#does this mean he was supposed to have a solo cover too or something....no explanation for anything

[crustyfloor]

Ivan alternate anniversary art? what the fuckeqq 😭

[pinkydude]

CP77 Datamine Masterpost

DISCLAIMER: All of this is LEGAL, I’m working with the retail files, meaning the files actually used by the game, latest patch, 1.31! All of this is available with the extracting tools.

SO I decided to go and dig in the files to find some interesting things! And I DID find some cool shit, I’ll keep this post updated as I find more stuff

I’ll probably focus on Nomad centered quests, I’ll include everything that I find interesting, or that differ from the version we currently have

All of the text is copy/pasted directly from the .scenes files V is reffered as “SHE” in the majority of the text, this does NOT make it the canon V, it’s simply the pronoun they choose to use in intern

Little personal note - I’m having lots of fun getting my hands into this, and I thought I’d share it properly with yall! As those “alternatives” didn’t make it into the final game, do not let them badly influence your own canon (as in, don’t let any of that information bring you down or sap your fun!)  tho I think there is a LOT of interesting informations in there that could enrich the lore behind loved characters 🤲 

🟨 List of quests explored so far -

NOMAD Origin

Ghost Town

Life during Wartime

Riders of the Storm

I’ll fly away

With a little help from my Friends + Queen of the Highway

NOMAD Origin

Garage -

V starts to work on the engine... [A beautiful, if not a bit chokey roar fills the room.]

The mechanic is impressed. Comments on Nomad ingenuity. Asks from which family V is from.

Mechanic introduces V, they chat.

V asks for one thing though - would the sheriff mind if V access their old transmitter tower? Sheriff says that  since the thing is busted the man sees no harm in that. 

Tower -

Fixer welcomes V, he haven’t heard from her in a while, he tought V is still in the Midwest.

V says she needs a favor. She’s out of cash and fuel. Asks fixer if he could through a job her way.

Dakota finds something - a solo from the city issued a job offer. Offer lacks details, so there were not many people jumping on it. Dakota says yeah, she does. Big time. See you around.

Meeting Jackie -

Man introduces himself as Jackie. He’s glad that the fixer finally managed to get a guide for him. He was getting tired of waiting.

Jackie is sketchy on the details. Says that he was supposed to pick up cargo out here left by a supplier from South California, and transport it to Night City with help from a smuggler.  

Jackie points at the crates. Tells V to grab one. The cargo. V asks about the Arasaka logos on the crates. Are they smuggling weapons?

[V grabs the box] Says that Jackie should put those crates on a transport rack on V's car.] [Jackie puts down the crates on top of a rack on the roof of the car] Ugh. What a fat-ass. [V puts down the crate right next to the ones left  by Jackie] [Covers crates with a shiny, metallic cover]

Drive to Border -

Jackie and V talk on the way to the border. Typical smalltalk, from which V gets a feeling that Jackie is a decent guy. Although Jackie might be a bit too cocky, and like to bite more than he can chew.

Hideout Garage - 

V says this is no Arasaka  merchandise she ever saw. She hopes Jackie has a damn good explanation for  this. V asks what kind of bullshit is this? Did Jackie try to fucke her over?!

Jackie sighs, he says he knows someone in the city that might be willing to buy this thing. He starts packing the animal into a backpack.

Ghost Town

Meeting Mitch and Scorpion -

[Mitch raises his hand, Scorpio nod in greeting.]

Panam wanted to leave in a hurry, leaving everything behind. Nomads despise V. Panam is met with cold and disdain.

Some girl is smiling, she is happy to see Panam again. A girl looks at Panam with contempt.

Car Drive -

Scorpion piloted. Mitch ran security. Scorpion flew. Mitch secured transports. Scorpion was flying. Mitch secured the shipments.

Panam’s Thornton -

[We can see Panam physically connect to tons of things in the car.] [We see her getting one with a car, being complete again and taking the power back]

Shiv’s Tunnel -

Calls Rogue to brag.

Shows her the dead Trey to nag her, telling her that she won and that Rogue won't get her commission. Doesn't take the bait. Says that she's glad Panam got her car back and that, anyway, Raffen Shivs paid her in advance.

Driving to meeting -

Explains to Panam exactly what they need to do in q104. [The plan will take form and be explain in the bar at the Roadhouse - in q103_15_roadhouse_bar.]

Meeting 6th Streets - 

Greets the Maelstromers. Asks Panam if she's got the goods.

Panam passes the package to one of the non-leaders of the gang.  The gang member opens the package to analyze the contents. There is tension, maybe silence.  We don't know what is going to happen.

[This is a shipment of drugs. Not narcotics, but regular, big-pharma medicine, smuggled in from the east and distributed by Maelstrom in the city with enormous profit.]

Sunset Motel -

[Sits down and orders a couple of cold beers.] [Bartender grabs two pint glasses and pours beer.  Need dialogue here to fill up the time it takes for bartender to pour drinks and bring them back]

Cheers. Lemme know if you need anything else. Accept (suggest sex). Maybe we get just one room? Accept (don't suggest sex). 

Life during Wartime

AV Chasing -

We can hear Nomads talking through the radio about the crashin AV. They will try to loot it.

Panam calls to them on holocall, trying to stop them as they have no chance with Zetatech.

One nomad dosen't listen to Panam saying she's not the one who gives orders and they can take care of themselves.  Other one agrees to help stop ground attack on AV.

3 Dots coming in from 1 o'clock. Must be the Orbital air drones that zetatech called in.

AV Crash -

A moment later we can hear Mitch talking on the radio, on nomad's channel that he is almost there and will check what's up with Aldocados group at the AV crashsite

Panam curses, telling that Mitch is stupid replying on the radio, because Zetatech could be listening.

Panam explain's who is Mitch, telling us that he's a good kid, young and not experienced enough, so she's worried about him as the other's can take care of themselves.

Panam says theres the AV, but she can't clearly see aldecados. We should send out a drone to scope the place out. See if we can spot the Aldecados or Mitch.

Panam says we scanned the Zetatech guys.

We can see Mitch being dragged into the AV by Zetatech.

The Turret is down and Panam drives into the crash site, killing the remaining Kang Tao drones and operators with the car. PIERDOLCIE SI FUUUCK YYOU AAAAALLLL!

Hostage Mitch -

The Kang Tao pilot (a young, scared woman) is holding Mitch hostage. Step back! She is yelling to us to GET BACK or she will not hesitate to shoot the hostage.

Everyone is very emotional - the Pilot is scared and alone, Panam and Mitch are wounded and angry they lost their friends.

The pilot doesn't believe V, she takes offense that V thinks she can talk her down. She tells V to back off and close the AV door, there will be no negotiations.

Panam, you remember the cowboy, don't you? The pilot tells him to shut up, hits him. Panam reacts, everything starts to escalate too much.

Thanks for savin' my ass, V. I'm far from being ok.

[ Panam look upset after what she saw, she's processing it for a moment ]

It's my fault... they didn't know that we are plannig to do, my relations with clan are complicated right now... I've lied to you.

The hostage crisis resolved, we talk to Mitch about what happened here and where is Haru Kasai.

Panam talks to Mitch, asking him if he is fine. Mitch is indeed fine. It's just a flesh wound. Panam expresses her happines about Mitch being fine However she is sad that Scorpion didn't make it.

Mitch says they left - he overheard the Kang Tao saying that their comms got fried by the EMP blast. Took him with 'em. In our cars. Stranded, with no way to call for emergency extraction, they put Haru into one of the Aldecaldo vehicles and rode off south in search of any usable communications setup.

This is an important moment where Panam decides to go beyond the contract and just help V because she feels like she owes her. This is no longer a business relationship.

Eventually Mitch convinces her he doesn’ t need a babysitter.

I should have seen that Scorpion would want to-- Argh

Following Tracks -

This is the car that was losing oil. It finally broke down as Panam predicted. You were right. Nomads' car did die. Panam notices they were attempting to fix it, but Panam can recognize a dead engine when she sees one. It's beyond any field repair, welded firmly into a deadlock.

Looks like Zetatech has secured the area, Haru is probably inside.

Aldecaldos Arrive -

Panam is happy to see V in one piece Panam is happy that V has Haru. V should put him on her bike. Panam will lead V to the bike.

While we talk, Saul and Mitch have emerged from the nomads cleaning up the gas-station-turned-battlefied, and are approaching us.

