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luvbinnies · 1 month ago

Text

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable.

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building.

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media.

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has.

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index, hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes.

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours.

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months.

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him.

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them.

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault.

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution.

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to.

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly.

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil.

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care.

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands.

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug.

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything.

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away.

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then.

So now you hold on to that damn pencil.

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday.

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to.

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly.

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying.

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it.

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do.

But he does.

He always does.

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page.

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.”

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble.

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance.

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns—

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing.

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar.

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners.

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists.

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen.

The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His.

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick.

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze.

Sunghoon had turned in his seat.

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised.

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day.

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done.

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates.

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game.

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it.

He doesn’t hit send.

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder.

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin.

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor.

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face.

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today.

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses.

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold.

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin.

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents.

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more.

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered.

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you.

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project.

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time.

—

Two year ago

It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started.

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race.

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone.

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable.

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it.

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all.

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something.

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken.

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed.

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself.

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened.

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always.

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it.

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet.

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin.

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out.

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted.

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks.

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past.

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else.

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon.

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you.

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking.

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out.

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself.

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical.

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged.

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right.

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name.

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him.

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too.

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again.

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid.

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is.

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate.

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat.

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for.

But you can’t.

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you.

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well.

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss.

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you.

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best.

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him.

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression.

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer.

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it.

Because he knows.

Because he did leave.

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all.

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid.

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder.

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills.

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle.

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers.

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished.

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him.

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line.

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over.

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights.

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge.

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?”

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky.

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.”

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x you #enhypen sunghoon #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha

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sonic-au-collision · 4 months ago

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SONIC AU COLLISION: WORLD MAP [VERSION 1]

(aka the Round 1 Bracket)

Welcome aboard as we travel across the multiverse in our very first AU Collision. (Disclaimer: No AUs were harmed in the colliding of these worlds /silly). I cannot thank you all enough for submitting an AU, spreading the world, and overall just joining in for the fun.

Reminder: The deadline for any changes to the image, description, etc. will be Friday, November 15, at 7 PM PST

Polls will be released on Sunday, November 17, at 5 AM PST

Each AU and their respective creators are listed below the cut. A closer look at the bracket will also be pictured below.

LEFT SIDE:

RECOIL by @transzsonix & @lazydayslivin VS Broken Illusions AU by @nb-hedgewolf

Neo Badnik Empire by @midnightbadnik VS Time Twins AU by @libelelle

Imposter Swap AU by @sonlc & @transgendermilesprower VS Delirium!AU by @hunniegl4zed

Sonic HSR AU by @fleetwaydarksonic VS Mechanical Error by @chipistotallysane

The Lost Descent by @novurxge VS Lost and Found by @midnightshard06

Sonic Re:Scale by @taffydragondraws VS Vampire AU by @kingprinceleo

Chuck's Pizzareia AU by @majesticn3wt VS Accidentally Organicized AU by @lunaledragonet

Sonic Murder Drones AU by @silvers-starrway & @cherbearsz VS The Unshakable Bond by @floxy-offical & @the-sky-queen

No Strings Attached by @nostringsattachedau VS Infested by @flightyalrighty

The Kelpie: A Folklore AU by @scrunglepaws VS Resurrected AU by @superscourge

Cyborg Cream AU by @averiesmiles VS Manufactured Malice AU by @pretzlforpresident

Silver's Parent AU by @fleetway1900 VS Light and Shadow by @sparksssss

Live & Learn AU by @head---ache VS Dadpio AU by @retrocandyfloss

Interstellar AU by @interstellar-au VS Hedgehog University by @hedgehog-university-au

Monsters vs Aliens by @weirdozjunkary VS The Legend of Blaze by @girlsonic

Corrupted AU by @wereh0gz VS Enchanted by @sparkles-rule-4eva

RIGHT SIDE:

Chilidog Vendor Adventures by @i-am-zeledoxus VS Crystal Eyes (Crystallize) AU by @nomx2chomp

Sonic Icebound by @sonic-wildfire VS Dark Boom by @teamxdark

SASS Fusion AU by @mstormcloud VS Sonic Ghost Hunters AU by @sharks3ye

Heart of Chaos by @hyper-cryptic VS Flowers In Bloom by @emioliravioli

Shadow Barbie AU by @curetapwater VS Descendants by @a-dream-journalist

Starry by @cometstarrysonic VS Turning Tides by @lightninghikaru

Bioswap by @finalshockdown VS Egghogs AU by @themetalvirus

Life Series AU by @karma-creations VS Fullmetal Alchemist AU by @halloweencatsart

Sonic Cowboy AU by @napstabl00k VS Triple Stars by @triple-starsss

Sol Sonic by @kittydoremi VS Three Moons AU by @eclipsed-jester

Sonic Freak Show by @estellardreams VS Slumbering Wage by @yu-melon

We Have The Sky by @niko-jpeg VS Black Arms Sonic Eclipse Version by @cattyanon

Sidekick Sonic AU by @raihanijulie VS Siren's Call AU by @hevs-dreamworld

Inkwell AU by @xx-disco-inferno-xx VS Robotnik Manor by @taylanix

Lacersha AU by @heirorage VS Sonic: The Bad Guys by @thefakehedgehogaroundhere & KitsunamiFennec

Whispering Flames by @askmistaketalesurgesans VS The Chaos Project by @starzdeath

ignore the random lines <3

#sth #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic fancomic #sonic art #sonic fanart #sonic fanfiction #sonic au collision #collision report #world map

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h3nderyss · 4 months ago

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you as nct 127's 9th member - part 2 (headcanons)

pairing: ot8 x fem!reader . . . masterlist . . . 127 (part 1) dream ver wayv ver genre: fluff a/n: requested part 2! romantic headcanons for each member if you were the 9th member and only girl in 127! u can imagine if ur in a secret relationship or not! (can u tell i got carried away with taeyong.. then ended up running out of ideas.)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

taeyong

he'd remember the little things about u, if u once told him a snack you liked, expect him to show up w it the next day

handwritten notes from him end up on ur mirror, simple things like just saying "fighting!!"

he'd keep a protective eye on you during rehearsals and help u fix ur form if ur too tired that day

encourages your ideas! in group activities he'd ask you, "what do you think?"

