#he just marches to the beat of his own drum in most cases
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What Daigo persona arcane 👀👀👀👀
DEFINITLY want to call Strength for Daigo: the Strength arcana is indicative not so much of someone’s physical strength, but by the strength of their character and willingness to pursue a goal by their own means. Not so much ruling with brute force, but through humanity, determination, charisma, and patience. The Strength arcana also calls back to Daigo’s prior hedonistic tendencies: just as the woman on the card was able to tame the beast, he was able to find the strength to suppress and tame his bad habits and attitude to properly lead the Tojo. Especially through his RGGO character story, we see Daigo transition from trying to obtain respect through violence and forced authority to him having the resolve to stick to his own methods and morals when leading, making the Strength arcana the perfect fit for him.
@jessiesjaded
Shoot me down for this one but I’m honestly leaning towards Devil, in a twist of irony: while those associated with the Devil can be characterized as acting selfish, violent, impulsive, and with promiscuity, that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s all their character is. Although they act near-exclusively for themselves and as freely as they wish, those of the Devil arcana are not only able to wholly dedicate themselves to particular causes, but to people as well; the Devil arcana, despite their inward-and-outwardly destructive tendencies, can still commit themselves to others they find worthwhile (though this doesn’t mean they’re exactly the most social of people in general). When it comes to the things and people they care about, they possess well-meaning and wholesome reasons for acting in that object’s name. Those of the Devil arcana also tend to struggle with forgoing unhealthy influences and habits in their lives, wherein Sagawa and other Y0 cast members namely comes to mind in terms of Majima and his character. Post-Y0 is when Majima really starts to embrace the Devil arcana in this aspect once he’s able to separate himself and act more independently.
#snap chats#honestly i thought majima would turn out to be the moon but after mulling over it for like. An Hour the devil fits him well i feel#i dont want to make it out that majima is wholly selfish because Evidently he isnt#he just marches to the beat of his own drum in most cases#those there is the argument that despite majima's willingness to 'live for more freely' he still ends up a puppet of sorts in the narrative#but thats a post for another day thats not to be made by me i aint no majima essayist#i aint even an essayist fuck outta here do i look like i know how words work. No.#also i couldnt think of any other arcana that even came close to working with majima OOPS#i know im on the money about daigo tho i just dont know if i worded it like how i wanted to#but whatever There You Go#feel free to send me more charas to do this for this fun
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Sam Porter Bridges' MBTI + Enneagram Typology (pt. 1)
MBTI: ISTP (Ti-Se-Ni-Fe)
Enneagram: 9w8
Instinctual Variant: sp/sx
Tritype: 963
(Higgs analysis)
MBTI Analysis
Like Higgs, Sam's MBTI is pretty easy to identify right off. Words I frequently hear to describe ISTPs: quiet, gruff, grumpy, grouchy, closed-off, etc. There are tons of these guys in fiction. Arthur Morgan, Daryl Dixon, Jim Hopper, John Wick, etc etc that should give you a sense of the archetype at hand. That good old, salt-of-the-earth, jack-of-all-trades, reliable tough guy who's a real softie deep down behind a facade of aloof moodiness and outward dissatisfaction.
ISTP describes Sam very well. He's resourceful, observant, direct, authentic, independent, steadfast, spontaneous, unapologetic, insensitive at times, private/reserved, and skeptical. For the most part, ISTPs are straightforward and easy to get a read on. True to type, Sam is usually grounded in his present reality, doesn't tend to leap to assumptions or go along with them when others do, relies on his own experience and resolve, and he approaches life with a level head. Behind that initial impression, ISTPs are one of the most difficult personalities to get to know deeply... or at all. They march to the beat of their own drum, keep their emotions locked down tight most of the time, and are very slow to trust. Prying and prodding doesn't work with these folks, unless you're looking to provoke an aggressive reaction, in which case you'll likely get it. Given his aphenphosmphobia, this goes triple for Sam for the broad majority of Death Stranding's runtime; we see a few examples of other characters pushing him to the point that he bites back, i.e. telling Deadman off when he brought up his wife and child.
Most of my character analysis leans on Sam's internal monologue from the Death Stranding novelization, as it's a very detailed peek inside his head, into his mind's inner workings and his overall emotional tendencies. Keep that in mind going forward.
ISTPs are one of the most introverted personality types, alongside INTJs, and are often social hermits, lone wolves with little regard for social norms and accepted rules. They're easily frustrated by a world built on social conventions that are based in emotional values, so they move through it at their own pace and keep their heads down. ISTPs are staunch pragmatists, quietly navigating life through material sensibilities and their own unique creativity; they're driven by instinct. Like ENTP (see: Higgs) they're attracted to novelty and freedom. And, believe it or not, ISTP is just as rebellious as ENTP, they're merely quieter about it, preferring to keep it to themselves unless pushed otherwise. The best concise example of this shared rejection of societal values that I can think of is Sam saying "covering the world in cable didn't bring an end to war and suffering, don't be surprised if it all comes apart when you try to do it again" vs. Ludens (essentially Higgs' perspective of the game in song form) saying, "a world covered in cables was never wired to last, so don't act so surprised when the program starts to crash." Looking closely, Sam and Higgs actually have strikingly similar worldviews, and Sam spends much of the novel wondering if Higgs has a good point beneath his madness, admitting only to himself that he understands the position Higgs is coming from. In spite of himself, a big part of Sam agrees with Higgs and empathizes with him. ISTPs are often dismissed as morally bankrupt, when in fact they always have their own moral code formed by their dominant logic and deeply-buried sensitivities. They're liable to snap if they're backed into a corner and have their personal liberty or privacy infringed upon. Autonomy is king to this type, so it's unsurprising that many ISTPs end up anarchists and libertarians.
Function Stack Breakdown
Ti (introverted thinking): Don't mind me, gonna copy a little bit of this from Higgs' post... shhhhh... Personalities ruled by Ti act based on logic over emotion, processing the world through what makes sense and where their curiosity takes them. They love puzzles, problems in need of solutions, and detail-oriented issues. However, in the ISTP, a major roadblock to the satisfaction of a good day's work is the involvement of other people. They prefer to work alone, or in small groups/with a close partner, as they're quickly exhausted by interpersonal politics. You point an ISTP to a practical job, they'll grumble about it and then gladly do it, by themselves, thank you. This is self-evident in Sam; as a solo porter, he's a rarity of self-reliance, which in the Death Stranding universe would be suicidal if he wasn't a repatriate, and it's still risky af. After all, the primary reason most porters have partners is to maintain their sanity, keep an eye out for chiral contamination and MULE syndrome, etc. It's stated multiple times that portering alone is ill-advised and only possible for those with a very strong force of will, which Sam of course has in spades. Sam's primary function of Ti manifests as independence of thought, as mentioned above. In describing Higgs as a truth-seeker, Sam acknowledged a value the two of them share, as Sam has a sharp eye for lies and a significant urge to uncover deeper truths about the world, other people, and himself. He's highly critical, filtering his observations through a cool and collected lens of rationality, not bending to the speculations and blind optimism shown by his colleagues, investigating matters on his own with careful footing, waiting for evidence before drawing conclusions. I.e., he thought it incredibly naive of Bridges to place such high hopes in the hematic weapons they created using his blood, based on the fact that they seemingly counted on them working as intended without testing them first. Unlike ENTP Higgs, Sam's Ti doesn't take second place to any idealism or restless imagination. Instead, his logic leads him, giving him the stick-to-itiveness to finish what he starts; he isn't intimidated by the minute details of a task, he just does what he has to do and gets the job done. Because Ti is constantly questioning everything at all times, genuine, earned trust is invaluable to ISTPs. Having a person they can be completely themselves with, entirely open with, someone who gets it, is a breath of fresh air to the ISTP, and is a precious rarity to them. Once you lose that trust, you'll likely never get it back. See: Sam and Bridget Strand.
Se (extroverted sensing): You can think of the latter three functions in a cognitive stack as "serving" the dominant function, which is especially true in the case of Ti-Se. Se's role as a function is observing and being present in one's external world, taking note of outward details and external sensory information, which is then fed through Ti to analyze and draw conclusions from. Secondary Se produces keen senses and a high degree of awareness. Thanks to the Se function, ISTPs remain in tune with their environments, notice details others might miss, and react quickly to threats and other stimulus. Unlike personalities that lead with intuition, ISTPs process the world in concrete terms, with few applied metaphors, projected meaning, or comforting illusions, taking the world as it is, not how it could or should be. This gets interesting when the tertiary function is properly developed.
Ni (introverted intuition): Ah, Ni, my oldest and closest friend, being an INTJ myself and thus Ni-dominant. I'm well-equipped to explain this one. Ni is more or less the opposite of Se (just as Ti and Fe are opposing forces in many ways), painting a layer of personal meaning and subjectivity over everything encountered in the world, highly concerned with personal insights and metaphorical/artistic value. Ni is extremely sentimental, clinging to the past with a fierce nostalgia, trusting one's own viewpoint and experience. Interestingly, even when it works unconsciously, Ni influences the ISTP personality further towards independent thought and the instills the innate desire to color outside the established lines in life. Ni seeks personal truth above all else. As mentioned in the Higgs post, the tertiary function is a point of conflict for all personality types, and it doesn't usually develop until middle age unless significant trauma work or self-awareness development occurs earlier in life. (Yeah, I copied that from the prev post, sorry not sorry). And... just like Higgs, Sam has both. Thus, his tertiary Ni is reasonably well-developed, though he does't share much of it with others... at all. He exhibits a well-tuned sense of what certain symbols and ideas mean to him, e.g. from novel: finding a worn-down bone on the Beach, getting incredibly sentimental about how nothing and no one gets the privilege of decaying anymore, feelings sad that life instead is erased from the world in such a brutal manner as necrosis/cremation/voidouts/etc. ("They weren’t returned to this world.") He gives into the urge to lick it on impulse (Sam do also be licking things!!), I presume in an effort to feel connected to the past, as well as curiosity. (Ugh, I love him.) Ne and Ni are extremely detached by nature, despite being defined by their creation of a desire to feel like part of the world, a craving for a sense of rightness and belonging. In the ISTP, Ni shapes the closely-guarded inner world. Hopes, dreams, self-esteem, the deepest of emotions: things ISTPs are extremely private about and protective of, only ever sharing with a select and trusted few, if at all. Ni operates in a going-between manner, using past experiences and insights to predict future outcomes and look forward with a sense of uniquely personal wisdom, which Sam employs quite often with his views on death, connection, humanity, so forth. There's a hushed sort of reverence and respect to his private inner world, buried beneath a layer of messianic guilt, shown in his attachment to history and relics of the pre-Stranding world. There's something so sadly ironic about a man who is the so-called "bridge to the future" holding deep sentiment for the past. Moving on... *sniff.* something in my eye... One more key function of Ni in the ISTP: deduction. Above all, Ni seeks patterns. It draws lines between things like facts, events, and symbols, interpreting their meaning. In a well-developed ISTP, the Ti-Ni axis works from a healthy basis of belief founded on logic, attaching significance to details to form a bigger picture. Example: Sam telling Bridges to study the blood on his broken boots, based on the fact that the BTs reacted to it "more than once." Ni plays a support character to a scientific approach here. Pattern -> deduction -> idea. The Se-Ni axis plays a similar role, as Ni contrasts established insights and sentiments with sensory information, connecting dots between things that might otherwise seem unrelated. Observe, then scrutinize; Ni helps Se to see the forest beyond the trees.
Fe (extroverted feeling): You can think of Fe in terms of group morality, the "us" contained in a person's principles. Because of Fe's role as a Ti-dom's inferior function, ISTPs can come across rather Fi-adjacent, being the rugged individualists they are. True, both IxTPs and personalities with strong Fi move against the grain in society and with their own principles, but in the ISTP, nitpicky, critical, skeptical, distrusting, reliable Ti dictates the approach. Thus, Fe is an awkward bedfellow, its nature highly empathetic, people-pleasing, and to an ISTP, inconveniently warm and fuzzy about things like community and partnership. As the inferior function, and therefore the point of insecurity, discomfort, and stress, ISTP's Fe makes them rather connection-averse; they're capable of great empathy, fellow feeling, and can get caught up in the idea of group harmony (more on that when discussing Sam being enneagram 9), but it's likely to leave said individual feeling drained and moody. Push an ISTP too far, too quickly in this area, and they're liable to leave and never come back... Oh look, that's exactly what Sam did the second time he left Bridges at the end of DS. Still, like any personality type, ISTPs grow and become happier people when they confront their inferior function and learn to occupy it in a healthy way, rather than solely relying on it as a rescue function in times of stress. Sam benefits from forming connections and nurturing this side of himself. Being the bridge, the rope, the strand. Doing so, and forming a strong connection with Lou, enables him to cope with his aphenphosmphobia again. (I say "cope," not "cure," it came back once, it can come back again, speaking as an agoraphobe whose issues come and go with variable severity. Lots of factors at play with phobias.) As an ISTP, Sam needs a balance between personal space/freedom and connection/community to be his best self. This is doubly true in light of him being enneagram 9.
Final thoughts before moving on
ISTP and ENTP share a lot of similarities in their emotional needs, as well as their general attitude about life, but they differ in taking a passive vs. active role in society, so it's no wonder Sam and Higgs have a natural sort of sun/moon dynamic... But let's focus on just Sam. Firstly, he's a classic example of the "grumpy but soft" trope, which is undeniably lovable. ISTPs don't form a large array of deep personal attachments, so the ones they do have are extremely valuable and lifelong if trust is maintained. This is a personality that would jump in front of a moving train without hesitation to protect a loved one. Lucky for Sam (and us), he'll survive! Heh. Seriously, though, ISTPs are loyal and devoted as fuck once they're committed. If you've played Red Dead Redemption 2, take a long look at Arthur Morgan (also enneagram 9!) and you'll see what I mean. While they aren't the best communicators, still waters run deep, and ISTPs are a wellspring of insights, an individualistic set of principles, and strong emotions with love and fierce passion to give. They’re unfortunately prone to getting bogged down in others’ expectations, doing what’s expected of them when they’re unhealthy enough to cave under pressure and slip into people-pleasing habits, doing as they’re told/asked, which fundamentally goes against their rebellious nature. Sam throwing himself headlong into the role Bridges expected of him (twice!) despite not believing in their ideals or methods is a key example. In such circumstances, ISTPs retreat into themselves and trudge along miserably, spite growing all the while. Hence Sam being crabby but subdued for most of the game, only to lash out fiercely at Higgs when provoked and then verbally unload all of his personal resentments—none of it having to do with Higgs!—while hitting him in the final fight.
ISTPs often have a thrill-seeking side (see: Sam laughing and cheering on the ziplines) because they love to cut loose, forget their problems, and have fun. Room to play, both intellectually and physically, is a core need. In these moments, ISTPs radiate joy and crave adventure. They love to joke around and laugh, for once, when they finally have an opportunity to do so. They’re not above playing devil’s advocate and indulging in a good debate if they have the spare energy for it. As an ISTP, Sam is headstrong, creative, and far more vulnerable than he lets on.
(part two: enneagram deep dive)
Tag list: @goldenbridgessss @pylonium
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Random Mario head-canons
When they were babies, Mario didn’t know how to say Luigi’s name properly. At first, Mario started with “Lu”. As he hit elementary and middle school, it was “Weegee.” Now, Mario can easily say “Luigi.”
Proud of his progress, Mario usually says Luigi. But Mario slips into “Weegee” at random times. If it’s extremely stressful or Mario is in pain, he says “Lu”. He just really wants his brother around.
Luigi adores Mario to the Moon and back. Does he get a little envious that Mario gets the spotlight and not him, sometimes. But he’s happy for Mario. He’s proud and happy that Mario gets the recognition and the world reveres Mario the same way he does. Luigi is more pissed at the Toads and the Koopa Kingdom for shoving him aside.
Mario and Luigi had one fight in high school where Luigi snapped at Mario for complaining about someone not liking him when the rest of the school adored him. Meanwhile, Mario got pissed that he always had to defend Luigi and that Luigi can’t do things on their own. But, after thirty minutes of not speaking, they couldn’t handle being mad at each other and talked it out. Mario understood that Luigi is trying his best, that the world doesn’t give Luigi enough credit, and that he isn’t seeing how Luigi does a lot. He apologizes for making Luigi feel like a burden. On the other hand, Luigi understood that Mario is under a lot of pressure from his parents to be the best and take care of him (since their family doesn’t have much stock in Luigi amounting to anything), that Mario sometimes needs a break, and that he wasn’t seeing that Maro is human too. Their relationship got much stronger after that since they understand each other on a deeper level. The hurtful words they said still haunt the other from time to time, but they see the past through a new light and try to talk things out.
Luigi is usually the one to start difficult conversations. Mario has a bad habit of burying his feelings under the rug and pretending it’s all fine. It works with most people. But Luigi always knows something is off; he is successful at prying out of Mario.
Princess Peach used to believe Mario when he brushes it off, but as she got closer to him and Luigi, she learned about Mario’s neglect of his emotions. While not as good as Luigi in prying yet, she’s learning from Luigi to better spot when Mario is in pain.
Mario is like “god damn it, you two always know. I’m trying to be fine, I don’t wanna talk about it.” He’s afraid of overwhelming Luigi and Peach and that he’ll disappoint them. (He internalized that strong men don’t feel pain when the reality is far different). The two get on his case and have even yelled at him for hiding stuff. Mario is trying to do better.
Luigi is the opposite - he wears his heart on his selves. While Mario worries that others will take advantage of Luigi, he knows Luigi is more free than him since Luigi can express himself. Luigi also refuses to conform to society’s expectations; he does things his own way for better or worseX Mario thinks Luigi is braver than him for marching to the beat of his own drum.
Luigi is gay, trans, and autistic.
Mario is biromantic aroace, cis, and neurotypical.
Mario has a crush on both Peach and Geno. He would be floored if he knew being polyamorous was a real thing. (He would be nervous if Peach and Geno would be okay with it, but they would accept happily).
Bowser has Parental Switch controls on all the Koopalings. Iggy taught everyone how to bypass the system.
Mario is absolute dogshit at video games. It just is.
Luigi is the main cook. He loves experimenting with new dishes; no mushrooms allowed.
#mario and luigi#Mario#Luigi#headcanon#Peach#Bowser#im embracing all the headcanons!#super mario movie
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ABBA : No Hay A Quien Culpar (HQ 50f) When All Is Said and Done CC #español
IN FOCUS: WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE – THE LOST HIT SINGLE During ABBA’s final years together, they excelled in songs about romantic relationships gone wrong. Among the most poignant lyrics were those for When All Is Said And Done – the song that could have been a worldwide hit… Triggered by marital splits Frida and Benny in happier times“A thing like a divorce can be, for songwriters, a new experience and something to use in lyrics.” When Björn Ulvaeus uttered those words in the 1999 documentary The Winner Takes It All, he certainly knew what he was talking about. With the possible exception of Fleetwood Mac, few other groups have become as famous as ABBA for laying their emotions bare when exploring their own marital splits. Famously, when Björn and Agnetha saw their marriage come to an end, their feelings of sadness and regret coloured his lyrics and her lead vocals for ‘The Winner Takes It All’. A less familiar “divorce song”, perhaps, but no less powerful is ‘When All Is Said And Done’. Björn, who was responsible for all ABBA lyrics during the second half of the group’s career, didn’t stop at his own experiences when he investigated the circumstances of a marriage on the skids. For in the case of ‘When All Is Said And Done’, the immediate trigger was the breakdown in Frida and Benny’s relationship. Björn and Benny in the studio during sessions for The VisitorsWhen sessions for ABBA’s final studio album, The Visitors, began on March 16, 1981, only one month had elapsed since Benny and Frida announced to the global media that their more than decade-long relationship had run its course. Although technically they had only been married since October 1978, their love affair began in the spring of 1969 and just a few months later they got engaged and began living together. But now they found that their relationship was running on empty – it was impossible to save the marriage. Impassioned delivery The Visitors album sleeveOver the past few years, Björn had become increasingly personal in his choice of subject matter, and for two of the three songs completed during the initial March 1981 Visitors sessions, he seems to have been in an particularly confessional mood. Although ‘Two For The Price Of One’ was a fictional “personal columns” story, the lyrics for ‘Slipping Through My Fingers’ dealt with his feelings at seeing his and Agnetha’s daughter, Linda, grow up and ultimately away from him. And then there was ‘When All Is Said And Done’. Given that so little time had elapsed since the divorce was made public, Björn recalled being hesitant as to whether he should go down that particular route. But both Benny and Frida evidently gave their seal of approval. Today, Benny remembers the song as “a sad story – and very good lyrics”. Creating a backing track where Benny’s predominant synthesizer work rested on an insistent drum beat, brightened up by sparkling acoustic guitars, ‘When All Is Said And Done’ was, even in this embryonic state, certainly the catchiest of the three new recordings. However, when Frida added her lead vocal, the song was brought to a whole new level. Although the lyrics conveyed a sense of the inevitable, where “neither you nor I’m to blame”, her impassioned delivery seemed to be fuelled by a lingering sadness and bitterness. Frida poured her heart out, not only for herself, but for everyone who had ever experienced the torment of a break-up. Adding the finishing touches Frida in the promo clip for the songFor all the emotional sincerity oozing from the recording, Björn and Benny hit upon several stumbling blocks when they were to add their finishing touches. They found it hard to arrive at the right structure and sound, and a number of different overdubs were attempted. One example was a violin line, recorded on April 8, that was ultimately left off the recording. Originally, ‘When All Is Said And Done’, was also a much longer recording. Going on for almost four minutes, the first verse was repeated as a fourth verse towards the end of the song. This last verse was eventually edited out of the recording, pruning it down to an economical 3.20, shorter than any of the other tracks on The Visitors. Apparently, although Benny is proud of the song, he was never truly happy with the outcome of ABBA’s interpretation. “The actual recording is a little hard and sort of ‘square pop’ – not the best representation of ABBA,” he said recently.... https://abbasite.com/articles/when-al...