Mitch gives a warm greeting to both Panam and V. Saul gives us a much colder one.

They talk for a moment. The situation is tense - clearly, the conflict between Saul and Panam is still unresolved.

Saul gives his thanks to V for helping his people, even though it is V's indirect fault that some of the nomads died.

V says she knows some old friends of Haru that would love to meet him. This can mean both Takemura and Hanako, it's kept vague.

Panam refuses his offer to rejoin the clan (this is, however, the tipping point form which she starts to rethink her decision to leave).

Panam was too proud to thank Mitch for the assist, so once he leaves she thanks Mitch instead.

Riders of the Storm

Preparation at the camp - 

You will pull Saul out, and the three of us will ride away at top speed. All clear now?

We're in the ass, honey.

As we saw him, Saul was in poor condition. If he's still alive, you'll need it.

Ingalls Farm -

Panam and Saul arguing, lot of blah blah blah

I’ll Fly Away

Camp - 

A group of nomads is gathered in front of the burned bodies of the nomads. Most bodies have already been burned - makes no sense to have stationary graves for people who spend the better part of their lives on the move. This is the aftermath of their funeral, the fires are slowly dying out. The deceased's possessions have been thrown on a heap, left to be redistributed among the clan. A man is looking at some items on the deceased nomads possessions. There are weapons, car parts, supplies, etc. ammassed here. The man is looking for a specific car part, but he can't find it. A child is playing with a toy found on the item pile of the decesead nomads. A second child comments. A fat man reminisces the person this toy used to belong to.

V greets Mitch.  Mitch greets V.

Look, don't take this the wrong way, but... That's for the family. All of it. You're not family, it's not yours to take.

Mitch says they're saying goodbye to the nomads who died in q104.

Mitch denies. These are all the other nomads. There are special plans for Scorpion.

After a moment's hesitation, he asks V to help him with something. It's a spur of the moment decision.

If V refuses he'll eventually ask someone else off-screen and the quest will be gone.

Mitch says the yellow one is Scorpion's car. The other one is his. Well, technically they're both his now.

He asks V to ride with him: he will drive Scorpion's car, but needs someone to take his old one and follow.

V asks Mitch what is his plan. Mitch says it's about Scorpion's last will.

V asks why we need two cars, to which he simply replies they'll need something to come back in.

Mitch walks V to Scorpion's car. He owns it now. V comments on Scorpion's car. It's one hell of a ride. Mitch sadly admits that yeah, yeah it is.

Ride to the cliff -

During the ride, V can attempt some conversation on the CB, but Mitch is not in the mood.

Johnny is V's only company.  We might have some chats with him. V and Johnny chat about Mitch and Scorpion.

Mitch calls V on the CB. V and Mitch exchange some more lines if necessary.

Mitch says we're driving to the broken bridge behind the protein farms.

Mitch asks V where she is driving with Scorpion's car? V and Johnny chat while following Mitch.

Cliff -

Mitch dismounts from his vehicle and moves to the trunk. Goddamn, stuck again... C'mere, help me out. Press there, a little to the left... Yep, that's it. 

Mitch opens it. Scorpion's body is inside.

Mitch explains that Scorpion used to say he wanted a vikings death.

Now we'll give him a fitting burial.  Now we'll give him a flaming burial.

Mitch tells to put it in the passenger's seat. V has put the canister on the seat. Notices Mitch has already put Scorpion's corpse on the driver's seat.

Mitch comments. He asks V to come over. Understanding Mitch's intentions, V comments that she thought the nomads valued their equipment.

Mitch replies they do, but they value family more. Things are just things, they don't matter in the end.

Yes, Saul knows, they talked it through. Besides, it doesn't work like that. He may be the leader,  but he doesn't have a say in this... You know what? Don't worry about it, it's family stuff.

Soon, Scorpion will turn to ash, and he'll be free to wander the world for eternity.

Mitch hands V a drink on the cliff overlooking the crash site.  V takes the figurine and asks Mitch what is this. Mitch says he'll stay here for a while, so V can go back to her life.

With a little help from my Friends Queen of the Highway

Preparation at the camp - 

A group of nomads is gathering around their vehicles, packing their belongings.  They do not understand why Saul is keeping them here, after the botched deal the clan had to suffer.  They believe they should move on.  Another nomad is pleading them to stay.  

Mitch banters with Panam while they walk towards their vehicle.

Saul tells V where to find the car and thanks her again.

Panam is outraged. She calls V to tell her she betrayed her trust and told Saul about their plan. He aborted the plan and told everyone she is reckless and tried to supplant him as the leader. Panam says it's not for V to decide, it's family matters and V is definitely not part of it. Panam retorts that Saul is an old man who's gonna be the doom of the clan, while V is a backstabbing traitor. Panam says to V to fuck off and die.

Locomotive - 

(To Cassidy)  [SOLO] Get a grip. Happy to join you in your quest.

I planned to poke a little, explore you, and then retreat before it was my turn to reveal myself.

"Thanks to you I found a real friend, you stupid bitch.”

Camping - 

Scorpion would like it. Scorpion would be proud.

Ambush -

Mitch has hotwired his truck to run.  The nomads celebrate that they are in the clear!  Bob honks the trucks horn in celebration.

We arrive to the nomad camp. Nomads gather around us. Saul is coming. He doesn't look happy!

The Militech soldier reports to base that they are under attack!  Militech soldier says to open fire on the nomads!  Soldier's respond to the orders!

Panam encourages everyone to shoot at the security. The nomads need no encouragement.

The Veterans, Mitch and Panam comment on the success of the heist. V can also take part in the banter.  

Panzer Scene - 

Someone tried to have sex in Basilisk someday? Anyone ever try gettin' it on in a Basilisk?

Probably so. Ask Carol or Cassidy. Most likely. You should ask Carol or Cassidy.

New Camp -

V asks where she is. Panam explains that when V blacked out, the nomads packed up camp and moved to a new location.

They just took V with them. They took care of her as one of their own. V says she's feeling better. Panam is not sure about this, but won't be stopping V.

Bob and Teddy notice V is back up. Panam and V walk and talk about where we are.

Panam greets Saul and Mitch. Mitch exits V's car. He drove it back here. Saul says hi and asks how she's feeling.

V notices the nomads moved out quickly outta there. They've had a whole life of practice.

V says she's feeling much better, thanks for the help. V thanks Mitch for taking car of her ride.

Thanks, I'll stick around for a bit. Got your back, baby. 

Saul shakes V's hand and tells V that if she needs help, the nomads are here for her.  Mitch and Saul leave.

[leviiattacks]

How about Levi x reader, where they get set up on a blind date by their friends as a prank, but actually end up liking each other

note :: honestly not my best at all but it was cute i guess T___T kinda an opposites attract thing also it’s a modern au !!

for some reason hange and sasha wake up one morning and decide they want to wreak havoc

it’s not peculiar coming from them

after all they are always up to something

like the one time sasha purposefully trapped herself in an elevator with a hot guy

or the time hange tried to make coffee with an energy drink mixed in it??

OR-

okay you’re getting sidetracked

but the point is they have no real reason for this new venture of theirs

when do they ever have a reason though?

somehow today their scheming has led to them begging you to go on a blind date

“he’s not my type i mean he’s old and whatever but you would like him” sasha’s stuffing her face with a buttery croissant

she doesn’t sound very convincing

then again, you have no objections to the idea

you’re single

you’re lonely

if it doesn’t end in love well ??? guess you could fuck

and if you don’t fuck well ?? you got to go outside and get some fresh air

BUT

the idea of blind dating makes you squirm

the uncertainty which comes along with the situation is intimidating

honestly, part of you is worried you’ll end up making a mortal enemy at dinner, not a lover

the other portion is petrified you’ll end up on a date with a murderer

what if it ends up like that one netflix show and you end up getting stalked????

you shudder at that thought

BE OPTIMISTIC Y/N!! YUP YUP OPTIMIST ERA!!!

levi feels the same way but his version of nervous is very different to your own

his fears are very different

what if his date appears prim and proper but it’s really just a huge facade hiding how their house is a pigsty?

imagine the third date in is a movie night in and he walks into a landfill site...

what if his date chews their food obnoxiously loud?

what if they just dislike him?

that’s why ideally he would prefer dating someone he knows beforehand

but there’s no one he knows already that he’s interested in

that’s exactly why when hange calls levi and asks him if he’s willing to go on a blind date on such short notice he scoffs and tells them that maybe if they got a life they would know that his answer is a straight no

he’s used to people not pairing well with him

he guesses it’s because of his sardonic personality, maybe it’s his occupation - he is constantly busy after all. perhaps it’s his foul mouth

erwin told him the last time he had a date that he should probably ease up on the cursing but it’s levi...

he isn’t going to change for anyone.

and really if him being little mean is that much of a deal breaker he won’t bother looking for anyone

he’ll go it solo he supposes

“LEVI. PLEASE. you both would fit together like jigsaw pieces.” hange is practically begging

then they stop for a second and wiggle their eyebrows “that can have many alternative meaningssss~”

levi purses his lips and shoots them a hard glare

“shut it, i’m not going. i’m busy.”