he'd hang around with you after practice ends, after all the members left

especially if it becomes too late and u end up napping in the practice room on the couch, u best bet he'd STAY there

he'd surprise u with small gifts, leaving snacks or ur fav drink at ur spot during practice without saying anything

if both of u are accidentally in the dance room or recording studio overnight, u guys would watch the sunrise together!

in his solo album he'd write songs about u 100%

and you'd also probably have a few vocal adlibs

OR MAYBE he'd have a song featuring you! literally couple of the year.

if you're having a hard day, expect taeyong to be soo comforting

leader instincts KICK IN.

saying things like "you're doing so well," or "take 5 minutes, at least"

he'd gaze at u through the mirror during dance practices

he'd be playfully jealous like "do you compliment the others as much as you do to me?"

fans would call u king & queen neo

johnny

def playfully tease u, if there was a goofy dance move for a part of choreo he'd go "you're the only one to make this look cool."

expect spontaneous adventures with johnny

he KNOWS ur preferences, if u were getting coffee or any drink tg, he'd order for u literally knowing what u want

mind reader??

u will NOT be overworking. not on his watch. "nope, it's break time, come on."

fills his phone with candid shots of u!

car rides are karaoke sessions atp. less singing too, more laughing

SUCH a playful protector, since this man is like 6'1 you bet he'd act like ur bodyguard

he'd plan dates to underground restaurants he finds online

and goes "i wanted this to be our thing..!"

he'd provide comfortable words like "you're stronger than you realize."

yuta

a man of bold affection, literally tells u straight up "you're the best thing about my day"

during casual convos he'd brush a piece of hair behind ur ear or just hold ur hand tbh

u guys have humour that's reserved for only u two. the members lowkey get confused why u guys just randomly burst laughing

during group travels he'd secretly buy u a souvenir and give it to u when ur back home

has a habit of staring at u during practices and smiles when u notice (this is so cute?????)

enjoys just sitting in silence with u

loves ur company

doyoung

such a classic romantic, surprises u with homemade meals

connnstantlyy reassuring you! "you don't have to be perfect, you're already enough."

guys, his smile is so adorable, pls make him laugh a lot

if u two sit together, expect his hand to intertwine with yours

soft kisses omg

you'd have quiet, intimate dates enjoying each other's company and just be infatuated w e/o

before live performances expect him to hype u the hell up!

he's like a personal cheerleader

he'd post u on his story a lot

jaehyun

he loves quiet affection like squeezing ur hand under the table to let u know he's there

lowkey feel like you guys would have tons of polaroid pics tg

and of each other

AND photobooth films

and it'd literally just be of u kissing like u guys just can't help urselves

and the deep talks get DEEP

same with taeyong, he'd dedicate his songs abt u

he'd loove seeing ur reactions to his songs too, ESPECIALLY from his new album

yea he'd surprise u with concert tickets for ur fav artists you've mentioned

such a protective aura like in areas with crowded fans, he'd keep his hand on ur waist to make sure ur not going ANYWHERE

movie nights turn into movie naps

jungwoo

he'd love when u play with his hair

he'd be a puppy

but like a really hot puppy too,

genuinely leave u speechless at everything he does bc hey, it's jungwoo?? he's so infatuating

loves to mimic ur reactions just to see u giggle and try to get him back

like i said in part 1 expect emojis when u text, expect him to send gifs too

WILL suddenly hug u out of the blue

literally treasures anything you give him

mark

ur the only person he would genuinely spill all the tea to, about WHATEVER

could be about his own struggles, or insane tea about his friend

softly sings to u, he likes humming and just full on singing, even if he purposely sounds goofy

let's say he accidentally brushes his hand against yours

but he ends up intertwining ur hands as if it was intentional!

i feel like he loves skinship

he'd be cuddled to u any chance he gets

or just resting his hand around your waist A LOTTT

also lots of nicknames he'd call u, sometimes catching u off guard by saying something really cringe

would also write so many songs abt u

haechan

ur the person he'd be the MOST clingy to

we all know how he's so touchy w the members

well, you'd be the #1 person he'd do that to.

out of nowhere he'd surprise u with compliments

actually floods ur phone with memes, pics, random selfies just to make u smile

he loooves giving u back hugs or just going full koala mode

also literally napping on u

u guys would just look like two losers in love, the members being always teasing

but like, he'd actually be insane sometimes and say something to get u riled up. (iykwim.)

or even like, DO something. especially when he dances?

it's like a private show for u, and he knows how that makes you feel.

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patchwork-crow-writes · 3 months ago

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Interesting detail about Chapter 1 and 2's secret bosses; to challenge them, you have to travel downwards. That is to say, deeper into the darkness, and closer to the fabled Dark Sea from which the dark fountains are theorised to originate from.

And isn't it interesting how, when fighting against both Jevil and Spamton NEO, the backgrounds become surreal thematic extensions of their respective characters? The nightmarish pseudo-3D carousel of Jevil's cell, and the equally-nightmarish cityscape infested with Spamton's likeness? Isn't it interesting that any sense of cohesive reality starts to break down during these encounters, as if you're on the cusp between dreaming and waking?

And isn't it interesting that the recurring theme of these nightmarish experiences is the desire for freedom above all else - as if we are seeing Kris's deepest, darkest fears made manifest and reflected back at them, at what might be considered to be the closest point between the edge of reality and a realm of pure dreams?

...I think about this sometimes.

#rambling #deltarune #jevil #spamton NEO #kris dreemurr #dark worlds #thoughts #speculation #theory #analysis

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justforbooks · 2 months ago

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David Lynch

US director whose wildly unconventional films burrowed into the unsavoury depths of his nation’s psyche

David Lynch, who has died aged 78, was the most original film-maker to emerge in postwar America, as well as the greatest cinematic surrealist since Buñuel. His understanding of desire, fantasy and dread was unparalleled; the Paris Review called him “the Edward Hopper of American film”.

He made his debut with the experimental Eraserhead (1977), shot in sooty black-and-white and set in a churning industrial landscape where a man with a tombstone-shaped pompadour tends to his mewling, reptilian baby. From the first frames, Lynch mapped out a cinema of the subconscious that thrived on its own dream logic and nightmare imagery. It shaped everything he did, including his masterpiece Blue Velvet (1986), in which an innocent young man (Kyle MacLachlan) discovers a human ear and is drawn into the sleazy, violent world of a psychopath (Dennis Hopper) and a terrorised torch singer (Isabella Rossellini).

That film introduced into the archetype of cosy small-town America some potent notes of scepticism and revulsion that have never been dispelled.