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😏 Pride
😏 Pride
Is your muse a leader? Who do they lead? He isn’t a leader in the traditional sense, he’s not in any position of power. He is, however, more of a leader than a follower. He marches to the beat of his own drum and is glad to inspire others to do the same.
Does your muse trust the judgment of others? No. He trusts his own judgement in all cases. That’s not to say he’ll tell others that they’re wrong, unless he’s certain that they are, but he’s an advocate for forming one’s own opinions and so that’s what he does.
How well or not well does your muse take constructive criticism? He takes it horribly. He will obsess over it, mulling the words over again and again so much that they start to haunt his dreams. Critics of his poetry have no idea just how deeply they’ve burrowed under his skin; Thomas can recite many of the disapproving reviews he’s read on command.
Is your muse very vain? Explain. He’s vain about things he feels he has the right to be vain about. He won’t brag or be vain in areas he’s not good in or just mediocre in but where he shines? He won’t shy away from lifting himself up. He knows he’s a phenomenal poet, he’s proud of his verses, proud of the queen’s acclaim, proud of his travels and adventures and will absolutely boast in those areas when it seems appropriate to do so.
How does your muse take pride in themselves and others? Things he takes pride in for himself are explained above but in others, he takes pride in their folly. Life should be full of it and so when a friend does something silly, something wild or romantic or out of the ordinary, he feels pride for them. That’s living, that’s making the most of your time, and he’s glad when he sees it.
What does your muse think their best trait is? Is it true? Thomas would say that his introspective nature is what’s best about him. It serves him well as a poet. It certainly is one of his better traits creatively but in reality, he’s not introspective enough to notice his own faults.
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Dazy, Lifeguard, & Illusion Of Choice Live Show Review: 12/4, Cobra Lounge, Chicago
Dazy
BY JORDAN MAINZER
I'm not sure what Dazy does at a faster pace these days: tour or release tunes. Since we caught his Chicago debut of full-band arrangements in January, he's come to town twice more, including last night's stop at the Cobra Lounge. And mere months after releasing OUTOFBODY in 2022, in March, James Goodson shared songs recorded around the same time in the form of the cheekily titled OTHERBODY. The record continued the vibe of Dazy's debut LP, from the "Revolution" crunch of opener "I Know Nothing At All" to the sugary noise of "Every Little Thing". Just two months ago, Dazy shared the Ryan Hemsworth-assisted "Forced Perspective" (Lame-O), a collection of rounded country pop guitar riffs, a chirpy electric beat, and an uneasy, yet anthemic chorus.
Dazy's James Goodson
Always writing and always playing, it must be hard for Goodson to pick a setlist on a nightly basis. A year-plus removed from OUTOFBODY and over two years from MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs, Dazy's set at the Cobra Lounge felt like as close as you can get right now to "the hits," the crowd pumping fists, banging heads, and singing along to favorites "On My Way", "Split", "The Perfect Crime", "Pressure Cooker", and "Invisible Thing". I was just as happy, though, to see Goodson lean into the sweet, softer side of Dazy. "Forced Perspective", with its curly bass and guitar scrapes, was a highlight, as was "Every Little Thing", "could be a country hit" "Rollercoaster Ride", and set closer "Out of Body". "Is that my brain hanging by a thread?" Goodson sang on "Out of Body"; as much as he may have been disassociating at the time of writing the song, his everyday anxieties have certainly provided ample creative fodder for some of the best power pop of the past half-decade.
Lifeguard
Chicago's Lifeguard opened for Dazy, which was perhaps anybody's final chance to see the band in an opening slot at a venue as small as Cobra Lounge. The hyped three-piece, formed in 2019, signed to Matador Records earlier this year. Let's get it out of the way: Yes, drummer Isaac Lowenstein's sister Penelope is in labelmates Horsegirl, and bassist Asher Case's father is Brian Case of FACS (and formerly of Disappears, The Ponys, and 90 Day Men). Thankfully, Lifeguard is a beast of its own, combining chanted vocals with clanging, metallic guitars and dexterous, repetitively pummeling drums. Earlier this year, Matador re-released the band's 2022 EP Crowd Can Talk along with a collection of new material, Dressed in Trenches. Live, Lifeguard showed what they're truly about: off-kilter time signatures, uneven song sections, moments where you can't tell when they're warming up or about to switch gears. When they played "17-18 Lovesong", Case's rounded bass and monotone vocals wiggled around Kai Slater's stabbing guitars and falsetto off-beat harmonies, though the band never let you get too comfortably hypnotized in a groove. They finished with their newest song, the uncharacteristically poppy and straightforward (yet very welcome!) "In The City". You never know what's next with Lifeguard, and they're just getting started.
Illusion of Choice
Starting off the night was another local institution, four-piece shoegaze indie rock band Illusion of Choice. Most of their songs revolved around the atmospheres you'd expect with a genre descriptor like that: Alex Rackow's distorted guitars, Judith Pelkowski's heavy bass lines, Alex Boyajian's mammoth snares, and Tyler Tumminaro's sharp, nasal vocal delivery. Occasionally, they added elements of jangly surf, but for the most part, they chugged along deliberately, like on "Circling the Drain" and standout set closer "Bad Boy". Overall, Illusion of Choice offered an appropriate middle ground between Dazy's hooks and Lifeguard's deconstructed songs.
#live music#dazy#lifeguard#cobra lounge#james goodson#matador#otherbody#illusion of choice#outofbody#ryan hemsworth#lame-o#lame-o records#MAXIMUMBLASTSUPERLOUD: The First 24 Songs#matador records#isaac lowenstein#penelope lowenstein#horsegirl#asher case#brian case#facs#disappears#the ponys#90 day men#crowd can talk#dressed in trenches#kai slater#alex rackow#judith pelkowski#alex boyajian#tyler tumminaro
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Used to the Darkness (Part 1)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Marianna (Female Reader)
Trigger Warning:
Angst
Major Angst
Start is rather depressing
More angst
Graphic depiction of injury
Author's Note: After Season 4, Eddie is still alive.
Inspired by the song Used to the Darkness by Des Rocs
Part Summary: Months after Marianna (Female Reader) discovers her mother is alive. Which causes a mental break down when she sees her again, in person.
Marianna's Point Of View
I thought I would get used to this, you would think after years of this type of thing wouldn't be new and it wouldn't be a new experience. The suffering in silence, staying quiet when all you want to do is scream, cry and punch things. Sometimes you do one, sometimes you do two and on the rarest occasions you just let loose to do them all. Now I'm not the type of person who complains or likes to complain. I hate it, I hated it then and I hate it now.
I get nightmares about things that still scare me, even though they just don't make sense and sometimes I feel stupid thinking about them afterwards. I listen to him speak about it because he's important. More important than myself sometimes. I honestly don't know how he does it, he's braver than I am most of the time. Which says more than he might know. At least he's not afraid to show his emotion, coming from someone with my background shouldn't admire as much. Yet I do anyway.
I haven't noticed how much a knife could sing the same tune as a sword, not for a while and I wish, I wish could have seen it coming. I wish I knew better than to suffer in silence waiting for the pain to leave. It always comes back, stronger than before. It hurts every single time. My lifestyle benefited from this type of outlook, it kept people from knowing too much and becoming too attached.
Sometimes it just doesn't work and they get too emotionally invested anyway. Like now. I don't want to speak about my mother, I never wanted to know about her after I thought she died and to have people look up to her like she's some kind of inspirational figure worthy of looking up to hurts more than I could ever put into words. I never spoke about her, I never wanted to. I never thought I would have to speak about her before today. Not ever. But then again, I don't really need to tell you what I think. It's written all over your face. Your eyes say everything, your expression is screaming it loud and clear. I can see your emotions all over you. I can see it in your face right now. And if that's the case I guess I have no choice but to talk about it.
I want to say it's nothing to worry about and she no longer contacts me because I thought she was dead. I knew she was dead, I didn't think about it before and I didn't pay much attention to it before.
"I'm sorry I didn't warn you about my mother, I would have told you had I remembered." I grip my own hands tightly, knuckles almost turning white looking at the coffee table to avoid any possible eye rolling. I continued to say, "I just didn't want to talk about her. I didn't think I needed to."
I sighed thinking about whether to stay there, wait for a response or to get up and walk away. I settled for leaning forward, arms resting on my knees, head hanging down in an attempt to hide from their gaze. I could feel them studying me intently, their gazes were intense and made me uncomfortable. If looks alone could kill, those two pairs of eyes would already be filled with the coldest death imaginable. A shiver ran down my spine and goosebumps appeared on my skin as a result. It was as if someone touched me in the middle of my neck. I couldn't shake it off.
The only sound in the room is his breathing and my heart beating in my chest. Like a bone drum, in the tune of a marching band. Marching from my head to my heart. I can feel my pulse in my fingertips, my toes. I am suddenly aware of the energy coursing through my veins. My body is alive, and for a moment I am here, and only here.
#Stranger Things#stranger things#Stranger Things Fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#Stranger Things Imagine#stranger things imagine#Stranger Things Drabble#stranger things drabble#Stranger Things Angst#stranger things angst#Eddie Munson#eddie munson#Eddie Munson Imagine#eddie munson imagine#Eddie Munson Fanfiction#eddie munson fanfiction#Eddie Munson Fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#Eddie Munson Drabble#eddie munson drabble#Female Reader#female reader#Fem! Reader#fem! reader#F! Reader#f! reader#Female Reader Imagine#female reader imagine#Fem! Reader Imagine#fem! reader imagine
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At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel
Overview:
Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…
You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?
Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.
Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.
You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.
- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!
- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!
- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!
- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:
Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.
- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.
- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!
- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!
- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!
- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!
Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.
Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.
Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.
Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.
Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.
Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.
Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.
Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.
Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.
Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.
Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.
The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!
#interact if#interactive fiction#choicescript#Choose your own adventure#At Alter's End#CYOA#Author Speaks
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I miss her too
Pairings: Dad!Tom Holland x reader
Summary: Your and Tom’s daughter comes home having made something at school, for you. She desires to share it with you any way possible.
Warnings: sad, typos, mentions of death
Word Count: 1.3K
A/n: I’m back. Hoping to start part 2 to Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas. This a short blurb or possible one shot, whatever you call it. Still new to this. Wrote this spur the moment. Flashbacks are in bold.
Tom made it a priority to have dinner every night with his daughter, Poppy. It was a tradition that you reinforced. One that Tom liked to keep around even after. You would cook all these elaborate meals And Tom tries to live up to your cooking skills but would ultimately fail and seek the help of Sam.
Tom set the table and served Poppy as she sat at table, swinging her legs back and forth. There, sat the 5 year old girl, across from Tom. He watched her as she fiddled with her fork, just rearranging the veggies on her plate, not bothering to eat.
“So love, how was daycare?” Tom inquired curbing as he watched his daughter fiddle with her fork, just rearranging the veggies on her plate, not bothering to eat.
“We made cards for mumma’s day,” Poppy explained all giddy inside.
“Mother’s day?” Tom asked, his mind drifting elsewhere. He couldn’t believe it was already May and it was the first one without you.
“Yes, mine has pretty flowers on it. Wanna see it?” Poppy grew excited she practically jumped out of her chair.
“Sure baby doll, you can show me after dinner,” Tom murmured, still caught up on the fact that it was almost 5 months since.
“I’ll go get it!”
“Poppy wait, wash your hands first, please.” Tom called out but knew Poppy would carry on just like before. That girl marched to the beat of her own drum but Tom indulged in every beat. She is the spitting image of you.
“Here, look I wrote something.” She said holding the card up in front of him. It was adorned with glitter and stickers. Pink construction paper, pink flowers and pink doodles. Pink was Poppy’s favorite color, everything was pink from her shoes to her hair bows.
“C’mere lovie, show me,” Tom whispered, pulling her into her lap. “Darling this is so beautiful. What did you write?”
“It says, happy mumma’s day mumma. I love you soooooo much. I miss you too, so does dadda. We miss you.” She said with her faint lisp.
Tom listened to his daughter struggle to get the words out. Focusing on her breathing as she sounded out most words. He tried to only focus on that. Not letting his mind to stray to place he has been avoiding for a few months.
Next week marks the time stamp of living 5 months without you. Without your smile in the morning. Without your laugh that was so infectious at the time it would make your newborn giggle til she was burdened with a case of the hiccups. Without your love.
Life grew darker and sadder, but Tom didn’t give himself the chance to grieve. Too busy worrying about the life you both brought into the world. The girl that lite up his life was his only priority. Everything changed when his beautiful and amazing family of three became a two.
Tom now rarely took jobs outside of London, wanting to stay close for Poppy. He felt guilty always leaving her with his parents all the time. No one really knows how kids at the age process a loss but he hoped Poppy would remember all the amazing moments of you.
Ones that held a special place in his heart were right after the sun had risen. Poppy’s wake up calls.
She did the same thing since he can remember. Always busting through the door in the morning. Jumping on t bed then begging for food. It was good thing you were a morning person.
One time when you were weaker than you had ever been, she jumped right on top of you.
“Mumma! Dadda! Wake up!” You were jolted out of sleep from a shock that rang through your fragile frame. You gasped at the sudden body slammed on top of yours.
“Poppy Marie Holland! What did we talk about being careful with mommy? Honey are you okay?” Tom shouted quietly.
“I’m ok, Tom. I really am,” you said breathlessly.
“I’m sorry Mumma, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Poppy whispered.
“It’s ok baby, c’mere. So what did you dream about my flower,” you said, pulling her into your lap as you peppered kisses all over her face. Giggles erupted as you pressed a finger to her nose.
“Well I dreamt of…” Poppy would trail off to these fantastical dreams. It amazes you how she could think such imaginative scenes.
Every morning was like that. Different topics of conversation but always began with a dose of Poppy bright and early.
Even after everything. It was a grad adjust for her. One minute you were there and next you weren’t.
Tom’s nightly routine shifted. Every night he would go to sleep dreaming of you. Dreaming of the life you were supposed to share. And every morning he would wake up with tears in his eyes as he felt the empty side of the bed.
Desperately trying to bring himself back to the place with you in it. It was a gut punch every morning, always coming to the realization that you were gone.
However, like clockwork he is reminded of the one shining star in his life as she bursts into his room and hops on the bed. Jumping up and down to get him to wake up.
“Dadda, wake up. Wake up!” Poppy shouted as she waddled up to the bed, trying to climb on. Her nightgown was a little too big, but she wore it because you had.
“Daddy’s awake lovie. Just one second.” Tom jolted, brushing the wetness from his eyes.
“Come on, I want pancakes,” Poppy pleaded.
“Pancakes huh? Mommy’s specialty with Mnm’s inside?” Tom reminisced at all the mornings of breakfast together as a full family.
“Ya, can momma make them?” Poppy asked, it was hard for her to understand the events that just occurred. Tom wasn’t very good at explaining it either. The most he could muster up, is mommy’s not here anymore.
Leaving out the word “dead” or “passed away” was denying the truth from him as well. It was all too new and he didn’t know how he could accept it just yet.
“Lovie, we have talked about this remember? Mommy is not here anymore.”
“When will she be back? I miss her.”
“Umm, darling mommy is never coming back, remember baby. I told you mommy had to leave but wasn’t her choice. Lovie, I miss her too everyday,” Tom said, holding back tears.
“Dadda?” Spoke Poppy as she noticed the wet streaks across Tom’s face. Trying to bring attention back to her.
“Yes, baby.” Tom said, coming out of his trance. Tears riddled his face as he thought of all the stuff that Poppy will miss out on. More specially what you will never get to experience with her.
“Why are you sad Dadda? Did I make you sad?” Poppy asked, trying to comfort Tom the best way she knows how.
“Oh no darling. Not at all.”
“Are you sad because you miss mumma?” Poppy mumbled, her eyes getting stuck to the ground.
Tom just nodded and pressing soft kisses to her forehead. He could only hold back so many tears.
“I miss her too. You never go to the place anymore where you talk to her. I want to talk to her like you do,” Poppy pleaded.
“Lovie what place?”
“The one with the statues. You never take me anymore. We only went twice with nana. But no more,” Poppy said as she started to cry along with him.
“The cemetery?” Tom asked.
She nodded, sniffing away the tears. “Mumma misses us like we miss her. I don’t want her to think we forgot about her. I made the card because. I want to give her my card. Can we go?”
“Yes baby, I’ll take you. I promise you, you’ll never forget her. I even have videos I can show you later with her in them,” Tom explained.
“Dadda I love you,” Poppy said wrapping her hand around his neck.
“I love you too, my flower.”
Masterlist
A/n: sorry the ending sucked, endings are hard
#tom holland x y/n#tom holland fic#tom holland x reader#tom holland au#tom holland blurb#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland#tom holland masterlist#tom holland fan fiction smut
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Male Ghost (Marion) x Anonymous Reader ( Sfw)
(Another oc of mine that is very near and dear to my heart, this is written from his point of view. ´ ˘ ` )
He could see you, but you couldn't see him. That was normal for most people. He had seen a lot of people come and go, and if he was honest he enjoyed his privacy, he had stopped trying to communicate a long time ago. He stayed downstairs and you stayed upstairs and that was fine by him. The basement was where he got on with his work, moving books, organizing papers, and writing notes on the large blackboard.
The previous inhabitants had wanted to nose around downstairs, and since he wasn't exactly fond of house guests coming down to rifle through his work space, he would promptly lock them out. In the time that you moved in, he had gotten comfortable with you and made the mistake of not keeping a better eye on you. He had been dozing with a book on his lap as you had innocently made your way downstairs. Waking up with a start to see you curiously peering at his bookshelf.
He jumps to his feet, an expression of unease and irritation crossing his face. He clears his throat, "I see you are more trouble than I thought," You don't hear him and you pick up a manilla folder, flipping through it. He wrinkles his nose with annoyance, before giving a soft sigh. Marching over to the blackboard and to write with a piece of chalk. 'You are sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Please leave.’ He dots the period sharply and turns his head to look back at you. To his dismay, he sees that you had dropped the folder, papers scattered everywhere. "For the love of pete. . ." He mumbles softly, he starts to walk towards you, but you take a nervous step backwards. He cocks an eyebrow, holding out a hand and waving it in front of you. You give a little flinch and he frowns, "That's interesting, you can't see or hear me, obviously, but you get a sense of my presence."
"H-hello?" Your voice warbles when you speak, "Is anyone there?" He blinks and fixes his glasses, before giving a little frown. He begins to open his mouth before he sighs and shakes his head."Right, right, you can't hear me. . ." He turns on his heels, back to the blackboard to start writing again. 'Yes, I'm still here,'
You had come closer, sucking in a breath of air as you hovered behind him. 'You're in my laboratory, and I would appreciate, if you did not carelessly handle my papers. They're important.' He keeps glancing over at you while he writes. Your immobile, standing stock still as you watch the words materialize before your eyes. This was farther than he had even gotten to communicate with the living. "I'm sorry," You whisper, "I didn't realize-- who, who are you?"
'Dr. Marion Dowery' Came the scribbled response trying to hurry in case you decided that you had seen enough and were going to beat a hasty retreat. He was watching you with interest. He hadn't suspected you would have stayed, nor ask questions, most others had been frightened off as soon as they heard chalk on the blackboard. He had stopped trying after the first couple of attempts. He had been desperate for a while after he died, to leave some message to those he loved, or reach out to the living once someone new had claimed his house. But the results had all been the same, that is. . . until now.
You stare at the words awe struck, a trembling hand touching the blackboard. You pull your hand back nodding uneasily. "How long have you been d-down here?" Marion tilts his head, frowning, his hand resting on the surface of the board as he hesitates. It's been so long, he's seen so many people come and go. 'I cannot remember,' He writes, 'A long time.'