“busy doing.....?”

“cleaning i need t-”

“NO??? do it some other time please they’re smart, fun AND not boring at all.”

hange gives him a pleading look then explains how his mystery date has already agreed for sasha’s sake and he really can’t stand you up

“you want me to go on a blind date with one of SASHA BRAUS’ friends????”

he looks at hange in utter disbelief because that means you just have to be loud mouthed and annoying like jean or connie

or just be as stupidly unfunny

he shakes his head rejecting the idea completely

“i enjoy sophisticated people.”

hange sighs heavily

“give it a chance! c’monnn what if i bribe you?”

little does levi know hange and sasha have purposefully picked you out because of the way you’re both polar opposites

where levi loves order you’re disorderly, where he follows his own rules you don’t follow any at all, where he is disagreeable you’re agreeable in every way of the word

where he is cold, you are warm, he’s a night owl, you’re an early bird, you’re day and he’s night

everything about the two of you is different

that isn’t necessarily bad, but sasha and hange find it hilarious enough to set you both up on this date

if it fails it’ll still be funny

you’re rummaging through your closet looking for your favourite perfume because to be frank you are NOT showing up unprepared

like?? what if he moves in to hug you and he smells the scent of the chicken you were cooking today

yeah you did have a shower but sometimes you wonder if the smell lingers

you KNOW it doesn’t but it’s a matter of principle

imagine he leans in and smells marinated chicken

you think you’d die on the spot if that were to ever happen

shoving a pack of mints in your purse along with your emergency pepper spray you give your outfit a once over

it’s nothing too extravagant but it’ll do the job

at this point, everything is great! you’re walking out of your door and you’re pumped up

you’ll be early for once and there’s a spring in your step

making a good first impressions is key here

you’re so close to your uber BUT

then you hear it

it’s almost inaudible but you’re sure you hear a mewl come out of the alleyway to your right

you’re about to ignore it because you aren’t even sure if you’ve heard it correctly

and it’s late you don’t feel like wandering into an empty alleyway

but the sound only repeats itself

fuck.

cautiously venturing inside you see it.

eyes softening you look at the stray kitten in front of you and bite your bottom lip and scoop him up in your arms you’re debating if running back to your apartment and leaving him there is the best option

what’s the other option?

well you could bring the cat along with you...

it would be a funny story for the future if the date goes well

now. unlike you levi is nowhere near late

in fact he’s ten minutes early waiting promptly outside of the restaurant in his white button up

he fiddles with his collar and wonders how the actual hell he got talked into doing this

hange offering to buy him cleaning supplies free of charge is probably it

8:15pm, you were meant to be here five minutes ago

if you’ve stood him up he’s going to end hange for wasting his precious free time

especially when he rarely interrupts his schedule for anyone.

a few moments of silence pass and he thinks

how do you look? 

not like it matters to him

but he’d just like to know

okay, so.

it’s 8:30pm now

levi is royally pissed off that you even have the audacity to show up

you’re holding your knees as you puff in and out

“I’M SORRY. i know i’ve wasted all your time but i saw a stray on my way here and i couldn’t leave him”

the updo your hair is in is disheveled and fly aways stick out

you’ve ran here after your uber broke down that much is obvious.

to be fair, your explanation is believable and he would have let it slide if and only if

you had NOT brought the fucking cat along with you???

he’s eyeing it with disgust as it purrs up against you and you coo at it stroking its fur

“you want to sneak a cat into the restaurant?” he asks in pure disbelief

sheepishly grinning and scratching the back of your neck your response is “well i know we can’t but if you tried to i wouldn’t mind because i really like this cat :-(”

when hange said he’d have fun they were lying

but at least they didn’t lie about you not being boring.

he picks the cat up with one of his hands

looks it in the eyes

sighs then places him carefully into your purse

“don’t let him be seen.”

you light up and try to hide the grin forming on your face

he isn’t that bad

he’s a little too serious for your liking but you can handle that.

the two of you walk into the restaurant and fuck you because the cat has to start mewling and screeching

coughing rather aggressively to cover it up it miraculously goes unheard

he shoots you a sturdy glare because he’s able to hear the muffled sounds

luckily, no one else is standing near you or is within earshot.

gulping you realise this is not a good first impression at all

late to the date, bringing a cat with you, begging him to help you sneak the cat in

you feel guilty, he probably expected way better

“oi, move your ass” he snaps

you look up realising you’ve been too lost in thought to see levi walking in front of you

“sorry” you mumble

he doesn’t respond but he does look back at you

you can’t gather anything from his face because it’s either plain or he’s got his brows furrowed

currently it’s showing no signs of distaste so he must be accepting your apology

he’s kind enough, steps out of the way to offer you the space to sit down first

he sits after you and you have no idea where to look

then the cat cries again from your purse

“lucifer, shhhhh”

you’re patting him and try to silence him

“you’ve named it already?”

laughing to yourself you’re happy he’s initiated the conversation first

“he’s a little sneaky so i called him it. do you have any other names you’d like?”

“why would my input in this matter be relevant?”

“you’re basically his family now!”

he’s covering his mouth with his hands and you swear you can see the pink tinge of a blush creep upwards and flood his cheeks

but this man doesn’t seem like the type to blush over anything.

composing himself he sticks a hand out and finally asks “what’s your name?”

coming back to your senses you realize it’s been twenty minutes since you’ve met and you haven’t even had the manners to ask his name even after arriving late

“Y/N!! what’s yours?”

play it cool!!!

he doesn’t respond instead stares at your purse and points with his index finger

lucifer has escaped again and now you really are regretting bringing him along with you

whilst you’re grabbing the cat and hushing him your date hums “try to guess it.”

well, that’s spontaneous, he doesn’t seem like the type to entertain himself with games

you think hard, he’s serious but he is kind, you guess that’s why he reminds you of sebastian from the little mermaid

get it? because he’s sweet but he’s a crab so he’s crabby??

god that joke is AWFUL because it doesn't even take into account the actual character of sebastian the crab

but you have no other guesses available.

“hmm... sebastian?” you jokingly ask

“it’s levi.” he deadpans.

oh wow you couldn’t be more far off

playing around with your fingers in your lap you fidget nervously looking around for a waiter to interrupt the conversation

levi has to sense your unease because his tone loosens up

“...do i really look like a sebastian though?”

looking back up at him your bite your lip keeping a giggle in

you can sense the ghost of a smile on his face

“yeah like the crab from a little mermaid”

at that he scowls but he inquires what exactly that means

the rest of the date goes without a hitch, sure there’s a few moments where lucifer attempts to sneak away but levi has no problems stopping him

it takes a while but the conversation flows easily after the awkward barrier from before is broken down

it’s lighthearted and calm.

he’s humorous in a way you can’t describe

levi’s mannerisms are cute, everything about him is endearing despite the serious front he has

and you can’t quite put your finger on it but his demeanor is charming

overall you find yourself enjoying the date even more than you expected

now the two of you are walking away from the booth and the fresh night time air hits your face as you step outside

turning to him you smile radiantly and without allowing him to get a word in you take your opportunity by the reins

“second date?”

you don’t normally make the first move but you’re eager

and to your surprise he’s just as eager as you are.

it doesn’t even look like he stops to think before he nods and agrees to meet with you again.

exchanging numbers with him you wave as you and lucifer part ways with levi feeling satisfied

and to his shock after you leave it settles, levi thinks he just might enjoy your presence

well, that’s a first for him.

he guesses what they say about opposites attracting is true

[wincore]

childhood dreams | mark lee

pairing: singer!mark x reader

words: 3.3k

summary: you’ve been thinking of childhood dreams lately, and it seems like mark’s been doing the same.

genre: childhood friends to strangers to lovers(?), fluff, angst

warnings: none

song rec(s): childhood dreams - seraphine (cover) [orig. ARY]

a/n: im obsessed with this cover and i need to write cheesy drabbles to prevent writing droughts so here u go friends 👁👁 

Mark sits at his desk, bouncing his leg in compulsive habit as he has for the past half an hour. Your presence doesn’t make much of a difference to him—and it would be far more disheartening if there wasn’t more than half a decade of unsaid things between the two of you. With notebook pages crumpled on the floor, a mild scent of musk in the room and Mark’s refusal to look you in the eye, you don’t think this reunion could get any worse.