This project to burrow into the unsavoury depths of his country’s psyche continued with the television whodunnit Twin Peaks, co-created with Mark Frost, which ran for two series in 1990 and 1991 then spawned a big-screen prequel, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992). The show returned 25 years later in a bold but often harrowing and impenetrable third series that, despite being made for TV, was voted the best film of 2017 by Cahiers du Cinéma and Sight & Sound magazines. To preserve the spell cast by his work, Lynch refused to be drawn on explanations. Asked what the third helping of Twin Peaks was about, he replied: “It’s about 18 hours.”

He exposed the horrors lurking beneath apparently placid exteriors, and found beauty in the quotidian, the industrial – “I’d rather go to a factory any day than walk in the woods” – or the repellent: “If you don’t know what it is, a sore can be very beautiful.” For all the darkness of Lynch’s vision, his films could also be extremely funny, peppered with verbal and visual non sequiturs, skew-whiff line readings, slapstick violence and comic embarrassment. The mix of folksy naivety and elusive strangeness in his work extended to his persona and even his wardrobe: 1950s-style slacks and blazer, and a shirt buttoned to the gullet.

He drank a milkshake in the same diner (Bob’s Big Boy) every day for seven years between the late-70s and mid-80s. Watching him on set, the novelist David Foster Wallace observed: “It’s hard to tell if he’s a genius or an idiot.” The musician Sting, who starred in his science-fiction adventure Dune (1984), called him “a madman in sheep’s clothing” while Mel Brooks, who produced Lynch’s second film, The Elephant Man (1980), described the affable director as “Jimmy Stewart from Mars”.

Though his films were wildly unconventional, Lynch was still nominated three times for the best director Oscar. (He won an honorary Oscar in 2019.) Wild at Heart (1990), a road movie marked by baroque violence and homages to The Wizard of Oz, won him the Palme d’Or at Cannes, and he was named best director by the same festival in 2001 for Mulholland Drive, a warped neo-noir thriller about an aspiring actor (Naomi Watts) whose dreams of stardom disintegrate horribly after she befriends the amnesiac survivor of a car accident (Laura Harring). Developed by Lynch from his own butchered TV pilot for a series rejected by the ABC network, Mulholland Drive was one of his most seductively strange pictures.

But linear narrative was not beyond him, as he proved with two deeply moving films based on real events: The Elephant Man, about the severely deformed Joseph Merrick (“John” in the screenplay) paraded as a circus freak in the Victorian era, and The Straight Story (1999), in which an elderly man travels 300 miles on a riding mower to see his ailing brother. Both earned Oscar nominations for their lead performers (John Hurt and Richard Farnsworth respectively), which served as a reminder that Lynch’s skill as a director of actors could sometimes be obscured by his extraordinary imaginative powers.

He was born in Missoula, Montana, to Edwina (nee Sundholm), known as Sunny, who occasionally taught English, and Donald Lynch, whose job as a research scientist for the US government’s Department of Agriculture dictated the family’s peripatetic lifestyle. When Lynch was two months old they uprooted to Sandpoint, Idaho, and by the time he was 14 they had moved a further four times.

He described himself as a “troubled” child who was quick to intuit that all was not well. “I learned that just beneath the surface there’s another world, and still different worlds as you dig deeper. I knew it as a kid, but I couldn’t find the proof. It was just a feeling. There is goodness in blue skies and flowers, but another force – a wild pain and decay – also accompanies everything.” The aftertaste of that memory can be found throughout Lynch’s work but particularly in the opening of Blue Velvet, where a montage showing schoolchildren, roses and white picket fences gives way to shots of insects thrashing in the undergrowth.

Having shown an aptitude for painting since adolescence, Lynch began studying art at the age of 18 at the Boston Museum School, then dropped out after a year to travel to Europe with his friend (and future production designer) Jack Fisk, only to return to the US a fortnight later. He got on better at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Philadelphia, where his canvases took a darker turn (one work, The Bride, showed a woman performing an abortion on herself). It was there that Lynch met Peggy Lentz, a fellow student, who in 1967 became the first of his four wives. Together they had a child, Jennifer, and there have been almost as many attempts to link the pressures of youthful parenthood to the plot of Eraserhead as there have been theories about what exactly that film means, with its flying sperm-like creatures, roast chickens that writhe when sliced, and a balloon-cheeked chanteuse who lives behind the radiator.

He had his first solo exhibition in 1967, the same year he made his debut film work, the one-minute loop Six Men Getting Sick. He received a grant from the American Film Institute to make his 34-minute 16mm featurette The Grandmother (1970), in which a neglected child grows an elderly companion from a seed. The film combined jerky stop-motion animation with live-action footage, and showcased the sound design work of the great Alan Splet. Along with Fisk and the composer Angelo Badalamenti, Splet would become one of Lynch’s most vital collaborators.

In 1972, Lynch began work on Eraserhead. The shoot lasted five years, with regular pauses whenever the production ran out of money; Lynch would then supplement the budget with cash from family and friends (Fisk and his wife, the actor Sissy Spacek, were among those who donated) and by working odd jobs, including a paper round. After his marriage broke down, he also slept in the stables where the film was being shot. When it was finally released, Eraserhead was received with bafflement in many quarters, and with a slow-dawning fanaticism by those who caught it in the midnight movie slots at cinemas in the US, where it played, in some cases, for several years consecutively.

The film attracted the admiration of the poet Charles Bukowski and the musician Tom Waits, and went on to influence film-makers including Terry Gilliam and Darren Aronofsky, the Coen brothers and Stanley Kubrick, who reportedly screened it to the cast and crew of The Shining to put them in the appropriate mood.

During the early stages of production on The Elephant Man, Lynch’s attempts to design the complicated makeup failed catastrophically. But the finished film, with makeup by Christopher Tucker, a clammy feel for Victorian England and some unmistakable Lynchian touches (such as the main character’s birth in a giant ball of smoke), was an outstanding success. It melded the director’s sensibility with compassionate, classical storytelling, even if it did play fast and loose with the facts (the real Merrick, for instance, took a healthy cut of profits from being exhibited).