You nod and begin to back away, "I'm so sorry to have bothered you," You stoop to hastily pick up the papers off the floor, Marion winces as he watches you, it would take a lot of work to put that back into order again. "I didn't realize th-that I had company in the house! But it's no wonder really-- I should have known b-better!" You give the direction of the blackboard a kind smile and carefully set the papers down on his desk. "If you would like to come upstairs, and get out of this dark and dreary place, you're more than welcome to! I would enjoy the company, as long as you know, you're not going to do anything bad. I'll leave you alone now-- sorry again that I disturbed you!"
He watches you scurry up the stairs giving a small chuff of annoyance. "As long as I am not going to do anything bad?" He echoes, "That's insulting, I am not an axe murderer. As if I--" But then he falls silent, his eyes shift and he turns back to quietly clean off the blackboards one sided conversation.
You were back again the next day, he hears you coming down the stairs and he grimaces, closing his notebook and putting his hands on his hips as you appear with a big smile scrawled across your face. "Hey!" You call into thin air "I have something for you!" You shuffle over to his desk and he has to sidestep you in the off chance you might run into him. You set something down on the desk, your expression all smiles as you look around the room eagerly. "I don't know if you can use it but-- Since you can write on chalkboards you might be able to use this too!"
You don't give him a chance to answer, as you charge back upstairs. He blinks, watching you go in confusion, before looking down at the long black box you set on his desk. He picks up the box, carefully opening it to reveal a silver pen. He examines it before his head turns to the stairs.
It's been a long time since he has set foot upstairs, leaving the gift on his table he lingers in the doorway into the rest of the house. Hesitating as he looks around, there are still a few cardboard boxes stacked ontop of each other. The last remnants of your moving boxes that you hadn't gotten to unpacking yet. From what he could hear, you were in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you moved about. He clasps his hands behind his back, taking a few tentative steps out into the hallway, things have changed a lot upstairs, it was almost overwhelming. It was as if he entered an entirely different house.
Nervously he walked towards the kitchen, drumming his fingers on his shoulder. You had been cleaning the kitchen but you pause to look around, eyeing the doorway curiously. "Is that you?" Marion takes a deep breath and raps a knuckle against the wall, causing you to jump. A hand fluttering to your heart and you beam, though it holds tones of nerves. "Oh good-- Either that or I might be going crazy haha-"
Marion huffs, "That's a fine way to put it. . ." He remarks sourly, he watches you fidget on the spot, and he sighs brush his dark hair away from his face to watch you. He had just about decided to go back downstairs when you hurried over to grab a pad of paper and a pencil. Placing them down on the table. "Um I would like to talk to you more, if um. . . that would be okay. I am really curious to know more about you." Marion eyes the pen and paper wearily. "Oh. . . alright." He mumbles, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."
He settles himself down in the pulled out chair opposite of you, taking the pen and frowning. Your eyes light up watching the pen, and you hold your breath. 'What would you like to know?' "You have very nice handwriting," Marion pauses to look at you, your gaze still transfixed on the pen and paper.
'Thank you' A smile flashes across your lips, a hand flitting nervously to the back of your neck, "I almost thought I was imagining what happened yesterday, so-- you were a doctor? I mean Marion, that's your name right?" 'That is correct.' You nod, "So you said before, you had been here a long time, was it ever since the house was built? Why stay down in the basement all this time?" Marion blinks, you started talking so fast he could barely keep up. 'The basement was where I kept all my papers, my laboratory and tools were down there,' He hesitates for a moment before continuing. 'That is also where I died,' Your smile fades, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ask such a point blank question. . ." You stare at the chair opposite of you, a worried expression on your face. Marion gives a quiet smile. 'It's quite alright, you didn't know. I spent much of my life down there working, I suppose it was only natural for me to feel like that was where I should stay there.' You nod, still frowning, "You seem like you have um. . . a lot of articulation for a. . . specter?" A nervous smile warbled onto your face. "I've bumped into a few things before but, nothing with the amount of control you do." Marion leans back in his chair, thinking and frowning. Not sure how to make heads or tails what you had just said. After so long of being left to his own devices, then being jarred with this strange social exchange, he suddenly felt exhausted, he takes his glasses off, cleaning them with the hem of his sleeve. Before writing, 'I am not sure what you mean by that. I think I am done with questions today, I am going back downstairs.'
You nod, a guilty expression crossing over your face, "I'm sorry-- I didn't mean to be rude." 'You were not being rude, I am just tired.' and with that last message he sets down the pencil and leaves the room. Your expression becoming confused as your lips mouth the last sentence.
He felt much more comfortable back in his work space, shaking his head. Normally he didn't feel anything, so to be able to perceive a level of tiredness was fascinating. There were times he would doze yes, but it was more due to him feeling bored than something out of necessity. He smiles to himself, amused. He has a foggy remembrance that social exchanges used to be tiring to him, but then again, everything had been tiring. He had been sick and frail ever since he was little, and it was a race against the clock back then. The time he had when he was alive, was clawing for answers. Anything to live just a little longer while his heart had started to fail.
He places a hand to his heart, his eyes closing, after all this time, he can still almost feel it. . . the dull spasm of pain when everything stopped, when he just stopped functioning. He sits down, in his chair, picking up the pen and leaning back. Twirling it in his fingers. “Has dealt with others like me eh?” He mused to himself, “How very interesting.” He fiddles with the pen, taking off the cap to jot down a few thoughts. He wrote more about than he had intended, looking over his handiwork as he rests his hand on his gaunt cheek.
He attempted to be open towards you and your curiosity, though the lack of ability to communicate was frustrating. Writing was the only way he seemed able to talk to you properly. And while he was uneasy when you would wander downstairs, it soon dawned on him that you were lonely. You would talk to him at length about your day, the things that happened or the things you saw on the internet. Which that, in of itself, took you several hours to explain, and he still didn’t quite understand much of it. Your mind would wander from topic to topic as you thought out loud, sometimes he would write back to you, but mostly he would listen. The world certainly seems to have changed much from when he was alive. “I wish I could talk to you in person Mary,” you murmur as you rotate a cup of tea in your hands. You sat in the armchair across from his desk. “I bet it’s hard to have to write everything you have to say. Especially when I talk a mile a minute.” ‘You’ve gotten better,’ he responded on the board, and you laugh. “Oh really? I’m so glad--” Marion gives a little whisper of a smile at that. “It’s been really nice to have someone to talk to, you seem like a really nice person. A little clinical but maybe that’s because I only know you through your writing.” You curl up on the chair, a sad expression clouding your usually cheerful face. “I really do wish I could talk to you, I’m sure there’s so much you have to say.”
Marion walks over to you, resting his hip against his desk, he takes his glasses off and looks at his hands. The two of you sit beside each other in silence, you drain your cup. Eventually you ease yourself out of the chair to head upstairs and make another mug. His head turns, watching you go, your blurry outline going up the stairs and disappearing out of view. “I suppose I have become aloof haven’t I?” He laughs to himself, “But can you blame me?” He waits for you to return, fiddling with his glasses before propping them back on his nose. You come downstairs with another cup of tea and fall asleep before you can finish your second round. He looks up from writing in one of his books to hear you shift on the chair. “Asleep already?” He muses out loud, watching you give a little shiver and curl tighter in the armchair. His eyes soften and he turns away, opening a steam trunk beside the table, and pulling out the old blanket he used to wear when he was working late and refused to go upstairs. He places it over your shoulders, “Sweet dreams dear,” He murmurs softly, leaning down to place a chilly kiss upon your forehead.
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「 HAIKYUU!! SETTERS AS THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF HISTORICAL EPICS 」
: ̗̀➛ AUTHOR’S NOTE. what can i say? i have no other explanation other than to say that i am a history buff. i spend most of my time either watching historical movies or stuff on youtube and just be awed at what ancient or medieval rulers did at the time. so, what if the haikyuu!! setters were like them too? consider my history-nerd side going off in this post. everyone here is inspired by many historical figures and i just mash them up together.
: ̗̀➛ WARNING(S). mentions of blood and violence, i.e, impaling (what did you expect? history is rarely ever pretty), though the description is not very explicit.
OIKAWA TOORU: ‘the great’, gold crowns made from intricately detailed sculptures of leaves, acorns, and flowers, mounting a stallion with a furious demeanour as its rider, vexilla glistening beneath the sunlight on their way to a battlefield, battle horns tearing through the sky as a sign of their arrival, putting two plumes on their battle helmet with the purpose of attracting their enemies to fight them, eyes burning with the flames of a thousand ambitions, clashing of the swords with kings doomed to fall before him, military campaigns to discover and raid other lands, the people erecting a massive statue during their reign as a sign of gratitude and worship, battle of gaugamela, “there is nothing impossible to him who will try.”
KOGANEGAWA KANJI: ‘the bruce’, raising a rebellion against an overlord to gain independence, an outlaw king, every lord in the region pledging their loyalty to the king crowned by the people, regardless of birthright, a gold diadem upon their heads as they rode out to battle, only armed with fabric cuirass and chainmail, the call to stand together against an overwhelming number of enemy troops, muddy battlefield where it had rain the night before, telling one of his soldiers to not announce his fatal injury as to not discourage his men, instead, beat the war drums louder, battle of loudoun hill, “if you at first don’t succeed, try, try, and try again.”
AKAASHI KEIJI: ‘the determined’, planning battle strategies in their dreams, shooting balls of fire from trebuchets to pound another kingdom’s brick walls, building walls surrounding the enemy’s kingdom to trap them inside and intentionally letting them starve to death, battles taking place in a forest, the trojan horse, defeating another ruler who has a considerable age gap, a siege that goes on for fifty three days, intended to make chángshēngbùlǎo yào (elixir of life) but ended up inventing gunpowder, both a benevolent ruler and a master of war, battle of hastings, “in my end is my beginning.”
ATSUMU MIYA: ‘the lionheart’, raising a rebellion against one’s own father with a brother, strong arms suited to wield a longsword, a gruesome scar across the face that will haunt the rest of their days, executing traitors and enemies either by the gallows or beheading, insulting their enemies and got captured for it, crusades to recapture the holy land, accidentally invading a neighbouring kingdom (conquest of cyprus), proposing a one-on-one fight to spare the lives of their men, able to fight with a non-dominant hand in case the dominant one gets injured, battle of arsuf, “brave men should either conquer nobly or gloriously die.”
KAGEYAMA TOBIO: ‘the magnificent’, laurel wreaths made from real leaves, not gold, tunic adorned in rich, gold embroideries under the tyrian purple toga, their subjects required to prostrate before him when he’s present in a room, meetings with the senates held in curia julia, abolishing a corrupted system that has burdened the empire for decades, trusted advisors eventually turned traitors mingling in their political court, constructing a colosseum, watching the gladiatorial contest or the naumachia (mock sea battles) every week, owning a majestic golden chariot pulled by the strongest and fastest of white stallions, battle of alesia, “experience is the teacher of all things.”
KENMA KOZUME: ‘the young king’, ascending the throne before coming of age, bloodstains on fallen sakura petals and broken tree branches, torn karuta after an exhausting battle with a stubborn and strong enemy, broken katana blade gleaming under the moonlight and sadly, beyond repair, bloody wounds that never really heal but every single one holds a memory, battles fought near shallow waters of a river, sengoku jidai, hundreds of warships among the coastlines to anticipate any attack from the waters, endless bloody feud between prominent clans, battle of sekigahara, “a clear and innocent conscience fears nothing.”
SEMI EITA: ‘the bold’, magnificent red robe draped behind the shoulders, attaching a talisman representing the goddess of battle and wisdom before he goes out to battle for good luck, ambushing the enemy’s camp at midnight, the sound of horses’ stampede running down a hill accompanied by the screams of their men, face stained in mud and blood, breaching the enemy’s gate with battering-rams as thousands of arrows rain upon them at the same time, the sun shining through the clouds as they celebrate their victory, lavish banquets full of music, food and wine for his soldiers, inviting their enemy to their tent and deciding whether to give them a glass of water or not, first arab siege of constantinople, “death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back.”
SUGAWARA KOUSHI: ‘the good’, age of enlightenment, offering protection to his distant family members who have been betrayed or usurped, fortifying the walls from unexpected sieges by barbarians from the sea, attacking the enemy fleet with greek fire, singing along with their soldiers as they march towards the battlefield to lift their spirits, the marching sounds of their army from behind a hill, heavy rainfall during a battle, soldiers grouping together to form a shield-wall to protect their leader, continuing to stand and fight even after falling from their horse, siege of paris, “fate and history conspired to make me what i am today.”
SHIRABU KENJIROU: ‘the impaler’, swearing revenge against a comrade who betrayed and killed one of their family members, not often engaged in battles but still leading their army from the safety of the capital, using the environment to their advantage to overtake their enemy, impaling traitors and an enemy’s entire army’s head on a pike and put them on display along the castle’s walls, demoralizing their enemies by showing symbols, singing, and beating drums, walking through piles of dead enemies’ bodies, disguising a lavish dinner feast with a goal to capture all of his traitorous boyars, sacking their enemy’s kingdom if they refuse to surrender, trapping the enemy’s troops by forming a shield-wall while pushing their spears towards them, night attack at târgoviște, “a man’s greatest joy is crushing his enemies.”
MONIWA KANAME: ‘the kind’, forming a decision to never execute people during their reign, developing plans to improve the empire’s agriculture, inventing new weapons to easily overwhelm enemies, marching through a desert with all of his troops just to make a peace treaty, would rather form a diplomatic alliance than waste his men to meaningless bloody wars, establishing sīchóu zhīlù (silk road), the tang dynasty (also known as the ‘golden age’), wanting to build the greatest wall the world has ever seen, a humble ruler the empire has ever had but still holds justice in the highest regard, battle of huoyi, “endure what is difficult to endure and to suffer what is difficult to suffer.”
reblogs are appreciated! ✦
© 2021 | all work & content posted belongs to iwakusa. do not under any circumstances modify or repost.
#oikawa tooru#kageyama tobio#akaashi keiji#atsumu miya#kenma kozume#sugawara koushi#moniwa kaname#koganegawa kanji#shirabu kenjirou#semi eita#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons#haikyuu!! imagines#haikyuu!! setters#— [ rami.writes ]#🖤.haikyuu!! setters#🖤.oikawa tooru#🖤.akaashi keiji#🖤.kageyama tobio#🖤.kenma kozume#🖤.sugawara koushi#🖤.atsumu miya#🖤.koganegawa kanji#🖤.semi eita#🖤.kaname moniwa#🖤.shirabu kenjirou
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HASO, “A Gift.”
Ok, so someone somewhere, I thought asked for Adam/Sunny Fluff. I don’t know where or who that was, either that or I am remembering incorrectly, but either way here it is whether you wanted it or not :)
Thought I’d focus a little bit on Sunny.
Ignore if you are NOT interested in the relationship subplot.
I am trying to do this right, but who knows if that is going to work because I don’t usually write this sort of thing.
The humming of the ship’s engines reminded her of Anin, and reminded her of the distant roaring of the volcanoes as she slept in their family’s little hut at the center of the fertile belt. The feeling the memory provoked in her was a fond one despite being tainted by years and years of her mother's overarching disapproval, disapproval she was only now casting off, shedding it like an alien might shed a second skin.
It was a thing slow in coming, after years and years of constant disapproval, but becoming a Saint had been her last push into shaking off the insecurities of her childhood. The spirits of Anin had chosen her, and that was something even her mother could not deny, it was something sunny herself could not deny, despite her own fears and insecurities telling her otherwise.
She was worthy.
Finally worthy.
It felt good to wake up like that, felt good to sit up in the dim light of her little room aboard the Omen, and know that she was enough. She lay there in the quiet for a moment, in her own small room, with her own little window that looked out on the stars to her side. She rolled over to stare outward watching a distant galaxy spinning past in all of its glory. Adam liked to park the ship in places like this, places that would remind the crew of where they were and what they were doing.
From this distance that spiraling galaxy seemed so small despite being billions of lightyears wide, dim and distant, though still shedding a faint light upon her from so far away. As she lay there another light pulsed over her body, luminous purple-blue LED strips around the bottom and top of her room, dimmed for the proper ambiance.
She sat up slowly stretching and flexing her feet.
She sat up looking around her room and the familiar space lit by the glowing purple blue neon.
It was a strange mixture of things alien and things familiar.
Beside her bed, a tall, climate-controlled glass case held a large armature upon which her saint’s armor was proudly displayed, little white stage lights shining pearly waves of rainbow across it’s outer metal, beside that a metal rack on the wall held a collection of spears, some worn and used with age, others sharp and new, one glittering with the same pearly white sheen as her armor.
On the headboard of her bed rested a pair of lime green headphones.
There was a Holo-screen on the wall across from her bed and a couple of photos tacked up on the wall across from her. They were hard to make out in the dim bluish lighting, but there was one of Anin and a few of her and her brother, a couple more of her and Adam, and a single image in the middle.
It wasn’t as refined an image as the others, having been hand painted by a crewmember as a commission for her….
An image of a tall golden Drev in mighty war armor.
Just below that image, set back into the wall, there sat a small, almost-shrine, with a spirit light and a few other odds and ends from Anin.
Sunny stood and stretched rolling her muscles and joints as she walked over to the little shrine and knelt before it.
She reached out and cupped the spirit light in her two lower hands as she bowed her head.
She stayed there for some time as the minutes ticked away.
A clock on her nightstand gave her the time in human hours tiny numbers glowing green.
As the clock hit 30, she opened her eyes and turned to the side dipping a rag into the sink and proceeding to rub it over her body.
Drev didn’t need to bath as frequently or as…. Heavily as humans. Where humans relied on natural oils to keep their skin healthy, the Drev had no such problems, and rarely produced the amount of bacteria that humans did. For that reason, Drev didn’t tend to smell, and if they did it had more to do with what they ate than it did with their own festering nastiness.
She set the rag down and stood, pulling on her headphones and scrolling through her playlist using the implanted chip in her arm, like the humans she had taken up one of the devices to store her information and money, along with the implanted translation system just below her ear. She kept it off most of the time, but she could turn it on when needed.
Scrolling through the list, she paused at one and then hesitated before clicking on it.
Sunny knew a lot about music for someone who grew up without it. It was a piece of art she thought the Drev were sadly lacking, and listening to the drums and rasping vocals of humans two thousand years dead, she wondered why they had never thought of it.
The playlist, had been one she hadn’t touched in a while.
It tended to make her sad despite it’s upbeat and powerful music.
It reminded her of Adam.
It was his playlist after all, but she really did feel like she needed something to get her going this morning,
With the music going, she grabbed one of her spears from the wall, and then stood at the center of the room.
She closed her eyes as the blue neon light glowed over her. WIth her eyes still closed she began to move slowly, one foot forward one foot back dropping into a crouch pulling the spear back and then beginning to move slowly remembering the forms, remembering the mountain and the voice of Naktan as he urged her through the new and emerging steps.
***
0400
Adam sat up, cool air blowing on his skin from the vent above.
Outside the window the vast spiral of the Milky way glowed in from his viewing window casting delicate yellow light over his skin. He stretched muscles flexing and tensing as he extended his body to a brief maximum before relaxing.
He sat there for a moment taking in the view, allowing it to bath him in cosmic light.
And some people wake up to a sunrise.
He reached down to the side of the bed, gripping the cool metal and carapace surface with his left hand before socketing it into place over the stub of his missing leg. There was a sharp whirr and then a sudden rush of sensation. He flexed the two toed alien foot of his right leg and stood stretching his legs as well.
He turned and walked to stand before the full length mirror by the window. The light was dim, but it still cast enough illumination that he could see the hills and valleys of his own body set in sharp contrast in the light.
He stood straighter lifting his chin and surveying himself in the mirror.
He was almost proud of what he saw. Never a slouch, he had always been active, and during training he had been in good shape, but a few years as captain of the ship, with more duties and little time he had neglected his physique for other matters. It hadn’t done anything horrible to him, but he had seen better days.
That was, of course, until his breakup with Sunny. Granted a week of binge drinking hadn’t exactly helped matters, but his following vacation time that had included a stint of time with a human colony of Neospartans had kicked his ass back into gear. A few months and a couple of personal revelations later, and he had made it his goal to mold himself into the best version of himself he could conceive. His body was just beginning to show that dedication.
He bent down, tugging a pair of shoes from one of the drawers under his bed, and sat down to tie them on.
He stood and walked over to the side of the room pressing a button on the wall. There was a sharp whirring as the floor rotated and three large screens slowly pulled down from the ceiling.
Off to his left waffles opened one sleepy amber eye before heading back to sleep.
He flicked his arm once and stepped onto the small rectangle of floor.
The screens lit up in front of him showing an open mountain landscape and a trail.
The floor below him slowly began to move, and he broke into a jog. The music flipped on at his request as his feet began pounding against the moving floor. He kept his back straight and his arms against his sides as the floor tilted and rolled slightly below him, mirroring the trail on which he now ran.
Sweat rolled down his bare back as, forty minutes later he dropped to the floor, hands held at shoulder width pushing himself repeatedly up and down and up and down. When his arms shook, he stood and leaped upwards, catching onto the padded black bar on the ceiling. The muscles in his back flexed firing as his teeth clenched and sweat dripped down his face onto his shoulders.