Or it could, you tell yourself when Mark clenches another page in his hand, glancing at you before turning back to the neatly bundled pages on his desk. He looks uncomfortable, and discomfort wasn’t something you ever recalled in your friendship.

“Mark,” you call. “Why don’t you take a break?”

He looks up at you again, doe eyes and rosy cheeks, and you wonder where it went wrong—where you could have gone wrong. There’s no explanation and there hasn’t been one since tenth grade. He used to look you in the eye back then at least, and joke with you, study with you, hang out with you. Is it wrong to say you were best friends then? You can’t really tell right now, as you cross your legs, withering into your own being on his bed that looks like it hasn’t been made for three days. Some things don’t change, after all.

And some things do.

“Okay,” he says, pushing himself from the wooden desk, which now looks a little lonely. He turns his chair to you, eyes still trained on his lap and occasionally shifting to your form. Dark, messy mop of hair and a face much more grown than you remember—he’s lovely to look at.

You’ve never seen him agree to a break when you were kids. The memory that surfaces makes you hold back a smile. The school library closed at 6 p.m. and Mark had all the books you needed for finals week by four. The sky used to be a warmer colour and so did your room, though you can’t quite remember the colour of your walls. You remember the hot pink ink you used to doodle with though, and Mark’s tired complaints when you wouldn’t let him study. Half of your doodles were inevitably on his notebook pages.

“You know, I didn’t think we’d meet again this way,” you start, trying to smile.

“Yeah,” he says, opening his mouth to continue but closing it quickly. 

There’s a quiet pause, filled in by the rustling of leaves and the reminiscence of winter winds outside. Late January nights aren’t close enough to winter and yet still, far from spring. You think of third grade, all of a sudden, of the first snow you saw and Mark Lee’s terribly postured snowman. 

“I… didn’t know you were songwriting for idols,” he says, with hesitant punctuation.

You chuckle, looking down at your feet. 

“I- I don’t mean it like that- I mean- I—”

“Mark,” you interrupt the mess that’s leaving his mouth. “It’s okay. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

He scratches the back of his head, looking a little guilty. You can’t really pinpoint exactly what’s going on in the space inside his head and it bothers you more than it should. You have been apart for a long, long time. You’re not as entwined as you used to be, not two peas in a pod anymore and not a matching set.

It feels colder, even in Mark’s modest apartment room.

“We’re friends,” you say. “Since college. Sohee and I. She wanted to sing and I wanted to write.”

“Oh. That’s neat.”

You chuckle. “You get to do both. I’m kind of jealous, you know? You’re talented. You’ve always been good at everything.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not- No way.”

You roll your eyes. “Some people see modesty as incompetence, Mark.”

He blinks, something rekindling inside his eyes, you tell with the way he stares at you.

“Oh my god. Mrs Wilsbury used to tell us that.”

The two of you laugh. It’s not particularly the thought of old Mrs Wilsbury, with her sharp words and shriveled face, but the spark of recognition in Mark’s boyish laugh that makes you feel a trembling inside your chest. 

“She was horrible,” you say, pulling a face.

“She was nice to me though,” Mark defends.

“Everyone was nice to you.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows and you roll your eyes at him trying hard to remember your high school days. The expressions he used to make haven't changed much; he’s just grown up and into his larger, masculine frame. It’s endearing now, more than ever.

He gasps suddenly and scrambles back to his desk, scribbling in a bunch of lines onto the paper. You lean back on the bed, sighing. It’s supposed to be the two of you writing verses but the way Mark works differs so much from yours that you decided it’d be better for him to do his thing while you’ll be the supporting cast. You don’t really mind when you’ve missed his words so much. You don’t really mind if it leads to him.

“Sorry,” he says when he’s done, a little awkward in tone.

A part of you feels sad for him, however. You feel sad that he’s had to work alone all these years as a solo singer-songwriter. It can’t be easy. You know it’s not easy. But Mark—he has a way of making dreams come true. Every kid dreams and yet, your best friend from years ago is living his. Perhaps, it makes things better, easier to look at.

You glance at Mark again, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and lips pressed together. Something tells you he wants to scowl right now.

“Hey,” you call again, feeling comfortable on his bed now that it’s warm. “What was your debut song again? Dreamer?”

You know the answer. You just don’t want to give in to the feeling that’s calling for proximity again. Things change, and sometimes—most times—they’re out of your hands. 

You should be worried about nosy reporters right now. You in Mark Lee’s own room would give anyone attuned to celebrity news a sickening, sugary treat. A few headlines pop in and you shove them aside. You were surprised by the offer but apparently, his studio merges with his bedroom. (It did take an awkward explanation on his part as to why he invited you to his bedroom.)

Embarrassingly, you wish some of those headlines would come true. Your feelings haven’t changed since you were fifteen. 

His walls are blue like the sky and there’s more than enough lights but he only uses the one at his desk. It’s like a little sun, rays caressing his cheeks, nose and lips with a warm, orange touch. You would make fun of the gamer chair but he said it’s from Lee Donghyuck before you could even start breaking the ice you’re standing on. You wish the warmth would return between the two of you, the faint memory of holding hands in second grade floating in.

“It was Dreamer, yeah.” Mark’s voice breaks you out of your old teenage daydreams. You chuckle to force the heat off your cheeks.

A sudden impulse takes over your cold fingers and you take the acoustic guitar by his bed, playing the opening chords to his debut song. Mark’s eyes widen at your action and you give him your biggest smile—it’s like back then again. It used to be Mark on the bed though, with fingers strumming his worn out guitar and kind smile and honey eyes. You pause your playing. Mark’s still smiling at you in awe and you pat the spot beside you on the bed.

All of a sudden, you desperately wish for the past even if it isn’t meant to be recalled this way. 

You start playing again and Mark mumbles the beginning of the song, unsure, eliciting an annoyed sound from you. You stop playing and glower at him.

“Those aren’t the lyrics,” you say with mock distress. “You’re ruining the song.”

“It’s my song,” he responds with an incredulous laugh.

You begin again, and though Mark has to google his own lyrics, you spend an hour or so figuring out beats and tunes that vaguely resemble feelings you don’t feel anymore and thoughts you only remember empty decorated shells of. You’re not fifteen anymore, or fourteen or thirteen. Someday is now today. You’re not fifteen anymore but being fifteen is a part of you. The music floats seamlessly.

Your cheeks heat up when you think of the last time you met him, when you said you liked him and laughed it off in the awkward teenage fashion. You pray he doesn’t remember that embarrassing parting. It would be too silly an ending.

That’s why when you heard his name from Sohee’s manager, you couldn’t help yourself. After all, old friends should meet up once in their lives, right? You should close the door you left open if you can’t set foot into the house.

“Okay, but I genuinely didn’t know you write songs for Park Sohee,” Mark says, legs crossed on his bed as he leans in a little towards you. The dim lights of his room make his face look more rugged than usual, the tired lines spread across his face. You wonder if he’s kept up his habit of ditching breaks.

“I’m surprised you’re not in a boyband,” you reply, leaning against the wall. “And that your bed is this small.”

Mark stammers out a garbled explanation and you gasp.

“Wait- wait, oh my god. Don’t tell me… don’t tell me you’ve never had anyone over! For, you know...”

The comment runs a deep flush through his cheeks and you giggle at his expression.

“I- I- I just- I just didn’t have the time,” he says, biting down his lower lip possibly at his own awkwardness.

“Looks like you’re still a loser, Mark Lee,” you say, smiling smugly.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Looks like you’re still mean to me, (name).”

“Oh lord, when was I ever mean to you?”

“When were you not?”

You stick out his tongue at him and he laughs, relaxing against the sound of you and him—old friends. It could have been this way; it should have been this way.