Lynch’s next project, an adaptation of Frank Herbert’s sprawling space epic Dune, was the only one of his films to escape his control entirely, and to be released in a form not approved by him. He was unsuited to the rigours of blockbuster film-making, and his attempts to wrestle Herbert’s many-tentacled narrative into coherent shape were doomed. The film was an expensive flop – Lynch called it “a fiasco” – but it still contained astonishing sets, costumes and sound design. And it introduced Lynch to MacLachlan, who played the bland hero and would become the director’s on-screen alter ego, the Mastroianni to his Fellini, in Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks. In the latter, MacLachlan played the coffee-and-cherry-pie-loving FBI agent Dale Cooper, whose dreams guide his detective work as strongly as any physical clues.

The experience of making Dune left Lynch drained and depressed. “I was almost dead,” he said. “Dune took me off at the knees. Maybe a little higher.” He amused himself by contributing a four-panel comic strip, The Angriest Dog in the World, to the LA Reader newspaper; it ran for nine years, during which time his drawings of a dog chained in a yard remained unaltered and only the text in the speech bubbles changed.

His fortunes were revived, along with his right to final cut, with the sumptuous and terrifying Blue Velvet, a project he had been planning since before Dune. The novelist JG Ballard called it “the best film of the 1980s – surreal, voyeuristic, subversive”.

Wild at Heart could only look frivolous by comparison, despite game performances by Nicolas Cage and Laura Dern as the lovers on the run. But Lynch was back at the height of his powers with the first series of Twin Peaks, which began with the discovery of Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) washed up dead and wrapped in plastic. It altered television irrevocably, paving the way for shows such as The X-Files and Lost, True Detective and The Killing; David Chase also cited it as an influence on The Sopranos.

That enthusiastic reception made it all the more bruising for Lynch when Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me was widely panned. In its focus on the days leading up to Laura Palmer’s murder, the film sacrificed the quirkiness of the series in favour of an intense mood of violence and suffering, and it was several years before the picture was reappraised more positively.

Lynch’s next film, Lost Highway (1996), was a profoundly unsettling thriller that hinged on an audacious narrative fracture: one moment a jazz saxophonist suspected of murder is sitting in his prison cell; the next he has vanished and the guards find in his place a young mechanic who has no idea how he got there. The film was steeped in deadpan humour and violent imagery (there is a memorable death-by-coffee-table), as well as nausea-inducing high-speed driving footage that would be subverted comically in his next movie, The Straight Story, which never exceeded 4mph.

Acclaim for The Straight Story and Mulholland Drive restored Lynch to his late-80s standing – the latter went on to be voted the best film of the century so far in a poll of critics conducted by the BBC in 2017. His last film, Inland Empire (2006), was concerned, like Mulholland Drive, with an actor (Dern) suffering a breakdown. But at three-hours-plus and with an unusually ugly visual style (it was shot by Lynch on a handheld Sony digital camera), as well as a meandering narrative interrupted occasionally by a rabbit sitcom complete with laugh-track, it offered little of the compensatory seductiveness of the director’s other films.

That said, Lynch was not alone in feeling that Dern deserved an Oscar nomination, even if his decision to express this view by sitting on a Hollywood street corner with a cow and a poster of the actor’s face was more unorthodox than the usual method of taking out a full-page ad in the trade papers.

With the exception of the third series of Twin Peaks, Lynch devoted the rest of his days to painting, music and writing, while resisting suggestions that he had retired from film-making: “I did not say I quit cinema. Simply that nobody knows what the future holds.” Among the albums he released was the avant-garde blues collection Crazy Clown Time (2011). He also worked with the journalist Kristine McKenna on the memoir Room to Dream (2018), in which her biographical chapters about him alternate with ones in which he muses on what she has written and adds his own reflections, and gave an uncanny performance as the eye-patch-wearing, cigar-smoking film-maker John Ford in the final scene of Steven Spielberg’s autobiographical coming-of-age drama The Fabelmans (2022). Though initially reluctant to take the role, he was persuaded by Dern and by Spielberg’s assurance that there would be a large bag of Cheetos waiting in his dressing room. “Any chance I can, I get them,” Lynch said.

He was a passionate advocate of transcendental meditation, writing and speaking at length on the ways in which it had helped his work and enabled him to “catch fish” – his favourite metaphor for the creative process. (“If you get an idea that’s thrilling to you, put your attention on it and these other fish will swim into it.”) The clarity engendered by meditation was perhaps at odds with the gnomic quality of much of his work.

Last year, he revealed that a lifetime of smoking had left him with emphysema. “I can hardly walk across a room,” he said. “It’s like you’re walking around with a plastic bag around your head.”

He is survived by his fourth wife, Emily Stofle, whom he married in 2009, and their daughter, Lula; by a daughter, Jennifer, from his first marriage, which ended in divorce; by a son, Austin, from his second marriage, to Mary Fisk (sister of Jack), whom he married in 1977 and divorced in 1987; and by Riley, his son with Mary Sweeney, who edited and produced many of his films from the 1980s onwards, as well as co-writing The Straight Story, and whom he married in 2006 and divorced the following year.

🔔 David Keith Lynch, director, born 20 January 1946; died 16 January 2025

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #David Lynch #in memoriam

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multiplicationdivision · 2 days ago

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Being Tim

Tim thanked god for his good old cloner.

It was an old DIY piece of crap he’d built when he was a young punk, wired out of the crap he’d found in the dump and bound together with a dream and some loose nails. It was no miracle crafted by ARC Corp or ReUni Inc. , but a perfectly functional Frankenstein of all their best vintage goods dressed up with some classic neon signs he’d thought were ironic back in the day.

The youngins had their replitech, streamlined and “perfect”. Instant duplicates, formed of hardlight, their brains edited from the original to be just like them except for any bothersome bits of existentialism or self-preservation. The same 20 year old fucks leading around their small armies of similar faces, duplicates blinking out with ignorant smiles and replaced in turn by another just like them.

Not that Tim had any moral high ground, but he had a respect for the hand-made. Old cloning tech couldn’t harness photons or multiply the mass of particles. It needed material to be reworked, clay to be reshaped and DNA to be momentarily rewound.

Tim had never had need to find that material, they flocked to him. Tech could give a person anything, but anything achieved was just second rate satisfaction. You could simulate everything that Tim was, replicate the burning sun and the dripping sweat down his cheeks. Submerse yourself in a fluid that would encase you, pressing down in the perfect ways to make your skin believe the air was hot and the dirt under your finger nails were a gritty concrete muck.

Their brains still knew the truth though, so they arrived in line every morning. They separated themselves into lines subconsciously, the newbies confused and nervous in their shiny neo fabric clothes, faux plastics and metals gleaming untouched by wear. They stood in contrast to his old boys, the addicts to the cloner, Tim’s regulars.

