and thin, though the nightmares and sad days, thought everything, they are there for each other, because they are meant to be.

[peppermintliquorice]

1x1 information

Hi tags, I’m D and I’ve just recently rejoined 1x1 rp after being gone for nearly a year. I’m in the market for some long term partners, preferably on Discord. Info and rules are below, if you feel we’re a good match, DM me or like this post! 

PLEASE DO NOT LIKE THIS POST IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED. PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG.

- Slice of life, dark crime, paranormal (not supernatural) and historical only. However, with the latter, I can be picky with era. - I don’t do fandoms. - Angst, drama, angst. Angst. - Looking for long term, active partners only.

faceclaims: play as / play against

Please read my rules below 👇🏽

I’m a 30+ year old writer/roleplayer, no minors. Please be over 20.

I’m a mixed race person of colour, particularly of indigenous and black descent. I am always okay with you using faceclaims of colour.

I write on Discord mainly. I can write on Tumblr but my activity will be more limited. Plus, I just prefer Discord.

I'm highly active – I’m a contemporary painter offline and run my own business from home hence the ability to pretty much be on whenever. I’d prefer writing with those who have plenty of time on their hands to write as well. I’m looking for people interested in rapid fire threads or two replies (or more!) a day.

I play male and females equally. Unfortunately, I always get stuck playing the male, so with that said, please do not use me for my males in mxf dynamics. I literally haven’t written a female in a mxf dynamic in years. Literally.

I don’t double. However, if we get along well ooc and have had our dynamic for several months, feel free to suggest another plot/dynamic. I love creating new muses, but only for partners I trust and I know won’t ghost me.

MxF and FxF only.

Smut and NSFW content will be written in my plots. I do not like fading to black.

I’m also totally cool with platonic ships as well!

I love exploring more mature/darker topics that affect society and particular communities as I love writing real and raw things. This can be anything from the inner dialogue of a murderer to the exploration of the complications of an interracial relationship/marriage. Think of series like The Sinner, You, This is Us, etc.

I’m dedicated and invested and looking for people who are dedicated and love their muses and our dynamic just as I do. I’m not looking for short-term writing to solely pass time; I’d love to find long-term partners who are just as invested and excited about the plot, our muses, their relationship, their history, etc.

I prefer older muses. Muses and faceclaims must be over 25. I only use/write against actor faceclaims. No animated faces, kpop, musicians etc.

Quality over quantity, please be proficient in writing in English. I can write anything from one paragraph to 5+. Depends on context, the scene/situation, and so on.

No godmodding/metagaming etc. Do not control my muses. Do not tell me what I should/shouldn’t do with my muses. I don’t mind minor godmodding, just ask to double check. If you need to fast forward a scene for whatever reason, just ask. More than likely, I’ll be okay with it.

Lastly, please do not interact if you’re not even going to reply to my messages. It’s a waste of my very valuable time and I’d prefer not to deal with that, thanks.