#i mean i get it here like.... this is one of the players first time playing and the DM is the other characters husband
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QoL as Kindness: ISAT's diagetic tutorials
This is the hopefully first of a series of posts I'll be doing reinterpreting ISAT's Loop through the lens of START AGAIN: a prologue's context. As such....
Major spoilers for both ISAT (all acts, including optional content) and SASASAP (all endings).
One of the biggest differences between ISAT and SASASAP is it’s QoL – it’s Quality of Life. QoL refers to all the little things that make a game just that little bit more playable; quick to navigate menus, quicksaving… tutorials.
It’s not really a surprise that SASASAP is as RPGmaker as RPGmaker gets. This isn’t a criticism, just an observation, and also a compliment to how much Adrienne’s skills with the engine improved between releases. Still, there’s some things that ISAT has over SASASAP.
ISAT’s QoL is absolutely essential to making it bearable. Anyone ever watch an ISAT playthrough where the player sighed in relief as the tutorial on picking where you loop came up?
SASASAP lacks a lot of ISAT’s QoL because it’s an earlier project without a studio backing it, but what impresses me is how this change ties into narrative.
Because the greatest chunk of ISAT’s greatest QoL is provided by Loop.
Even before you ever meet them, they’re already over your shoulder. Loop is the tutorial, speaking to you inside your brain.
It’s genius, in that no player is ever going to question this. Hell, SASASAP’s movement tutorial is the exact same thing with less flavoring
This reframes what the QoL is – it’s not just a convenience to the player, it’s a convenience to Siffrin, too. It’s diegetic. It’s not something the game is giving you, it’s something Loop is giving you.
Let’s look at what Loop gives you, and more importantly, why.
Zone Out
The first of the QoL features I want to talk about is the Zone Out function, the absolute bread and butter of not making this game a total slog.
The Zone Out feature as is did not exist in SASASAP (because Adrienne didn’t know how to do it yet) – instead, some doubled scenes let you just skip them entirely outright. There’s only two extremes: listen to all of it again, or none of it.
ISAT’s zone out system is much more dynamic, since it fast forwards dialogue line by line, letting you zone in whenever you’d like, and forcing you to zone in whenever a) something notably new happens, or b) whenever Siffrin speaks.
The way this feature is introced by Loop is kind of genius. Because Loop’s tutorial is about one thing – it’s okay to skip.
“You might miss what your party is saying, but who cares, right? If you make them mad, you can always loop back and they'll have forgotten all about it!”
It’s a cruel joke, or at least it seems that way on the surface. It’s also genuine advice. And a cruel joke at the same time. For Siffrin, freshly starting the loops, this is scandalous, but for Loop, who’s long since desensitized, it’s the same old same old.
What Loop’s doing here, by joking about Siffrin not listening to the party, is alliviate Siffrin’s guilt when they inevitably take Loop up on the offer. Because, even though Loop loves their party members…
From SASASAP, when sitting outside the bathroom:
(Will you get farther this time?)
(Will you live this time?)
(Or are you stuck listening to the same lines forever?)
(…)
(Stars, you’re so tired.)
Loop knows intimately well that Siffrin is going to drive themself insane trying to be a people pleaser every single loop, so this joke is telling the outright – don’t bother.
At first, Siffrin (and the player) still might. I really enjoyed reading the same conversations five times minimum because they’re fun and I’m deranged, but at some point I did start skipping them. And it was a relief to know there wouldn’t be anything new.
Siffrin: “Should I check everything again?”
Loop: “You mean, should you check the same barrels, the same closets, the same objects on tables every loop?”
Loop: “I mean, you can, but… You know things won’t change, right?”
Loop: “If you really want to get a certain item again, or listen to your friends repeat something funny, you should!”
Loop: “I personally would only check two or three things every loop, and ignore the rest.”
Loop: “It will just make you crazy to expect something to change, when nothing will.”
Loop: “All that might change is your reaction to it!”
The game is telling you, Loop is telling Siffrin, don’t drive yourself insane playing, please. The characters aren’t going to remember if you skipped something.
In the course of my script wizard activities, I’ve gotten an in-depth view of just how much that actually holds up. Pretty much all major differences are by Act, unrelated of how often you’ve done something. Minor variations apply for other things, but… those variations are minor.
And this also points out what all those variations are. Siffrin’s reactions!
Loop’s pre-empting Siffrin’s guilt, cuz they probably felt it themself. Hell, we do know they felt the pressure to perform and make sure nobody notices anything’s wrong, in SASASAP! Right up until the finale, Loop was driving themself up the wall.
(You have to act, you can't crack, you have to fake it and play it exactly as you did the first time for the whole way through so your friends don't find out anything is wrong)
(You don't want to know what would happen if they knew their quest was in vain)
(If they knew their quest for justice and change always ends in stillness and death!)
Acting everything out perfectly is one of the ending paths for SASASAP, which results in… complete and utter failure. Obviously.
(You acted perfectly normally, didn't you?)
(Nothing out of place, nothing weird, every line the same as it might've been the first time?)
(Ah…That was your mistake, wasn't it…?)
(Because… Didn't your very first time… end exactly like this?)
(The King throws the Housemaiden's body onto the floor again.)
Zoning out for too many conversations actually awards weird points in SASASAP, locking you out of the Perfect Ending. On the other hand, acting “perfectly” in ISAT… has no awards whatsoever. No special scene or or optional event or anything at all. You get nothing for paying attention!!!
So spare yourself the pain already, m’kay?
(On that note: I don’t think Loop not being sarcastic about it would’ve like… worked. At the start of ACT 2, Siffrin isn’t going to believe Loop when they say “Stop forcing yourself to relive the same thing over and over because you’ll start seeing your friends as disposable actors and lose touch with reality.” That all comes later, when Siffrin can look back on Loop’s words and see how right they were.)
Loop Back
The second biggest sigh of relief in any given ISAT playthrough is probably this specific tutorial.
Loop graciously shows you that you don’t need to loop back all the way to the beginning every single time. You can pick and choose where to go, even going forward by paying up with Memories of Skirmish.
This is a feature SASASAP does not possess, for the reason that it is much, much shorter, only covering about as much as one floor of ISAT’s three floor House.
But… since this is a character showing this to you, Loop showing this to you, we can ask… when did Loop learn this? After all, START AGAIN, Loop’s loops, do not have this feature.
“It'll save you time, so it's important, so listen up!”
This feature not existing in SASASAP means this is a thing that Loop did not know exists during their own time as Siffrin.
And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? SASASAP’s Siffrin does not know how to do this. They cannot pick and choose where they end up, as demonstrated wonderfully by SASASAP’s True Ending.
There’s an even more wonderful implication, though –
On SASASAP’s Perfect End path, when exiting the final room before the King, Isabeau says this:
Isabeau: “…I'm glad you're feeling better, though!”
Siffrin: (…?) “What do you mean…?”
Isabeau: “Oh!!! Um, you were…”
Isabeau: “Well! You were acting a little weird when we were way closer to the Castle's entrance……”
Isabeau: “You weren't really listening to us, you were kinda smiling the way you do when you're actually not happy…”
Isabeau: “…and you like, almost acted like you knew exactly where you were going?”
Isabeau: “But clearly you're feeling better now! You're acting just like normal!!!”
SASASAP’s Siffrin knew how to do this, somehow managed to lock themself into the House’s last floor… and then forgot how to get back. By making this tutorial, Loop is ensuring that Siffrin never will.
“What can I do next?” – SASASAP’s greatest flaw
So, if you’ve had the pleasure of playing START AGAIN START AGAIN START AGAIN: a prologue yourself (as you should), then you’ve probably faced this scenario, or some variation of it:
I got to the end, I died to the King, but… what do I do next? The game tells me to go for the extremes, but how do I do that?
(edit: apparently some of yall just managed to speedrun sasasap in two loops. You're gonna need to stay with me here, please. Suspend your disbelief a bit, because a lot of people [including me] were dumbasses about it)
Maybe you try another loop, but just get the same ending again (or a differnet one, depending on a coinflip). You’re getting frustrated. Getting the Perfect Ending demands pinpoint precision to avoid everything weird, the True Ending demands good memorization of every single damn key in the game, and the order you do everything in. (Though, to be fair, the requirements on that one are actually more merciful than one might expect.)
Point is, in SASASAP, it’s incredibly easy to get stuck in that endless loop of “What the fuck do I do now?” It’s not uncommon to think you got it right only to get the same result anyways.
What does one do in this situation?
They consult a guide, obviously.
START AGAIN’s ending requirements are frustrating. They are. When I tried to go for either the Perfect or the True Ending, I saved inside every single room, just so I could get right back to it when I inevitably fucked up five times minimum. This is both criticism… and praise.
Because Loop is the major reason that ISAT does not suffer from this same problem.
Whenever you’re stuck in ISAT, Loop is just a single loop or call away at any times. And besides that, no plot requirement in ISAT demands nearly as many moving pieces all at once as SASASAP does – the “Sus Route” has been relegated to an optional ACT 4 exclusive event, instead of the game’s True Ending.
Instead of consulting an external guide on how to progress, you have one right there in the game, always ready with the next tip. They’re not infallible, mind you – enough time in Isatcord’s #game-help proves that, but Loop solved all of the moments I got stuck and frustrated in ISAT for me.
(Primarily that one time you need to figure out that a photo is similar to being stuck in time. That moment in particular is actually commendable, as you need to ask Loop about it twice before they tell you, leaving you a last shot to try and figure it out on your own.)
Loop is a feature that nullifies SASASAP’s greatest flaw in its successor, and they choose to do so.
Memory of Keys
In my humble opinion, Loop does this because… they do not want Siffrin to suffer as they did. They want Siffrin to escape. And there is no greater example of their kindness than how Loop treats keys.
First of all, all keys in the game have a sparkling effect on them if you’ve picked them up at least once before, making it immediately clear where in the room they are. This means you don’t need to search every single room top to bottom for them, as you had to do for any keys and Star Crests in SASASAP. It’s some nice QoL that just means you don’t have to re-search the same area if you happened to forget which specific cupboard the key was in.
Key point being: SASASAP did not have this feature. In SASASAP, you did have to memorize where all the keys are, and doing so is expected if you want the True Ending.
Loop does not want Siffrin to have to do this. Because…
From SASASAP’s True End:
(The torch in the infirmary? That’s important!)
(The key in the book? Soooo important.)
(The names of your friends, that have been by your side throughout this entire adventure?)
(Not worth remembering.)
Compared to ISAT’s ACT 2:
Siffrin: “How come I can see where the keys are?”
Loop: “Whaaaaat? You caaaaaan? How can that beeeeeee?”
Siffrin: “Is it thanks to you?”
Loop: “Maybe.”
Loop: “I figured you'd have other things to worry about than where a stupid key is.”
Loop: “No need to thank me.”
To Loop, that they memorized the House’s layout over their friends’ names is a defining moment to their own failures. After all, in all likelihood, the True End of SASASAP is the last loop before they called it quits. It’s a traumatic experience from them, one that came from having to remember all the dumb fucking keys.
They do not want Siffrin to experience this. They do not want Siffrin to have to memorize the House, to push away what actually matters in favor of efficiency. So Loop is directly, personally, giving them a boon, so that Siffrin does not have to.
Conclusion
There’s probably more tutorial things I could talk about, but I feel like you’re seeing the pattern now, even if I don’t bring up saving level ups or keeping equipment or the “You’re stuck” signifier, least of all cuz they don’t have direct points of comparison with SASASAP like my other examples do (SASASAP has no changeable equipment, and saving levels doesn’t matter if you only have one floor, and you can’t softlock either.). So.
Loop’s tutorials all belie a fundamental kindness to their character. Everything that made their own experience trapped in the timeloop just that bit worse, they’re choosing to do away with it for Siffrin. They are choosing to make Siffrin’s time here easier.
Zoning out too much lead to them never paying attention to their friends, forgetting their names, so they make sure that Siffrin can still zone back in whenever something new happens.
Loop trapped themself for years on the final floor, locking themself out of progress that might lie further back, so they’re ensuring Siffrin knows exactly how to loop forwards and backwards so it doesn’t happen again.