“Why did you move away?” is what you want to ask. What was so urgent that you were left staring at the ghosts of his figure in his empty house, in his empty room and at the empty classroom desk? It’s not anger but a soft sense of regret, boosted by his quiet breathing and tired, thoughtful eyes. You could have stayed this way but instead, there’s a rift between the two of you. There’s years and years, and time isn’t a product to sell back and forth—you can’t buy those years back. Your chest hurts but you clutch the feeling tightly in your hands, afraid it might escape.

“This collab means a lot to Sohee,” you say, after a while. “You know, after the hiatus she’s been on.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I totally get it,” he says, sitting up straight and sobering from the bubble of you two. “We should get back to work.”

You hum. “You mean me staring at you tear all your hair out?”

Mark reddens in the face. “I’m not usually like this. Just saying. I need to be... inspired, I guess.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to revive your soundcloud account from when you were twelve,” you say, leaning back against the soft material of the bed.

“You’re making fun of me again,” he says, the smile lines on his face deepening.

You let out a smiling sigh. It’s just so easy. The thought still eats away at you, however, of what could’ve been. If you were younger, you wouldn’t care for this, you suppose. You’d just get along like nothing had passed at all.

“(name).” His voice sounds deeper and softer. “It’s nice having you back. To talk to, you know? It’s been a long time.”

Your face must have fallen because he straightens, eyes wide and wavering lips trying to form words. You sigh, looking away and see his form inch closer, some sort of fuzz leaving his mouth. 

“Mark. Mark.” You shake your head. “I think I’ve been a bad friend. I don’t know why I didn’t keep in touch—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, looking you in the eye. “It’s on me too.”

If you were younger, you would have confessed over and over again in ways private to everyone but you. 

You nod instead. If your childhood together was a prelude, there’s quite the long, awkward silence following it. You have to start the music soft and slow.

“It worked out though, didn’t it?” you ask, looking up to find his face nearer to yours than you would have expected.

When he tilts his head, you explain further, “We’re both doing fine, right? We- We did things, got our life and plans set and… now we’re here.”

Mark leans away from you. “I- I guess.”

There’s a pause, and you know there’s a lie fluttering between the two of you.

“I… I still feel like I’m running,” he says, a weary undertone carrying his voice forth. “I know I’ve done things… achieved things and I still- I still feel like I’m running a marathon. There’s still something out of reach.”

You scoot closer to him and offer a smile, your hand resting on his shoulder. 

“You can say you’re tired. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks, (name). I appreciate it. I just don’t know where I’m going anymore.”

You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling him into a hug. You can’t hear his breathing over the sound of your pulse drumming in your ears but it’s warm, at the very least. His arms wrap around you after a few moments, heavy but comforting when his hand holds the back of your head, just like old times. The fabric of his mellow green hoodie is warm with his skin and you bury your face into it deeper.

“I’ve worked alone for a really long time,” he whispers. “It’s nice like this. I wish… I sometimes wish we could go back.”

You giggle, looking back up. “We could build a snowman for old times’ sake.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows. “There’s literally no snow. Besides, you just want to make fun of my snowman. Again.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course.”

His cheeks colour, one of his hands leaving your torso to scratch the back of his head. Suddenly aware of the lack of space, you pull back slightly to a more decent enough distance. Mark frowns but he rests his palm against the bedsheet, leaning his torso onto it.

“You could also let me draw in your songbook for the memories,” you suggest, smiling wide. “In hot pink.”

Mark scoffs. “Oh no. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m not as immature as you think, Mark.” You roll your eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to draw a bunch of hot pink dicks.”

Mark opens his mouth and closes it. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t suggesting that.”

One look from you, however, and he realizes his defeat. It’s almost the same look as the one in spring break after tenth grade, except much happier and more carefree. Your eyes shift elsewhere when you remember the argument you laughed off, details lost but the gist was clear. You acted as though it didn’t matter if he moved away—something about that happy-go-lucky persona you’d developed. Oh god, you were an idiot.

The silence isn’t welcome. There’s no rhythm, no melodies in moments like these—moments in between things that should be happening and won’t ever happen. Mark takes a sudden precise intake of breath, making you look at him. His eyes are rich and resolute, and somehow as pure as they were when he was younger.

“When you- when you said you liked me,” Mark begins, and you hold your breath. “When we were fifteen, you said you liked me. Before I moved. I- I don’t really know if you were joking but… Do you- do you think you still would? If we started over?”

You look at him, his eyes unable to meet yours and shoulders tense, and find yourself at a loss for words and for breath. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Stupid question.”

“I- I do- I would.”

Mark looks up at you reluctantly, almond eyes shimmering with some sort of emotion—innocent and curious as though you’re fifteen again.

You cough awkwardly and he looks away in a similar panicked fashion. This isn’t as romantic as you thought it would be and you almost think about taking your words back.

No. Not again. 

“I would,” you continue, dragging the syllable. “If you maybe asked me out on a date, at least.”  

Mark blinks, slack jawed like he’s seen the birth of a phoenix, or something equally dreamlike.

“Yes! I mean, wait- I- uh…”

He clears his throat, cheeks flushing with scarlet heat. “Do you- do you wanna get coffee tomorrow? No, wait- it’s a Monday. Th-This Saturday? …I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”

You can’t hold back your laughter anymore, clutching your stomach at the sheepish look on Mark’s face and his slouched shoulders, much like the ones you were used to seeing as a stressed, sleep-deprived teenager. 

“We can make time after this project.” You smile.

“We have to wait until after—no, I mean, that’s totally cool.”

The defeated grin makes you laugh some more. Your eyes drift to the deserted work desk and notebook paper, and you gasp. Dawn will arrive at this rate, crashing in waves.

“We really should get back to work,” you tell him, your fingers against his chest. “Twelve year old us would be very disappointed in us now.”

The two of you laugh in shared memory, of the time when romance was as appealing as ice-cream dropped on the sidewalk. With eyes full of stars and a head full of clouds, where do you go? Right back to each other, you think. 

“We’ve come a long way,” you marvel. “We used to think of a different future every five minutes. Me, more than you, perfect poster boy.”

“You wanted to be an astronaut,” he laughs.

“And you wanted to be a swimmer. Said you’d even swim in a lake in Russia. In winter.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he says, eyes faraway. “We had all those childhood dreams.”

“You’ve reached one of them,” you respond, laughing.

There’s a short pause. Back then, everything was visionary. What the two of you had in mind had evolved, molted, shed its skin but now you’re here, in each other’s arms again—in a way that you haven't been before.

“It’s two,” he whispers, and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours and his arms are around your waist, pulling you closer. 

He pulls back in wide-eyed, careful consideration. “I- I meant to ask first.”

You respond with a kiss, his mouth warm against yours. 

He pulls back again.

“That was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“Just shut up and kiss me, oh my god.”

You can’t help it, smiling against his lips and making him laugh at the feeling. Your finger brushes over the mole on his neck, unchanging in the same way he still uses too many hand gestures to talk or the way he still likes to lean his head on your shoulder. 

There are unchanged parts of him so vivid in your memories that some time through the night, you wonder if you’re dreaming. Then a terribly executed joke later, you have to nudge him with your elbow or smack his arm—and it falls into place in your reality again. Maybe you could’ve saved time; but it’s so much sweeter this way.

[astaroth1357]

How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend; Vol 2

So You Pissed Him Off, Have You?

Notice: Due to an impending lawsuit for libel and misinformation, Mammoney, Inc. has filed for bankruptcy. All past guides from their company have been revised and re-released. All future printing will be handled Solo Man, Press.

Oh? Is there trouble in your devilish paradise? Well, there’s bound to be a spat or two between lovers but things can get... complicated if one half of your pair could easily wipe out a nation. Attempting to calm down your demon can be tricky, however in this volume of How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend we will be covering the best methods available for you to do just that! With our instructions and a deft touch, you’ll manage to avoid your boyfriend’s hellish rage and get right back to enjoying that tender, sacrilegious relationship you’ve come to love!

This volume only covers if your demon boyfriend is mad at YOU. If there is SOMEONE ELSE making him mad, please consult Volume One!

Lucifer’s mad at You

You are in a very tricky situation so treat your next actions with the utmost care…

First, ascertain who is at fault for what has occurred. If it’s you, then figure out the severity. A minor infraction can be smoothed over easily enough with some explanation and sincere apology.