There were maybe ten regulars, the number meaningless once the day began. Their faces changed, shifted and warped break after break. This day they were even further shifted from their typical set, a three day weekend leaving them desperate for a day of work, desperate to get another fix. Tim enjoyed seeing it, knowing he had them hooked.

They dressed in the clothes he’d left them in, now baggy or tight on their frames. A pair of boots he’d decided to trash this last weekend, the t-shirt and jeans they’d sweated to ruin and boxers likely disgusting with all that contained musk. Some of them wore different shit, the ones who probably cherished every set of clothing he sent them home with, as if they weren’t crap he’d found second hand in the few honest stores that were left in this dystopia.

Tim was in a new pair of boots, freshly bought and ready to break in, and the men drank them in with familiar envy. They travelled up his body, worshipping the jeans he’d shrugged on and the long sleeve curving over his reliable muscle.

Tim was addicted to this audience and happy to provide, knowing every one of those adoring minds would be purged for a blissful week, someone much more deserving of existence would inhabit their pathetic frames.

He’d flick on the cloner and the first of his gaunt regulars would push himself in, slamming the aluminum door with the typical desperation. They hated being themselves and Tim thought they were right to. Half wished he could fix them all up permanently, hell he probably could. He got of on that desperation though.

It was only a moment of steam and the door opened, a familiar face staring back at Tim with a slick smile. The expression he’d had on just minutes ago when he’d updated his template now plastered on this perfect figure, the junkie neurons restricted in a much better form. Tim and his new twin would look each other up and down and chuckle. “We’re fine motherfuckers aren’t we” Tim would say, “Damn right”, the other Tim would respond.

He’d leave that Tim to operate the machine as he watched, enjoying seeing the people homogenize into him. More and more faces of smug enjoyment drowning out the previous human shaped messes, an identical crowd that Tim would get lost in. Handsome mugs shoving the newbies into the machines, not bothering to listen to the fanciest second guess this shit. They’d learn to need it, just like they should. Being Tim was a damn privilege, and they all knew it.

Hell once there was enough of him crowding this place, it was hard to remember who was the original. Each of them had enough room in their memory to doubt their status and it was intentional, made them work better and form a better crew as they collectively narcissistically thought they were the og Tim. Each trying to outcompete each other, reveling in the potential of being truly Tim.

With a cloner’s effect lasting a good work week, they’d go home together and continue the competition there. 15-20 Tims fitting themselves into Tim’s pickup, sweaty bodies against each other practically crushed on the way to his fine handmade home. They’d built it when he’d had 7 Tim’s worth of suckers and it was a beaut, full of real wood and with a barrack styled bedroom to fit 50 of him, maybe even a hundred. He had an eye for ambition, every Tim fantasizing about the dream of even more as they scrubbed each other down in his locker room of a bathroom. Countless identical cocks, half-chub as they happily stroked each other, escalating to a few sloppy fucks every now and then.

They’d make dinner, enjoying steaks and home brewed beers as whatever passed for football played in the bathroom, essentially white noise for the men as they traded brotherly remarks between each other, chugging the ale down as they crowded a old kitchen table, warm freshly showered arms pushed against each other. They preferred to be shirtless at home, often just clothless. All to show what they’d earned of course, relaxed muscle compacted from head to toe by hard work even despite their age. It made the clean up when they got to boisterous easier too, less laundry necessary for any clothes caught in the crossfire of beer and cum that their dinners would eventually lead too.

It was a working man’s paradise of a life, existing in a desert of integrity. Each Tim was settled down for the night after regriming themselves with a fresh load of body fluids and pick a bunk, nestle between their favorite counterparts for the night and thank the cybernetic gods that they were of the lucky few who got to experience heaven. They’d shove an arm around a twin and look at the man with greedy malice as they imagined his face when his body began to change back into a fucking loser, every worthy quality of them drained out as they became wretches again. The same greedy smile would be placed on his twin’s sleepy face and Tim would be half in the mind to fuck the guy again just to prove a point, how obvious that he was just borrowing being Tim.

They’d all fall asleep with something sideways of camaraderie in their heart, self-love and vanity combined in the form of their classic masculinity before waking up the next day to start it again. A Tim would come out on top by Friday and he would be the original, each of them knowing in their heart that they’d get to tell all the quickly degenerating fakes to go back to their articial techie houses before their refresher the next week.

It was a fine system, Tim thought. He was sure many more would come to appreciate it.

#identical #copy #clones #male shapeshift #personality change #shapeshift #male tf #clone by conversion #clone camraderie #clone tf #cloning tf #make transformation #my writing

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theresattrpgforthat · 11 months ago

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Hello! I’m sorry if you’ve answered this already, but do you have any recs (or anything you want to say for fun) about games with multiple GMs?

Theme: Multiple GMs

Hello friend, I may have recommended games similar to this but I don't know if I've actually fulfilled this prompt before! I'll do my best to show you some interesting games, and you can check out previous posts at the bottom in case there's something there that fits your tastes more.

Questlandia: Second Edition, by Turtlebun.

In Questlandia, you and your friends will invent a world from scratch. It might be fantastic or bizarre, from a remembered past or imagined future.You’ll paint a picture of your society and its people, their laws and customs, how they live and how they dream.

But your society is failing. As you play, your characters will attempt to find beauty and purpose amidst the chaos of a changing world.

Questlandia is a tabletop roleplaying game that creates fantastical worlds in states of change. It may be medieval fantasy in a ghost-haunted kingdom, neo-noir in a roboticized undercity, or microscopic slipstream suburbia in a puddle. The possible settings are boundless, but will always come from the interests of those at the table. Bring in real-world themes that intrigue you, references that inspire you, worldbuilding that follows your curiosity.

Questlandia uses dice and cards to help you create a society, as well as your character’s role in that society. I think this is a good example of a game where every person is a character, but every player is also a GM. You’ll roll against each-other to determine whether or not your society will be able to overcome their troubles. Overall, I think Questlandia is great for telling a story that spans a number of factions or nations.

Pantheon, by harpoon_gun.

4-6 GMs, who are distant Gods with their own desires and needs, and up to 3 players, champions of the Gods who are being forced to do their chores. Take turns toying with the champions, screwing over the other Gods, and building relationships of both the positive and negative variety.