Loop lets Siffrin keep equipment across loops to cut down on time spent doing the exact same thing over and over.
They are saving Siffrin time, and they are giving Siffrin comfort.
At every single turn, Loop is saving Siffrin from the same pitfalls they fell into without anyone to guide them out.
It's honestly incredible to transform an increase in skill into an actual narrative element. Yes, SASASAP sucks more to play. But ISAT sucks less, because Loop wants it to. It's the perfect marriage of real world circumstance and storytelling. I could... probably pull another comparison here, saying it's like a game and its remake - overhauled graphics, expanded story, and loads and loads of QoL, because the makers of the remake realized something. They love the original, but parts of it do suck, and there's so much that can be done to make a new player's experience smoother. Metanarrative commentary,,,, woah,,,,,
Every single one of these QoL elements I’ve mentioned function as a crutch for a player’s failing memory, but also Siffrin’s (similar to what I talked about in my previous essay on ISAT’s ludonarrative - the player and Siffrin are always in sync, even in how tutorials benefit them). Loop doesn’t know the player exists though (only the Change God does), so they do everything for Siffrin.
To keep Siffrin from forgetting. To help Siffrin focus on what’s important. To make Siffrin’s journey just a little bit less miserable.
Loop directly improves ISAT’s QoL. For you. For Siffrin.
From Loop’s introduction:
Loop: “See, I’m useful! I’m very useful! That’s why I’m here, helpful Loop.”
Siffrin: “Why are you helping me?”
Loop: “…”
Loop: “Because I think you should be helped.”
Loop: “I won’t always have the answers, but… I think having someone on your side to talk to is better than dealing with this alone.”
Loop: “Right?”
From Loop’s hangout:
“But it’s fine.”
“Whether you believe me or not, I’m here to help you.”
“So you can escape this loop.”
And finally, from the start of ACT 3:
Siffrin: “Are you really here to help me?”
Loop: “Stardust…”
Loop: “…”
Loop: “Yes.”
Loop: “If you can believe anything, believe that.”
Loop: “I asked to be here, so I could help you.”
And I do believe them. Loop’s feelings on Siffrin are… complex, to say the least. They love Siffrin, and they hate him in equal measure. They’re jealous, and spiteful, but underneath everything…
In SASASAP, if you die to a Sadness thrice, you get this monologue:
(Sometimes, when you loop back here…)
(In the corner of your eye, you can sometimes see someone that looks just like you.)
(Is it a you from another loop? Remnants of your past failures?)
(Are you going crazy?)
(May they succeed where you cannot.)
#feli speaks#in stars and time#isat spoilers#start again: a prologue#sasasap#LOOP TIME BABEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY#WATCH OUT IT'S FELI TALKING ABOUT LUDONARRATIVE AGAIN
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mariona's statement during her press conference. (it's so emotional 🥹)
"good afternoon. first of all, thank you all so much for being here. before starting the press conference i would like to make a short summary of what it has been for me. being part of the club of my life. those of you who know me know that my first football memories are all related to barça. the first blaugrana shirt, ronaldinho's first boots, the first trips with the family to visit camp nou, the first matches on TV, those of barça. looking back, i realize how lucky i was that my father instilled this in me from a very young age, which means loving a club and admiring the colours. and how lucky to be able to say out loud that i have always been, am and will always be a culer.
"when i was 18 years old and had the option to come here, the decision was made on my own. i still remember that day and what o heard that girl who had grown up being a barça fan, the one who screamed and jumped when they scored goals and the one who cried and got angry when they lost, she had before her the opportunity of her life to wear the blaugrana shirt, but this time an official one with her name on it. and this dream, when it came true the first moment i set foot in the ciutat esportiva, was wonderful. after ten years i leave feeling even culer than i was before, if that is possible and we feel privileged to have been part of the best team in the world.
"the truth is that i couldn't describe in words what barça means to me, and that's why you can imagine how difficult it was to make the decision to leave. barça is my life and barça has changed my life. that is why i wanted to take advantage of this moment to dedicate a few words to those who have been part of this path in the first place, the president and the board of directors. you have made all this possible with a firm and real commitment to women's football and to us. without you this story would be totally different. you have given us the tools to develop as professionals and you have given me the best gift of being able to play at camp nou, my family, my mother and my brother, my godmother, my aunts and uncles cousins you have followed me every step of the way and have always shown me your unconditional support. i know you've enjoyed this stage as much as i have and you've been a huge part of it all.
to you, dad, who was the one who took me up and down when i played in amateur fields. i wouldn't know how to explain to you that i have managed to win three champions leagues with your beloved barça and play in front of a camp nou. i wish i didn't have to leave so early because i know you would have enjoyed it more than anything. but what has marked ends and for every title raised i promise you that you have been there, because this has always been our dream and that is why i hope that, wherever you are right now, you will be very proud of me.
to my friends for loving me and helping me and always being by my side, to the technical staff, i thought you were crazy about football, but yours is worth studying. you have made me love this sport even more and you have passed on your passion to me. no one had ever told me about bases and squares, chains or body orientation. i am the player i am today because of you. you have taught me so much and made me believe in myself. i hope that despite the training tantrums, you are aware of how much i respect and admire you. and i would like to take this opportunity to thank you for the trust you have placed in me, along with the other members of the coaching staff and club workers. you are many and very important. your work is more invisible, but do you know that you are essential to us.
to the press and the fans. thank you for embracing us and pushing us as you have. and finally, to the most important ones, to my colleagues. sharing this adventure with you has been the best part. no one but us can imagine the effort we have put in, nor the sacrifice we have made to get to where we are. we all know it has not been easy, but it has been worth it because we are a unique team. you have made me proud to be part of this historic group, and not only for all the sporting achievements, but for all the social impact we have achieved and the image we have given to the whole world. It's not just wins, but how we won. that's why i can only thank you for making me enjoy football and for making me a better player. we will miss you very much. but i will always follow closely and celebrate your successes as my own. i wish you the best and hopefully football or life will offer us a reunion. i would also like to make a special mention to Xavi Llorens for giving me the opportunity to come here and marc for making such a farewell possible, they are always in good tune, despite the difficulty and pressure of the last few months. with my hand on my heart. i just have to thank you again. i am proud and happy to be a part of this great family. visca el barça now and forever."
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part of me wants forever II Sara Doorsoun x Barça!Reader
masterlist I word count: 1672
a/n: hi, it's inspired by this request here, we hope the time jumps aren't too confusing. Let us know what you thought of the oneshot.
This was how it all begun. You didn’t expect your love story to start on an ice-cold evening in November after your team has played a Champions League group stage game against Eintracht Frankfurt, but it did.
“Sara, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Sara.”, Ingrid introduced you to each other, her eyes were shining as the stars above you in the night sky. Maybe it was written somewhere up there, what would be happening in the following days, weeks and months.
You knew the person you fell for would say that it was fate which brought you two together. But for you it was Ingrid who did.
“Hi, Sara, nice to meet you.”, you greeted her smiling.
“Nice to meet you too.”, the older defender replied. The brown eyes who wee looking back at you were so beautiful like the person to whom they belonged too, they were something you could get lost into if this wasn’t an away game and you’d have to leave soon to the hotel you were staying at.
“You guys played really well.”, you complimented Sara in an honest tone. It was true, especially in the first half they had a stellar performance, in which Laura Freigang scored the opening goal, but in the second half your team turned it around and you won fairly comfortably with a 3:1.
“Thank you. So did you.. obviously.”, the german player answered with an amused grin on her lips.
“Y/n, we got to hurry up!”, Mapi reminded you impatiently.
“Don’t worry, Mapi. I’m coming.”, you reassured her, trying to shake off her fingers on the hood of your jacket.
“See you soon.”, Sara waved at you.
“I literally can’t wait.”, you told her. Even though you only shared some polite words with each other you had a feeling that this wasn’t the end of your script together.
On the next day your team was on the way home, the bus taking you from the Barcelona airport to the place where your cars have been parked.
“Y/n?”, Ingrid looked up from her phone to turn her attention towards you who was sitting on the seats opposite of Mapi and her.
“Yes?”, you responded, lifting your gaze from the book you were currently reading.
“Sara messaged me.”, the Norwegian informed you, wearing a mischievous smile on her face.
“You mean Sara as in the cute Frankfurt defender.”, you replied innocently.
“Who else, genius!”, Fridolina laughed, sitting right behind you, she and Ingrid had to play with the player during their times in Wolfsburg.
“Do you know how many Sara’s there are?!”, you asked the Swedish player.
“Yes, but none of them looked at you the way she did. So, what was in Sara’s message, Ingrid?”, Fridolina stated.
Ingrids face split into a wide grin as she read the message on her phone screen: “She asked for her number.“
“You know what? You can give her my number.“, you said in a burst of courage that made Ingrid only smile brighter.
“I’ll.“
“Thank you.“
You watched the Norwegian type on her phone. “You’re welcome.“
Sara had immediately texted you that night. And as the months had passed, texting her became a daily habit for you. From good morning to good night, you shared your free-time with her. You haven’t felt that connected with someone for a long time.
One day you decided to jokingly text her about your shared taste in music, not expecting anything from it.
“Fletcher has a concert in Barcelona. You should come with us, Sara.“
“To a Fletcher concert?“, she wrote back, seemingly unimpressed.
“Yes, Jana got tickets.“, you answered.
You waited impatiently, the three dots appearing as she typed.
“I can’t say no to that.“, appeared on your phone screen.
You smiled happily: “Perfect.“
A few weeks after your text conversation, you found yourself at the concert, singing along while Sara had her arms wrapped around you. It was a casual gesture as you swayed from side to side with the rhythm.
Jana rolled her eyes: “Ugh, stop, you two lovebirds!“
“We’re doing nothing!“, you laughed, full of innocence.
“Literally.“, Sara agreed, continuing to move you with her.
Jana pulled out her phone: “Wait, let me at least take a picture of how annoying you two are.“
She snapped a few photos, a fond smirk on her face. You turned your attention back to the singer. This night was perfect and you wanted to enjoy every moment of it.
The Fletcher concert was something you liked to think back to during your busy football season.
The same was true for the biggest game of the season, the Champions League final. As expected, it was a tight game, Lyon made it hard to get through their defense. Only Aitana and Alexia found a way. So when the final whistle sounded, you were overcome with a mix of relief and happiness.
You hugged your teammates tightly, still processing what you had just achieved when Ingrid tapped you on the shoulder and pointed towards the stands. “Y/n, look who came.“
You only blinked at her for a moment before your gaze finally followed the direction of her hand gesture.
Saras face grinned at you from the stands. The sight of her was enough to make your heart pound in your chest.
You left Ingrid standing and ran over to Sara, stopping right in front of the Frankfurt defender: “Sara, I thought you couldn’t be here?!“
She only flashed you a wry smile: “Change of plans.“
“That’s amazing.”, you muttered, exchanging a short, but soft kiss with your girlfriend.
“You’re welcome.”, Sara smirked at you, as she wrapped her arms around you into a hug.
Mirroring the happiness Laura Feiersinger appeared next to her former Frankfurt teammate:” I almost lost her at the place when they sold the cake.”
“Very typical.”, you giggled, it was no secret that your lover has a sweet tooth.
Nervously Sara put a loose string of hair behind her ear:” That’s not true.”
“Sure.”, the Austrian midfielder smiled amusedly.
“It just looked so delicious.”, the German player defended herself, while a blush crept onto her high cheekbones.
“To be fair it did.”, Laura admitted.
“See?”, Sara responded satisfied.
“Well, I do.”, you tuned into their conversation, before your girlfriend kissed you, to celebrate the Champions League win properly.
Having Sara with you during all the chaos which was going on in the night was very special to you. In the morning you two chose to go on a walk to see a bit of the city. It amazed you to watch your girlfriend being so in peace with herself.
The defender was a warm person and over the weeks you’ve been together she started to share some pieces of herself and her history which you found admirable. Her late coming out, a father who wasn’t saying anything against that, but also didn’t like to talk about it anymore.
The heartbreak Sara felt when the first woman she fell for broke up with her. It impacted her so much that during an important game she scored an own goal. And her questioning if she could ever fall in love like that again? The German player knew the answer now, she was capable of loving again, you showed her how.