More severe breaches of trust will be harder get past. Plead your case but don’t attempt to excuse your actions. Acknowledge fault and, again, apologize. If he seems receptive, attempt to touch him in some way like on the hand or arm but no higher. This a literal demonstration of your attempt to reconnect.

This is the best that you can do for now, but he should acknowledge your efforts as long as you approached it correctly.

If it’s his fault… as far as he’s concerned it’s still your fault, unfortunately. It’s the pride in him speaking. 

Ask him what he believes you’ve done wrong and assess from there. Some things may be better to give a brief apology to, but no more. You don’t need to explain yourself for something you didn’t do. It may be best to leave him for a few hours after this and let tensions cool.

If the accusation is too egregious, you have the option to not apologize at all. This will likely anger him further if you give no explanation, though. Explain why you don’t think you should have to say sorry, then leave. Call for his brothers if you need someone there to intervene.

Now you wait. Unfortunately, it's an inevitability. Lucifer will need time to process and do a post-mortem on what happened. If he was truly the one at fault, he’ll acknowledge it to himself but never admit it out-loud. He may extend an olive branch in the form of a gift (the size and expense of which will be directly proportional to how much he messed up) but that will be it.

If you forgive him, then life can return to normal. If not, consult our other material: Can I Breakup with My Demon Boyfriend?

Mammon’s mad at You

It is first important to discern between his usual “anger” and actual anger.

If you see any of these signs: Blushing, stuttering, overly defensive denials, general tsundere-ness then you are likely only dealing with “anger.” Feel free to tease appropriately.

If these signs are not there then something is very wrong. Find out what it is, he will be forthright with a little persistence. (i.e. bug him until he says something. He will likely want to tell you anyway)

Attempt to remedy the problem as quickly as possible. This will no small matter. A truly upset Mammon should not be ignored.

If you have done something wrong, an apology may be in order. Do be sincere if you can because Mammon will appreciate the effort.

Cheer him up with either compliments or physical contact, head pats and cuddles work most effectively. If his face is red, though, you’re likely on the right track in general.

He isn’t one to hold a grudge so this should settle any brief irritation that’s derailed your relationship. Take care not to upset him this much again in the future.

Leviathan’s mad at You

Again, he’s probably jealous but now he’s going to be jealous and possessive. Admittedly, not the best combination.

Stay. Calm. If he’s already hysterical then adding onto the situation won’t do anyone any good. Patience may be difficult to hang onto, but it’s crucial to getting through this on the other side.

Physical contact is still important but NOT TOO EARLY. If he has his guard up he may just slap away your attempts to touch him.

Chances are he’s already built up a narrative in his head. This will not be easy to combat, especially if his suspicions aren’t true.

Denial will be tricky. You don’t want him to accept his false narrative as truth, but there’s going to be only so many times you can say, “No, that didn’t happen” before he stops believing you.

Deny his story first, firmly and with no room for doubt then redirect the conversation to asking why he’s so worried about it. Get to the heart of what’s making him feel so self-conscious and start soothing him from there. He’ll be feeling vulnerable, so a delicate touch is necessary.

NOW is the time for physical contact. He still needs to know you’re there so you should get as close to him as possible. He’ll probably be holding onto you pretty tightly. He won’t mean to bruise you if he does. 

Hold him close and don’t even think about letting him go until he’s ready. He needs to know that you'll stay with him even if this is what he has to offer. Your embrace is not just reassurance, it’s a promise. I hope you're prepared to keep it.

For more on how to comfort Levi, please seek out: How to Comfort Your Demon Boyfriend.

Satan’s mad at You

Oh my, aren’t you in a pickle? The focus should be on the immediate concerns first, then the long term. Don’t try to resolve both at once.

The immediate concern is that you have a very ticked off Wrath in front of you and he will make his displeasure known. Apologize. Apologize now. Is it actually your fault? Who knows. That's a long term concern and you should focus first on getting him to calm down fast.

Satan will not listen to reason right now, especially not if you're the only one offering it so don’t even try.

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to touch an angry Satan. He's going to be far too gone for cuddle time to smooth things over.

You should give him space. He likely doesn't want to be mad at you and is very aware of just how dangerous this situation is for you both. If you take a step back, he'll do what he needs to in order to calm himself down (which is probably going to involve property damage of some kind but better it a bookshelf than you).

Wait until he is no longer shouting, then you may approach and carefully plead your case. You better have some airtight logic if you want to convince him he's actually the one in the wrong about something, but if he is he will apologize.

Of course, if you are at fault then you should apologize and attempt to explain. Even if you don’t have the best justification, you can still win him back if you can prove you had good intentions.

Unfortunately, even if he understands your reasoning he may still be a little miffed... Speaking candidly, if there's still residual anger left it may be best just to f*ck it out. This is not a joke, it's a legitimate way to redirect lingering negative emotions in a relationship. So have at it, I suppose. Just have a safe word ready because you'll need it.

Asmodeus’ mad at You

Again, reason and logic will fail you, especially at the very start. He WILL be upset and he WILL lash out. Likely verbally.

DO NOT engage in a fight of insults with Asmodeus. Not only will you lose but the situation may escalate to the point that your relationship will suffer permanent damage.

Remain calm, but you need not take the abuse. You are well within your right to tell him that you will leave the room if he does not cease the hostility. Don’t mean this idly either because your presence will be very important to Asmo. He hates to be ignored.

If you must leave, do so. Don’t turn back even if he pleads. Wait for him to come to you, because he will, and then a civil conversation can commence. Apologize if necessary.

After his initial anger has passed, Asmo will be very quick to feel remorseful. Despite his ferocity, he should be rather forgiving (at least to you anyway).

He will want make-up sex, for his own comfort if nothing else, but as always he will not force the matter. It may be much sweeter than usual, though, because that’s his way of saying “I’m sorry.”

Beelzebub’s mad at You

Oh dear.... You have either denied/stolen his food, hurt his family, or somehow just really ticked him off...

If you denied him food, get more.

If you hurt his family, plead for mercy.

If you’ve just really, really ticked him off, I’m not even sure what you did but you probably ought to apologize and maybe rethink your life choices... They must not be very good.

Belphegor’s mad at You

This will happen, but again Belphegor is pretty lazy. He’s more likely to give you the silent treatment than he is to blow up in your face.

Your challenge now is to get him to talk to you. Unlike with Mammon, he won’t be itching to say anything so a slight nudge isn’t going to cut it.

Start by trying to be frank about the situation. Attempt to sit him down and say that you wish to talk things out. Be empathetic, approachable, and sincere. This should elicit at least some attention from him for most issues.

If he intends on holding out further, then you have already done your part to the best of your ability. Leave the door open to that discussion, but go about your day until he’s ready for it. It won’t be easy, nor will it feel good, but it’s important to set boundaries and not allow his silence to punish you when things could be worked out more productively.

I assure you, Belphie does love you and he will miss you. It may take a little time, but he will eventually approach you to have that talk. Resolve what happened together and then things can return to normal, cuddles and all.

If you are looking to calm down your demon before he hurts someone else, please consult Volume One: Tame Demons, Save Lives!

[joonsrack]

Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY: 

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi​ for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult. 

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

+

 His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen. 

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be. 

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out. 

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature. 

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average. 

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.) 

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now? 

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

+

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung. 

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

+

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule. 

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them. 

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition. 

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces. 

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move. 

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing– 

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video. 

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

 “A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here. 

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand. 

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle. 

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?) 

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces. 

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid. 

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming. 

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder. 

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard. 

+

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

 Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am    ur crazy

9:40 am    CRAZY

9:40 am    This is hilarious

9:41 am    That’s why i love u

9:41 am    That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am    Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its  owner

10:26 am  All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am  It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am  omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am  you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am  You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

+

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too. 

It’s 100% his dick. 

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after. 

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far? 

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town. 

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick.  And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night. 

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

+

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

+

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him. 

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive. 

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster. 

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.” 

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch. 

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.” 

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

+

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?” 

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping. 

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.” 

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them. 

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

+

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much? 

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

+

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore. 

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints. 

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt. 

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know. 

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

+

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

 Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm    I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm    can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

                                       4:59 pm    You sent a picture

 5:01 pm   Yeah it’s really similar 

5:01 pm    Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop. 

5:02 pm     He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold. 

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.  

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture.  “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence. 

“Thank you. Is it yours?” 

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.” 

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?” 