He repeated that sequence for some time before returning to the side of the room and picking up the silver metaled spear.
Still breathing hard he pulled on the VR glasses and followed the Drev training simulation twice before putting the spear away.
Waffles at up and stretched.
He patted her head once before passing into the bathroom.
Water cascaded down his body where he sat washing salt and sweat down the drain, only to socket his leg back on again and dress himself. Eyes stared down at him from the walls, vintage movie posters from years long gone.
A replica lightsaber glittered dully in the light where it sat on his nightstand.
He adjusted his uniform cap before the mirror, and whistled once for waffles, who ran up to stand at his heels.
He opened the door just as Simon was raising her hand to knock.
She stepped back in surprise, and he smiled, “Beat you again, Simon.”
She opened her mouth nonplussed and then closed it again holding out her clipboard, “Morning, Sir.”
He took the clipboard and marched with her up to the bridge where he got his work done. Waffles lay at his feet as he gave the morning crew their orders, and inspected their trajectory, reading their orders from the UNSC and the GA,before sending off a few reports. He read through the reports of his chief staff and approved a few important changes.
Once upon a time a day like this might have overwhelmed him.
He stepped down from his chair and turned to Simon, “Command is your Simon, I have a few things to attend to this morning.”
She saluted crisply and traded seats with him as he turned and stepped down the stairs.
***
The sound of the engine was louder down here and his heart thrummed along with her as he stood with his back to the cold metal. At his feet Waffles stared up at him with her big brown eyes, waiting.
Deep breath.
He turned stepping into the doorway and looking into the small workroom, lined on all sides by unfinished projects and hanging blueprints. He stood quietly in the doorway, watching the light play over her blue carapace, rolling down her like rivers of sunlit water. The way she moved was so steady, and so sure, that it seemed as if she herself were the waters of a mountain river, steady, changing only with the greatest deliberation.
The movement of her hands on metal was so precise and so predictable he might have been able to pound out a beat to her movements, but this was hardly the time. He stepped forward silently over the metal.
“Someone once told me you can only find Gemstones in the darkest of places.”
Sunny turned her head and rolled a great golden eye when she saw it was him, “You know you flirt like a…. Hut being tipped over in a windstorm.”
“How’s that?”
“A mild disaster.”
“How ironic, so are you metaphors.”
She eyed him up and down with one golden eye, “Where is he and what have you done with him?”
“What do you mean?”
“My Adam is a stuttering idiot, where did you put him.”
My Adam.
He walked over and sat on the bench next to her leaning back against her work table, “Tied up and locked in the closet for the time being.” he smiled and scooted a little closer, “He tends to get nervous talking to pretty girls.”
“Oh, does he?”
She leaned forward a little bit one of her hands brushing up against his leg.
Shit
Dammit!
The stuttering began in earnest and he felt his face go red to the tips of his ears.
She hummed deep in her chest, “That was a good try, you almost made it a full minute.”
***
Sunny hummed in mild pleasure as she watched him squirm, her superior cones and rods picking up the delicate change in skin tone as subcutaneous blood rushed into his face. The Delicate pattern of UV light that played over his face glowed in green blue pearl patterns, swirling over his cheeks and face.
She knew those pattern well, and guessed she could probably have drawn them from memory if someone had asked.
He ran a hand through his hair, and as he did she could pick out the individual strands of hair and the color changes. A few of the hairs at his temples had bleached white. She wouldn’t tell him that, but the number of white hairs had been increasing rapidly over the past few months. Weather it was stress or genetics she didn’t know.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I tried.”
“You did.”
He continued to rub the back of his neck, “I um…. I brought you… s-something.”
“Oh?”
He reached down beside him and pulled a long black box from the floor offering it up so she had to pull back to let him set it down on the table before her.
He turned to look at her, his one green eye so alive with worry she wanted to reach over and take his hand just to calm him down.
But he remained even, and with a smile of his face, he reached over and flipped the case open. She glanced in, eyes wide with surprise, “What…. This is all for… me?”
“I thought you…. Might like it. I mean they aren’t really my thing you know, but they did, they did make me think of you and I, well I picked up a few things but I…”
One look from her silenced him and he wilted back into his seat, “It was during my little vacation…. I was going to give them to you earlier, but I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying to buy you back. I really just thought you’d like them.”
“Tell me about them.”
He scooted over to sit next to her, and he was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, “This knife, I won in a bar fight with an outlaw, stole it off him while he was unconscious.” She watched him blush again a little, “I would have felt bad about it accept he was kind of an asshole.” he pointed to the next item in the velvet lined box, “That is the revolver of another outlaw I met by the name McBride, bested him in a boxing match on the back of a moving train. That spear was given to me as a gift by the NeoSpartan king for prowess in battle, and that triton was something I picked up free hunting alien sharks.”
He turned to look up at her, “I’m not pushing or anything,” he held up his hands, “Jupiter knows I don’t deserve it, but, it is a gift, and I want you to have them-”
He trailed off.
She stared at him.
He stared back.
She leaned down a little lowering her head and lightly touching her forehead against his. He wasn’t speaking any longer. Her eyes were half closed. She leaned forward, one of her hands resting on his real, human leg. He was warm below her hand, almost burning. One of his hands rested over hers.
They sat like that for a minute.
And then she felt him move. Something brushed over her cheek, soft, human lips depressed against her skin warm and humid. She hummed softly in her chest until the pressure pulled back, and she opened an eye. Before she knew what had happened she was on his feet, gone from underneath her hands.
He stood about two or three feet away skin on his face and hands bright with blood flow.
“I-I have to…. To do a.-something, a- about a thing, but I hope you like…. The gift.” He turned.
“Watch out for the-’
There was a clattering noise as he caught his toe on the step, pitched forward, landed on his hands and knees and then scrambled out the doorway with all the grace and beauty of a meteor collision.
“Step.” She finished to the empty air
She could still hear him clattering his way up the hall.
ON the floor below her Waffles looked after him with a comically confused expression for a dog.
“Well go on after him, and make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself.”
Waffles yipped low in her throat and charged off after him
Sunny hummed and turned back to her work bench staring down at the box of items, reaching up a hand to rest on her cheek.
They were getting there.
Slowly.
But they were getting there
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i still love you | zhong chenle
word count: 17, 367
genre: high school!au, basketball!player, angst, fluff, you are a bet au??? lol idk 8 letters!au
warnings: lots of angst, playing of emotions, mentions of panic attacks and sex.
authors note: im finally back!! with a chenle fic!! okay so,, i wanted to thank everyone who loved 8 letters, the reaction to that fic was better than anything i could’ve ever imagined, so thank you so much!! this is like a chenle version from the same universe. but most importantly: i decided to put songs in some scenes to enhance the experience while reading, you don’t have to but if you want to listen to the ‘soundtrack’ of this fic click the ‘🏀’!!!!! please enjoy!!
synopsis: high school can be complicated. thats why when your crush of three years, zhong chenle, approaches you out of nowhere offering to drive you home you are right to question his intentions.
🏀
You can hear the loud thumping of your heart in your ears as you watch the players dart across the court. The squeaking of their sneakers against the polished floor as they furrowed their eyebrows in concentration. Well… as he furrowed his eyebrows in anticipation, you wouldn’t know about the rest of the players on the court because your eyes were focused on one boy in particular. Number 22, Zhong Chenle. Your crush since sophomore year and soon to be captain of the basketball team (even if this is your personal opinion you’re 87% sure of it). The boy had caught your eye when he first smiled your way back in 10th grade and offered to help you with everything since you were new, leaving a stamp on your heart that would mark it as his own for the next years to come. Of course, you hardly ever spoke to him, too nervous and clumsy to even think of approaching someone so out of your league but there was something about his crinkly smile eyes and fluffy hair that got a hold of and never let go.
Which is why you find yourself seated at the school’s bleachers watching the basketball game like you did every week, hands clutching the sides of the bench as you watched Chenle get the orange ball passed to him, and the scene plays in slow motion.
Sweat drips off the tips of his newly dyed blond hair as he gains impulse with a jump, shooting a perfect three pointer and deeming the game of victory for his team. You proudly smile as you watch his teammates cause a ruckus around him, cheering and hitting him occasionally. However, your mood dampened as you watched Chenle escape the clutches of his team, running to the side benched where Ava, (the bitchiest girl in school but also his girlfriend), sat. He leans down to peck her lips, only to be stopped when she holds her hand up, pushing him away with a disgusting, “you’re sweaty!” He looks dejected for a second, before forcing a smile and turning back towards the team. You wonder if you’re the only one who noticed the interaction, you wonder if you’re the only one who cares enough to want to march down there and tell her off. You huff, instead opting to march your angry way to the entrance of the gym starting the trek home. Wondering if Number 22 will ever be yours like you desperately want him to.
-
It’s funny how much of your life you could dedicate to one person without any sort of reciprocation. You felt almost embarrassed as you shoved yet another letter into an envelope that increasingly got thicker and thicker with every burst of your emotions. You see, every time your feelings for Chenle got too strong to bare you would write short letters about how you felt, obviously, with no intention of Chenle ever getting his hands on them, just for your own catharsis. It helped, most days.
Today is not one of those days.
“Uh huh…” you said absentmindedly at your friend, Donghyuck , who tries to explain to you what intricate contraption they are building in this week's robotics class. However, you’re too busy looking over his shoulder at Chenle who laughs half heartedly at something his friend says, before going serious once again. You furrow your eyebrows and say, “have you noticed anything off about Chenle?”
Donghyuck sighs, knowing he has lost you once again. Nevertheless, he humors your narrative turning to watch the boy in question along with you. “I mean… he is kind of down.”
“Right?” You reply, shutting your locker and clicking the lock. Donghyuck shrugs.
“Maybe it’s because he broke up with his girlfriend this weekend.”
You stop dead in your tracks, “He did what?”
Donghyuck nods, (like it’s not a huge deal!) “at the party you missed this weekend, they got into a big fight and he told her it was over and stormed off.”
“A-and you didn’t think to tell me this?” You respond to which he just shrugs.
“It’s not like you had a chance with him anyway.”
“Ouch, Donghyuck .”
The words stung, of course but you knew Donghyuck was just being realistic with you, never one to lead you into things that could only hurt you in the future.
Donghyuck says something after that, that you don’t quite catch but you guess it’s fine since you didn’t really want to listen to him right now anyway.
Especially since Zhong Chenle just caught you staring at him and is now staring just as intensely into your eyes as you were to the side of his face.
You don’t know what kind of glitch you go through that you are unable to form any type of reaction or look away. Instead just kind of… freezing.
He brings up a hand and slightly waves in your direction. A kind smile on his face.
Oh no. He actually sees you.
Before you can even process it, you realize that you're running down the hall in the direction opposite to him. Out of the back door of the school, heaving as your heartbeat reaches 3000bpm.
🏀
Recalling the memory as you walk to the bus stop that afternoon causes you to slap your palm against your forehead once again. “What was I thinking? Now Chenle is really going to think I’m a freak.”
You couldn’t believe yourself, kicking the gravel underneath your sneakers in frustration you beat yourself up over having ruined the only interaction that could’ve possibly been your chance to win his heart. It could’ve been the last time he ever looked your way again, and you wouldn’t blame him.
But it wasn’t.
Because just minutes after, like a miracle from heaven, you hear the roar of an expensive car engine near you before hearing his angelic voice call the syllables you thought you’d never hear him say: “Y/N!”
Wide eyed, your snap your head to the sound of his voice only to see him through the window of his shiny million dollar car. He smiles and you feel like running again. He notices. “Wait! Don’t go!”
You hear the buckle of his seatbelt being undone and watch in shock as he jogs around the car and suddenly he towering over you with a sweet smile. “Hi.”
Say hi back! What are you doing? “Uh- I- uh- Hi?”
He chuckles, looking down at his shoes before looking into your eyes once again. “How you doing?”
“I’m- im good.” You stutter.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The silence that follows makes you want to get swallowed up by the ground and never see daylight again.
Chenle notices how you avoid his eyes and chuckles once again, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, um, I just saw that you were walking and wanted to know if you wanted a ride.”
“In your car?” You ask in a quiet voice. Chenle laughs.
“I mean, yeah. Unless you want to rent bikes from the tourism center.” You allow a small smile to grace your lips briefly before remembering the circumstances you currently found yourself in. Chenle (Zhong Chenle, Number 22, Yes. Chenle.) has just offered you a ride in his fancy car. The same car you watched him pull up in for two whole years. And he wants you to get in it.
The millions of scenarios that go through your head as to why this could be happening but as you painfully remember today’s events, you realize what this is about.
Chenle shoves both his hands in his jean pockets as he awaits your answer. “...So?”
You breathe in deeply, “Listen, um, if you’re doing this because you feel bad about earlier or something, please don’t.”
Chenle’s eyebrows furrow together and he comes closer to you. “That’s not the case at all, I just saw you walking all by yourself and thought to offer you a ride home.”
“But you drive past here every day and you’ve never offered me a ride before?” You question out loud, wincing as you realize that you could possibly sound creepy for knowing where he goes in the afternoon. “I mean- you always drive in the same direction as my bus stop! So I see you!” You feel how clammy your palms are rubbing against the harsh fabric of your jeans. “Speaking of the bus, I should probably go before I miss it.”
Just as you turn to walk away, Chenle’s hand grips your wrist where your sleeve has ridden up, allowing the first skin to skin contact you ever made with him. Your eyes widen at him and he lets go immediately, awkwardly. “I guess I was focused on other things, but now I’m focused on you.”
-
In the fever dream that was Zhong Chenle flirting (?), and the insistent drumming of your heart in your ears you come back to only realize you were moving into Chenle’s car. (The doors opened upwards!)
The boy took the liberty of opening it for you, closing it once you were settled in. You took the moment he was walking to the driver’s side to take in a deep breath and compose yourself.
What the hell is going on? Why Zhong Chenle talking to you? Why is he driving you home? Why did he tell you he’s focused on you? What? What does any of this mean?
Before you could begin pulling your hairs out in frustration, Chenle’s door opens and he plops down onto the driver’s seat. He looks over at you with a smile as he fastens his seatbelt, “Buckle up.” You do so quietly, biting your lip to prevent any further embarrassment.
The drive begins with little to no talking, the only thing filling the silence being the constant humming of the air conditioning and static of the radio.
“Do you want to listen to something?” He presses his pale fingers to the glossy touch screen in between you two. Soon enough, a soft beat travels through the ambience of his car. You see from the corner of your eye that he looks over at you and smiles, but keep your nervous eyes on the road in front of you; Chenle faces the road once again, tilting his head to the side in a gesture that you would find unbearably cute any other day makes you want to open the car door and jump out into the street, running away from the awkward silence and the confusing thoughts plaguing your mind.
-
Chenle leaves after promising to pick you up tomorrow morning, you can only nod your head rapidly and run into your house, afraid that he would be able to hear the loud beats of your heart.
Once the door of your room is closed safely behind you, you finally breathe for the first time this afternoon. “What the fuck? What the shit? What the hell?” You mutter to yourself as you pace around the room.
Could it be that your dreams are finally becoming a reality? Had Chenle seen you the way you saw him this entire time?
The one sided crush wasn’t as one sided as you thought! Is what you wanted to think, but there was part of you that questioned where his intentions lie due to the abruptness of the situation. What if there was an ulterior motive behind his actions? No. Chenle wouldn't do something as bad as play with someone’s emotions like that? Right?
As you lay in bed pondering the thought you decide it's best to ask him tomorrow.
-
You wake up 30 minutes earlier the next day, showering thoroughly and waiting in the living room so as to not make him wait too long to leave when he arrives.
This moment comes while you’re sitting at the table with your family, your eyes widen as you hear the knocks on your front door. “I’ll get it!” You stop your mother from reaching the door as you run to it.
Chenle smiles politely as your face appears from inside the house. “Hey.”
You smile back nervously, “Hi.” You proceed to stand at the doorway for a few awkward seconds before your mother comes to see who it is. She is pleasantly surprised to see someone of the male species there in front of you.
“Oh?” She says, smiling at him then looking at you suggestively. You try to convey a silent plea to not embarrass you before she looks away to shake Chenle’s hand. “Hi! I’m Y/N’s mom, are you one of her friends?”
Chenle smiles at her sweetly, “Yes, I am. I’m actually here to pick Y/N up for school.”
“You’re taking Y/N to school?” Your mother’s shocked face is enough to tell Chenle that it was probably the first time anything like this has happened to you.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Your mother sends you a sly smile that she thinks Chenle doesn’t notice before nudging your arm. “Then what are you doing standing there? Don’t make him wait!” Your groan and rub the spot on her arm where she pushed you as you go upstairs to grab your backpack.
Downstairs, Chenle accepts your mother’s offer of entering your humble home. Your house is a modest abode with strange decorations hanging up on the walls, along with pictures of your family. The living room looks like an orphanage where mix matched furniture goes to live. There's one pale green couch, one beige and one a bright yellow. Chenle thinks back to the pristine state of his own living room, the pure white furniture and modern, classy decorations hung up on the marble walls. He realizes that it is nothing like his own, in fact, he doesn’t think it could’ve been more different but he finds that he likes it. That it feels homey compared to his usually liefless house. It’s the kind of place he would stay in for a long time.
Chenle shakes those thoughts out of his as soon as they appear, remembering why he was doing this in the first place, he couldn’t risk getting attached.
-
“Be honest with me.”
Chenle startles upon hearing your voice above its normal shy muttering. You, on the other hand, are shaking in your shoes having practiced what you would say and thought over doing this millions of times last night. “What are your intentions? Like, it’s not that I think you’re a bad person or anything but I just don’t understand because of the suddenness.”
Chenle averts his eyes from the road to glance at you, smiling. He faces forward once again sighing slightly. “Okay, I’ll be honest,” He starts, you sit up straighter and involuntarily lean toward him. “I think you’re really cute, I always noticed you at my games and the way you would cheer me on was really endearing and it encourages me a lot.”
The butterflies that erupt in your stomach with his words are undeniable. “You noticed me?” Your quiet voice is back, still, he hears you. He smiles, and it’s genuine.
“Of course I did,” he says, “And i know that it was very… sudden but if you give me a chance i would really love to take you on dates and maybe… more.”
He sounds slightly unsure of himself. Rubbing the leather of his wheel with his hands.
Your mind is mush. Chenle likes you! He thinks you're cute and he noticed you at his games! What is life?!
“What do you say?” he says after the awkward pause in which you freaked out.
‘No’ is not a word in your dictionary.
-
The cycle continues throughout the next week; Chenle picks you up every morning (never forgetting to bid your mother a good morning) and takes you home every afternoon (always politely rejecting your mother’s offers to stay for dinner), always spilling banter in the car, learning about each other. Chenle notices how you open up to him and he likes it (though he can’t really pinpoint why), he likes talking to you, and laughing with you and he finds himself wanting to be around you more often. Though this wasn’t initially part of the plan, he figures he can enjoy it until it had to end.
The thought makes an eerie feeling rise in his chest, even if he doesn't know why, he thinks things will be a lot harder than he planned.
🏀
It’s friday when Chenle invites you to come watch his basketball practice.
You had imagined this scenario in your head plenty of times before but not once did you think you would ever actually be here sitting on the players bench watching up close as Chenle maneuvered across the court along with the rest of the players. There was sweat dripping off the tip of his blonde hair which made him look 10 times more attractive than he already was and you have to stop the drool that threatens to leak from your lips as he sits down next to you on the bench. “Hey.”
“Hi,” You reply, trying to keep yourself together.
“Practice is over.” Chenle says motioning towards the now empty court. It's only then that you realize that you and Chenle are alone, and suddenly, he’s sitting a lot closer to you than you thought. You turn your face to him and realize that your noses are nearly touching, Chenle smiles. “Hi.” He says, coming a bit closer until he feels the moisture of his sweaty arm against your dry one, he recoils. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so sweaty right now.” There’s a dust of embarrassed blush on his face as he slides away on the bench. Your heart starts beating erratically as you watch him try to rub his sweat away with his small hand towel.
You can’t find the words to tell him it’s okay (slightly scared to tell him that you like it) so you say the next best thing. “You looked cool playing.”
This eases him a bit, he smiles. “You think so?”
“Yeah!” You say, “Like Curry!”
Chenle laughs, “Oh man! I can’t believe you just compared me to Curry.” He stands and takes a bow, waving his towel dramatically. “I am honored.”
The scene causes you to giggle, and Chenle has to take a breather to calm his own beating heart.
“Especially when you blocked Jaemin at the 3rd point and scored on the spot. I was impressed.”
“You must know a lot about basketball.” He points out. You shake your head.
“Not really,” is your response. “I only learned from coming to watch your games.” The sudden confession slipped from your lips and you momentarily panicked.
Upon not hearing a response from Chenle, your breathing deepens and you think maybe you ruined the moment.
Unbeknownst to you, Chenle watches you with curious eyes. He senses the tension coming from you and walks away, leaving you alone in your troubled state.