Fast forward and it was time to be with your national teams again, you both couldn’t wait for the upcoming free days afterwards which you planned to spend together.
“Sara, we got to talk.”, Lena Oberdorf yelled at the older woman who just sat down with Felicitas Rauch in the dining room of the hotel they were staying at.
“About what?”, Sara frowned who didn’t know her best friend in the team knew what the young midfielder was thinking about.
“I was suspecting you fell in love again, but now Obi found proof of it multiple ones.”, the fellow defender who played in the USA explained with a cheeky smile on her lips.
“What are you talking about?”, the Frankfurt player asked her teammates innocently.
“You and y/n, who football wise is so out of your league.”, Lena replied grinning.
“Beauty wise too.”, Felicitas added in a teasingly tone.
“Excuse me? That’s not what friends are supposed to say.”, Sara protested, her mouth formed to a little pout.
Felicitas smiled apologetically: “Just kidding… but playing wise not. She’s at the best football club in Europe!“
“And she and her team won against you this season. Twice.“, Lena added, rubbing salt into the wound.
“I’m aware of that.“, Sara shrugged unimpressed.
“Just a friendly reminder.“, Lena said.
Sara rolled her eyes: “That doesn’t mean we can’t go out.“
“True. I guess she’s the reason you can’t visit me in the US in your free time?“, Felicitas asked, casually changing the subject.
“That’s not true! You’re always busy!“, Sara protested.
Her best friend raised her eyebrows: “So are you apparently!“
“It’s not because of her. I’m still a football player.“, Sara explained, cringing at the thought of how packed both of their schedules were.
“I know that. So when will you introduce me to her?“, Felicitas continued.
Sara only groaned in response.
In the evening, you were on the phone with Sara as she recounted the details of the talk she had with her teammates.
“So they know about us now?“, you concluded, a smile on your lips.
“Yes, apparently we’re on Ingrids photo dump.“, Sara replied with a laugh.
You shook your head about your Norwegian teammate: “Ingrid might have done that on purpose. Sorry for that.“
“Typical.“, Sara sighed, slight fondness for her former teammate sneaking into her voice.
“She said she had a feeling when she introduced us and I believe her.“
“There’s no way!“
You sucked in your breath in feigned shock: “And I thought you were the romantic!“
“Oh, I am. I just like to think that it was fate.“, Sara replied. You could almost hear the wink through the phone.
Lowering your voice, you whispered: “Me too. I want this to be forever.“
pictures are from pinterest.
#sara doorsoun#sara doorsoun x reader#sara doorsoun imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso oneshot#woso one shot#woso imagine#woso fluff#woso#woso community#eintracht frankfurt frauen#gerwnt#dfb frauen#lena oberdorf#felicitas rauch#barcelona femeni#barcelona femeni x reader#ingrid engen#Spotify
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STARSTRUCK — art donaldson
synopsis: as art’s donaldson’s biggest fan you have to make yourself known to him by any means necessary.
warnings/tags: nsfw under the cut (17+), art x superfan!reader, reader is kinda delulu, p in v sex, public sex, unprotected sex, first time writing smut so be nice i beg 😩, please don’t fuck in bathrooms or have unprotected sex,!
art shouldn’t even be here right now.
the pr mess that would ensue if he was caught by an eagle eyed fan or the paparazzi was a nightmare that he didn’t want to deal with. after all what brand would endorse a player that had been seen attending a club?
the neon sign of the club illuminated the street corner, creating a light purple haze that drew him in like a moth to a flame. new rochelle was a fairly uneventful county and since tashi was away every night doing god knows what, art was desperate to kill some time.
he entered the club in a baseball cap, sunglasses and some sweats, trying to mantain a low profile. but it was hard to be discreet when he was casually adorning a rolex on his wrist, which drew some attention from some patrons with how it caught in the light.
bass filled rap music was blasting through the speakers as art moved his way through the throng of the bodies dancing, grinding and making out in the club.
thankfully no one bothered to pay attention to the random white dude in sweats as he took his spot at the club’s vip section, sipping on his drink and mindlessly swaying to the beat of the music.
men and women came over to his section, trying to charm and flirt their way into his pants or to get a drink but he wasn’t interested at all.
he was pulled out of his thoughts by a tap on his shoulder and his immediate reflex was to say no pictures but when he finally made out who it was his face paled, the blood devoid on his face.
how did you know he was here?
art couldn’t believe it.
his number one super-fan aka the head of the so called artnation on twitter and instagram had managed to track him down. honestly he was both super impressed and kind of freaked out but he didn’t let it show. what a way to spend to spend a friday night, he thought to himself.
you were everywhere he went: at the meet and greets, the us open, wimbledon, the australia open, his launch parties. every time you met him, you always had that stupid starstruck look in your eyes when ever he signed another piece of memorabilia for you to add to your collection, made you look even more pathetic.
“how did you find me?” art grumbled, his plans for a quiet booze filled night going down the drain.
what made matters worse was the proximity between you both. you were leaning over him, your boobs practically spilling out of your dress. your voice was a mere whisper, tickling the hairs on his sensitive neck.
god he was a wreck.
“i have my sources.” you replied, not wanting to give
that part was believable. art’s legion of super fans were unreal. whilst some spent their time breaking down the cost of the outfits he wore and some spent their time speculating on his future collaborations, others spent their time tracking his location.
“well…uh it was nice meeting you. again.” art spluttered, looking for the way to end the conversation without sounding like an asshole. “i’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” he stood up taking his leave.
“wait up!” you called out after him. you needed to grab his attention for a longer while, you wanted to have a conversation with art that was memorable, something that you two could joke or talk about when you both “ran” into each other next.
“is it true that you and tashi are getting a divorce?”
“what?” art’s head spun around so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.
“where the hell do you get off on making up rumours about my wife like that?” his stepped closer to you and you could make out the tick of his jaw underneath the strobe lights. yeah he was pissed.
you sometimes got ahead of yourself and this was one of the times where you low-key felt bad for overstepping boundaries, but in your eyes it was all apart of the fan experience.
what you didn’t expect was to be getting fucked by the art donaldson in a dark club bathroom, his fingers stuffed in your mouth so you wouldn’t make a sound.
who knew that art’s anger towards your lack of respect for his marriage and privacy would have him end up fucking you in the club bathroom?
the music drowned out your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin as art buried himself inside you, his tip just brushing against your g spot. your dress was bunched up to your hips and your panties were in tatters on the ground.
“hope you’re fucking proud of yourself. all those years of stalking me and my family finally paid off hm?” he groaned against your ear. the way your pussy was milking him dry was enough to send him into a frenzy.
art should’ve felt bad or even guilty for what he was doing, his wedding ring still being on was a glaring reminder of his promised vows of fidelity but what was a relationship without any secrets?
maybe thats why he was here right now, balls deep inside you. he wanted a secret, something to hold over tashi, drive her insane, make her second guess he ever told her, like he did on that one night in atlanta.
you were too fucked out to respond, your mind becoming hazy with each thrust. you held onto the bathroom wall, desperately attempting to anchor yourself into this reality.
“f-fuck don’t stop.” you shuddered as art kept his brutal unforgiving pace, not paying attention to the banging outside the door.
“is that all you gotta say to me?” he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you flush against him so that you now took every inch of his dick. “c’mon i know you got a bigger vocabulary than that.” he teased, rolling his hips into yours watching your jaw go slack as you became drunk on him.
you whined at the sensation, your wet pussy fluttering around him, making his eyes roll back. “please i-im sorry.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy and filled with lust and need but art wasn’t swayed that easily, so he played dumb.
“sorry for what?” he asked, his hands finding your tits, squeezing them as his fingers rolled over your sensitive nipples, eliciting a mewl from you. he wasn’t gonna last any longer if your cunt kept him prisoner like this.
“f-for harassing you and invading your privacy—shit!” you groaned out as art started to fuck into you again, leaning forward to give you a sloppy, wet kiss. “that’s more like it.” art grunted in your ear, feeling his climax soon approaching.
his strokes were more frantic, less controlled as his hips stuttered with each thrust, the coolness of his wedding band against your hips contrasting with the warmth you both felt building up inside of you both. it was literal bliss.
the knot that was finally building up inside of you finally snapped as you came all over his dick with a cry, slumped over his shoulder. his orgasm slowly approached after, as he came all over your dress.
you both stayed like that for a moment as you tried to regain your breath, your hearts beating in tandem with one another.
the passion filled atmosphere dissipated as you were pulled back into reality, the buzz of chatter outside the door, the click-clack sound of heels entering and leaving the bathroom, the smell of weed and cigarette smoke coming from the window.
art looked like he was mentally somewhere else, maybe the weight of his actions finally settled in. tashi didn’t look like a woman who could stay with a cheater. you weren’t going to wait for him, you already got what you wanted and even more, this night would be enough to satiate you for months.
“you run to the blogs or the press about this and i swear on everything holy and good that i will sue your ass for every penny that you have. you got that?” he was back to his professional tone that had you weak in the knees before leaving the scene of passion soon after.
sure you spent your days talking about him in fanspaces online, speculating about his life but you’d never let this night of passion be shared online. it was too intimate, too personal. despite its brief nature of your encounter it was what tied you together.
you were apart of his life now, whether the memories of tonight that he’d have were good or terrible, you completed your goal. you left a lasting impression on him and would occupy a space in his mind no matter how many times he tried to forget.
people always say to never meet your idols but maybe they’ve never had the chance to fuck them yet.
#art donaldson x reader#art x reader#art x you#art donaldson x black!reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#challengers x you#challengers x reader#art donaldson fic#challengers#art brainrot is getting so bad i fear#vina writes: misc
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So high school || Leah Williamson
warning smut 18+, fingering, semi-public setting?
Based on this request here. Thank you for the idea :)
You and Leah had been dating for just over seven months and to say it had been the best time of your life was the biggest understatement of the century.
With the stress of your degree, constantly writing new songs for your album and dealing with the responsibility of adult life, it was Leah who brought back the fun in your life.
To the current day, you've always, and always will, say that your relationship with Leah was a high school relationship.
It was as if every time you looked at her you felt, well there's no better way to describe it other than just high school.
The day you met Leah at an event, was the day that changed your life forever.
Leah, being the confident captain she was, asked you on a date before even saying hello.
Wanting to take a change from your normal over-thinking self, you agreed.
When you said yes, you thought you'd go out for dinner with her, get bored of her and never see her again.
What you didn't expect was to end up seeing her again the following night and then again and again.
Leah made you forget about the stress in life, instead, making you realise the fun and adventures in the world.
You went from wearing a frown to wearing a smile every second of the day.
You were so happy with living like you were back in high school to the fact you purposely went out of your way to make it as fun as possible.
I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you
Leah had just played her first match in nine months against Reading and had managed to bag an assist, which made your heart swell with pride.
To make the match even more memorable for you and leah, you'd purchased a cardboard cut out of Leah's face.
After the final whistle blew, Leah was the first one you searched for throughout the crowd of players on the pitch.
When you clocked her, you noticed the confused look on her face as she searched the crowd for you.
As soon as you took the mask off, a smile appeared on her face as climbed over the railing to get to you.
You enveloped her in a bone crushing hug before grabbing the back of her neck, pressing your lips on hers.
"I'm so proud of you, Le." You whispered repeatedly in her ear.
"It's all because of you, baby. I couldn't have done it if it wasn't for you."
and I'm high from smoking your jokes all damn night
"I had to do this interview with the little girl I was on about and she asked if I had a joke and only one came to my head. Why was cinderella bad at football?" Because she ran away from the ball." Leah told you over FaceTime and you let out a small giggle, finding the joke genuinely funny. "I love your laugh."
"You make me laugh and you like it. Good combo, that is."
"We are a good combo, aren't we?" Leah asked and you agreed, a small laugh escaping past your lips.
"Tell me more jokes." You suggested and Leah agreed, telling you every joke she knew.
Leah didn't care how many jokes she told that night, the jokes made you laugh and that's all that mattered.
I'm watching American pie with you on a Saturday night, your friends are around so be quiet, I'm trying to stifle my sighs
It was Leah's turn to host team bonding but messing up the dates for your movie night with her, meant Leah had you knock on her door with a confused look on your face.