All I know about this game is what I can divine from the description, but I would hazard a guess that much of this gameplay is going to feel a little bit like PvP. The gods that your GMs are embodying will have conflicting goals and desires, so expect to run into a lot of backbiting and backstabbing. The game itself was designed for the Bad TTRPGS Jam, which encouraged designers to fuck around with rules and see where it got them. So no guarantees for a balanced game here - but maybe an interesting experiment!

Fool’s Errand, by Myles Wirth.

You are a group of questants, pledged to a seemingly-impossible task. You must set out alone into the world, each following your own path by which the quest might be fulfilled. They will be long and difficult journeys, with no guarantee of success.

Inspired by legends and travelogues, Fool's Errand is a single-page tabletop game about perseverance in the face of uncertainty and the joy of worldbuilding together. It is prepless, gm-less, setting-agnostic, and can be played on its own or as a setup or interlude for another game. Rather than flattening Player-GM distinctions entirely, it inverts the traditional balance of a ttrpg table; players take turns as "seekers", individual characters traversing the world in search of an impossible goal, while the rest of the table forms the "Chorus", building and refining the world around the seeker as they explore it.

Fools’ Errand asks you to make some travellers and give them a quest that they cannot achieve. The game occurs over a series of turns; on your turn you’ll control your Seeker and declare what you want to do. The rest of the table becomes the Chorus, and build the Location that Seeker is in. The Seeker may then attempt to convince the Chorus that the way in which they will attempt to solve the problem is something they would be good at; and then rolls 3d6. Your result may grant you a Boon or a Burden, which may draw you closer to or pull you farther from your character’s goal. Your characters also have a Resolve pool, which will diminish over the course of play.

I think success is still technically possible in this game, but it’s highly unlikely. What is more likely is that characters will slowly give up on their quest, and join the Chorus in telling the story of who remains.

Bleak Spirit, by potatocubed.

Bleak Spirit is a storytelling game where you and your friends create a brooding, cryptic tale about a stranger in a strange land. Everything is falling apart, crumbling, corrupted, and the wanderer carries the potential for a return to past glories – or the power to sweep away all that remains.

Everyone contributes to the tale, sharing the sense of mystery that comes from no-one knowing the entire truth of what's going on. Everyone takes turns being the world for a scene, introducing lore which hints at the history of the setting. After every scene everyone leaps to conclusions based on the lore which has been revealed – and these conclusions affect the sorts of lore they will introduce when it's their turn to be the world.

Bleak Spirit is meant to replicate the narrative beats of Dark Souls, Hollow Knight, and Bloodborne. It gives everyone at the table a chance to play the Wanderer, a chance to play the World - and a chance to sit as part of the Chorus. The game is very structured, which I think helps the table keep on track, since everyone is going to have a chance to contribute to the story. The Wanderer dictates the character’s actions, but never their internal thought or feelings. The World creates Areas and Locations that the Wanderer will visit. The Chorus will introduce themes, descriptions, and motifs that are meant to make the world full of grandeur, mystique and decay.

This is a game that you might be interested if you like melancholic tones, large gaps in historical knowledge, and collaborative world building. The creator has also created a Cat version of this game, called Cat Spirit!

Two Weeks One Summer, by Rick Cockram.

In Two Weeks One Summer the players take the role of a family visiting a rambling old house in the woods during a summer holiday. The game focusses on the activities of the children of the family as they explore the house, it's grounds and the surrounding woodland. It is a game about finding things to do, creating your own excitement and exploring an unfamiliar environment.

This game divides the participants into two roles: the Children and the Grown-Ups. Over the course of the game, each of these roles will contribute different things to the description of the house, and the events that happen as you stay here. I think this works well for a slice-of life game, but it also might be an interesting source of inspiration for telling stories that are more dramatic or fantastical.

I'd Also Recommend Checking Out...

Co-Optional Games Rec Post

Unique Player Responsibilities / Rotating GMs

Asymmetrical Games Rec Post

#multiple gms #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks

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my-names-kris · 4 months ago

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funniest fucking shit out of us finally getting the animations translated, and the animations in general shown during neo dream cinema...

is that dango (girl who created seventina), by pure coincidence, connected her oc world (seventina) to a world (the melty land) her teenage next door neighbor has been visiting in her dreams.

#harumaki gohan #neo dream traveler #seventina #melty land nightmare

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denpadokei · 4 months ago

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I’m clearly struggling to post (including updating the Ben theory and work on mikuexpost. I don’t know when anything is happening I’ll be honest I wanted to get miku expost out before the last live but it doesn’t say it’s gonna be streamed anywhere as far as I’m aware? So like if there’s new info how am I even going to get it. Current goal is the tenth but you know what I’m like. I ought to be publicly shamed and like punish myself honestly hate me hate me hate me so much Mikage should stop hating herself and hate me instead)

I think I’m gonna have an EARLY NIGHT 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 LIKE A PIKMIN 💖💖💖💖💖 LETS GO GAMERS but I do need to post something so I looked in my old Gohan channel and found this which could be of some use to someone

This art on its own is SO helpful to me I hope the rest of the fandom agrees that this was the Gohan map before we had the Gohan map.

poits;

OH YEAH A REALLY COOL THING I’ve theorised that right in the middle where photon and Chikyuu wo ageru is marks the point where Gohan started creating stories and writing a full canon for his music. I don’t have any proof for that but I like it a lot. I thought every character and their individual lore before that point was just him making vent songs and the similar themes and places in the lyrics is just him talking about his life and using the same metaphors. BEN especially might have no overarching cannon, if it does I don’t think we’re supposed to know it, aside from blue girl coming to the meltyland, that’s why she’s in the middle it’s like the turning point. I think now in hindsight he’s kinda fitting stuff together and putting lore where lore could have been, relating it to what he has built now too, kinda because it’s just already very possible. We know the meltyland existed first ages and neon nocturne might only talk about it because it is gohan’s metaphor for an experience or something. I feel like everything he makes is, also just look at meltyland nightmare like that’s so real I mean come on. Chikyuu wo ageru being in that spot might represent how she has no overarching lore (even she is more to the left side, rather then being with closer to the other NTD songs where she was released). It could be like, spoken from Gohan himself, like answer, like it’s meta it’s a reflection on his music itself. We can still make BEN theories though, I think he’s still trying to use it for a story in some way and I want to at least figure that bit out. We should just make sure not to be confused by it since I don’t think it’s supposed to make sense for us + it’s quite old now + things have probably been retconned + one of the narrators is an amnesiac and also clueless can’t trust blue girl it’s okay.