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

+

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

+

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him. 

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants. 

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing. 

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness. 

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself. 

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

+

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking. 

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him. 

The solution is right underneath his nose; 

His penis. It was always his penis. 

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

 Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm  ‘ Suck on that’

 Hyungie:

6:45 pm    why are you asking me idk

 Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm   “ Long lost lover”

 He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone. 

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

 Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm  “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm   Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm   that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm   Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm   after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm   Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm   that’s all

7:17 pm   Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm  idk

9:56 pm  im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm  you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm  im really proud of it

 So not much more help on that side either.

+

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece. 

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

   Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay  

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

  “ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition. 

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

+

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day. 

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head. 

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing. 

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work. 

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there. 

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

 Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm   Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm   I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm   I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm   But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm   Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm    he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm   Nice dick by the way

 He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

+

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder. 

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions. 

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation. 

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment. 

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in. 

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

+

 2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo. 

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung. 

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon. 

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time. 

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt. 

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap. 

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly. 

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words. 

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?” 

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can. 

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care. 

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face. 

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

+

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love. 

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

+

 Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience. 

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved. 

 He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks. 

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants. 

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.” 

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up. 

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees. 

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy. 

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it. 

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not. 

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally. 

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?” 

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it. 

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

 After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin. 

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back. 

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber. 

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass. 

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot. 

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him. 

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold. 

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.” 

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again. 

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.” 

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.” 

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken. 

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison. 

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–” 

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed. 

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

[itsclydebitches]

Welcome back, welcome back! We have a relatively short chapter this time, which theoretically means it shouldn't have taken me as long as it did to write this recap. Yet here we are. 

We open again on Sun's perspective as he joins a large group in the dorm common room. Recall that last chapter Velvet said she wanted to show SSSN something and I took issue with her "Speaking of family" line. We'll get to that in just a bit, as well as the surprise element of this chapter. Moving chronologically though, we learn that this group is the self-named Beacon Brigade and there has been a unanimous vote to allow SSSN to become a part of whatever the Brigade is doing. "Everyone here helped defend our home and school," Velvet says, "even though they didn’t have to. We’re grateful. As far as we’re concerned, you’re all honorary Beacon students." That's a rather nice sentiment and, once again, Velvet shows herself to be the best and most mature character presented so far. That's not a terribly high bar to clear and as established last chapter, she definitely contributes to the intense Sun-bashing, but this is one of the sweetest lines I've heard from RWBY in a while, so kudos. 

Sun, however, doesn't take kindly to the inclusion. "Whatever that means anymore, Sun thought. Then he chided himself. To the others here, it still meant a lot." That's how you do a character flaw without making them a complete asshole. You either have someone else call the character out (paying careful attention to whether that person's opinion has any weight in the story—something the webseries still needs to work on), or you have the character call themselves out. Which Sun does here. The story allows Sun to have this flaw while likewise recognizing that he's not being fair to the others. That's a conscientious human being right there. 

Or a faunus. You get what I'm saying. 

Sun continues to unpack his prejudices and acknowledges that he's not a big fan of how that mentality impacts the formation of teams: "That was the whole point of the team system—to become part of something, to define yourself, to lose yourself in it. A team made you someone new, someone better." But for Sun that's too much attachment. He claims he's not the type to get attached to either people or places, though his willingness to follow Blake to Menagerie on a "What if?" says differently. Here we get to see how Sun thinks of himself as someone outside of these community ties even as he tries so hard to maintain them. It's a part of his personality that—for reasons I assume have to do with his past—he is unwilling to acknowledge yet. 

The rest of this group is introduced, including Team ARBN and Nolan, originally a member of Team BRNZ. Where are the other three? Oh, they died at the Fall of Beacon. 

Cue me putting the book down for a solid minute because this is one hell of a deviation from the tone of the webseries. With (maybe) the exception of the Schnee charity ball, the Fall of Beacon has been presented as no worse than what we, the viewer, directly experienced. Meaning that the end of Volume 3 was the moment RWBY went from a lighthearted action show to a tragic epic trying to take itself seriously, and crucially the show has made it seem like we were privy to everything that was a part of that change: Penny dies. Pyrrha dies. Yang loses an arm. Everyone is forced to abandon their school. Those are the four events that made this the Fall of Beacon and already we had a problem with how little the show chose to grapple with those things. Ruby's nightmares conveniently disappear. Yang has no difficulty fighting despite working through PTSD. Ruby doesn't seem to care that the friend she saw killed is miraculously standing before her. These events are, by and large, not integrated into the cast's feelings, reactions, and motivations  and when they are it's to say that such a tragedy has no bearing on difficult things like trust (Ozpin) or that those who are still haunted by the Fall are unstable and unfit to lead (Ironwood). Post Volume 4 these events haven't been given the proper weight, which is bad enough on its own, yet now we find out that things were even worse than they first appeared? 

Penny and Pyrrha were not the only ones to die. The Fall was always a tragedy, but this is a tragedy that goes beyond our core group of characters. Was anyone going to mention that Jaune, Nora, and Ren weren't the only ones to lose a teammate? That an entire generation of huntsmen are working through this on a far more personal level than previously established? As said, it's bad enough that the webseries has glossed over Pyrrha's death for everyone but Jaune, yet now BTD comes in to say, "Yeah, some of these kids lost their entire team. Remember these guys?" 

"Everyone on the right is dead now." No need to make room for that in your primary story. 

(As an aside, an anon once asked whether it's weird that Pyrrha got a statue in Argus. At the time I argued strongly that it wasn't, partly due to her celebrity status and the fact that this was her home city, but also because she seemed to be the only "real" death in the Fall. Obviously we as the viewers count Penny as well, but the world may not view the dismantling of an android in the same way they'd view the murder of an organic teenager. As the single "real" death that Beacon suffered, Pyrrha's memory shoulders that attention... but now this little tidbit blows all that out of the water. Apparently lots of kids lost their lives that day and our webseries hasn't taken the time to acknowledge that.) 

So I'm reeling from this revelation and taking in what it's done to Nolan: "He was even thinner than he'd been last year at the Vytal Festival, and his rose-colored glasses didn't hide the dark shadows under his eyes." Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that at least some part of the RWBY-verse is acknowledging the severity of Volume 3's finale, it just rankles that this work is relegated to a supplementary novel already loaded with other problems, rather than put into our main storyline where it would do more good. 

Speaking of those problems, we get another conversation about how unnecessarily cruel the Shade students are. I like the little pun on "shade" that Nadir gives—"Let’s just say some of the Vacuan students here are giving a new meaning to ‘Shade’ Academy"—but I’m not sure why Myers feels the need to follow that up with Nadir giving an awkward explanation. I can't remember precisely where, but didn't we see this already? With Sun or Neptune? Plus we definitely just got Fox's 'joke' that went over Neptune's head. Not every character needs to be #awkward regarding humor and you can trust your reader to get the joke without explaining it each time. That’s a specific character trait that feels like it’s being applied to too many characters now.  Moving on, Arslan speaks my mind by pointing out that, regardless of what Shade might think about them "abandoning" the academies, it's not a productive attitude. Their new peers are more interested in beating them down for what's already happened than discussing how they can move forward as allies (sound like any main characters we know?) So the group strikes up a conversation about what they can actually accomplish. We learn that Yatsuhashi has been leading some of them through meditation and others take the time to share their survivor's guilt, admitting that the Shade students' attitude sometimes feels like a punishment they deserve. Iris brings up Castor, another peer who perished at Beacon, and Nolan continues to grapple with the death of his teammates. Yet despite the severity of these admissions, Sun still isn’t impressed. 

“Yeah. Because you ran away, Sun thought, unable to stop himself, even though this was the exact thing the other Shade students were thinking of the Beacon and Haven survivors. No wonder Nolan was here—he was probably getting criticized worse than anyone, because Shade students were supposed to be stronger than everyone else.”

Okay wait, does Sun actually know that Nolan ran away? Is "ran away" in the context of Nolan's specific battle (his team was fighting a mech or something and he split), or is it in the context of the entire Fall (he failed to take back Beacon and therefore 'ran')? That's a huge difference because if it's the latter (and I suspect it is)... Sun ran away too. Has Sun—and Myers—forgotten that he was there? At the Fall. Right there on the left. 