“What’s with all the cars? Throwing a party without me?” You joked as Leah stood there with an even more confused expression.
“Baby, what are you doing here? Not that I don’t want you here, it’s just I thought our movie night was tomorrow.” Leah pointed out, quickly pulling you in for a hug and kiss.
“Oh, I thought it was tonight. Maybe I got the days wrong. Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry, love. It was me who got the days wrong. I remember talking about it being tonight. I’ve got team bonding tonight. We’re just about to find a movie to watch. Come, it’ll be fun, and it means I get cuddles. The team love you anyway.” Leah got excited and guided you inside. “Guess who decided to surprise us.” Leah announced to the whole Arsenal squad.
“Guess who got her days mixed up.” You teased Leah whose cheeks turned a red colour.
The girls all said hello to you as you took a seat next to Leah at the back corner of the living room.
After about half an hour of arguing over what movie you were going to watch, you all agreed on American Pie, some of the girls not watching it before, and some of them loving the film.
At the beginning of the film, Leah rested her hand on your lower thigh but as the film continued, Leah’s hand got higher and higher.
“Leah, stop it.” You warned, moving her hand lower down.
“You can be quiet, can’t you?” Leah murmured against your neck. “They won’t see or hear. Look at them all, they’re too busy watching the film.”
Leah’s fingers slide down into your underwear, her fingers teasingly circling your clit.
“Le, that feels so good.” You whisper into her neck.
You looked up to double check that nobody was watching and luckily, no one was.
Leah then dips her fingers into your pussy, making you let out a muffled moan into her neck.
It was only quiet because you stopped yourself but you made sure to not move your head from Leah’s neck.
“Faster, le. Please.” You muttered, her slow pace torturing you.
Leah listened, speeding up her movements.
“Fuck.” You whispered, a sigh leaving your mouth.
As your orgasm approached, your moans and sighs began to get pushed so Leah came up with another plan.
“Kiss me, baby.” Leah muttered, your lips colliding as she swallowed your moans.
Leah started curling her fingers as they entered you, bringing you closer and closer to your high.
“‘m gonna cum. Please don’t stop, le.” You begged, breaking the kiss before Leah brought you in for another.
After swallowing all your orgasmic moans, leah pulled away, grinning at you.
You caught your breath before showing an identical one back.
Once more, you looked around the room to see that everyone was oblivious to the fact Leah had just given you an orgasm.
“We should do that again sometime.” Leah suggested and you nodded.
Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?, It's just a game, but really
Leah had been sat down to do a TikTok for the England TikTok page.
The media team explained that she was going to do a few filters, not a lot, but enough for the fans to be content.
One of the filters happened to be kill, kiss, marry.
Leah smiled to herself, knowing that she hadn’t played the game since she was in high school.
Pressing the record button, the filter started and she was given three celebrities.
Taylor Swift, Britney Spears and Y/N Y/L/N.
“This is easy this is.” Leah laughed, not even having to think about her options.
You and Leah and announced your relationship quite early on.
Well, you hadn’t officially announced it.
When you started attending Arsenal matches with Leah, and Leah started attending your shows, fans assumed you were either friends or there was possibly something between you both.
It wasn’t until you won a Grammy for best album, that Leah was so proud, she planted a kiss on your lips before you went up to collect it.
Since then, the fans had guessed you were a couple.
“I’m gonna go, kill, Britney Spears. Kiss, Taylor Swift. Marry, Y/N.” Leah said, looking past the camera to see Kiera laughing.
“She might as well be married to Y/N. So loved up them two are.” Kiera joked and they both laughed.
Get my car door, isn't that sweet? Then pull me to the backseat
“Thank you for tonight, baby. I really needed a break.” You said to Leah as you walked out the restaurant.
With all the songwriting and studying for your final exam, Leah thought it would be nice to take you out for dinner.
Due to the popularity you both had, it was hard to find a place to go when people would constantly swarm you, however, one restaurant quite close to Leah’s house, had a separate room that was used for private events but they allowed you to use it.
“You deserve a break, love. You’ve been working so hard on your songs and your exams. I think I should take your mind off it all.” Leah sent you a playful smirk as she opened the back seat car door.
Leah helped you onto the back seats before climbing over you.
Within seconds, Leah’s lips were on yours and you were both scrambling to take your clothes off.
Breaking the kiss, Leah’s lips travelled down your jaw and into your neck, soothing sensitive hickeys from the night before.
“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re mine.” Leah told you, pressing kisses to your neck.
“I’m all yours, le. No one ever had me, not like you.”
You know how to ball, I know Aristotle
“I don’t understand this. I mean I do, but then I try the equation and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.” You explain to Leah who rubbed your back comfortingly.
“You’ll do it, baby. Stop stressing. Come on, talk me through it and I’ll try see where you’re going wrong.” Leah suggested, taking a seat next to you.
“Le, you’re kidding. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle. Not the other way round. I mean you’re clever, baby, but I think you’ll freak when you see the equation.” You slightly giggled at Leah’s confidence, but she had that cocky look on her face so you allowed her to look at it.
“Okay, maybe you’re right.” Leah admitted once you turned the textbook to her, a full page on the equation. “I’ll stick to football.”
“Good choice, baby.”
Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto
Leah was sat playing FIFA with Georgia, Kiera and Lucy whilst you were laid on the bed, next to Leah.
They had been playing all evening and now into the night, which annoyed you, because Leah had said you’d be doing something else.
“Le, how long until it’s finished?” You questioned, getting impatient.
It didn’t help that Leah had mentioned it multiple times throughout the day so it had been on your mind all day.
“Not long, love. I promise — Kiera, defend. We’re going more defensive.” Leah says, talking to Kiera through her mic, before pressing button after button on the remote.
“Le, please hurry up.” You whined, impatiently, as Leah looked at you with a saddened look.
“Baby, I promise, as soon as it’s finished. Five minutes left.” Leah told you, but you wanted her now, not in five minutes.
You moved from your original place to straddle Leah’s lap.
Leah’s eyes grew at your plan and although you thought she would continue the game, she pulled her headset off, muting herself before pulling you down into a kiss.
You could faintly hear Kiera, G, and Lucy asking where she’d gone, but you were so focused on Leah and what she was going to do, that you couldn’t hear them.
The kiss turned desperate and before long, the both of you were desperately ripping each other’s clothes off.
Leah connected her mouth to your hardened nipple, swirling her tongue around it.
Your hips bucked at the feeling, as you entangled your hand in Leah’s hair.
“Feels good.” You mumbled in pleasure before Leah moved onto your other one.
As Leah continued to suck hickeys on your body, her fingers made their way down to your pussy, gently circling your clit.
“Fuck, Le.” You breathed out, the pleasure you’d been waiting all day for, finally feeling evident.
“All mine.” Leah mumbled into your neck, her tongue moving over a fresh mark that she’d left.
“All yours.” You repeated as Leah’s finger made their way inside you.
“My girl. Only I get to touch you like this. No one else.” Leah stated, her fingers thrusting in and out of you.
“I’m close, Leah. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”
“Cum for me, love. Cum on my fingers.” Leah whispered in your ear as you clenched around her fingers, a moan leaving your lips along with a chant of Leah’s name.
“I love you so much.” You told Leah after you’d calmed down.
“I love you too.”
“I feel like I’m in high school after that.” You laughed and Leah agreed as you both looked at the TV to find Kiera, Lucy and Georgia all still playing fifa. “I feel so… high school every time I look at you.”
#woso#woso community#woso x reader#woso imagine#womens football#woso fanfics#woso smut#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson smut
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how did it end?
part 1 || patrick zweig x fem!reader
"you cannot love somebody into loving you"
summary: your relationship with patrick has been on and off for ages. you knew him and he knew you. you love him but he only loves you when he can get something out of it. but then, can that even be considered love?
a/n(READ THIS BITCH): random ass specific fact about the reader but she is skincare obsessed like me. acne prone girlies yk what im talking about. btw I KNOW PATRICK DOESN'T GO TO STANFORD BUT WE WILL PRETEND HE SPENDS A LOT OF TIME THERE OK. also this series will only continue if u guys give me feedback. and hype me up. cause i have no motivation. patrick girlies help me i know ur out there💪 also this first chapter is like. they're friends but pining. no angst yet oopsie
2004, stanford college.
being in love with patrick was difficult. really, really fucking difficult. it was almost like you had to put in an effort to be in love with him. nevertheless, you didn't. to you it just felt easy. you wish you could get rid of the feeling, but it doesn't seem to want to go away.
patrick zweig could be very easily described in one word: player. and by that i don't only mean tennis player.
but he was easy to love, too. if we ignore all the mixed signals he always gave you, he's actually a sweet guy.
he remembers your coffee order. he listens to your problems. he calls you to check up on you. and he takes care of you while you're out partying. and after that. and in the morning. he holds your hair and rubs your back as you puke out whatever the fuck you drank last night. he gives you his clothes. out of all the girls he knows, he gives you his clothes.
this was one of those times.
saturday morning.
you woke up with a horrible headache and with a certain curly-haired boy next to you. you try to remember what happened last night, but you give up after about three minutes of staring at the ceiling in silence. who cares, really? at least you woke up in your bed, and not on a random bench outside. not that patrick would ever let that happen.
he has the key to your dorm. he spent most of his days with you, so you figured it would be totally fine for him to have it.
you rub your eyes sleepily as you look to your left- patrick was not sleeping either.
"morning." he said, simply. you groaned in response.
"glad you asked, and you're welcome." he said sarcastically. "you got fucking wasted, like usual. i had to carry you from the party. not that you couldn't walk, but you just insisted on it. when we finally got here you threw up all over yourself. and then in the toilet, like three times, i think."
your eyes widened in disgust. you looked down at your clothes, expecting to find a now vomit-stained white dress on. to your surprise, you were wearing a dark green tee - you remember you've seen it on patrick once- and a pair of uncomfortably large boxers. you're surprised they didn't fall off while you were sleeping.
"patrick." you said, terrified. "please tell me i took my makeup off before sleeping. or at least washed my face." patrick sighed. 'blah blah blah i have sensitive skin blah blah blah i'll break out if i sleep with my makeup on' you always told him, whenever he was sleeping over.
"you didn't." he said. then went quiet for a few seconds, but just for his own amusement. he thought you looked cute when you were worried. but worried was not a big enough word for the look on your face- you were more like, mortified, maybe? so he decided to stop joking around. "i took your makeup off. i couldn't find those circular white thingies you do it with so i used a towel-"
you cut him off with a laugh. you could actually kiss him. maybe you shouldn't, though. your breath smelled like actual shit. looking to your right, at the nightstand next to your side of the bed, you noticed your earrings and necklace and rings arranged neatly next to eachother and you swore you felt your heart flutter.
you knew patrick cared about you, but you didn't think he would be so attentive. usually, you don't get so drunk, so you can actually do what you need to do by yourself. even then, he insists he should do it for you. but you always refused him, partly because you didn't want to bother him but you were also pretty convinced he would not do things properly. he proved you wrong.
"for how long have you been awake?" you ask him.
"i'm not sure whether i even slept. you kept talking on your sleep. and tossing. and turning. and stealing the blanket. i think you even slapped me once-" he started laughing as you started muttering apologies, but he immediately told you not to worry about it.
you sighed, then you both went silent. you examined his face- he really did seem tired- droopy eyes, dark eyebags, eyelids partially closed. but still smirking at you. no one and nothing could ever wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.
"you look cute." he broke the silence, letting his thumb linger on your cheek.
"i feel like shit." you snickered, hiding your face in your hands but he immediately pulled them away, kissing your knuckles.
that took you by surprise. sure, you and patrick were affectionate with eachother, but this felt way more intimate than usual. what was going on with him?
suddenly, you looked at the time. 10:30 am. you were late for breakfast. like, really late. you figured there wouldn't be anything left in the cafeteria by now.
"shit. we'll have to starve until lunch, patrick" you told him, a hint of irony in your voice.
"don't worry, i'll go get us something from the supermarket." he said as he got up, pulling a grey hoodie over his head. he took his keys and wallet then looked down lovingly at you as you still rested on the bed. "call me if you need anything else" he said , kissing your forehead then leaving. leaving your dorm, but also leaving you swooning over him.
you were in it for good.