You think maybe Chenle left without, freaked out and uncomfortable because of what you said, however, you’re proven ridiculously wrong when you dribble a basketball on the floor.
You lift your gaze to Chenle who dribbled the orange ball with a teasing smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me what you got?”
“I- I don’t-“ you begin.
“Oh come one, Y/N!” He says, passing the ball to you, “You have to be good. I mean, you did learn from the best.” The cocky shrug of his shoulders and teasing smile bring you peace of mind and you find yourself agreeing.
-
It’s safe to say that Chenle is surprised at your skills. He should’ve known you had paid enough attention to him to learn all his techniques and dodge them while playing. And to think he was planning on letting you win so you could feel better. It eventually became a full competition. Sweaty bodies and heavy breathing, running, dodging, scoring. Teasing words and intense competitive gazes.
The score was 7-7. Chenle sweeps in to swipe the ball from your hands but you pivot and shoot the three pointer right from your spot. “Yes!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air with a celebratory dance. “I won!”
Chenle is leaning with his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. “I need-“ he breathes, “I need to stop being so good at basketball. So heathens like you can stop learning my best tricks.” He brings his hand up to pinch your cheek teasingly. “You should join the team.” He says jokingly. You chuckle, rubbing the spot on your face that was just touched by his fingers.
“As if.”
“Hey! Does the idea of being in a team with tons of rowdy sweaty dudes that unappealing?” Chenle jokes, placing the basketball back in its place.
“It’s enough with you.”
Before you can retract the statement, Chenle speaks. “That’s right, you only need one sweaty rowdy basketball player in your life.” He winks. “And that’s me.”
You laugh at his words but can feel your heartbeat all throughout your body. You can’t stop your mind from thinking:
You’re damn right. It’s you.
-
As you walk back to his car, Chenle is the first to break the comfortable silence. “You know… it was nice to see you so talkative and competitive today. I had fun.”
And despite everything, he meant it. He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he does.
Unaware of his inner turmoil, you smile. “I did too.”
He gives you a lopsided smile in return before sliding the strap of your backpack off your shoulder and onto his own, keeping his own backpack company. “I’ll carry it for you.”
You wonder if this is the start of something magical. Beside you, Chenle wonders the same but his thoughts are weaved with something more, something that meant trouble.
You, however, hurry home to pour your feelings into a letter. Hearts drawn on the borders of the loose leaf page and a smile on your face all throughout.
🏀
Every week it gets harder to become immune to Chenle’s charm.
Today, he did something as simple as drop you off at home after school. However, before bidding you goodbye as song rings from the radio of his car. Chenle perks up. “I love this song!”
He turns up the radio to its full capacity and rolls down the windows, making the music sound through the street.
“Chenle! Turn that down!” You exclaim but the laughter in your tone hints that you want the exact opposite. Chenle shakes his head.
“No can do!” he waves his arms dramatically in the air, “Dance with me!”
You laugh once again at the wonderful boy, “You’re ridiculous!”
“Oh yeah?” He says challengingly. Suddenly he is opening the door and dancing on the sidewalk where everyone could see him. His movements are almost manic and all you can do is continue laughing. “I’m not leaving until you dance with me.”
“My neighbors are going to see you.” You warn. He shrugs.
“It's fine. I’ll just tell them I’m with you!”
“Oh my god no.” You say, stepping out of the passenger’s side, walking around the car until you’re in front of him, you cross your arms.
“Show me some moves, I’m getting tired.”
And so an impromptu two people dance party breaks out on the sidewalk in front of your house. Even though in your imagination dancing with Chenle would require the presence of an elegant ball gown and fancy chandeliers, all there is to be seen is loud music, laughter, grabbing of hands and playful banter. And you wonder if it could ever be more perfect than this.
-
Of course, like any other human, Chenle has his moments.
The morning car ride was as silent as could be. Chenle’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, angrily. His usual smile is replaced but a scowl that only left momentarily when you stepped into the car earlier, a (clearly forced) polite smile is what you saw.
Since then you didn’t dare to speak, not wanting to bother him when he was clearly having a bad time.
You arrive at the school and escape the still awkward ambience, bidding him a quiet farewell before running in.
-
You proceeded to spend the entire school day wondering what was up with Chenle that morning and what you could do to help him. It’s when you meet at the end of the day once again that you ask, “Hey, is everything okay?”
The boy freezes up, before clearing his throat. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
You shrug, “Nothing, you you were just kind of, like, quiet this morning… so i figured you were upset.”
The blonde boy in the driver’s seat keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, “It’s nothing, Y/N.” He says in a rough tone, one you’ve never heard or thought you would ever hear him use. “It doesn’t concern you anyway, okay?”
Your form deflates into the seat, wishing you had kept quiet like you did this morning. You reply, “Okay.”
There’s tension. Body swallowing tension that lasts all throughout the car ride to your house, as Chenle pulls up in front the driveway and you have already unbuckled your seatbelt before he got the chance to put the car in park.
In the passenger’s seat, Chenle feels the guilt creeping on him. He realizes that you only asked because you cared. “Wait-” Seemingly, he is too late since you’ve already shut the car door and made your way up your driveway. “Goddammit.” He sighs to himself, working to take off his seatbelt.
Your feet hurriedly take you to your door after you exit Chenle’s car, your nerves increase as you hear Chenle leave his car. “Y/N, I-”
The door opens before you can turn the handle, your mother’s smiling face looks back at you. “Hey, Honey.” You smile back at the woman, who immediately notices the emotions behind your smile. Quietly, she asks: “Are you okay?”
As soon as you nod in response, her eye catches Chenle standing guilty behind you. “Chenle! How are you?”
Chenle smiles with a nod, “I’m doing alright.”
“Well, I would invite you in for dinner but I can imagine what your answer will be.” She says jokingly, teasing him for all the times he had rejected her offer. To her surprise, Chenle doesn’t laugh awkwardly or agree with her, instead, he ponders for a bit. His gaze finds your own causing you to quickly look away. He feels his heart contract as he thinks of starting at square one with you; back to when you couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Actually,” He says, “Dinner sounds great.”
🏀
Even though the tension between you and Chenle is painfully obvious, he feels his heart become lighter as he watches how you interact with your little siblings. Laughing at their childish antics and playing along with them at the dinner table. Your parents engaged in conversation with each other across the table and Chenle sat next to you, smiling and nodding as your little sister animatedly explained to him why the rocks she found next to the trash can at recess just had to be magical. As he looks at the dynamic you have in your home, he realizes that this feels more like a home than his house ever has. All of you are sat at the table, the splash of colors brought by the miscellaneous decorations, the laughter and the love radiating from every corner makes Chenle want to stay there forever.
“Woah!” He acts, “Are you serious?”
The little girl nods proudly, “Mhm! And I’m going to give this one,” she points to a particular shiny one on the dining table, “to Y/N, so she can make her dream come true. But don’t tell her it’s a secret.”
He chuckles at her before whispering, “why do you think she’ll ask for?”
She giggles, leaning closer. She puts a hand over her mouth as she whispers. “Number 22.”
Chenle refrains from gasping, “Huh?”
“She talks about him but she never wants to tell me who he is.” She explains. “But I think if she had a rock to grant her wishes, she would wish for him.”
Chenle takes this moment to look over at you, studying your side profile as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, helping your little brother with his food.
That’s when it hits him. He realizes that this isn’t what he planned it to be, that the bet he set up with his friends had gone too far, and that if he himself had a magic rock for his use… he would wish for you too.
-
“Thank you so much for the food, it was delicious.” Chenle says, rubbing his full belly to emphasize. Your mother chuckles. “It was my pleasure, Chenle. You can come back anytime you want, you are always welcome here.”
“I definitely will, ma’am.” He says with a lopsided smile before shaking your father’s hand firmly. You can already tell by the way your father affectionately claps his hand on his shoulder and smiles at him that he too has taken a liking to the boy, like your mother.
“Y/N.” She says sternly, turning to you who currently battled to avoid Chenle’s eyes. You hum. “Be polite and walk Chenle to his car, please.”
You grimace subtly, not wanting to be the awkward air that would come with being alone with him. You want desperately to say no, but the gaze your mother gives you tells you that would mean trouble for you.
The basketball player notices your hesitation and looks down sadly at his sneakers, remaining that way as you lead him to the front door of your house. Its then that Chenle looks up to the view of the back of your head, his hand twitches in want to smoothen out the ahi at the back of your head for you.
You catch Chenle mid dilemma as you turn to face him, gesturing towards the open door. His eyes shift from you to the door. And to his car, he thinks about the ride home and how once he gets home it will just be him and he’ll be alone.
He doesn’t want to be alone. Strangely enough, he wants to be with you.
“Chenle?” He hears your soft voice. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him stand there, unmoving, with a look of confusion. He looks into your eyes and realizes you’re waiting for him to walk through the door first. He does so, head tilted down. You follow him out the door and close it behind you.
You trail behind him until he reaches his car, however, instead of getting in like you expected him to, he turns abruptly to you. His eyes are glossy and startled at the sight of them. “Do you-“ He pauses, hesitating. “Do you wanna go for a drive?”
“A drive?” You ask, watching him fiddle nervously with his keys.
“Yes.”
“Right now?” He nods firmly.
“I don’t- I don’t think my parents will let me go out this late.” You say, wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the winter wind. Before saying in a quieter voice, remembering the events that took place earlier that day, “And I thought you wanted to be alone.”
Chenle feels guilty upon hearing your words. Knowing you felt hurt by his words from earlier. He shakes his head, stepping closer to you. “No. I don’t. That’s the last thing I want right now.”
You see something in his eyes that you had never seen before. Exhaustion mixed with sadness and worry. The usually mischievous happy go lucky look nowhere to be seen amongst all the turmoil you found looking at him. You immediately grew more concerned. “Chenle…” you say, he looks away momentarily. “I’ll- let me ask my parents.”
-
Much like many times before, you’re sat in the passenger's side of his expensive car. The scene has become common, except the ambiance is different. Chenle doesn’t attempt to start conversation like he always does, instead, he just stares forward blankly. Occasional tears rolling down his pale cheeks which he wipes away as soon as they appear, you are itching to ask the boy what is going on in his pretty head but decide against it once you remember how that turned out earlier. So you keep silent as Chenle presses harder on the gas causing the streetlights of the empty highway to become a blur above you. It momentarily impressed you how fast his car could go, however, once you look over at the boy, you see his state. Chenle has strings of tears running down his face, snot dripping out of his nose and even his hair is sticking to his forehead due to his excessive sweating.
“Chenle, maybe we should pull over.”
He doesn’t seem to hear you, only pushing further down on the accelerator. Fear and concern enters your bloodstream as you watch him become a version of himself you’ve never seen, a version you didn’t even think existed. You reach over took him and rest your shaky hand on his arm. Upon feeling your touch, his head snaps to you and he hits the brakes abruptly causing your entire body to jolt forward. “Woah!”
Chenle’s chest heaves as he sees how scared he has made you. “I’m- I’m sorry.”
“Pull over, Chenle.” You say sternly, pulling your hand away and instead of doing what he wanted to do which was pulling your hand back to him, he does as you told him and park his car on the side of the road. The two of you sit in silence for what feels like forever, until you hear a sniffle come from Chenle’s side of the car. Looking over, you notice how he is hunched over the steering wheel, crying.
“Chenle?” You use the softest voice you could muster. “Chenle, what’s wrong?”
Your immediate response is silence. He takes in short choked breaths, it seems like every breath he takes causes him to fall into a state of agony.
“I think-” he said, voice quivering. “Y/N, I think I’m a bad person.”
The sentence confuses you. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I did something terrible to someone I care about.” He answers, you note that he is not able to meet your eyes. It scares you.
“What did you do?”
“I can’t-” He says breathlessly, his hand fumbling to open his car door. Stumbling out, watch as he makes his way around the car, leaning against the cement railing with his head in his hands.
You watch him in momentary shock before following him his actions and getting out of the car as well. You carefully approach him. “What is going on with you?”
Chenle sighs, pulling his hands away from his face. “I had a fight with my mother this morning, and everything was just piling up and I guess that was just the last straw.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just… everyone expects so much from me.” He breathes. “My parents, my friends, my teachers, everyone at that damn school!” The railing in front of him takes the blows of his frustration. “And I don’t think i’m as good as they think i am, i'm not worth it.” He looks over at you and you immediately straighten at the sight of his red face. “Like you, Y/N. You’re so good to me, so nice and sweet. I don’t deserve it. Especially from you.”
You don’t know what he means by that. Chenle knows you don’t know but he stays silent. You take this as your chance to speak. “I’m not only nice to you because I want to be. Because you’ve always been nice to me too, Chenle.” You dare to step closer, into his bubble. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, it would be impossible to meet everyone’s expectations so just be yourself… that’s enough for a lot of people.”
Chenle’s mouth speaks before he can stop it. “Is it enough for you?”
To forgive me? To still be the same after you realize what I’ve done.
There is a silence that follows that one sentence, Chenle avoids your gaze nervously, he doesn’t realize that your silence is the product of your racing mind. The mind that is currently trying to find the words to describe what is happening in your heart. You ultimately decided that the best way to go is the truth.
“You know… I kinda had a crush on you all throughout high school, which is kind of embarrassing but that’s not the point,” you start, “the point is that I had this perfect version of you in my head. Of what you would be like. And then when you came up to me that day… I didn’t know if I could talk to someone who wasn’t the Chenle I knew up here.” You take the liberty of poking a finger against your temple. “But I did anyway, and I realized you were nothing like the Chenle I saw in my head…”
Chenle chuckled sadly before commenting, “Ouch.”
“You were better than him.” Chenle’s gaze snaps towards you in shock, you look forward. Too afraid to meet his gaze. “Nicer, funnier, and way more handsome than I thought up close.” You chuckle, having made the comment to help him feel better. “So yeah. I would say you are enough. More than, even.”
“You really mean that?”
For the first time you make eye contact, you furrow your eyebrows to try and make your sincerity as apparent as possible. “I do.”
He knows you do and that mends his heart as much as it breaks it into tiny pieces. He wants nothing more than to pull you towards him and smash his lips onto your own, but he also knows that it will only worsen the situation that is yet to come. Still his hands reach before he can stop them and reach to cup either side of your face.
Your heartbeat is running at an unearthly speed, Chenle can hear it but knows his own is probably the same. Betraying his common sense, he leans into you until your lips are almost touching, the top brushing enough to have you wanting more. You think he’s going to kiss you and close your lips tightly. However, instead of his lips, you feel his hot breath when he utters the words: “I’m sorry.” Before removing his hands from your face and backing away.
You can’t say the action didn’t cause a hurtful blow to your feelings but you also knew Chenle was in a tough place right now. You smile at him. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
Chenle hates how you smile at him when he does things that hurt your feelings. He hates that you’re so considerate and nice to him despite what he is doing to you behind your back. He hates that you will find out one day and that you’ll hate him as much as he hates this. He hates that he doesn’t want to lose you, and that in the end he probably will.
-
Friday is a holiday, so you don’t see Chenle the day after he took you on a late night drive with him. (You wrote another letter that night). In fact, you don’t hear from him until your phone chimes Saturday morning, Chenle’s name above a text message.
22 [9:15am]: hey
22 [9:15am]: I hope you’re good :)
22 [9:15am]: I just wanted to let you know there’s a party at my house tonight
22 [9:16am]: if you want
22 [9:18am]: actually, I really want you there so…
22 [9:20am]: please come.
You read the texts over a few times, it dawns upon you that you've never seen Chenle’s house. Sure, you’ve heard from classmates who had gone to his huge parties that it was extravagant as can be, resembling a hotel lobby rather than a house. The thought of being in his home made your hands sweat. Still, you remember how anxious you were to see him, especially after the other night, and you find yourself typing a reply of confirmation before tossing your phone to the side and walking to your closet to find something to wear for tonight.
🏀
As soon as your parents drop you off in front of what was easily the biggest, brightest, classiest house you’ve ever seen in your entire life, you get the unnerving urge to go home.
The abundance of people did nothing to help the creeping anxiety, the stares of some that briefly trained on you before whispering something to their friends. You couldn’t help but feel out of place. That is, until you see a familiar face. Jisung walks up to you with his hand wrapped around his girlfriend’s. “Hi!” He calle brightly as the girl waved friendly.
“Hey guys!” You try to stabilize your voice. “How’s the party?”
“Honestly… it kinda turned sour once some lower class men came and started to get wasted.” Jisung chuckled out, his girlfriend nods in agreement as she grips his arm affectionately. You smile when he looks over at her and smiles. There’s a part of you that feels envious of the relationship the two have but most of your thoughts surround how happy you are for the two. “We’re probably leaving soon anyway.” Jisung adds on.
After getting over your monetary panic of having to be alone once again you nod your head, smiling at them. “Okay, I’m going to try to find Chenle.” They nod and bid their farewells, you sigh out loud as you walk through the crowd once again, searching for the blonde hair of the boy you so desperately need to calm right now.
“I heard that she is the one Chenle left Ava for?” You hear someone say.
“No way! Chenle wouldn’t stoop that low, plus I heard Ava broke up with him.”
“Either way, I don’t understand why he would be hanging with her anyway, he probably feels sorry for her. What a loser.”
It’s strange how you can hear their comments over the loud music that causes the walls to vibrate. You feel like vomiting as your insecurities take over and another sweaty presses against you. You push them away and run the rest of the way, not looking to find Chenle anymore just wanting to get out of here. You find what you hope is the bathroom and open the door, running inside and shoving the door closed, chest heaving.
“Y/N?” You hear from behind you, you turn around in shock and make eye contact with the red faced boy you spent your whole night looking for. “Chenle.”
It’s then that you realize that he’s not alone. Across from him is an equally red faced Ava, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down in a frown.
It dawns upon you that you might have just interrupted something.
You look between the two before averting your gaze back to the floor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Hands grabbing the door handle and turning it quickly in a desperate attempt to flee the room. Completely deaf to the , “Wait!” That leaves Chenle’s mouth as you leave the room.
Soon enough your back in the sea of sweaty drunks, trying to stabilize your voyage to the front door. To escape the stormy waters this night has caused your nerves.
And you almost make it, had it not been for the harsh shove you received that sent you tumbling onto the floor. Suddenly, the people around you become giants and their huge feet stomp around you, threatening to squash you under their sneakers as if you were an irrelevant bug.
Your shaky legs prevent you from standing up, and you only realize you’re crying when you feel a tear run down the side of your neck. No one seems to notice you’re there and you suddenly remember why being invisible sucks.
It feels like ages have passed when you feel hands gripping your arms and lifting you onto your feet. Chenle’s voice sounds distance even if he’s barely an inch away from you. “Are you okay?”
“I think-“ you say, shakily. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
Chenle takes your head and shoves it into his chest, making sure to keep a hand over your eyes as he leads you through the crowd. “It’s okay.” He whispers. “Everything is going to be okay.”
He repeats the sentences over and over until you two reach a quieter place and you hear the door of a shutting door and the music becomes muffled.
Chenle keeps a hand secured around your head as he holds you for a few more seconds before slowly letting you go.
“I need you to breathe with me, okay?” He says. Before you can think, you nod. “In through your nose.” He demonstrated, you follow. “Out through your mouth.”
You continue this until the beating of your heart has slowed down and you don’t feel like you're physically suffocating anymore. Instead, you feel tired. Chenle must have noticed because he ushers you to lay on the neatly made bed behind you, tucking you in before you had time to protest.
🏀
It takes a whole ten minutes for either of you to speak, you half expected Chenle to leave after throwing this blue blanket over you, instead, he sits at the edge of the mattress and picks at his nails. Kind of like he wants to say something.
“Thank you for helping me.” You speak first. “I don’t know what went wrong.”
Chenle sighs, “I’m sorry for not finding you, I just- I was-“
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.” You interrupt, remembering where he was when you finally found him. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, still you know it’s not your place to question him. “I should get going, anyway.” You rush to slip on your shoes only to be stopped by Chenle.
“No, it’s not what you thought it was.” He starts. You avert your gaze from him in fear of what he had to say. “Ava and I ran into each other earlier and she was just going off about how horrible I was in front of everyone. I think she was drunk, but she was causing a scene so I wanted to take her somewhere where it wouldn’t cause a commotion. I didn’t want to bring her in here so I just took her to the bathroom” He says, “We got into a bit of an argument, and that’s when you walked in.”
“It’s-“
“She told me she wanted to get back together.” He blurts out, like he was getting something off his chest.
“Oh.” Is your reply.
“Obviously I said no.” He says, almost expectedly. He doesn’t know that the knot that was tightening in your chest loosened a bit at his words. He watches you for a bit before speaking again. “What- what’s on your mind?”
The question catches you off guard. You don’t really know what’s on your mind, the messy twister of thoughts going too fast for you to be able to reach in and grab a coherent thought. Only one thing pops up and you go with it.
“Is this your room?”
Chenle is silent for a second before he says. “Uh, yeah? Yes, it is.”