The ONLY expectation to this silly theory IS GOD DAMN POKAPOKA NO HOSHI MIKU. POSSIBLY MY FAVOURITE HARUGO SONG EVER. CRAZY. Like SHE CANT HAVE LORE???? I have seen that she’s her own planet and if it turns out Gohan cared enough to give her lore I’m going to cry so much I love o just I so happy I mmm miku snow love happy smile beautiful beautiful UTSUKUSHI NO SA WARAU NO-

With that being said. Empurple has lore. BUT MIKU ISNT A GOHAN OC UNLESS UNKESS SHE IS OH WOW WOAH WIWIOWOWOWO

I think I once said that any character who isn’t in this picture that existed before it is probably the same person as someone else in this picture (looks at you blue girl)

Look Atmos is a different girl entirely look guys look

However like, I still believe ame wa and Halley are the same person too- but like in that case it doesn’t really matter(actually I’m just a hypocrite)

I wonder why dreamless is in child form here

I LOVE YOU DENPADOKEI I OOVE YOU SO MUCH I can’t express it enough I wish I could aaaaaaaaaaaaaa my heart

I LOVE YOU LAST LIGHT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH look at that big dumb dork (affectionate) of course I had to put her in the BEN lore. Can’t remember if she was confirmed to be a separate thing in space now though uh (don’t spoil me)

I like to think about what the left side (apart from Halley and ame wa) do and whether or not it has any relation to my assumed BEN lore or any current lore at all. I could spend a lot of time coming up with baseless headcannons for all of them but from what I already have uhhhh. ILost is Atmos’s sister because I see them both as grumpy. And 22nd and Last study space together. I think they’re all on the blue planet planet. Karudene and Tender are probably related. Denpadokei headcannons will be a special thing to me so I’m waiting for a special time.

I love the way dango looks here. I also love how aster has no lower half.

Wavy is suspiciously close to Urara…

USAGI IS SO SMALL 🥺🥺🥺

Nothing to do with this but I really hope Daireijo is confirmed an adult somewhere so I can be down bad for her. I have to stop myself every time. Dorothy too. They have nice bodies I just I sure hope they aren’t children! I wanna write Daireijo and Dorothy fluff AND not too smutty smut because I’m civil and it’s also harumaki gohan.

Owh I’ve been reminded of my theory that gender constructs don’t exist in the whole harugo universe abd that half the characters have Amal bodies but there’s just no such thing as boys or boyish things omgggggg and I was gonna pick out which ones I thought were like that oooooooh good post idea

I have tomorrow’s post sorted. I made a fun discovery today…

Maybe I’ll finish my BEN post today actually I’m kinda on a Gohan high atm

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choco-pudding · 1 year ago

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Space Channel 5 Part 2: Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book p. 190-199 (Translation by @lavoszero and myself. Edits and typesetting by myself)

Second part of the character profiles.

Imgur link to all of the Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book translations we’ve done thus far.

Plain text below

p. 190

022: Heart Woman Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge A Profile: She’s a master of disguise, capable of fitting into any setting, through her training at the private investigation company “Superior Secret Agents." She’s ridiculously proficient at information gathering, even government agencies request her by name for investigations behind the scenes. Always calm and composed. Note, Item: One of two people involved in receiving the Ear of Corn item.

023: Nice Middle Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Space Art Dealer. He cares not of a piece’s authenticity so long as it’s beautiful. He’s formerly the curator of a famous museum, but he recently went independent. Rather than setting up a specific gallery, he’s constantly traveling the galaxy with just a single bag. It works far better in theory than in practice. Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 1 (see 111).

024: Neo Space Astronaut 1 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Inside the airtight spacesuit is a tall, kind father who lives with his wife and three children. He works at the post office in the Central Sector. Adores ninjitsu; on his days off, he indulges in reading books related to it, and sometimes he even practices it with his family. He’s living the dream. Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

Sweet! 187

Left

p. 191

025: Neo Space Astronaut 2 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Wife of Neo-Japan Astronaut 1. Knowledgeable about Space Naginata blades, Space Rakugo comedy, and Traditional Space Dancing. She always moves with a steady form, making it difficult for others to find any openings. She’s also an established sculptor. Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

026: Neo Space Astronaut 3 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Child of Neo Space Astronaut 1 and 2. He's the eldest of the three siblings. Has a striking resemblance to his mother. He's strong, which is hard to imagine considering his kind nature, demeanor, and body type. Joins in Judo Club and invented the "Full-Moon Galactic Throw." Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

027: Neo Space Astronaut 4 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Child of Neo Japan Space Astronaut 1 and 2. The middle child of the three siblings. Really a stay at home kind of guy. He's kind of a loner, with a devotion to surprising anyone who passes him by as a daily goal. For some reason, he's currently obsessed about making karakuri puppets. Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

Sweet! 186

Right

p. 192

028: Neo Space Astronaut 5 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Child of Neo Space Astronaut 1 and 2. Youngest of the three brothers and the calmest one in the family. Sometimes, everyone's strange behavior is to difficult for him to understand. Likes collecting lanterns. Notes, Item Received: After clearing Report 1, if you check his profile, then profiles 027, 026, 025, and 024—in that order—then speak to Neo Space Astronaut 5 again, he will give you the Lantern item.

029: Big Momma Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A famous culinary heavyweight known across the galaxy. Best consultant in the biz; offers her advice on a variety of topics ranging like raw ingredient procurement, menu development, restaurant designs, to even management policies. She's always on the lookout for that undiscovered dish. And when she has the time, she's hunting down undiscovered places. Note: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made.

030: Afro Dude Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A chair designer. He's a man that uses new plastic materials to create series of colorful and playful works of art. His most famous work is the "Leaf Fall Sofa." He's also responsible for the mass-produced product. About 250,000 sets have been distributed throughout the galaxy. Note: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made.

Sweet! 187

Toyota

p. 193

031: Chef (green) Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge A Profile: He's the winner of the 255th Space Cooking Battle, in which 684,200 contestants participated in. He specializes in dishes using space konnyaku. Now, he's putting his ever-changing cooking skills to the test in order to satisfy his customers. He's a fanatic of high-tech cooking utensils. Note, Item Received: Appears in World 2, Report 1. Gives you the King of Frypans item if you check his profile after rescuing him.