#patrick zweig#patrick zweig fluff#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig fanfic#josh o connor#josh oconnor#josh o'connor#mike faist#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig angst#challengers#challengers x reader#tashi duncan#art donaldson fluff#art donaldson angst
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grbbrgrr. scurries toward you. I offer thee pathbubs fluff, fresh from my mind fortress.
Patho. falling asleep with dbubs’s clock to his ear.
gives you a cupcake skitters away
(offering received, considered, and accepted. however, i have substituted your fluff for angst. i hope this is satisfactory.)
~*~
"watch this!" dbubs shouts, before leaping off the cliff into the water below.
<player>dat -7063fdce-39ac-4a12-d836-a990c45b2bb0
patho leans back just enough to avoid being splashed. the water in this jungle lagoon is clear and blue, brighter than most bodies of water he comes across. tall, thick trees surround them on all sides, creating a natural barrier from the mobs of the jungle. it’s a beautiful place, and one of his favorites to visit when he’s here.
155 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 17/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 28 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,683.952 / 39.11563 / 253,589.263 block: -12,683 39 253,589 chunk: -791 15 7,849 facing: south (towards positive z)(1.5/5) client light: 6 (0 sky, 6 block) biome: error:crimson jungle local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 16/247 + 0/8
dbubs surfaces with a gasp, his wet bangs plastered to his forehead. “did you see that?” he crows. “that was- i must’ve done a- a complete 360 spin about five- no, ten times! world record, first try!”
“oh, yeah,” patho agrees with a smile he doesn’t feel. “yeah, that was very impressive.”
they’re almost out of time.
patho has known this since he woke to find a little weeping vine attempting to burrow into his arm, right at the seam where flesh meets metal. this is an event that only happens when he’s overstayed his welcome, and the jungle can no longer tolerate his presence without trying to claim him. that vine was easily removed, putting off the inevitable for a few more days. but he can’t ignore the sudden restlessness that overtakes him now, a buzzing in his very core that fills his mind with static and his limbs- organic and mechanical alike- with the powerful urge to move.
it’s hard to explain, his need to wander. it’s like every moment he’s not traveling, he can almost feel the infinite borders of hels expanding, spreading into new horizons, and the thought of staying put is unbearable. it doesn’t matter if he actually goes beyond the loaded chunks or not- a feat that’d take years, to be sure. just getting on the move again is enough to quiet the itch.
(it didn’t use to be this way. it didn’t start until after he built his communicator into his new arm, fusing himself with it- but he’ll never admit this, never confront the possibility that it might’ve been a mistake. it’s easier just to leave.)
besides, he still enjoys the various business he gets up to with the other denizens of hels. his services as a redstoner and a data analyst are in high demand, and he has a reputation to uphold. he can’t throw all that away to stay here. that just wouldn’t make sense. it wouldn’t be logical.
patho reaches for the clock at his hip. it was the first gift dbubs gave him. early into patho’s first stay, dbubs decided he needed a clock of his own, so he’d always know when it was time for them to sleep. based on its position, nightfall is only a couple hours away.
“well, c’mon!” dbubs pesters him, his haughty voice echoing off the smooth walls of the cliffside. “what’re you- what, are ya scared of a lil water? huh? just- you just try and beat my record, you- i bet you can’t!”
“alright, alright,” patho chuckles, shrugging his jacket off. “you asked for it…”
won’t be long, now.
~*~
that night, patho leaves his eye on.
dbubs, curled beside him, notices this immediately, and deep down, he knows what it means. it took a while- how long, he isn’t sure- for patho to grow comfortable enough to turn his cybernetic eye off while they slept. but ever since then, he does it every night… up until the last night. every last night, like clockwork.
already, dbubs can feel the familiar weight of sleep trying to take him. caught in the jungle’s day-night cycle, he has little choice in the matter; he sleeps every night without fail. but he fights it anyway, biting back a yawn.
“tomorrow,” dbubs starts quietly, “uh, do you wanna- i- i had this idea for a new build, a perfect build, of course, and i’m gonna need a- a super smelter, for- uh, for all the terracotta-“
“dbubs.” that solitary red eye gazes out from the dark. “you know i’m not made for staying.”
dbubs shies away from the words like an insect from sudden light. “and- and so i was thinking,” he continues, as if patho hadn’t spoken, “we could do a uh, you know, maybe a bamboo farm? for the- for the fuel? i- my perfect redstone prowess could make this easy- easily, of course, but um… i uh- euugh, you- you know they always say, sure enough, that two brains- uh, two geniuses, genii, are better’n one.”
“yeah?” patho breathes a soft, empty laugh. “is that what they say?”
“and- well, yes! yes, of course!” darkness creeps in from the edges of dbubs’s vision; he clings tighter to patho. “and… and uh… n’you can learn all ‘bout my new… new dbubs redstone clock… pat- patented design, a‘course…”
“of course.” patho’s lips brush across his forehead. “better get some rest, then.”
dbubs struggles to keep his eyes open, but it’s as if his lashes are lined with iron. he presses his face in the crook of patho’s neck, breathing him in, that redstone-and-gunpowder scent; bitter and metallic.
“don’t,” he murmurs, consciousness escaping him quickly. “please…?”
“night, dbubs.”
the jungle sleeps.
~*~
far from the jungle, patho lays down in a shallow cave carved from netherrack.
168 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 15/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 27 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -11, 987.629 / 30.91778 / 252,896.204 block: -11,987 30 252,896 chunk: -780 15 7,835 facing: east (towards positive x)(1.5/5) client light: 2 (0 sky, 2 block) biome: error:nether waste local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 5/247 + 0/8
he’s put enough distance between himself and the jungle that he’s confident he can sleep for a few hours before setting off again. the surrounding biome is one he’s well familiar with; barren and empty. with a wall put up to shelter him from mobs, he’s finally safe enough to turn his eye off.
that won’t be the case anymore, once he gets closer to the more populated chunks. the risk of being caught with one eye nonfunctional is too high. it’s just something he has to deal with.
(of course, he could’ve built a cybernetic replacement that simply functioned like the eye he lost, but he thought himself clever and built in a data processor to provide him with valuable information, giving him an advantage over anyone else in his field. so this is the price he pays for it.)
he reaches for his clock. there’s only a couple hours left before the sun will rise, unseen beyond the bedrock ceiling, and dbubs will wake to an empty bed.
but for now, patho tucks the clock to his ear and closes his eyes, letting the steadfast ticking finally lull him to sleep.
~*~
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I've been thinking a lot about #FixTF2 and I know that some might have their doubts about the movement, however, I've realized that, even if it does not succeed in getting Valve's attention, it will end up contributing towards an important development in recent years -
the shift in the public perception of Valve.
If you are person who was growing up in the early 2010's then you obviously remember how Valve games were essentially the cultural zeitgeist of the time, how you would see pictures of King Gaben on every meme/YouTube thumbnail during a Steam Summer Sale. As I understand it, Valve essentially rode this wave of good will throughout the 2010's. Even when everyone was getting frustrated with the lack of sequels for games such as HL2 and L4D2, some people would just excuse it with "ah y'know Valve, not communicating and not doing anything is just their style, this is just probably part of Gaben's 5D chess - tier master plan". However, the cracks in this image have been slowly showing up for a long time:
Portal fans haven't had anything since Portal 2's release back in 2011. We have had some small VR titles but that's hardly any consolation.
Left for Dead 2 came out all the way back in 2009 with nothing afterwards. As of June of 2024, the game still has more than 10 thousand concurrent players yet it is also unplayable for a significant amount of people due to reported DDos attacks.
The suffering of Half - life fans at this point is a meme in itself. The only thing we got was HL:Alyx back in 2020 and, even though it's a very good game, it was inaccessible to a lot of people at launch due the costs and lack of VR hardware. We were left on a cliff-hanger AGAIN and four years later we have no news of any follow-up.
In my opinion, Valve to some extent could ignore these fandoms since they were smaller compared to their big earners. But it is the recent issues with these bigger titles that have started to test everyone's patience and tolerance for Valve's bullshit:
Team Fortress 2 - I mean what else is there to say: rampant cheating and idle bots, bot hosters doxxing and swatting people. The bots crisis has been destroying the game for the past 5 years. If we remember the original SaveTF2 movement, it had a more positive tone, i. e., people talking about how much they love the game and pleading Valve to fix it. Well, one shitty tweet and two years later the tone has gone from "Please fix the game" to "FIX THE FUCKING GAME YOU ASSHOLES" and rightfully so.
CS2 also has a myriad of issues. CS:GO became CS2 after the game jumped to the Source 2 engine, but the resulting game, by many accounts, is a downgrade. A lot of game modes and maps from the original game were not included and are still not present as of June of 2024. Cheaters are rampant. To what degree I cannot say but it is to an extent where a significant enough portion of the player base is affected. Also, the game hasn't had an operation (major content update) since 2021. The player count is still high, but a lot voices in the community have been chewing out Valve for this level of incompetence.
With DOTA 2 I cannot say for sure. Some people talk about neglect whilst others say the game is in a decent state considering the game still gets frequent updates and patches. At most I can say that there is a portion of players that are dissatisfied with the state of the game but most likely to a much lesser extent than in the previous cases.
HOWEVER
All of that is just one part of the double whammy, the second part is probably is much worse than the first - a lack of continuity for Valve's legacy.
I mean, let's think about it for a second here: most of us who grew with the Valve classics are probably in our mid-to late twenties at this point. Of course, I'm not saying that there aren't any younger fans but the bulk is the old guard. I'm pretty sure a lot of kids and teenagers don't even know a lot about these games and it's not their fault, they weren't old enough to experience them. The blame lies SOLELY with Valve because they have done NOTHING to boost the visibility of their older series due to the fact that they haven't bothered to make a single proper sequel for any of them.
And speaking of visibility, Valve's advertising strategy is non - existent and downright insulting . They really have this holier-than-thou perception of themselves, where they think "I am THE Valve softworks, makers of TF2 and Half-Life! How could you NOT know of us?!?!" and then expect everyone else to spread news of their games through word-of-mouth. Like, I'm sorry, Gabe, but we don't owe you shit. I'm not gonna advertise your shitty card-game and upcoming mediocre 5v5 hero shooter just because I had fun playing TF2 back in high school. Like, it's no surprise that you're not gaining any new fans when this has been your modus operandi for the past 10 years.
TO CONCLUDE
This is where we are right now: the old guard is either apathetic or straight-up hates Valve for their negligence, the younger generation barely knows about most of Valve's OG game series due to the lack of any meaningful output. At the end of the day, Valve isn't going to bankrupt, they're gonna keep taking their 30% cut from Steam and peddling gambling addictions to kids via cases. However, the era of good will is over, nobody is cutting them any slack anymore and, frankly, they deserve all the shit that's going to get thrown at them.
#ngl I kinda got sick of my writing half-way through but I squeezed it out in the end#this is the shit that I do instead of doing my academic writing lol#valve#valve games#tf2#team fortress 2#fixtf2#savetf2#portal#left for dead#csgo#cs2#counter strike#half life#gabe newell#dota 2
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IN-DEPTH CHARACTER ANALYSIS OF KRIS(MAS) DREEMURR
Hello! I've wanted to make this post for a WHILE now, since Kris is my favourite character ever, and I LOVE analyzing characters!!
Anyway before I start just remember that people consume media differently, and this is just what I've personally picked up on. You may interpret certain points I make differently to me, and that's ok! I'm just sharing MY analysis of Kris, at the end of the day, they're a character who has never spoken any dialogue that's visible to us, so their intentions behind certain things could be interpreted differently depending on who's consuming the media.
Kris will be EXCLUSIVELY referred to by they/them (they/them/themself specifically) pronouns throughout this post. If you refer to them as anything other than they/them while interacting with this post I'm gonna block you on the spot sorry.
ANALYSIS BELOW THE CUT BECAUSE IT'S LONG!!! TW there's probably some swearing I can't remember
By the way, I'm not including any screenshots because I. forgot to take them last time I played through Deltarune, but the next time that I do, I'm going to make like a revamped version of this post with screenshots. Sorry about that!!