You hum, laying on your back once again. It’s then that you notice the glow in the dark stars Chenle has stuck to the ceiling of his room, identical to the ones in your own. “You have stars on your ceiling.”
He chuckles embarrassingly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve lived here since I was a kid my grandad put them up there when I was young and I just never got around to taking them down.”
“I have the same ones on mine.”
“Really?” He asks. But he can’t help the shift his heart takes as he thinks of the two of you laying under the same glow in the dark stars every night.
Before he knew it, he was walking towards the light switch and flicking it off. The lights shine to their full potential over you. It eases you a bit, until you feel the bed dip next to you and you smell his close proximity to you, feeling the warmth coming his shoulder where it touches your own as you lay side by side.
The silence is comfortable this time.
“Do you ever have panic attacks?” You ask suddenly.
Chenle shakes his head but remembers you can see him, “No.” He whispers, as if someone would hear him. “But Jisung does sometimes, so I learned some techniques to be able to help him through it.”
You smile into the darkness. “That’s nice of you.” You lower your voice to his whispering tone.
Suddenly words are absent and the two of you just stare at the stars to the ceiling.
You know it’s weird, that after the other night, you are lying in Chenle’s bed beside him like nothing happened. Like you had always been there. You wondered whether you should be glad or scared that you feel that way.
Beside you, Chenle is having his own dilemma. On one part, he feels relieved that you’re safe now, that no one can hurt you now that you’re here with him. He feels comforted that you look so at home in his room, blending in so well it almost sends his head reeling. (Partially the reason he turned off the lights.) On another part, he feels so scared that he wants to think you blend in and that he wants to tell you everything in his head. That he wants to let you in, when he knows he shouldn’t. That he felt concern in his veins when he saw you in such a panicked state earlier, and all he wanted to do was tuck you into his chest and protect you forever.
Why did he want to protect you forever?
He turns on his side, you feel it. His breath fans on the side of your face. You turn to his darkness, staring to where you knew his face would be.
“Can I tell you something?” He says, it’s too late to take it back now, since you nod. “The other night when I ate dinner at your house…” he starts, “I was in such a bad place, And I never thanked you for putting up with me and having me over for dinner, it made me feel so much better, you know before everything blew up in the car.”
You furrow your eyebrows at his words. “That was actually my mom’s doing, but I will make sure to tell her you said so.”
Chenle shakes his head, kissing his teeth. “No, that’s not it. It was because you were there, Y/N.”
You hold your breath when he said that, not replying. Chenle takes his own in an attempt to calm his rapid heart. “Spending time with your family kinda made me feel like I was a part of something special.” He confesses. “Something you were a part of.”
An unsteady exhale tumbles from your lips, his statement doing a number on your heart. “What… what are you trying to say?”
This is it, Chenle. Tell her about the bet, confess what you did and fix everything before things get too serious and you break her heart. Tell her the truth!
‘The truth’ Chenle thinks. ‘Okay.’
“I like you, Y/N.” You don’t see that he is squeezing his eyes shut even if the room is pitch black.
“What?” You say in disbelief, even if the butterflies have already started erupting in your stomach.
“I like you.” He repeats. “So much.”
You stare in his direction in a state of shock and happiness. Meanwhile, Chenle beats himself up in his mind, taking your silence as a bad sign. “It's okay if you don’t want to be a thing or anything, I just thought, you know, since I like you and you like me… Liked? Is that past tense?”
Your head shakes and causes a ruffling noise against his pillow. “No, it’s very much present tense.”
The warmth pressed against your shoulder disappears. And you hear Chenle’s footsteps throughout the room, suddenly the world turns bright and Chenle walks back to the bed. Now with the light on, he can see the blush on your cheeks and the small smile you wear. He smiles back at you, but he feels bad. So, so bad.
So bad that leans down to lay over you, kissing your breath away.
It's only after the momentary surprise that you begin to kiss him back.
His lips are rougher than you thought they would be, but still held some pillow like softness you expected. His hands hold your cheeks as he dips down further to bring his lips closer to yours.
Now you totally understood why everyone was so crazy about kissing. It’s the best thing ever, and you never want it to end. However, breathing becomes an issue when you kiss someone, you learned. Chenle is the first to pull away, keeping his face a barely centimeters from your own, your breaths meet in the middle.
When you finally open your eyes, you are met with Chenle’s worried ones already watching you. You immediately frown.
“What’s wrong?” You ask. Are you a bad kisser? Does your breath smell? Does he regret it? His response is unlike those, shocking you when the words leave his mouth.
“I don’t want to break your heart, Y/N.” He looks away from you. His body is still positioned above you, the position being one that makes it hard to avoid your eyes (and one that is even suggestive). Still he tries his best, that is, until he feels your soft hands cradling his cheeks just as he has been doing to your own just a few minutes ago.
“Chenle, look at me.” You say, though your voice is wavering. He obliges. “Why are you worried about that?”
“I just-” You can tell he would look away if you weren’t holding his head in place, he can’t hide his eyes now. “I’m just afraid I'll do something to hurt you and that you’ll hate me.” He says, which isn’t the whole truth but is also not a lie.
“Why would I hate you? I could never.” Chenle wants to scoff sadly when you say that but you cut him off. “I’ll promise to not break your heart if you promise to not break mine.” You extend your pinky in between your faces.
Chenle winces internally, feeling like he already broke your heart. And he is more scared now that it’s real. That you like each other and this probably makes you guys a thing, that he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings like he knows he will. But he also thinks about the fact that he has never felt this way with anyone else, that you were the first girl he ever felt comfortable enough with to let in his room, that you have glow in the dark stars like him and that it kind of feels like you’re split-aparts that have finally found each other. The longer he could keep you by his side, the better.
That’s when he decides to let himself live in this world, at least while he can. He wraps his pinky around yours and lets your thumbs touch, sealing the deal.
He doesn’t have time to regret his decision because you lean up and catch his lips before he can think of anything but you.
🏀
Two weeks later, and most of your days have been spent much like this one. Chenle’s arms wrap protectively around your middle as you read the messages on your phone. One being a reminder from the president of the student council about the special dress code for Valentine’s Day.
You turn in Chenle’s hold and meet his sleepy eyes, he smiles. “Did you see what the student council is doing?”
“Mm?” He replies, you turn your phone to him. “A dress code?”
“Yep, white for single, pink for complicated, and red for taken.” You say, bringing attention back to you phone. “I’m glad I look good in pink.”
The statement confuses Chenle. “What do you mean pink? What is complicated?”
You startle at the awareness and worry on his voice compared to the sleepy mumbles you were getting just moments ago. “Well… I mean, you never asked me to be your girlfriend.”
Chenle freezes. You were right, he never did because part of the bet was to have a girlfriend by Valentines, it made him feel as though he wasn’t a complete asshole if he hadn’t completed the bet. “You’re right.”
You watch him expectedly, but receive no response. Holding back a sigh, you bring your attention back down to your phone.
“Are you upset with me?” His soft voice meets your ears.
You shake your head. “Of course not, why would I be?”
“It’s not fair to you that I keep you waiting.” None of what I’ve done to you is fair, he thinks.
You reach up and stroke the hair that frames his face, smiling softly. “I’ll wait until you’re ready, Chenle. You know that.”
It scares him how soft you are, how warm and safe he feels when he’s with you. That’s when he decides, it’s best if he waits out this week and lets himself live like this longer, even if it’s for a bit.
“Kiss me.” He whispers. And you do. Pushing your chest flush against his, making sure every part of your body touches his own; remaining like that until you are sure you have blisters lining your lips from how much you’ve kissed him.
The two of you end up hotly panting, you straddled over his lying figure. Chenle looks up at you from where he is before sitting up, suddenly, you feel the warmth of his hands tug at the edge of your shirt. His eyes ask for permission, which you reply to with a nod.
You’re nervous. Very much so. You wonder if this will be the first time you have sex or if anything else will happen.
Chenle lifts your shirt off your head and places it next to your body. “Is this okay?” He asks, his big innocent eyes looking up at you.
“Yes.” Is the only answer you can formulate.
The boy maintains eye contact with you as he says the following words. “Do you want to take off mine?”
Your face flushed red, you can feel it. “I-if that’s okay with you.” His answer is in the form of his hands leading your own to the hem of his shirt, before letting go and putting his arms up. Your hands are shaking as you grab the clothing, slowly pulling it up, exposing his pale abdomen inch by beautiful inch.
You smile at him as his head finally reappears from the whole in his shirt. “Hi.” You say, he smiles.
What he does next is something you didn’t expect from the lead up of events, unlike anything you’ve seen in erotic movie or read about in novels.
He wraps his arms around your waist and pushes you down to lay next to him, he then pulls you towards him so that your the heat of your torso melts into his own. He shuffles until he is as close to you as he can get, only then is when stops moving. Resting his cheek against your own, you feel his breath on your ear.
“I just want to be close to you, to hold you.”
Just like that your heart is full to the brim once again.
-
It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and Chenle is restless. He had decided tomorrow would be the day he would tell you everything. He would come clean and the two of you would start over (right?). He had practiced what he was going to say for hours earlier that night, wanting to have the perfect words so that his message got across to you. Still, even with all that practice, he knows there’s no guarantee that you won’t hate him. That you will swear him off and never speak to him again, when he has become so fond of you. The thought makes his hands ache and toes curl in an angsty feeling.
After tossing and turning for nearly two hours, he finally gives up on sleeping and opts for looking at the stars stuck to his ceiling. He wonders if you’re awake right now. If you’re thinking about him while looking at your stars. He imagines your messy hair and pajamas and smiles softly to himself. “I miss her.” He says out loud, to the darkness of his room.
Suddenly, everything happens in a flash as he throws his covers off himself and marches to the closet, pulling out his favorite red hoodie, grabbing the Valentine’s Day gift he had gotten you days ago then he’s in his car. Desperate to get where you are.
-
It’s nearly 1am when you hear the knocking on your window. You had just begun to fall asleep when the noise startled you awake.
Upon inspecting your window cautiously, you gasp when you see Chenle’s blonde hair. The window opens with a click. “Chenle! What are you doing here?”
What is he doing here? “I just wanted to see you.”
His words flutter your heart. “But it’s 1am, on a school night.”
“I know that, I just…” he scratches the back of his neck because in reality he doesn’t know why the hell he even came here in the first place. “I had to give you something.”
He extends the bag in his hand out to you. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
The bag contains two items, the first being the red hoodie you had seen Chenle wear many times before. His smell reeked off of it, causing you to nearly die of delight. “Wear this tomorrow.” He says. “Cause you’re mine.”
You don’t know that his heart hurts for you, he pities you for being the one who causes him to lose all self control and make decisions that will hurt you in the long run. He feels so sorry that he couldn’t wait until tomorrow, that he just wanted you today, now. Before you get the chance to hate him. To run away. He wanted you to be his.
You say nothing to him, only smiling bashfully as your cheeks matched the color of his clothing item. You look into the bag and see a black box that would be the second item. “What’s this?” You say to yourself, smiling up at Chenle. You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with a pretty pink diamond hanging off the end. You gasp.
“Chenle, I can't accept that.” You say, closing it. You knew the necklace probably cost more than your house, you felt guilty taking it.
“Please accept it. I bought it for you. I want to see it on you every day.” He seizes the opportunity to reassure himself. “And yes. It cost a lot, so that means we have to continue seeing each other, hm?”
“Chenle…” you say.
“Please.” He says in a way that makes you wonder if this is only about the necklace.
“Okay.”
You pivot and allow him to clip the chain, you turn to him and catch his reaction to the jewelry resting against your upper chest. “How do I look?”
Chenle’s eyes study the necklace before looking into your own. He smiles somewhat sadly as his arm reaches up to stroke your own. “You look beautiful.” He whispers. “Just like I knew you would.”
You can’t put your finger on it, but something about his demeanor is unsettling. “Chenle, is something wrong?” You ask, to which he shakes his head weakly, but the sad look on his face tells you otherwise. You figure it had something to do with his family and refrain from asking. Instead you cup his cheek to provide him comfort, he leans into your touch and shits his eyes momentarily. “I love it. Thank you.” You say in a quiet voice. Chenle watches your features move into a soft smile before impulsively leaning forward to peck your lips.
“I’m so happy.” To be with you, to be yours. “Let's be happy together for a long time, okay?”
You don’t say no.
-
The next morning you arrive before every other student to school. Chenle’s red sweater rests on your figure as you reach your locker and take out what had been heavy in your mind since last night. The letters. You were going to give them to Chenle and ask him to be your boyfriend. Sure, you were nervous to do so, but you knew Chenle was someone you wanted to have in your life for a long time. That's why you slip the envelopes decorated with his name one by one into the vent of his locker.
You remember thinking this would be the beginning of something great.
You were wrong.
🏀
There’s a pep in your step as you make your way through the halls after school clad in Chenle’s red hoodie, heart eyes searching for the boy.
And for the first time in probably ever, you wished you wouldn’t have found him. You wished you didn’t have to see Chenle pressed up against his locker with his hands resting on Ava’s hips as she kisses him roughly.
“Oh my god.” You say, voice small but enough to catch Chenle’s ear. The boy immediately pushes Ava away from him and turns to the sound of your voice with pleading eyes.
“Y/N-“
“Look who showed up!” Ava interrupts, turning fully towards you. “I was wondering when you were going to come looking for him like you always do, I bet you’re glad it’s over, right Chenle?”
The way the boy looks away from your eyes to shift his guilty gaze to the floor makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Chenle what is she talking about?”
When the boy remains silent, Ava’s high pitched voice answers for him. “Well, since he doesn’t seem very talkative right now, I’ll just tell you myself.” She clears her throat, as if setting the scene, your hands are starting to ache. “A month ago, our darling Chenle made a bet with his friends after our break up, you know as boys do, they said he couldn’t get another girlfriend before Valentine’s Day. Obviously, Chenle’s competitive self took that as a challenge and it’s obvious that you had been in love with him for like ever so you were the easiest target.”
The way the world stops spinning isn’t like it’s described in all the romance novels you read, it’s not the good kind that makes you feel like you're floating that nothing could stop you, it’s the kind that weighs you down and makes you feel dizzy, causing you to stumble. This is what you feel when you ask: “Chenle… is this true?” And the boy just stares at you, for a second before looking away once again.
“Of course, it’s true. He was even showing me the pathetic love letters you wrote to him.” She motions to the stack of letters in Chenle’s hands. You gasp, feeling like every last bit of you was torn apart. The thought of them reading the deepest tellings of your heart and laughing at it, all when you wholeheartedly believed that the boy you spoke about in the letters was finally all yours.
When he wasn’t. He was never yours. But he wanted you to think that.
“Oh my god,” you run to him and attempt to rip the letters out of his hands only for him to hold on tighter. “Let go, Chenle.”
“Y/N, please-“
You can’t help the sob that creeps up your throat as your attempt weakly to shake your heart out of his hands. “Please, let go.”
Chenle watches you cry before him and feels like that the act of ripping his actual heart out of his chest would hurt less than this.
You take this moment of weakness and rip the letters out of his grasp, before running down the hall.
-
It’s only when you feel a hand grasp your shoulder and spin you around that you realize that Chenle has followed you all the way out to the parking lot.
Seeing him caused every bone in your body to ache, and the contractions in your heart were hard to ignore. “Wait, okay? I need to explain somethings to you.”
“I don’t want to hear your explanations! I just want to go home.” You realize that you probably sound like a bratty child but you couldn’t care less.
Chenle nods, “Okay, then let’s go.”
“Not with you.”
Chenle can't help the dagger that the sentence shoots into his heart. “Then I’ll say what I need to say right here!” He exclaims, trying to mask his pain with anger. “It’s true that I made a bet with my friends to date you the day I first drove you home, and it’s really shitty of me, I know. But I had just broken up with Ava and everything was so messy and I just wanted to make her feel bad so I said yes. “ He pauses, “I said yes and so I went to you since I knew you liked me-“
“Jesus,” you wince, embarrassment creeping up your throat and clogging it up. Your eyes water as you think of how truly fucked up the situation is.
That day, one month ago, you were right to question Chenle’s intentions. No, he didn’t admire you or see you the way you saw him, you were just easy bait. And everything has been a lie. “I can’t- I can’t do this.”
Chenle tries to stop the tears of guilt that threatened to leak from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“No you’re not.” Your bitter words are a shock to Chenle, he had never heard you use that tone with him (or with anyone) before. “You’re not fucking sorry.” Tears of humiliation and frustration run down your face and Chenle wants desperately to cradle your cheeks in his hands, but thinks he might never be able to after this. “It might not have been a big deal to you Chenle, but you were my first kiss, you were the first guy who ever took me on dates and drove me around in his car, you. And I thought you were the first boy who ever liked me.” The smell of him you once loved reeks of the hoodie covering your body, however, instead of feeling welcomed and happy you feel like it’s creeping up the sides of your neck and suffocating you to no end. You groan as you grab the hem of the article and rip it off your body, leaving you in a flimsy t-shirt to combat the winter cold.
Chenle sighs, “I know you’re mad at me but you’re going to get sick if you walk home like that. It’s cold.”
You scoff in response, “Lucky for you then, because you don’t need to worry about me anymore.” In a quieter voice you say. “I was probably just a burden to you this whole time.”
The boy immediately opposes the statement, “You were never a burden, I liked hanging out with you. I care about you.”
“Only because it helped you win that stupid bet, and to make your ex jealous!” You exclaim, finally looking into his sorry eyes. He looks tired, you almost falter in your stance before putting up the wall separating you two that had always been there before the day he drove you home.
You wished he had never approached you, because the Chenle in your dreams would never do this to you.
It’s in that moment that you feel the weight of the dove on your neck, your finger move to unhinge it as you place it on top of the hoodie resting against his chest. You watch his jaw tense as he looks at you. You make eye contact one last time with the blonde haired boy in front of you, Before sadly turning away.
“Y/n please,” it’s the weakest you’ve ever heard his usually booming voice. “Don’t leave me like this. What about our promise, huh? You’re breaking my heart right now.” Chenle knows the attempt to get you to stay is pathetic and desperate but he’s at a loss of what to do.
Angrily, you spit. “You broke my heart the moment you approached me that day so I guess that promise was made to be broken wasn’t it?”
Chenle watches you walk away with your arms wrapped tightly around your shaking body. He sees as you walk past a trash can and dump all your letters into it, wiping your tears and starting your journey to the bus stop.
And he would never share this with you, walks up the trash can with tears in his eyes and reaches into the garbage, picking out every letter in there. He figures it’s the only piece of your heart he can manage to save for himself. It’s proof that the hate you now hold in your heart for him was once love.
Even if he ruined everything.
-
You never knew they called it heartbreak because your chest physically hurts this much. At times you feel like throwing up, at others you want to throw all your belongings across your room. The pain was almost unbearable at the beginning, embarrassing and hot flashes of anger running through you constantly as you think back to that moment.
You don’t go to school that Monday, telling your mom you were feeling sick. Which isn’t entirely a lie, especially when you see Chenle’s car pull up outside your house that morning. You feel like throwing up again. You’re angry at him. So so angry that he thinks things will be the same after what he did. That he thinks he can pull up at your house and drive you around after completely breaking your heart.
You pull the blinds down as your mom comes through your door. “Honey, Chenle is here.”
“Tell him to leave.” You seeth, tears running down your face. You wipe them away frustratedly. “Tell him to never come back here, Mom.”
Your mother watches with sad, sympathetic eyes. Before nodding solemnly and closing the door on her way out.
Due to a strange urge, you peek through the blinds and wait to see him walk out your driveway. He does, dragging his feet. Much to your dismay, he stops suddenly and turns to face your window. You immediately step away in the darkness of your room, away from the light and Chenle’s eyes.
-
Three weeks pass, things at school remain the same for the most part. You hang out with Donghyuck like you used to. You try your best to not look over at the athletes table even when you feel Chenle’s eyes on you. However, somethings do change, you no longer spend your class time daydreaming about a certain blonde boy, or writing love letters on the back pages of your notebook about how pretty his eyes look when they catch the light. Instead, you stare out the window of your classrooms, wanting nothing more than to be in your room away from everyone once again. You sigh and look away from the window momentarily before looking up again. You startle as you see Chenle on the other side of the glass. Watching you with eyes that looked like they had a lot to say. You shudder when you take in the bag under his eyes and exhaustion written all over his face. You want to believe it’s because of you, you hope it is. You hope he can’t sleep at night thinking of you. Nevertheless, you remember what happened on Valentine’s Day and realize you were probably too insignificant to him to have caused him to be this way.
He softly smiles at you, bringing his hesitant hands up to wave at you, only for you to avert your eyes away from him and to the teacher at the front of the room.
Chenle looks down dejectedly before continuing his walk, meanwhile you sit at your desk, wanting to escape more than ever.
-
Three days later, your mother informs you that you have a visitor. “Tell him I don’t want to see him.”
“It’s not Chenle.” She says before confusedly adding: “He said his name is Jisung.”