032: Cook (aqua) Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A cook who uses the "Legendary Egg Beater," a whisk made from an unknown mineral excavated from ancient ruins. His whipping skills with the whisk is nothing short of amazing! The whole process is mesmerizing, even though it's impossible to see with the naked eye. He has a remarkable fascination with vanilla beans. Note, Item Received: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made. Gives you the Legendary Egg Beater item if you check his profile after rescuing him.

033: Chef (yellow) Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: He's a strong man who's capable of using the "Super Ladle," which has a sturdiness of 8.3 billion dice, and is said to be one of only three in the galaxy. He's searching for a pot with the same sturdiness of the ladle, dreaming of the moment he'll become a cooking king. He's well studied and knows how to use over 640,000 kinds of spices, so his cooking is always exciting. Note, Item Received: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made. Gives you the Super Ladle item if you check his profile after rescuing him.

Sweet! 188

Honda

p. 194

034: Bartender Girl Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge A Profile: A professional bartender who works in the lounge of the Space Symphony ship. Always chooses the right drink to fit the customer’s tastes and lend those in woe an ear—mostly to satiate her own curiosity. She uses her exclusive insight gathered on the clock in her columns for a space women’s magazine. Note: Appears in World 2, Report 1.

035: Boozer Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A waiter on the Space Symphony. Though this 57 year old boasts the ability to carry 36 beer mugs simultaneously, there aren’t too many opportunities to show such skills, much to his dismay. Note: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made.

036: Space Music Primary Schooler 1 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: An enigmatic boy, who cries out "X, X, X!!!!!!!" He’s an expert at imitating various instruments with his voice. When you save him, he hums a special melody! Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 2 (see page 112).

[[translator's note: Bartender Girl's note and profile contain an error, stating she appear in Space Symphony · Lounge B rather than A]]

Sweet! 189

Toyota

p. 195

037: Space Music Primary Schooler 2 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A primary schooler with the skill to imitate instruments with her voice. She’s so skilled you’d swear you’re hearing a real instrument. When you save her she hums a special recorder melody! Note:

038: Space Music Primary Schooler 3 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A rather proud primary schooler who’s a whiz at imitating instruments with his voice. He never preforms at a place unless he's completely prepared; it has to be the right place and the right time. When you save him, you’ll hear a special accordion melody. Note:

039: Space Music Primary Schooler 4 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A real showgirl of a primary school kid who does drum imitations with her voice that are powerful enough to move the spirit. She's serious about hoping to heal people with her art. When you save her, she begins to hum a drum melody. Determined to get into a middle school specializing in music. Note:

Sweet! 190

Honda

p. 196

040: Glockenspiel Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: Former child prodigy keyboardist. She was so famous that she was asked to appear on a special music program at Channel 5. But one day she was suddenly inspired by the soothing sounds of the glockenspiel. She's presently mastering the finer points of the 'spiel at an extraordinary speed. Note, Item: First person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. She will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2.

041: Recorder Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: This primary schooler had a snake-charmer as a teacher. He learned and expanded upon the entrancing power of the recorder beyond snakes to control any small-sized creatures. He enjoys collecting ammonite fossils, but far from his hobby. Note, Item: Second person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. He will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2.

042: Accordion Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A gentle flower-loving accordion girl. She believes that the music of the accordion nourishes the plants, helping their leaves, roots, and stems grow healthily. Her dream is to become a Space Reporter; she’s even started training in secret! Note, Item: Third person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. She will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2.

Perfect! 191

Up Down Up Down Up Down Up Down Up Down Toyota Toyota Toyota

p. 197

043: Drum Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: Drum it up! A young student who went head-over-heels for the entrancing sounds of ancient drums. Once he gets hold of a pair of drum-sticks, you’ll be guaranteed at least a six-hour smashfest. He drums away while en route to school, making him quite the lil’ celebrity in the shopping district he passes. He can even play while doing a flip! His playing always rakes in the tips. Note, Item Received: Fourth person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. He will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2. After getting all four pieces, you will receive the Lollipop item.

044: Mr. Nervous Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower B Profile: A nervous man known for his knee-knocking. He came to Space Park to supervise the students competing in the Space Music Festival. He got into a big mess with a man-eating plant, but Ulala saved him from melting into plant food just in time. He's quite fond of small retro game consoles. He sometimes trades games with students. Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 2 (see page 112).

045: Class President Nervous Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower B Profile: The fashion-conscious primary school class president. He puts a tremendous amount of effort into his hair, spending unreasonably long hours in front of the mirror each morning. Not so great at skipping, apparently his right hand and leg always raise in tandem. Note, Secret Input: Gives you the Folding Fan item if you check his profile after clearing Report 2.

Perfect! 192

Toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota

p. 198

046: Space Bird Mistress Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: An ageless beauty with a lovely singing voice that has the power to control all types of birds. Due to the heavy weight (58 kg) of the remote-controlled Power Wings attached to her back, she always suffers from back pain. Note, Item: One of two people needed to obtain the Ice Cream Cone item.

047: Birdman 1 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The first of the Birdmen, guys who are weird about weird birds. He uses all five of his senses—taste included—to show his love for any and all birds. Their high tech binoculars can spot Magellanic Clouds (available at Galaxy Gifts and Gadgets). Note:

048: Birdman 2 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The second of the Birdmen, who are mad for birds like you’re mad for this game. With the help of his myriad of bird friends, he sometimes takes on the offenders of nature in battle. He can travel about eight kilometers in less than 40 seconds by jumping from vine to vine, not once touching the ground. Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 2 (see 112).

Perfect! 193

Toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota right left

p. 199

049: Birdman 3 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The third of the up for it bird-lovers, whose binoculars hide his guise from morning to night. He even walks with them on, leading to embarrassing—and frequent—falls into ditches and ponds. Kookaw! Kookaw! Note:

050: Birdman 4 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The fourth of the cuckoo bird lovers. Actually, a girl. She’s so infatuated with birds that she speaks to them in her sleep, “Birdy, birdy, where are you?" By the by, she dresses like a boy for her own reasons and anyone who tries to reveal her secret will be taken away by men in black… Note, Item: One of two people needed to obtain the Ice Cream Cone item.

051: Birdman 5 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The fifth of the legendary bird fiends. Studied with inhuman intensity to take the arduous Birdman Exam. After passing with flying colors, he became the latest addition to the Birdmen. Note:

Perfect! 194

Right left right left right left right left right left right left toyota toyota toyota

#space channel 5 #space channel 5 part 2 #Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book #translations

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