Kris is their own, separate character from the player. This is a no-brainer if you've actually played through Deltarune and paid the slightest bit of attention to it. Kris is their own, separate character with a VERY distinct, interesting personality, who had a life before the events of Deltarune, and even still has control over some things that they say and do while in our control.
Kris isn't actually a quiet person. Kris, in reality, is an overdramatic, sassy, talkative person who often draws attention to themself by scaring people (especially Noelle), and causing scenes. They CONSTANTLY play mean spirited pranks on Noelle or pressure her into things (I'm NOT talking about Snowgrave, I'll get to thar later), like shaking the ferris wheel carriage despite Noelle being scared of heights, and telling her that ICE-E is real and eats kids. They still do this during the events for Deltarune, like if you go against Noelle's wishes and pet the cheese, Kris strokes it like a cat, and if you give Noelle a healing item called a Choco Diamond, she says something along the lines of 'Umm, it's ok, Kris, I'll share', and both of them get healed. We don't choose for Kris to force Noelle to share, that's a decision they make. As for drawing attention to themself, the first thing that comes to mind is they falling to the ground and sulking when they're too short and weak to play Queen's arcade machine, or them barking at Noelle when she offers them a dog treat. They're loud and impulsive, shown when they eat the pie at the end of chapter one, repeatedly kicking the robot in the basement when nothing happens originally before the Sneo fight, eating all of the chocolate Undyne gives them to give to Alphys if you interact with the box, and screaming that they're normal if you call Toriel after watching her conversation with Alphys at the start of chapter two. Speaking of which...
Kris seems to have identity issues. This is one of the things here that everyone in the fandom is kind of already aware of, but this is a full character analysis, so it's still important to mention. Kris is the only human in Hometown, but desperately wants to be perceived as normal. They scream it at Toriel like I mentioned earlier, they wore a headband with red horns on it when they were little to look more like a boss monster, and they seem actively disgusting or even frightened by other humans. They also seem to be living in their brother's shadow a bit, which may be why they like drawing attention to themself. Everything I've said about their personality seems to be a little on the negative side so far, but everyone in Hometown knows their name, and seems to quite like them, so why is this? Well...
Kris is charming, well-spoken, and funny. They're a prankster known for pulling mean-spirited pranks on people, but even still characters like Noelle look back at those things fondly, and everyone in Hometown seems to like spending time with Kris. Kris' flirting abilities are pretty obvious, and are used to win over loads of Darkners, not to mention their ability to formulate a compelling speech on the spot, as shown during the first Queen battle when toasting to her. They easily win people over, especially if they like a person, I mean, they became best friends with their former bully in a DAY! A DAY!!! People seem to find them just genuinely fun to hang around, probably due to them just being a funny, charming, somewhat balls of the walls kinda person.
Kris is NOT evil or malicious. This is one of the most important points I've wanted to make on this post. I've seen the theory that Kris is evil because they don't actively do anything to prevent Snowgrave from happening tossed around and I'm here to say that that is actually fucking stupid sorry. Normally I HATE being mean about people's theories because, like I said, everyone consumes media differently, but that one is just genuinely terrible. I'd say it's WAY more likely that as Noelle gets strong, out control over Kris becomes stronger. Normally, when we choose an option to make Kris say or do something, they ELABORATE on that, which is confirmed by how characters interact with them. We just can't see them speaking to give the illusion that they're a blank slate, under our full control. But, during Snowgrave, they just say EXACTLY what you tell them to say. If you tell them to say 'We're something else', they just say 'We're something else'. If you tell them to say 'Proceed', they just say 'Proceed'. Sure, you could put this towards them not caring, but after Berdly is frozen and you reunite with Ralsei and Susie, both of them say that Kris looks HURT. And later on, they REFUSE to go and see Noelle in her room. The refuse to THINK about it. They're not happy with what happened. They didn't want to go around freezing people. But the one thing that Really stood out to me, was during the Snowgrave Spamton Neo fight. Near the end, you have the option to call Ralsei and Susie for help, which prompts the flavour text; 'Kris called for Susie and Ralsei... But nobody came'. After that, you have to call Noelle for help to finish the battle, which prompts the dialogue; 'You called for Noelle'. Spamton states that Kris could barely whisper her name. They're trying to stop you from calling for her. Those aren't their words. I think that kind of confirms that they didn't want Snowgrave to happen. Kris is just a funny teenager with identity issues, they're not evil. Sorry evil Kris fans.
Kris probably isn't the Roaring Knight. They're A knight, but not THE knight. So far, they don't REALLY have any motivation for opening the first two fountains that I'm aware of, and I doubt they knew they could open a fountain until Queen's speech at the end of Chapter 2. At the end of Chapter 2, however, they do seem to have a motivation to open a fountain. They (presumably) slash Toriel's tyres to stop her from leaving the house to go and get flour. They want her to see the Dark World. And if you choose the option to talk to Undyne about the Dark World, Kris explains it to her in FULL DETAIL, but she brushes it off as a joke. Toriel finding her tyres slashed leads her to call the guards, and Kris leaves the door of the house wide open. They want Undyne to see the Dark World, I don't know WHY, but they do for some reason. But I REALLY doubt they're the Roaring Knight, they just don't have the motivation, and if it is them, it would be really weird for Toby to reveal that so early. I really doubt that kid wants to bring on the end of the world.
That's all I have for now!! Expect a more fleshed out version of this next time I play Deltarune with screenshots and such, though I may wait until chapter 3 and 4 come out! Thanks for reading!
#robinrambles#character analysis#kris dreemurr#kris deltarune#kris#long post#gif tw#deltarune#utdr#safeutdr#safe utdr
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For the @steddiesummerexchange to @stevesjockstrap!
Batter Up: Chapter 2 of 5
Read [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]
Rated: Explicit
Summary: This fluffy story is about Baseball Player Steve Harrington, meeting Rock Star Eddie Munson and the whirlwind 1-week romance turned committed relationship. They're instantly obsessed with one another, but neither knows how to take things to the next level. Enjoy Steve being a love-sick idiot! (The story turns explicit in Chapter 4, other chapters are all fluff).
In this chapter, we get to read Eddie's POV and how obsessed he is with Steve, too. Chrissy is here to cheer him on.
Read Chapter 2 below, or [read it on Ao3]
Big thank you to @thefreakandthehair for beta reading for me and helping me with my NBA terms!
Graphic made by me!
”I want to bite his ass like it’s a fucking apple,” Eddie gritted out, his hands tense and clawing at the air as he seemingly held back unfathomable amounts of sexual tension.
“Gross!” Chrissy trilled, bouncing the squash ball in her hand against the ground to warm it up. “You don’t need to be so crass, Eddie.”
“You don’t understand—” Eddie hissed, sitting forward in his seat as he spoke to Chrissy through the plexiglass.
She gave him an unimpressed look, saying ‘really’ silently with a twisted lip and a raised brow.
“Okay, you understand— just! He’s so fucking hot, and I swear to fucking God if he lets me near him, I’m going to go berserk,” Eddie groaned, sighing dramatically as he bounced his leg.
“Don’t you have a date tomorrow?” Chrissy asked, squeezing the little black ball in her hand a few times before casually starting to bounce it against her racket.
“That’s the problem! Chrissy! Jesus Christ—he’s like… fucking Adonis. How am I—I clam up like a Mongolian death worm every time he gets near me. I can’t—I can’t even get close to laying the moves on him ‘cause I’m, like, fucking useless. It isn’t even a date tomorrow. It’s like a poorly concealed, deep-fake, seduction attempt. I don’t know! You know I’m fucking useless at actually flirting with guys unless I’m off my fucking rocker, high out of my mind,” Eddie lamented, finally standing up and beginning to pace.
Chrissy’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she served and started to play a single game of squash by herself. She was listening, Eddie knew she was, this was sort of par for the course with them. He was on Chrissy’s time, and he wasn’t going to complain about being stuck inside a squash court with his best friend, even if it smelt like an old sock.
Alright, maybe he would complain a little bit.
“But we’re not—” Chrissy puffed, exerting herself as she kept up the conversation, “—going to get high—right?”
“No, I’m not going to get high,” Eddie groaned, feeling his fingers twitch against his leg. He had given drugs up—or at least he hoped he had—but that didn’t mean that it made existing without them easy.
“I don’t want to depend on drugs to flirt, I just—I wish I was starting out with a smaller-fry, you know? First big thing out of rehab, and I’m smacked in the face with Steve Harrington? Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier? He’s just—-ugh! Chrissy!” Eddie whined, his stature devolving as he crumpled to his knees on the squishy floor.
“Not my fault—you refused every invite—to baseball before—now,” Chrissy retorted, the bang of the ball against the wall making it a bit difficult to hear her.
“You didn’t tell me my fucking Achilles heel of men existed in cotton spandex pants, and a baseball cap,” Eddie complained, crawling back over to the bench to pull himself up onto it. “He looks so fucking good, Chrissy. God… it’s like the gods sculpted his ass and put it inside white sheets woven from the strings of fate itself.”
Chrissy missed the swing and puffed, putting her hands on her hips as she caught her breath.
“You’re really….” she sighed, finally looking over at Eddie and smiling at him, “... into this guy, Eddie. You going to write poetry for all the boys you get a crush on? It’s pretty cute, actually.”
“Don’t call me cute,” Eddie huffed, rolling his face toward the bench to hide from Chrissy. “I just… don’t want to fuck this up, Cece…”
Eddie heard the door to the squash court open and the muted sound of Chrissy’s shoes against the mats. It didn’t take long for her to get to the bench and sit down with him, her fingers instantly in his hair. It was soothing, and Eddie only resisted for a moment before he inched forward and put his head in her lap.
“You won’t mess it up…” Chrissy repeated, tailoring her reply so she wasn’t swearing as well.
Chrissy was sweet, and Eddie was no stranger to this sort of kindness from her. They had dated, once upon a time, and Eddie could confidently say that Chrissy was the only person he had been with that he had really loved. He still loved her, even though they weren’t together, and he didn’t think he could ever not love Chrissy Cunningham, but the attraction they had once shared was void now. They just weren’t meant to be romantic, but Eddie knew that losing that intimacy with Chrissy had destroyed his heart. Still, he was more than grateful to have her as a friend. No one knew him better than Chrissy, and he didn’t hold out hope for them to get back together.
It had been the drugs that had broken them up, but it had been Chrissy’s confession that she was more attracted to women that had kept them apart.
He didn’t begrudge her, but Eddie had never been able to shake the feeling that he had been the one to fuck everything up for them. That it was his shortcomings that had poked holes into an already sinking ship. He was great at that kind of stuff— an expert at ruining a good thing.
“I don’t know… if I’m ready,” Eddie confessed, his necklaces clinking together as he rested his head on Chrissy’s thighs.
“Ready for what?” Chrissy asked, her voice gentle as she continued to pet his hair away.
“A relationship…” Eddie sighed.
He had been single for years now and had only really pursued flings or one-night stands. Even then, he had gotten out of rehab a few months ago and he hadn’t even tried to hook up with anyone since getting out. It was too intimidating to flirt when he didn’t have drugs to rely on, and now he was being blindsided by the prospect that he didn’t just want to sleep with Steve.
“You really like this guy, huh?” Chrissy smiled, her tone so caring it made Eddie’s heart ache.
He hid again, rolling his face into the crisp white of Chrissy’s uniform. She looked tooth-achingly sweet in it, and Eddie only let himself feel a little bad for getting eyeliner on her skirt.
“Oh, Eddie…” Chrissy lamented, still petting his head. “You’re allowed to want things, sugar.”
Eddie let out a held breath, his fingers clenching at the soft fabric of Chrissy’s outfit.
“But what… if I fuck it up?” He asked again, the fear edging into his voice as he let himself get vulnerable.
“How would you mess it up?” Chrissy asked, sounding more like a mother than someone Eddie’s own age.
“I don’t know,” Eddie whined, “open my mouth and speak? Show him the fact that I’m a giant fucking nerd with an ego the size of Australia and daddy issues that span the Atlantic Ocean?”