Jisung? What the hell is he doing here? “I’ll be down in a minute.”
When you finally get down stairs Jisung smiles awkwardly at you before gesturing towards the door. “Do you like milkshakes?”
-
“What is this about?”
The words that say heavy on your tongue the whole car ride here finally leave you as you sit across Jisung at Billy’s. He sips his milkshake before clearing his throat to speak. “How have you been?”
You’ve been really shitty. “I’ve been fine, I guess.”
Jisung hums, rubbing his hand together before sighing. “I guess we should just get straight to the point, then.” He pauses, “Have you spoken to Chenle recently?”
While you figured this meeting had something with Chenle, you still sit up straighter when you hear his name. You clear your throat as if this is a kind of declaration. “No. I haven’t spoken to him since Valentine’s day.” You don’t want to ask about him, so you try the next best thing. “Why- why do you ask?”
“I haven’t seen him since last week.” Jisung says, something in your stomach doesn’t sit right. “He’s been missing practice, which he never did, and he’s not answering any of my messages or calls. And the pre-final game is tomorrow and no one has heard from him.”
His words are bazar. Basketball is unarguably the most important thing in Chenle’s life, why would he risk this chance of winning the championship like this? “He hasn’t spoken to me either, sorry.” You say, but your mind is fogged with worry as to where the boy could be. Jisung remains silent for some time before he clicks his tongue.
“I know what happened between you two.” You avoid his gaze and feel blood rush to your cheeks. “And I think you’re right for not talking to him after that.”
How could he say that about his best friend? Still, you nod. “But I think you only know a part of what’s really going on here.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, yeah. The whole thing started as a bet, but after a few weeks Chenle told me that something changed. He said he didn’t want to do the bet anymore, that he felt guilty for using you like that because he ended up really really liking you Y/N and I’m not just saying this because he is my best friend or anything but I think when the time is right, you should give him a chance.”
You finally look up at him and realize upon feeling a tear trail down your face that you were crying. You wipe it away quickly and sigh. “I don’t know, Jisung. He really hurt me, I was so embarrassed I felt like I could die.”
“Sometimes we make stupid decisions.” The ‘we’ reminds you of the story of Jisung and his girlfriend’s love story that Chenle animatedly told you about one night you stayed at his house. You remember wondering how someone as sweet as Jisung could do any of those things, and how his girlfriend could forgive him for any of it.However, you knew the love they had for each other in their hearts was more than the anger due to his actions. You wonder if the attachment you have for Chenle would ever be enough.
Jisung reads your mind. “I think he loves you.”
Your eyes become wide as planets before you scoff in disbelief. “Don’t say that.” You say, weak hearted.
“He does! While you two were still a thing he wouldn’t stop talking about how cute you were, how good you are at basketball and how you have the same glow in the dark stars on your ceiling that he does.”
What? You didn’t think cared enough to talk about you or to remember those details. “He told you that?”
Jisung nods, “And a lot of other things, but I don’t think we’ll have the time.”
“He… he never told me he loved me.” You thought Chenle had just come into your life as a lesson to always be on your guard, to never let anyone in and protect yourself above others. But now… you wonder if you meant more to Chenle than you thought.
“Take it from me,” Jisung says, “sometimes those 8 letters can be the hardest to say.”
🏀
Once you’ve parted ways with Jisung, (who offered to drive you home to which you politely declined to, telling him the walk home would give you time to think) you make your way home on your dirty sneakers and think about what Jisung said.
It’s hard to believe that Chenle would actually say those things about you, while knowing he was playing you. You wondered if it really did change for him like Jisung said, and if he really felt sorry like he was telling you that day in the parking lot.
You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realize the familiar car parked in front of your house until you hear the voice your heart has been longing to hear for weeks now. “Is Y/N home?”
You bolt to the nearest bush and duck behind it, close enough to hear their words but far enough that Chenle and your conflicted mother are unaware of your presence. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie she went out a few hours ago.”
“Oh.” You flinch when you hear the disappointment in his voice. “Can you tell her I stopped by?” And that I miss her, he wants to say but you don’t know that. “And please give this to her too if it’s not too much trouble.” You hear shuffling as Chenle hands whatever it is he wanted to give you to your mom.
“I will, sweetie.” Your mom says. “And Chenle?” There's a pause in which he hums. “Get some sleep, honey.”
You can imagine that Chenle throws her his signature polite smile, “I will try, Ma’am.”
It’s not longer after that you hear his sneakers against the steps of your porch and see him get into his car. You have a perfect view of him from where you are. Watching as he frustratedly runs his hands through his hair and throws his head back against the seat. You don’t know why you feel sorry for him. You know you should be angry but after what Jisung told you, you need to stop yourself from going to him.
-
You contemplate if even looking inside the bag is a decision.
It sits in front of you neatly on your bed where you had placed it after your mother handed it to you with a worried: “He looks so tired, Y/N.” Which caused hurt to arise in your heart.
The bag is a bright red one, the type that usually is full of candies and sweets, maybe flowers. You want to know what is inside manically, but you're afraid about what this would mean for your relationship (if you could even call it that) with Chenle. Is this his final goodbye or is this him trying to get you back?
You had to know.
Upon opening it, you are shocked to see a pale yellow envelope with your name written in Chenle’s messy handwriting on top. You grab it with shaky hands, the texture is different somehow, because for the first time ever, this letter was meant for you.
Inside, there is a loose leaf paper much like the ones you had sent to him neatly folded. Your heart beats in your ear as you finally see the first words, you breathe in deeply and read away.
“Y/N,
I thought for a long time about what I would say to you in this letter, I’ve been sitting on it for three weeks trying to find the right things to say that would convince you to forgive me before I realized that they all sounded tacky and cliche when I read them back. So, i’ve decided to just go with the truth. It’s true that at first I wasn't honest with you, that I only approached you to complete a dare my friends had given me that day and I won’t make any excuses because I was such a huge asshole to you. I was just so hurt that day because of Ava and I wanted to make her feel like shit so bad, I wanted to hurt her like she had hurt me and I used you to do so, Y/N. But after I approached you and started spending time with you,I started thinking back to all the times I would look at you when the sun came in through the window in the English classroom before I had even spoken a word to you. I bet you didn’t know I did that, did you?”
You didn’t, the you at that time would’ve freaked out if she knew though.
“I remember thinking you were so pretty, that you were untouchable to me so i just never tried. But something changed when i got to know you, i realized that you were the coolest person i’ve ever met, that you were real and that you were there with me whenever i needed someone. No one has ever made me feel so safe and comforted. I became selfish with you because I never wanted it to end. I didn’t want to tell you because i was scared you would hate me do you hate me? The night before valentines i went to your house because i planned on telling you everything the next day, i wanted to see your happy eyes just once more just in case i ruined everything. On Valentine’s day, when i got to school and read your letters. You wouldn’t believe how happy I was to read all the wonderful things you said about me. I was so happy that you held me as close to your heart as I held you to my own. I was going to tell you everything after that, i was going to confess and tell you that i couldn’t go another day with this secret. I was going to tell you how i felt but Ava stopped me, she told me she knew about the bet and then she kissed me and that's when you showed up. I’m so sorry you had to see that, I’m so that i used you like that. I’m sorry that I took advantage of you but I want you to know that I meant everything I told you, I loved spending time with you, and being with your family made me feel so special. I remember thinking we were split aparts and i know that sounds stupid but i really want you to know that i meant it. And every kiss we shared and every time I held you I felt it and I really really really mean it when i say that i loved you. I loved you so much that I didn't ever want to lose you.”
The past tense makes your chest tighten.
“I won’t tell you to forgive me, but your spot on the bleachers looks so empty without you. The pre finals are tomorrow and i would love it if you came, to cheer me on like you used to. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to but I wanted to give you something that would portray how serious I am about this. That if you are willing to come cheer me on with a part of me with you.”
This when you reach into the bag and pull out the item that once laid underneath your letter. The 22 of Chenle’s basketball jersey stares back at you, you gasp as you hold the fabric in your fingers. You had watched him run around the court with this very jersey plenty times before, you knew how much being number 22 meant to him. You were grateful he would trust you so important to him, you really wanted to grab his face and tell him that. Instead, you finish reading the letter.
“You make me feel brave. And I will forever be sorry for what I did to you, but I mean it when I say I loved you I still love you.
Please come. - Zhong Chenle.”
He loves you! Present tense. You could almost jump from joy. You want to see him, tell him you love him too. A million times if you can. You want to say that you forgive him for everything, that you have felt incomplete without him these past few weeks and the Chenle you made up in your mind was too perfect anyway.
-
Chenle sighs for the upteenth time the next afternoon as he stretches along with his teammates. He tries his best to take his mind off of you for the time being, at least until after the game is over, he needed to focus but he found it very hard when he began to wonder what was going through your head when you read his letter, and if you were coming today.
He startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Hopeful, he turns. His hopefulness fades away when he sees Jisung standing before him.
“Damn don’t look too sad to see me.” He jokes. Chenle shakes his head
“It’s not that…” Chenle explains, biting his lip nervously and subconsciously looks toward the bleakers where your empty seat was. Jisung gets the hint.
“Chenle,” he says. “It's okay, she’ll come.”
Chenle wants to ask him how he is so sure, that if he were you, he would hate himself too. Instead, he nods at him and readjusts the waistband of his shorts on his hips as the coach calls for the team to step out onto the court.
People immediately start cheering for the players as they come into the view, girls go crazy in the stands and the members’ friends and families cheere enthusiastically from the side lines. The players smile and wave at their ‘fans’ doing a lap around the court to warm up and high five audience members.
Chenle can only bring himself to smile half heartedly and wave weakly due to the fact that your spot on the bleachers still remains empty.
He sighs out again, puffing his cheeks as the referee finally calls for the first round. That’s when his adrenaline starts pumping and he feels a bit better.
The game goes on.
-
Chenle’s jersey is only a bit big on you, almost fitting like something that would be your size, still, you try to pull it down over your hips in a nervous habit. You finally made it to the game, having fun late due to traffic. The spot you usually sit in is occupied by a woman holding a baby, so you decide to stay and watch from the sidelines, standing.
The first time you see him, he is running across the court so fast he becomes a blur. You only know it’s him because of the head of blonde hair you see in the blurry image. He looks breathtaking as always, his hair being pushed away from his face by a sweat band being an addition to his look you wouldn’t mind seeing again.
His sneakers squeak against the floor as he gets in position to shoot. You cross your fingers, but something is off. His eyebrows are furrowed in something that doesn’t look like concentration, but more like worry. His legs give him the impulse to jump up and soon enough his arms are shooting the ball towards the basket. You watch in disappointment as it hits against the rim and bounces back at him, he catches it with a frustrated click of his teeth.
The audience has already begun whispering, having never seen the star player miss a shot.
One of his teammates comes up to give him a fist bump of comfort, Chenle accepts it but still holds a troubled look on his face. The thought crosses your mind that it might be because of you, it troubles the organ in your chest as much as it warms it. You notice he keeps glancing at a certain part of the bleachers, this is when you know he meant everything and that he surely is waiting for you.
“Chenle!” You yell, trying to get his attention.
The boy doesn’t look your way, your voice getting lost in constant shouts and chatter from the people in the crowd. You try again, louder this time. Nothing.
You groan frustratedly, the boy continues the game the best he can, but he’s out of it. You hate to see him like this, a deep hurt in your chest rising up. You cheer for him as loud as you can, deciding it would be better to wait until after the game to see him.
As the game is coming to an end, Chenle appears to grow more and more tired and absent. Nevertheless, his team scores the winning point and the audience goes wild, including you. Chenle smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
You can’t wait to hold him and tell him you forgive him for everything and that everything is going to be okay, and be with him for real this time. To have him be yours and be best friends against, go on nightly drives and have impromptu dance parties, to lay on his bed and count the plastic stars on his ceiling, to kiss him and be close to him.
And for it to be real.
🏀
Chenle can’t help but feel dejected when your seat was never taken by you. He should’ve known this would happen, that is true but there was a fraction of him that thought you would read his letter and realize how sincere he was, he thought there was a part of you that knew it had been real and there was no way everything he said could've been made up. But he was wrong, and now as he packs his gym bag to go home, he faces the consequences of his high hopes.
He’s mad, practically throwing his belongings in his bag, he almost throws his phone in the trash can next to him when he hears the ringtone go off. Chenle answers it with an irritated, “What?”
“Hey.” He recognizes your voice that same instant, still he pulls his phone back and makes sure its your caller ID before speaking again.
“Y/N? Oh my god, hi!” He clears his throat before repeating himself. “I mean, hi, hey.”
You hold back a laugh, noting his nervousness. “I’m sorry for calling so suddenly.” You decide to tease him, although, unbeknownst to him, you wear standing about 20 feet behind him after finally finding him in the now that the crowd of people has dispersed after the game.
“No, don’t worry about it. I was actually…” Chenle flicks the zipper of his bag with his nervous fingers, “I was waiting to hear from you.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah, I wanted a chance to talk things out with you and uhh… i'm sorry if me asking you to come out to the game was too much or if it made you uncomfortable I didn’t-“
“Chenle.” Your voice cuts his rant short. You internally marvel at the fact that you aren’t the one caught in a nervous ramble for once. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable. I’m here.”
“You’re here?” Someone clicks in his mind as he frantically looks around him in an effort to find you. When he does, his eyes turn soft and a smile takes over his face. “You came.”
You nod at him, feeling a bit overwhelmed when you finally make eye contact with him. There are people between you too, Chenle begins to close it as he walks forward. “I did. I just wanted to tell you that I missed you.”
“I missed you more, I swear on it.” He replies.
Your eyes burn, you wipe them and lighten the mood. “And that Curry would be sad to see you so out of it at a game.” You click your teeth jokingly. “What do you think he would say if he saw you like that cause of a girl?”
He laughs, “I think he would understand, after I tell him how amazing you are.”
You blush. “I also wanted to tell you that your jersey smells like you, and I like it.” This makes him beam, speeding up his footsteps that carry him to you.
“Is that it?” He asks, jokingly.
“And that I love you, Zhong Chenle. Not the Zhong Chenle that I had a crush on for 3 years and not Number 22 but you. The rawest versions of you. I love all of it and that i forgive you for everything.” He slows his pace in shock, his chest heaving.
“You mean that?” His voice is wavering and you can see the flush on his cheeks from how close he has gotten. Suddenly, he is taking big steps until he is directly in front of you. He puts his phone down and his pretty eyes look directly into your own.
Chenle’s face is hopeful, happy and lovestruck. He whispers: “You love me?”
You can only nod, overwhelmed. Chenle smiles wide, you can almost see his molars and his eyes disappear. “Say it.” He says, in a wondrous tone.
“I love you, Zhong Chenle.”
“Oh my god, yes!”
And he’s kissing you, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against his, his finger grip at the jersey on your body and he moves his lips against yours. Every memory that you have ever shared, every kiss, every touch, and every laughing fit come to your mind. It’s all you can think about as you think about this boy. You don’t think about the bad part, because that doesn’t matter anymore now that Chenle is yours and you are never letting go.
-
4 months later; Graduation
“Chenle! Come on!” Jisung yells as he sees the boys floppy newly dyed orange hair amongst the crowd of people.
You were all posed for a picture, blue cap and gowns adorning your bodies and your parents huddle you together for a picture. “I’m coming!”
Your boyfriend appears from the crowd with his cap in his hand along with a giant bouquet of flowers. He walks directly to you, extending it with a smile. “For you.”
Your friends start squealing, playful hitting you and Chenle and your parents smirk at each other at the portrayal of young love before them. You cover your face with your hands to hide your blush. Chenle laughs and hugs you to his side.
“Y/N! Chenle! Pose for the picture!”
The two of you run to where your other friends are posing, haphazardly getting into the frame and posing crazily.
The air is full of laughter and youth as the sun begins to set on your time in high school. For a moment, you’re too busy basking in the presence of the relationships you have developed while in there that you forget you won’t be seeing these people every day like you had been for so many years. Or that your lives might take completely different courses and things won’t be the same after this. Instead you allow yourself to enjoy this moment.
🏀
You do think about it when you are on your way home though, in the passenger’s seat of Chenle’s car. His hand holds yours over the gear and he smiles to himself while humming along to the songs on the radio, unaware of the internal conflict going on in your head.
It wasn’t until he parks outside your house that he realizes that something is wrong.
“What is going to happen to us now?” Is your reply to his questioning. Chenle’s eyebrows furrow.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean-“ you collect your thoughts, “high school is over, and we’re going to go to college and we will be so busy and what if-“
“Whatever you think will happen, won’t happen.”
You look at him, offended that he could dismiss your worries so easily. “You don’t un-“
“I do understand. You’re worried that now that we won’t see each other every day that we’re going to drift apart, right? And that we won’t be together, am I right?”
You nod silently.
“Y/N, how many times am I going to tell you that I’m crazy in love with you? I won’t let you slip out of my hands, baby. Not again.” Chenle says firmly, sincerely. His eyes widen so you can see right through him and know he is telling the truth.
His pale hands come up to cup the sides of your face, making you face him. Your tear filled eyes meet his own. He brushes away your tear that rolls down your cheek. “I’m sorry, I was just overthinking.” You say.
“Don’t be sorry.” Chenle shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss your cheek lovingly, letting it linger for a few seconds before pulling back. Smiling upon seeing your smiling face.
It happens in a flash, now that the moment was right. Chenle gasps, starling you. “What?! What’s wrong?!”
“I love this song!” And he’s turning it up all the way on the car radio, rolling down the windows and stepping out. “Come on, Y/N!”
You don’t let him see the pure happiness on your face that you wanted to mask with annoyance. Chenle dances on the sidewalk crazily and you laugh in the passenger’s seat. You decide it was best to not let your boyfriend embarrass himself alone, wiping the excess of your tears and step out of the car. “M’lady has arrived to the dance party!” He exclaims.
And as you start dancing wildly together, the sun begins to set causing a golden hue to fall over your features. Anyone watching the scene could either think that you’re crazy or they will see what is really there: split aparts that have finally found one another.
Chenle thinks so too, he stops dancing for a bit to catch his breath and just watches you. He remembers the pain it took to make you his, how much you both cried and the beginning of the relationship was far from ideal. But there is no doubt in his mind that there are not enough glow in the dark ceiling stars in this world that will amount to the love he harbors for you in his chest. He was so happy that he had met his split apart, he couldn’t thank the universe enough.
This when he reaches forward and spins you around to face him. His chest against your own, you feel the rumble of his words from his chest when he says: “I’m so glad I found you.” And then he is kissing you, and the ground seems to melt away from your feet. You’re floating hundreds of feet in air and forget to take a view of your neighborhood from up here because Chenle is all you can think about. Because he makes you feel this way. You whisper in between kisses, he smiles knowingly, he feels it too.
“We.
Are.
Off.
Our.
Feet.”
#chenle#zhong chenle#nct dream#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#nct#nct 127#nct 127 scenarios#wayv#wayv scenarios#nct imagines#nct fanfiction#nct fluff#nct angst#nct chenle#nct dream chenle#nct dream fanfiction#nct taeyong#nct mark#nct yuta#kpop fanfiction#kpop scenarios#kpop angst#nct smut#8 letter#nct jisung#jisung park
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Hi!! hello!! Very excited about your music codfolk headcanons and one thing i think fits quite a bit that idk if you know is that the part about bleeding in your instrument could also very easily apple to the percussion instruments you described the codfolk using!
I play the drums and my teacher is a professional drummer but she also plays most percussion instruments and at many occasions both of us happened to hurt our fingers enough that it bled but couldn't stop playing. That's actually one of percussions mottos "don't stop playing for anything", because without the base rhythm that percussion (and bass) provides the song no other instrument can properly fit the timing.
It is also very very common that (especially in more tricky or fast beats) your finger gets a bit crushed between the actual drum and the drumstick (if there is any) or that you hit one of the metal parts of the drum too hard with your fingers (if playing with your hands) and that leads to bleeding as well in some cases.
So yea! Hope you don't mind this but I find if pretty funny how a lot of instruments hurt people regularly lol and I thought I'd tell you since it fits so well your headcanon :b
no listen i love this additional context. also like. YEAH. apparently instruments do just. hurt people regularly. my husband literally has one shoulder like, permanently lower than the other one, because he marched with a tuba for like nine years and he held it on that shoulder and, whoops, permanently fucked up his shoulder a little bit from that one!
and yeah, the percussion and the bass is VERY IMPORTANT and i find it cool that the motto is "don't stop playing for anything" because on my own end without a rhythm. everything gets really lost. so it makes sense. also ouch.
it's just. yeah. it's kind of wild how people will just. hurt themselves while making music. i could say something more about this but the "you bleed on your instrument so you give it your soul" thing is the coolest line i'll come up with for that, so.
thanks for sharing i will definitely also be considering this and how it fits
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Stranger Things: The actual enneagram types of Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Will, Eleven, and Max
The Lover: Mike Wheeler [Type 2]
“El, are you there? El? It’s me, it’s Mike. It’s day 352, 7:40 pm, I am still here. If you’re out there, say something… or give me a sign, I won’t, I won’t even say anything, I just… I want to know if you’re okay.”
Enneagram wing: 2w1|2w3 (Helper along with the reformer and achiever)
Core Desire: To feel loved, needed, and appreciated
Core Fear: Being rejected, unwanted and unneeded
Mike is a loyal to a fault going through great lengths to be there for his friends. He was willing to sacrifice himself off a cliff to protect Dustin. He never gave up pursing justice for Will. He also hid Eleven in his home despite the repercussions he may face with his parents and the evil scientists. The hidden motivation behind his actions are to be needed, loved, and wanted. He is very good at intuiting others needs as we see this in his close friendship with Will in season 2 and in his blossoming relationship with Eleven. He sees the good in others and is very trusting which Lucas, a type 6, doesn’t quite understand. He often asserts himself in situations where he is not needed and we see this become a conflict in his relationship with Eleven in season 3. We see him often go into an 8 in stress where he becomes aggressive, outspoken, dominating, and advocating for justice. I believe he leans on both of his wings equally; he shows to have a strong sense of right and wrong but also a innate desire to succeed, be admired, and respected.
The Intuitive One: Will Byers [Type 4]
"Sometimes the bad guys are smart too."
Enneagram wing: 4w5 (Individualist along with the investigator)
Core Desire: Being accepted for one’s uniqueness
Core Fear: Being inherently flawed, inadequate, or mundane
Will is the stand out of the bunch not just because of his strong introversion but also his imaginative mind and artistic hobbies. He has never been interested in what his age group has been interested in therefore he is misunderstood by his peers. He also lacked a strong father figure and this has resulted in deep feelings of inadequacy. He desires to be seen and understood by others and it doesn’t help his case that he “died” and lived to tell the tale. I’m hoping to see Will grow more into himself in the upcoming seasons because he is a valuable and important character. His link to the Upside Down proves that. I think he leans on his wing 5 for his intellectual hobbies.
The Defender: Eleven [Type 9]
“I’m going to my friends. I’m going home.”
Enneagram wing: 9w8 (Peacemaker along with the challenger)
Core Desire: Inner peace and human connection
Core Fear: Instability and separation
Contrary to the life she’s had and the chaotic situations she constantly finds herself in, Eleven is 100% motivated by having inner peace. She is very much values her friends and adoptive family and leans on her wing 8 to protect them. She is a very complex character and this is clearly from the emotional and physical trauma she suffered in her childhood; she is tough but also extremely empathetic and has has the ability to see things objectively rather than emotionally (a true gift of a 9). This is shown in her choosing to spare one of the scientist’s life from Brenner’s lab despite his contribution to her abuse and Eight (Kali) pressuring her to show no mercy. She empathized with Billy and his abuse despite him being a raging bully.
The Safeguard: Lucas Sinclair [Type 6]
“We have a lot of rules in our party, but the most important is, 'Friends don't lie.' Never ever. No matter what.”
Enneagram wing: 6w5 | 6w7 (Loyalist along with investigator and enthusiast)
Core Desire: To have security
Core Fear: Being without security
Lucas has demonstrated an innate maturity since season 1. He pushes others to practice self preservation. He likes to have a plan in their action and adventure. Lucas is motivated by his desire to be safe so he calls out others in their stupor, so much so, that his friends are nervous to confess their mistakes to him; this clashes with Mike’s agenda as his need to serve, love, and be there for others. Mike’s potential to be compromised by rose colored glasses, poses as a threat to Lucas’s need for security. Max makes it harder for him in achieving security by constantly raising the bar him in their relationship. Despite this, Max’s challenging nature is what is most attractive to him because it somewhat alludes to security. I think Lucas has balanced wings and draws from his intellectual side as well as his adventurous side.
The Analyst: Dustin Henderson [Type 5]
“You always say we should never stop being curious, to always open any curiosity door we find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”
Enneagram wing: 5w6 (Investigator along with loyalist)
Core Desire: To be capable and competent
Core Fear: Annihilation, depletion, and being viewed as lacking in capability
Dustin is the clear intellect of the Stranger Kids clan. He is always learning and storing information, mentally retrieving it up when necessary. He is essentially the one who makes the needed mental connections in their quest for victory. He is awkwardly confident yet insecure. He cares a lot about what others think of him and is motivated by a need to be seen as competent. Dustin’s friends mean the world to him and valuing that security from this support/community shows that leans on his wing 6.
The Advocate: Max Mayfield [Type 8]
“It's just, I know I can be a jerk like him sometimes, and I do not want to be like him. Ever.”
Enneagram wing: 8w7 | 8w9 (Challenger along with enthusiast and the peacemaker)
Core Desire: Self protection and protecting my people
Core Fear: Being weak, powerless, and controlled
Max is the toughest one of the bunch with almost bully-like qualities. She marches to the beat of her own drum and doesn’t care what other people think. Her character flaw is that she can be too careless sometimes at the expense of others. She is self aware of that though and does her best to combat it. She is motivated by a need to protect herself because no one ever protected her against the abuse of her brother and step-father. Despite her tough act, she cares deeply for her friends and will do whatever she can to protect them too; She is willing to be vulnerable to bond with them. She does not show to lean on either wing making me think she has balanced wings. She definitely doesn’t like to commit too quickly to anything and keep her options open (7) but also can try her best to mediate (9) when this is required of her.
Note: In honor of Stranger Things 4 possibly coming out in 2021. See my typing of the Stranger Things adults here: https://enneagramwingmiranda.tumblr.com/post/639047330136522752/stranger-things-the-actual-enneagram-types-of
#stranger things#mike wheeler#enneagram 2#eleven#enneagram 9#will byers#enneagram 4#lucas sinclair#enneagram 6#dustin henderson#enneagram 5#max mayfield#enneagram 8#2w1#2w3#4w5#9w8#5w6#6w7#6w5#8w7#8w9
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Mod, who are your top 10 favorite characters and top 10 least favorite?
//I have actually been wanting to discuss something like this, so I’m glad someone brought it up to me.
//I’ll go through with this, but I won’t be discussing my least favorites, since I don’t want to bring any negativity, and to be honest, I enjoy writing pretty much everyone in this blog. I also fear if I share who my least favorites are in the main series, said characters won’t get as many asks, and I don’t want any unfair bias. I can definitely admit to hating Haiji though, because...well...he obviously won't be receiving any questions anymore. Besides, I doubt many people will disagree with me.
Honorable Mentions:
Makoto Naegi
Mahiru Koizumi
Kirumi Tojo
Kaede Akamatsu
Tsumugi Shirogane
Shuichi Saihara
Iroha Nijiue
Mikihiko Koyasunaga
Yoruko Kabuya
Tsurugi Kinjo
Uchui Porosen
Kibin Hatsudoki
//Though to be honest, everyone may as well be an honorable mention because I love writing every single one of these guys. Also, like I just said, don’t let this top 10 affect your asks. I love every character in this blog and I’m happy to make asks for each and every one of them. It was really hard to narrow it down to 10
#10: Tenko Chabashira
This might seem a little surprising, given that Tenko hasn't had a whole lot of screen time and story relevance so far. She's only been prominent in two arcs, Deadly Harmony and Novoselic Revolution, both of which she didn't have as much screen time as most of the other characters. However, not to spoil anything major, I have big plans for her, and what I've pulled out of her so far is something I'm proud of. My main goal is mainly to give her a bit of development, and tone down on the sexism element of her character. Not remove it entirely, mind you, because let's be real, Tenko unfortunately isn't Tenko without it, but basically to not do what the DR dev team did and make it the forefront of her character, while her other exceedingly good traits are just at the back until later on in the story.
#09: Kokichi Ouma
Kokichi is one of, if not, my favorite character in the original DR series. My main goal of him in this series is trying to grapple with his constantly changing attitude, mainly towards the DRV3 cast besides himself. At first he's glad to see them, then he turns spiteful towards Shuichi and Kaede when they try to fight him, then he straight up just abandons them and attempts to cut off contact. As he is right now, he's conflicted about how to feel about everyone. Sure, they all still hate him, but during Cabaret Kyojin's they came to his defense when he most needed it. That whole arc might've seemed pretty pointless and acted as needless filler, but my true intention of it was to flesh out the characters involved, mainly Kokichi and Kuripa. Speaking of which, that's another plot point that I'm looking forward to branching upon: the little companionship those two have going on right now.
#08: Monaca Towa
Monaca is a character I actually tend to struggle with in the grand scheme of things. The reason being that, arguably, she in canon is the second biggest antagonist in the series behind Junko. What I tried to do with Survivor though, is not make her an antagonist, but make her slowly become more and more redeemable, despite her actions. The reason why I went with this approach is mainly due to Monaca's last appearance in the series, where she states to Toko and Komaru that she's kind of just done with everything to do with Junko and Despair. I don't think it would be easy to bring her back as an antagonist because of THAT fiasco, and that is legitimately one of favorite scenes of her...which is funny because it's from DR3 and I kinda hate the anime. Her whole presence in Survivor is based around the idea of trying to seek redemption, but she doesn't outwardly want to admit this, nor does she really think she's worthy or deserving of said redemption. She's an adult now, and she grew a conscience. A guilty one that weighs her down and makes her come back to earth to basically settle things and make peace, and though it's been difficult, I love how she's turned out so far.
#07: Akira Tsuchiya
I understand many have their reservations about Akira after what he did this arc, but he's still legitimately one of my favorite villains in this blog because despite the fact that he's a psychopath who kills and ruins people all just for causing Despair, he's just kinda super relatable. He constantly lives with the attitude of just being done with everyone's shit, and I know a lot of DR fans can relate to that. He's also the kind of guy who marches to the beat of his own drum, which is obviously a very slow beat. He rarely ever does what Tsumugi tells him to do, unless the plan interests him or gives him something to do, and his character in general is based around the idea of "Shut-in NEET who just so happens to have a power complex." Overall, what makes him unique to me is just how normal he is, especially when he's compared to the chaotic sea that is the Danganronpa Villains.
#06: Mikan Tsumiki
Novoselic Revolution had the very important role in the story of mending Mikan. Without her efforts and the sacrifices she made in that arc, there's a high chance that the group would have failed to retake the kingdom from Angie and Mikihiko. It goes without saying that the screentime Mikan got in this arc was some of my absolute favorite moments on this blog from a writers perspective. A lot of people in DR dislike Mikan for her actions and character change in the third case of the second game, which I really don't think is fair. Mikan was just the character chosen to be afflicted with the Despair Disease. Nothing else would have been changed had it been a different character, so her role early on in Survivor is mainly her trying to come to terms with her actions, as well as things like making things right with Hiyoko (and Ibuki by extrension) and reevaluating whether or not she's a good person. Mikan is an emotionally and mentally broken child, and it's my full intent in my writing of her to heal her wounds like she does for so many other people.
#05: Narumi Osone
Easily my favorite Zetsubou villain in the blog. During Novoselic Revolution, I really buttered up how much I enjoyed writing Mikihiko, but in reality, I was just waiting for the Rebirth Duo (her and Akira) to burst onto the scene. She didn't make for as great a twist villain in Life and Lies of Akeru Yozora as I would've liked her to be, but even now, I still feel like she left an impact. I mean, she committed quite the number of atrocities. The main reason why I like Narumi though, is how she diverges from the rest of the Zetsubou group. While most of them are doing their evil things for reasons that constitute to causing as much Despair as possible, she does it for almost the complete opposite reason. She absolutely despises Despair, and the only reason she's with Organization Zetsubou, is so that she can patiently await and watch as the Hope that stems from the people fighting back. It's also plays into her ideal. Narumi is so obsessed with Hope that she believes that anyone and everyone who is without hope, and gives into Despair, doesn't deserve to live (and ideal that also allows her to easily hit it off with Nagito). To name the best example: The UUV. Their revenge fantasy is based around the Despair they feel post Ayumu and Marin's deaths, and not around the Hope of their goal of reforming society, even if by force. When Narumi notices this, is angers her so much she murders all of them in cold blood, believing them to be beyond redemption. As a final note, Narumi's violent nature and lust for bloodshed (and lest not forget her weird obsession with Makoto) is also made all the more tragic when you remember she's literally just a 14 year old kid with not a lot of life experience. For someone to be this far gone at such a young age is pretty depressing, but it also provides me with a lot of great writing opportunities, and god damn it she isn't a fun character to write.
#04: Mukuro Ikusaba.
I could pretty much just copy/paste the basic things I said about Monaca's personal conflict for Mukuro, but on a much more extreme level. This is something that I plan on actually branching on later down the line, but Mukuro's backstory and reason why she has a presence here is briefly mentioned by Sayaka in one post. To sum up what she said, when the Foundation were first starting to use the machines to bring back the victims of the first killing game, Makoto was the one who suggested possibly bringing Mukuro back, something that understandably, his classmates initially were against. However, at the time, Kyoko was still new to being the Foundation Chairwoman, and Makoto very much pressed the issue with her. Kyoko eventually agreed to the resurrection, but in exchange, any and all actions committed by the soldier, most notably any treacherous or bad ones, would subsequently be Makoto's responsibility. Of course, as you can imagine, Makoto accepted these terms, and Mukuro was resurrected. For a while afterwards, many were very wary of her presence, and most didn't outright accept her as a member of the Foundation, even when the Remnants of Despair officially signed up. What you have to remember is that Mukuro wasn't really brainwashed into helping Junko, at least not in the same way that the Remnants were. Most of what she did for Junko is what she did willingly, but Makoto felt that in reality, Mukuro was just another one of Junko's victims and she'd never known Hope in her life, which is why she turned out so chaotic, so his whole intention of reviving her was to redeem her honor, of which he was pretty much successful. The main trait of Mukuro's though that I tend to focus on, is arguably her most serious: her PTSD. Of all the characters who could have been hit hard with PTSD, it makes the most sense for it to be a soldier, and since the beginning of her revival, Mukuro has been cursed by the lingering ghost of her dead Despair sister. Junko's presence in her mind less drives Mukuro insane though, and simply makes her doubt herself and her presence, wondering if it was worth being revived, or whether or not she truly deserves to live. But regardless of how she feels, she's duty bound to the end, and still supports everyone unquestionably, especially towards those in her own branch being Makoto, her boss, the man who saved her, and of course her undeniable love interest, and Kuripa to whom she disciplines, but also acts as a mother/big sister figure to.
#03: Hajime Hinata.
It might just be me, but I feel like Hajime in particular is the fan fav in this blog. I feel he's shown up in more posts than any other character, which is fine by me given he's also one of my personal favorite characters, and is probably my favorite protagonist (it really changes depending on my mood, honestly, I think they're all as great as each other). The remnants of Despair's conflict is an obvious one that you commonly see in post-game fics such as this one, and in Survivor, and my personal opinion, Hajime is undoubtedly the one who has it the hardest. However, out of all of the characters in the series who HAVE trauma (and let's be real, that's undoubtedly a LOT of characters in both DR canon, and this blog) he's also undoubtedly the one who handles it the best. However, there is a limit to how much pressure he can take, and that causes him to lash out (like he did with Mahiru during Misfortune's Revenge, which I know we don't like to talk about but its the most notable example). He's been through a whole load of shit and the pressure is constantly crushing him like a gigantic boulder, yet he still forces himself to carry it. Outside of my own writing, Hajime has so many conflicting thoughts and trauma in other fics, and in Survivor, I don't intend to flat out copy them, but I do desire to live up to them. The reason why Hajime has so many burdens placed upon him, and as of Misfortune's Revenge now has double as many, yet is still able to keep going strong, is because he's no longer allowing himself to be weighed down by events that are in the past and out of his control. What makes his ideal unique, is that he has power, almost limitless amounts of it, but instead of focusing on what he can do with it, he's more conflicted and focused on what he CAN'T do, and changing the past is one thing he can't, and as of such doesn't focus on it. He only ever focuses on the present, and the future, and worries about that. And you've got to hand it to the guy, while it's definitely been better, his life is actually super good right now. He has at least 15 really great friends/found family members, a home on an island resort, an AI companion in his phone who will always help him out and support him, a smoking-hot red-haired girlfriend, a pretty good job and a lot more. For him, it's not simply a matter of abiding by the Foundation and fixing the chaos that he indirectly caused. It's also about the fear of losing what he has, and wanting to protect it.
#02: Ayumu Fujimori.
I've said this one or two times before, but I think Ayumu turned out spectacular, and when I eventually had to kill him off, I felt really bad about doing so. The main reason why I removed him, and why I currently don't have any plans to bring him back, is due to my future plans, having him around would make little to no sense. He serves mainly as a catalyst for the new phase of the story, a much darker one, and with his death, we enter that phase. I know many people are worried about it, but it's not just Ayumu's reason for being in the story that makes him great. While it isn't obvious right away, the main character that I was trying to portray with him, is that he's basically the darker side of Hajime. The two of them share very similar traits in character, personality and backstory. Some notable points would be
Both of them are incredibly self-doubtful, and that self-doubt caused them to become Ultimate Hopes.
Both of them once held huge admiration for a powerful group of people. For Hajime it was Hope's Peak and for Ayumu it was the Japanese Government
Said power called them useless, which led to their transformation
Both have pretty sad backstories, which involve two different types of cruel parents and family's.
They both have a best friend who likes to sleep.
Said best friend ended up dying horribly right in front of them, with them both unable to do anything about it, which eventually leads them both to go insane and make some bad decisions.
Though their methods differ, ultimately, they both want the same thing: a brighter future for their friends and the people they love
Ayumu might be a threat, and an antagonist, but he doesn't really count as a "villain" per se. At the core, he's basically just a misguided young man, who the world treated like shit, so he just wants to get back at it. He's also an influential figure, pulling many people into his fight, and gaining many supporters outside of his friends in the UUV. For the short time he was on the blog, he was an absolute BLAST to write, and you can damn sure bet I'm going to miss him.
#01: Kuripa Kurafto.
This is undoubtedly the riskiest part of this list, especially since we're talking about an OC here, but I also think a lot of you guys saw this coming. I can understand why some of you might disagree with me on this placement, but I'll tell you now, if you're unimpressed, trust me, I am barely scratching the surface of Kuripa's character. As of such, I have to go on this based off of what's already known about him. His whole character I feel comes full circle at the end of the Ultra Despair Gang arc, in which the first monumental event in the blog actually happens: him killing Haiji Towa by stabbing him in the gut and sending him falling to his death. This is then followed by a speech to Makoto, Komaru, Toko and Byakuya, which basically lays out the key part of Kuripa's character, being his ideals. Every protagonist in Danganronpa goes by a certain ideal that contrasts that of their enemies. For Makoto, it's Hope, for Hajime, it's Future, and for Shuichi it's truth. Kuripa is the complete reverse, being a protagonist that represents Despair. He's not outright a villain, or even a generally bad guy, but he definitely has some apparent darkness to him, and is also incredibly violent when at the peak of rage. Of course, it all stems from a huge event in his life, the murder of his little sister Kotoko by the hands of Matta Gyalusetsu, which has led to his over-arcing conflict: his desire to find Matta and kill him as revenge. I tend to hate characters in stories who have the "My Sister is Dead" archetype or trope, but the main reason is because most characters who have that JUST have that, and for Kuripa that's something I'm trying to avoid. One of the most important parts of Kuripa's character is the contrast between his dark, almost psychopathic side that believes murder is a suitable way to indefinitely solve a problem, and his regular self, who to put simply, is a complete and total clown. He's like a walking meme, and makes a total fool out of himself, either through just being a mindless tomfool, a playful perv, or a loveable idiotic otaku. Still, his presence is indeed important to everyone around him, especially seen through his interactions with Makoto, Kibin, Mukuro, Uchui, Kokichi, The Kyojin's and the High Roller staff. This is another thing in regards to Kuripa's conflict that is quite saddening to. Similar to Hajime, as things currently stand, Kuripa has an excellent life. He's a successful animator who makes a lot of money from his work, he enjoys his time at the Future Foundation and really looks up to both Makoto and Mukuro who both treat him with a reciprocated amount of respect, he gets to work in tangent with his best friend, he has many pals, some of which are part of an anime club, and on top of it all, he has a cute girlfriend who playfully flirts back and forth with him all the time. He has everything a guy could possibly ever want, but due to his one track mind, he can never be satisfied knowing Kotoko's killer is still out there, and he will do whatever it takes to avenge her...even if he needs to cut a few people down to get it...
//Doing this kind of self-reflective character analysis is pretty refreshing and fun to be honest, although, doing it makes it sound like I have a big head, and am complementary of my own writing where I know many might disagree with my techniques and opinions. You're free to, believe me, but please keep any criticism constructive.
-Mod
#tenko chabashira#kokichi ouma#monaca towa#akira tsuchiya#mikan tsumiki#narumi osone#mukuro ikusaba#hajime hinata#ayumu fujimori#kuripa kurafto#self reflection
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