“You’re being dramatic,” Chrissy sighed, her tone remaining gentle. “Even if that was true, if he doesn’t like or well… accept that kind of stuff about you, he’s not going to be a very good boyfriend.”
Eddie groaned softly, knowing that Chrissy was right, but hating the idea that they could just not work out, and he would have to let go of the idea of Steve Harrington.
“What if… he’s just looking for something… short term?” Eddie questioned, feeling his heart and stomach clench in unison.
“Well, then you get at least one great night of sex with playboy, Steve Harrington,” Chrissy replied matter-of-factly.
“Chrissy!” Eddie gasped, lifting his head to look at her. He was only mildly scandalized that she would say something forward like that, but he amped up his reaction to get a smile out of her.
“Lots of ladies are frothing at the mouth to get a date with him, you know,” she continued, grinning. “And you’ve gotten, what? Four dates in the last week?”
Eddie breathed a laugh and put his head back down, smiling at her reassurances. She was right. They had been flirting pretty relentlessly, and Eddie was certain Steve was interested in him. So, for flirting to extend over the course of a week… that had to mean Steve wanted more than just a fling, right?
“You really think I have a shot with him?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet as he turned the idea of just kissing Steve over in his mind.
“I really think you do,” Chrissy concluded, tugging Eddie’s earlobe until he hissed and sat up. “You’re a catch, Eddie.”
He smiled bashfully at her and looked away, rubbing his ear.
“Really,” Chrissy offered, patting his thigh. “If you’re just you, really you, without any of the fame or drugs or anything like that… he has to fall for you. If he already likes you enough to ask you out, I have no doubt that he’ll like the real you, Eddie.”
Eddie frowned, still unable to look at Chrissy as she placated him with compliments. The worst part of it was that he knew she meant it. They weren’t in love, but he loved her.
“You’re succeeding in helping my ego take over New Zealand, too,” Eddie teased, sniffing as he tried to hide how touched he was by Chrissy’s comment.
She gave his thigh a good pat and then stood up, tucking the frills of her skort behind her as she walked back toward the squash court.
“Who knows, Eddie,” Chrissy chimed, “maybe this is the makings of real love.”
She flashed him a little smile and then slipped back into the court, picking her racket up and starting to warm the ball again.
Eddie blinked at her, and then slowly felt his cheeks flush as he took those words in.
Real love, huh? He really liked the idea of falling in love with Steve.
Chapter 3 (not out yet)
#eddie munson#steddie#my_writing#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie fic#steddiesummerexchange#baseball player! Steve#Rock Star! Eddie#Batter Up Summer Exchange#art n' photos by me
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To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz
PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn
at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll to be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.
GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)
WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )
WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k
playlist i listened to while writing
this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )
like and reblog are highly encouraged !
01 . CHAPTER ONE
IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed.
And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows.
You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs.
And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold.
There are five of them.
The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.
In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun.
Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.
Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.
The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ).
The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ).
And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back.
Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes.
When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.
( next morning )
“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light.
“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again.
Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?”
You sigh, sprint up the second floor.
“Y/n?”
Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely.
“What?”
“The letters…”
Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?”
“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall.
“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.”
He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse.
“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead.
“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit.
You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city.
To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes.
“I’LL KILL YOU!”
02 . CHAPTER TWO
( tuesday afternoon )
The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city.
Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door.
So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.
“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile.
“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right.
“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.”
The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose.
“Jaehyun.”
You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice.
Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink.
Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players.
He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe.
“Yeah.”
You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear.
Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.
He talks suddenly.
“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle.
Fuck.
Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you.
A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–”
“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong.
You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes.
“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae.
“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.”
“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.
“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail.
“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders.
You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit.
“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.”
No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back.
“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door.
“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before.
You side eyes him still and sits up.
“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.
“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice.
“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone.
The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit.
“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.”
You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious.
“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him.
“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders.
As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again.
“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.
His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it.
“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.
“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”
The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.
“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees.
“Too bad, too bad.”
It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again.
“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?”
You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?
You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.”
Hyunjae smirks.
“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.”
“Sure.” He nods.
You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.”
He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.”
“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.”
( friday evening )
“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.
From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink.
One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on.
He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him.
“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand.
“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.
Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear.
Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves).
“Not so fast.”
Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully.
“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner.
Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks.
“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow.
You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe.
“Now I’m yours.” He smiles.
Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house.
With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens.
Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out.
After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again.
There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat.
At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square.
You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions.
Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass.
All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month.
There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.
You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room.
When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences.
Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book.
It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?”
“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings.
It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone.
“Sorry.” You deadpan.
“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off.
You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks.
At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub.
Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party.
As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first.
“Oh, Y/n.”
He smiles, still holds the book before him.
You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.”
“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence.
The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously.
“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly.
“Why are you here?” You ask.
Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk.
“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively.
With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page.
“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.
You nod.
“We all do.”
You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence.
As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing.
But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option).
You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. .
“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly.
You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.”
“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle.
Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.”
Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?”
Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap.
To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after).
There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers.
“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.
“Oh.”
The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again.
“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.
“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor.
“Mindy?” He says.
“Oh, Yeah.”
They both laugh.
“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.”
As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol).
Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub.
“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open.
“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.”
“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back.
The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room.
Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls.
A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain.
“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.”
“I am?”
It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness.
From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree.
“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return.
“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest.
“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame.
“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing.
“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.”
His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state.
Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs.
There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end.
“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.”
You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down.
“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him.
Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist.
He starts, “I need your name, I should call–”
“Sunwoo!”
It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above.
“Jaehyu–”
“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him.
“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you.
Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.
“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense.
“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.”
“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans.
After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path.
While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back.
“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated.
“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms.
“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back.
The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow.
Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him.
Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face.
“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence.
“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you.
“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette.
Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.”
He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.”
03 . CHAPTER THREE
( saturday midday )
Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut.
Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs.
Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric.
The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps.
There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.
“Oh–Hi, Y/n.”
“Oh, Juyeon?”
He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line.
“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him.
“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead.
Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?”
“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it.
You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”
He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”
You nod.
Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head.
“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity.
“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.”
“Really?”
Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?”
“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”
“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack.
“Jump on.”
To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt.
Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.”
At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.
That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly.
At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting.
He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks.
Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator.
“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap.
She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat.
An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes.
Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside.
“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.”
You look up, “Oh.”
The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap.
Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head.
“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings.
Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..
“Is that Mum Mew?”
Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet.
Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.”
They sit there until the lady comes out again.
“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”
The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing.
"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer.
“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair.
“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”
“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother.
“Oh, you see!”
You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does.
After another conversation, the topic returns.
“So when did you meet?”
Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither.
Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.”
Lady nods, “Since when?”
“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?”
“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.”
He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile.
“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.
You freeze.
“Then I confessed in university.”
The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both.
For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass.
You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to.
None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air.
All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay.
After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood.
Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat.
Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it.
“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers.
“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.”
Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.”
“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat.
Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.
“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits.
He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’.
And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor.
“Really?” You say surprised.
He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.”
You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t.
“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly.
“What?” You lean away.
“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!”
Still the same skeptical expression answers him back.
“I’m really serious Y/n.”
Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.”
You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders.
“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks.
Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.”
“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders.
A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.
You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too.
“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears.
You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”.
You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers.
“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring.
This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop.
“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips.
A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move.
Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”
He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.”
04 . CHAPTER FOUR
( tuesday, morning )
“Where’s the psychiatrist?”
“At the library.”
“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans.
To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it.
“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down.
“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side.
They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces.
Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week.
“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph.
The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.
At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate.
After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow.
“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs.
“Did anything happen?”
Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted.
Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time?
He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers.
Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence.
Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae.
You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight.
Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past.
World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated.
Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party.
Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines.
“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision.
To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak.
“What?”
“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats.
A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head.
“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.”
Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world.
You smile, “You’re trying to place me…”
Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye.
“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?”
You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time.
“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.”
The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp.
“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within.
“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly.
“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs.
While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer.
His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again.
You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from.
“Bye Y/n, see you around!”
It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals.
By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only.
“You never take water with you, Ice God.”
While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun.
“You’re close with Sunwoo?”
Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.”
Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses.
“Let’s run.” He says.
“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain.
He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.”
White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats.
Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does.
You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable.
He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot.
“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch.
They stand still catching breath.
“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers.
“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you.
He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look.
“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X.
“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently.
( tuesday, afternoon )
“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.”
‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.
It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’.
Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer.
This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret.
You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric.
Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you.
When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up?
One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.
Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace.
Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted.
When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders.
The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear.
Suddenly you feel a bit insecure.
“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly.
“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back.
Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain.
“, and it fits you.”
A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing.
Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles.
“Thank you, Jaehyun.”
His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too.
It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice.
He starts, “You did grea-”
“Y/n!”
A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe.
With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped.
Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses.
“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!”
Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid.
Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why.
It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic.
“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact.
Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth.
Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away.
It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away.
“I’m sorry.” You finally say.
It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth.
“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again.
Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart.
“I was-”
“It’s oka-”
There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks.
“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you.
The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular.
A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling.
Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past.
As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field.
“I actually like you too, Y/n.”
It hitches in your throat.
“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks.
“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why.
The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot.
It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside.
05 . CHAPTER FIVE
( thursday, afternoon )
Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games.
Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come.
One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened.
Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely.
And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same.
With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”.
He doesn’t get it.
“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling.
“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup.
“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head.
All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot.
But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned.
All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain.
There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages.
Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room.
You suddenly shout, “Move!”
Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power.
You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads.
As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring;
where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest.
“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor.
“I’m sorry-”
Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.
“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net.
You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome.
“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up.
“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.
“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.”
Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure.
“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.”
He pauses.
“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.
You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.”
“You think so?” He skeptically smiles.
To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..”
“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.
They both laugh.
Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch.
They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why.
When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields.
With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out.
“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows.
“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion).
“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm.
“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs.
“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?”
“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face.
“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.
You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.”
Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.”
“Don’t do this.” You complain.
“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth.
“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.
There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend.
The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball.
“I missed.” He deadpan.
You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon.
( friday, morning )
“Do you want some?”
Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp.
When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary.
When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.
Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip.
So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack.
“You stole my pocky?”
Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from.
“I didn’t steal it.” He defends.
“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.”
“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them.
“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you.
“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing.
“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm.
“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat.
Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points.
Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n.
“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face.
Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you.
“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down.
Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder.
Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song.
A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round.
He dares to look down. He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own.
“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer.
“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him.
“You do it then.” He smiles.
Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.”
“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless.
“Okay, okay.”
Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair.
“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder.
“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink.
“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand.
“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal.
They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong.
At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.
It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling.
“Y/n!”
You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek.
“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point, nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work.
“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color.
“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms.
“No, no, no, it’s just heat.”
“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen.
“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.
It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off.
It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups.
His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in.
Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net.
Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts.
It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way.
Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too.
“I have some for you.”
You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier.
“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate.
“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food.
A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral.
“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine.
“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.”
You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?”
“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.”
“My stones?” You tilt.
“You.”
Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies.
Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.”
You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.”
Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious.
“You remember that?” He says surprised.
“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them.
“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly.
Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms.
Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age.
He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side.
“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say.
Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.
He smiles, “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”
You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.”
You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence.
As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him.
And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing.
Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good.
“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence.
Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.
“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin.
Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell.
You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them.
“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple.
And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining.
They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close.
“You know…” He starts.
“No.” You deadpan.
“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing.
“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.”
“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way.
“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.
“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out.
“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes.
“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes.
“I’m actually a Capricorn.”
Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again.
“You’re really cute.” He smiles.
You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?”
He nods that his fringe follows.
“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.
You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.”
He pouts with big eyes.
“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly.
“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots.
You pretend to think, “Hmm.”
There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room.
The door from the kitchen beside them forces open.
Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor.
When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest.
The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes.
“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?”
Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story.
Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die.
“Eric?” You lie down.
“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you.
“I forgot.”
Eric snorts, “Really?”
“Mm.” You insist.
Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”.
Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field.
The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely.
I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you.
For now, he’s in denial.
Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently.
06 . CHAPTER SIX
( monday, midday )
The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels.
This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time.
Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles.
But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon.
So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight.
Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third.
Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left.
Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.”
Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name.
It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you.
Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows.
“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively.
“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.
“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking.
( monday, afternoon )
The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk.
With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again.
Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase.
You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across.
“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently.
“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward.
You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?”
An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen.
Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question.
When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction.
“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?”
A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade.
“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass.
All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head.
A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly.
“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that.
It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life.
Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off.
It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up.
You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders.
“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up.
The space opens again.
“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers.
“I’m sorry.”
A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything.
You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became.
“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.”
He looks up.
You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly.
“But you’re actually very kind.”
He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression.
“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently.
You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles.
( wednesday, afternoon )
That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place.
At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet.
You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something.
“You’re sad.”
You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention.
“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently.
You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin.
“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired.
“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down.
You nod.
“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”
“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon.
“Honesty is always valued.”
“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen.
“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.”
You smile weakly.
07 . FINAL CHAPTER
( saturday, evening )
Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows.
You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps.
Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely.
At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted.
It has never felt so hard knocking on his door.
The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you.
Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods.
“Welcome in!”
You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject.
As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking.
“Do you know where Eric is?”
He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms.
“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him.
Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric.
Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him.
Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward.
“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you.
You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.”
A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too.
Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water.
He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t.
“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting.
He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles.
You smile too and nod.
His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool.
“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.”
Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body.
Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.
“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it.
“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.”
He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.”
Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond.
His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.
He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.”
They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go.
Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows.
“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house.
Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.”
Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood.
Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met.
All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up.
Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins.
You found him.
To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away.
About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you.
“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does.
You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.”
He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes .
“You’re crying?”
You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.
“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical.
“I’ll tell you later.”
After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.
You start, “I have something to tell you.”
Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts.
You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest.
“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue.
“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment.
“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window.
“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–”
“I love you too.”
“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization.
“I love you too.” He stutters more this time.
Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement.
You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you.
“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says.
You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter.
“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?”
Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking.
“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.”
You pause.
“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position.
“Not when you exist.”
He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face.
You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer.
Though, Sunwoo has other plans.
The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts.
You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world.
© littleroaes, written and all
a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power
love spectrum spoiler
have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin
romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae
end game : sunwoo
tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o
#deoboyznet#dbn: love letter#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz fluff#the boyz angst#hyunjae imagines#juyeon imagines#ji changmin imagines#sunwoo imagines#eric sohn imagines#tbz fluff#the boyz x reader#the boyz fanfic#hyunjae#tbz hyunjae#juyeon#tbz juyeon#tbz q#ji changmin#kim sunwoo#tbz sunwoo#tbz eric#eric sohn
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Here's the promised yapfest!
The Yurodiviye showing up again in T corp was a suprise, though given both how it seems to be themed after the Victorian era and ots famously horrible working conditions, it does make sense in context. Though I don't think we'll be getting another peak at Sonia anytime soon - or at least anywhere in the main portion of the event.
The first and third cantos both set up major players in what's to come, namely Hermann ans Demian. I believe that Sonia fits in with this theme as well given the implication that he has a mark of cain and how he obviously has unfinished buisness with the company, or Rodya at the very least.
In the background, theres a sound of a clock ticking in a lot of the music. Obviously in reference to T corp's whole thing regarding it - but it does seem different from Dante's slowest ticking sfx. It does aldo remind me of how T corp's collectors were said to signal their arrival with the ticking of a clock, and we see several of them during the trailer.
For the skills, it seems Hong Lu has a gloom skill 1? and Ryōshū has a sloth guard and a possibly two coin lust skill.
Looking back at the teaser, it seems as if the reason for fighting both the Yurodiviye and T corp goons seems to be that 'Special Investigator badge' mentioned there, as we are looking for 'time killers', we may end up uncovering a traior in one of those two organisations.
Ons of the NPCs - second I believe - seems to be wearing a kind of Vivtorian bobby's uniform [I clocked it only cause some cops still wear 'em here] so there may be a police questioning as part of the investigation.
As to the time killing part specifically - given how in the modern day what we mean by the phrase may have some overlap with Victorian ideas of idleness, which was frowned upon quite heavily, I do wonder how exactly this time would be 'killed'. Though I doubt it has anything to do with Dante's abilities - neither the sapling of light or rewinding - as neither truely 'take time out of circulation'. Plus, Faust may have some sort of way to extract time from Mephi's food, that possibly being what allows for the Sinners to rewind in the first place.
It may end up as part of the aftermath of Catherine getting 404'ed, as its clear from the Sinners having fuzzy memories that the erasure process was imperfect, it leaving more resuduals behind makes sense I think.
As for Faust's E.G.O., it may connect with the Fauncil theory in quite a fun way. In her corrosion animation, we see a bunch of clocks all turning at the same time, each slightly different in their presentation - with the central one seemingly inspired by the Doomsday Clock justt like Dante's head. This one I believe represents our Faust, while all the others represent her mirror world selves, all slightly different yet doing the same thing.
It is particularly interetsing as the doomsday clock counts down to human made catastrophe - usually nuclear war - but here it may represent how she will become her own downfall, or how something she makes may doom many others in her stead.
Glitch effects were previously seen in both the BL event when Dante starts overheating and in canto 6 when Carmen gives Heathcliff a lil talk. Im sure there's others but those are what I remembered.
And I believe that was all I wished to say, good day to you!
o7 These are all nice little things to note down.
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how was playing hsr? was there anything that you liked in the game and the story?
ITS BEEN AMAZING AS EXPECTED!!!!!!!!! i actually havent played genshin in a while since starting it, i have no motivation to do the filler event while a perfectly good star rail is sitting there waiting to be played :')
but for mechanics, i love they have auto battle so you dont have to nessecarily sit there and invest in every little battle you gotta do....and i love that the resin (resin??) system is a lot more forgiving with a higher cap, lower cost, and allow for overflow...thats nice...i also love that the mc and starter units are very useful. im so emotionally attatched to the star rail crew so im glad they never have to leave my team !!!!
storywise im LOVING IT SO FAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i started playing it at the beginning of spring break 2 weeks ago and im almost all caught up!!! i went through belabog and penacony and now im just doing those leftover intermission main quests which im only now realizing i shouldve done before going to penacony LMAO
and of course.....danmarch....im so soft for them......and also i love sampo i cant wait to see what they do with him
#besides the star rail crew and sampo im not too attatched to anyone else#im very much a (what would happen in canon) type of player so the only units i REALLY want are himeko welt and imbibitor lunae#(and sampo)#everyone else i can go without#so this game is probably gonna be a lot better for my wallet#overall it just like it better than genshin minus the open world part#i like the story and characters...i like that you can play as bad guys while theyre still bad guys???? like blade and kafka???#cuz in genshin you always gotta redeem them somehow first before theyre playable#not here hueheuhe#also i love that they actually kill off playable characters#(spoilers from here on out)#i know were supposed to be all sad for fireflys death but honestly.......i didnt care about her too much LMAO#i was actually a little annoyed for the secret base part because her base was SO FUCKING DEEP IN ENEMY TERRITORY#i was like (damn bitch how far away is this shit??!)#that by the time we got to the emotional part i was just mad#i never liked characters where the game tries to like....force you to care about them#and its implied you have some super close relationship ESPECIALLY when you havent known them long#now if march died that would be a whole different story#but firefly??? i mean rip but i didnt really know her#im loving the penacony quest so far though#any setting where its like a place of mind tricks and gambling and spending money and sin is always so scary to me#especially the dream within a dream within a dream shit#the mind fuck aspect is always a good plot that i enjoy#i also love that theyre not afraid to upgrade units#like we have dan heng and the dragon dan heng#so characters arnt stagnent forever#everyday i hope we one day get to see a 5-star secret power march#cuz that girl has some shit going on i swear#i just did her luofu memory quest#and those fuckers in the garden of recollection............
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.
#here's some of the classics on that list i have beef with btw:#i have tried to read A Confederacy of Dunces several times and it's funny but it's also so cringe and Ignatius is so obnoxious#that i find it too difficult to finish like i just feel depressed and bad for everybody around him too much#i tried reading Infinite Jest like a decade ago and i got like 200 pages in and i remember thinking it felt like#such a slog the entire time because he's just so gd wordy and also i stopped liking DFW after i heard the abuse allegations against him#frankenstein i didnt read that long ago but i just remember finding it so boring for some reason?? i feel i might need to read it again#dracula ngl i feel like im cheating a bit saying ive completely read it because i loved the beginning and then HATED so much of the rest#the characters were just so boring and melodramatic hahaha i just liked the part where jonathan was doing a travel diary#and trapped in the castle tbh and after that i skimmed quite a bit#i almost flipped my shit when i saw ender's game on there because I ALWAYS mix it up with ready player one by ernest cline#which i bought the audiobook of a while back and hated every minute of it i dont think its good at all#but it wasnt that so phew my faith in this list is somewhat restored#i read most of the first game of thrones book and was disappointed tbh maybe because id seen the show already#so i was like 'this feels almost exactly the same except worse?' because i'd been expecting it to give me more depth and insight#into the characters but instead it felt exactly the same and i still didnt love any of the characters enough to feel attached to them#also i am fully aware me not personally liking or vibing with a book doesnt mean it doesnt deserve to be considered great btw#but i think if youre gonna be like me and force yourself to go through a bunch of lists like this very seriously then you also need to just#let yourself be like 'yeah not for me' without feeling too bad about it sometimes too#often times i dont particularly love the classics or 'important books' but at the same time#i still feel like im getting more out of reading them than just grabbing the newest hyped up books that also dont do anything for me#maybe not in a 'wow i loved reading this' way but in like a#'i now have first-hand knowledge of this thing that is so influential / so frequently referenced'#or 'this challenged me and i feel like i did a mental/emotional workout or gave me some new food for thought'#or 'made me more aware of what gaps in my knowledge and reading skills and what my tastes are too'#sort of way...#it really just depends on what you're reading for and why and what you're hoping to get out of it a lot of the time maybe#it's like the homework i give myself to go through these lists that i also intersperse with the stuff i read more just for fun#p
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The first time I listened to the Bahumia arc, I got to the end like ???? Do I ship Hardshine????
Now that I'm relistening I know that I do COMPLETELY and the signs have been there for SO LONG.
#it's time for these career dnd players to stop being afraid to ship!!!!#i mean i get it here like.... this is one of the players first time playing and the DM is the other characters husband#i genuinely think Jake plays hardwon as in love w moonshine but wasn't very firm in clarifying that he wasn't joking#and moonshine loves all of her friends and companions deeply but she's low-key into him ok she just doesn't Get It#naddpod#my canon view of them is that they exist in a queer platonic gray space which I've talked about before#but now i officially want them to suddenly realized they're living an open married life post canon#text posts
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ive obtained a guitar
#my mom had one that she said i could take. and for the longest time i was like no i should wait until ive been doing bass longer before#adding smth else. but then i was like. right now im rlly enjoying doing music and i have the time and the desire to do it. so like.#it seems silly to not. so i have it im gonna try and learn over the summer and see if i can keep up with both. and then when school starts#again if it comes down to splitting time between them ill have a few months in each of them almost like 7 on bass. and they're similar#enough to eachother that i think a lot of stuff will probably cross over right? idk i was looking into it and it seems like a lot of more#experienced players will play at least a little bit on the other as well. and i also saw an article that said learning the other will help#improve more on the first one as well#i mean the thing is. it is just for fun. but also i think it would be so cool if i could get to the point where i can make my own songs jus#to post on here or smth. i think that would be rlly fun but like if i never do. i still just like it and its fun so its fine if i suck#but ya im gonna do it if it ends up ruining everything i can just quit like whatever#the sad thing though is. its an acoustic waahhhh#if i keep going obviously i eventually am gonna get an electric bc i was trying to think of songs i could learn on acoustic and i literally#could not think of a single one i like. LMAO my parents had a copy of sheet music for stairway to heaven (i think my sister must've tried t#learn it at some point?) so i took that too. bc it was literally the only one they had besides a big book of mormon ones lol. so im gonna b#that guy that only plays stairway to heaven lolllllll
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