It feels more than a little disingenuous of Sun to be adopting any of the Shade Academy's criticism when he himself was a part of the 'failing' group. Why is he acting like he’s an outside observer, judging Nolan when they went through the same horror? When he too ‘ran’ from that fight? Obviously this ‘You ran away’ perspective is just garbage all on its own, but I'm really distracted by what appears to be only three explanations: 

Nolan really did ditch his team, Sun knows about it, and this is all info that I've missed from the previous book (always possible)

Nolan really did ditch his team, Sun knows about it, but Myers isn't interested in telling us how Sun got that info or why it’s important 

Nolan never ditched his team, 'ran away' is in the context of leaving Beacon to the grimm, and Sun is so deep in his denial he’s removed himself from the facts of the situation. You didn't save Beacon either, Sun! 

I'm just 

Sun isn't done yet though and before we cover that I just want to say: I get it. This book drags him to an unreasonable degree and any Sun fan must just be frothing at the mouth reading through this. However, I also can't claim that Myers has made Sun particularly endearing here. Like in the prologue when Sun is all about being a solo act, denying reality, and ignoring the harm he's done to his team, here he's presented as someone I'm just not interested in spending time with. I know I praised him above for correcting his knee-jerk thoughts, but like with Coco's flaw becoming overdone Sun-bashing, Sun’s attitude it so over the top I get frustrated with him even while I sympathize with the extreme criticism he’s shouldering. Because this Sun isn’t any kinder or wiser than the group targeting him: 

“But he’d believe it when he saw it. It was easy to talk about doing something, and another thing to follow through on it. Maybe that was what he didn’t like about this group. So far it was all just sitting around and talking. They should be focused on moving on— channeling their strength toward protecting their new home, their new friends.”  

Sun has little to no faith that this group can accomplish the things they set out to do (despite evidence to the contrary). He's critical of what they have chosen to do and is dismissive of their needs. He likewise criticizes others for not taking care of their home and their friends... even though he's the one who left his team to chase after Blake, someone who explicitly did not want or need his assistance. It's something Sun himself brings up later on: "Blake may not have needed or wanted him, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had helped" and it's his dismissive attitude here that’s my primary issue with him both in the webseries and in this novel. Sun prioritizes his own desires (I want to help) over everyone else's desires and needs (Blake didn't want my help and didn't need it). We see him doing the same thing here, rejecting what a very large group all needs because it's not something he as an individual wants. It feels contradictory to call Sun selfish because his desires do revolve around helping others—his wants are all coming from a loving place—it's just that how he prioritizes that drive to help often ends up hurting others and he continually refuses to acknowledge that. His “but I helped” is used as a catch-all justification for the bad choices he made in providing that (unwanted) assistance. Like creepily following a woman, or ditching his team, or getting in over his head by following three goons alone, or criticizing a conversation that others find beneficial. To reiterate, I do think that Sun has gotten way too much heat in this novel, but I also can't pretend that he's a character I'm particularly fond of. He made me uncomfortable the moment spying on four women in their bedroom was played as a joke and RWBY has done very little to endear me to him since. It's a bit of a surreal experience to read about someone I’m very critical of, but when the material itself criticizes him I’m suddenly like, "Hold up. That's going too far." 

Reading about Sun feels like watching someone who insists they help another bake a cake. The baker does not want help, does not need help, but our character is just desperate to do something. So he forcefully takes the ingredients for himself and ends up ruining the batter. I'm like, "Okay, that's not appropriate. You're coming from a good place and you never meant any harm, but your actions were still a problem. We should address this, including where that desperate need to help is coming from." 

Except then the baker 'addresses this' by screaming at him at the top of their lungs, throwing things, and banning him from the kitchen for all time. 

Me: "Not like that!!" 

Simply put: this novel is generating a lot of emotions and very few of them are pleasant. 

Things finally come to a head when Sun rolls his eyes because he doesn't like therapy—wait. 

Hold up. Just give me another second. 

You remember I spoke about the "surprise element" earlier? Think about the structure of the last chapter. We end on what's essentially a small cliffhanger. Velvet says she wants to show Team SSSN something but the reader doesn't know what that is. We’re waiting for the reveal. Yet we only learn that the group is having a therapy session four pages in—and this is a six page chapter. (Yes, I'm writing twice as much as the source material. You all know I'm not succinct :p ). Myers is now demonstrating a habit of not introducing the core aspects of a scene: who, what, where, when, and why. We've got half of that— who, when, and where—but not the 'what' or the 'why.' What is the group doing in the city in the middle of the day? Are they patrolling? Out to lunch? Following a lead? Looks like they're visiting a wall. Would have been nice to know that a couple pages earlier. Oh, there's a souvenir table there? Didn't feel like it, and it was never mentioned in the scene setup, so that’s an awkward surprise. Now Velvet wants to show them something. What is it? No seriously... what is it? Please tell me what's going on before we're more than halfway through the event in question. Granted yes, you might be able to deduce that they're in therapy, but we don't know that for sure until Sun uses the word. And we need to know in order to properly read the scene. I spent the first four pages thinking that this group was an expansion of CFVY's solo missions. While they were talking I was waiting for Velvet to reveal what she wanted to share—another secret mission they were conducting, or something—not realizing that the conversation itself was it. That’s the reveal. I mean, Beacon Brigade isn't exactly a name that makes you think "therapy." They're labeling themselves an army, ergo I assumed this had something to do with their war. That is, more to do with it than working through the aftermath. 

In retrospect it is somewhat obvious that these students are engaging in group therapy... but at the same time it's not because I would think, technically, that this isn't therapy. Who's the therapist? Velvet? She's the one leading, but she's also an unlicensed, traumatized teen just like everyone else in the room. It's a support group and that's fantastic, I'm honestly thrilled one of RWBY's stories decided to incorporate this, but at the same time it's odd to have Sun seriously referring to this as therapy like this is comparable to receiving professional help. I’m bringing this up because we saw the same perspective regarding RWBYJNR's status as huntresses. That's a job, something earned and presented to you by an expert, but up until Volume 7 Ruby seemed to be working under the impression that because she wanted to be a huntress and because she did vaguely huntress-like things, she was one. Simple as that. But crucially she wasn't and that lack of knowledge, maturity, and training caused serious problems in Volume 6. Now we have a group calling their activity therapy, doing vaguely therapy-like things, but Velvet isn't a therapist. I'm saying that not to knock the excellent work she's doing to help both herself and her friends (and I'm also quite aware that I'm missing an entire book's worth of information that may be pertinent here) but rather, I bring it up to acknowledge that the whole of the RWBY-verse seems to have a skewed idea of how professionalism works. We've got a lot of teens in this franchise who are put in positions of power when by all logic they shouldn't be. RWBY has failed to do the work of coming up with compelling reasons for why these half-trained teens keep getting put in charge of stuff, which is what any story staring kids and teens needs to do.  

Anyway, I've rambled on about that enough. As said, Sun isn't enjoying the touchy-feely-ness of it all, even when Velvet reiterates that they're "like family." Coco reminds him that he's free to leave, but of course she turns it into an insult: "Maybe you’re not ready for this.” Sun ignores the implication and does try to leave, admitting that what he has to say probably won't go over well. The others encourage him to share though, it's a safe space... until Scarlet makes a dig about keeping them waiting again. I'm simultaneously going, "He's right. Sun still refuses to acknowledge how badly he hurt his team" and also "#Yikes. So much for this being a safe place!" 

What I’m saying is these kids all need an actual therapist. Sun himself is described as feeling "strangely disconnected from his body. Unsettled” at the start of the chapter. The tragedy here is that one of the characters most in need of this help is the one digging his heels in the most. 

It gets worse though. Sun finally caves and his take is, as one would expect given his feelings thus far, not great: "This is why Vacuans won’t trust you. Because you’re holding on to who you were and where you came from instead of focusing on where you are.” He also claims that “Theo really wouldn’t like this," making it sound like the group is breaking rules and should be ashamed of trying to cope with their trauma in a healthy manner. He ends with the confident belief that Vacuans understand them completely because they punish themselves by staying in the same, harsh place. 

(So do these people move on or not?? Ugh I can't get into this again.) 

Scarlet, as Sun predicted, isn't pleased to hear any of this. Frankly I can't blame him. "Like you didn’t leave us the first chance you got to chase after someone you barely knew who didn’t want your help?" he says. "You didn’t even stay in Vacuo for school —you chose Haven.”

He's not wrong. Hard as it is to hear, Scarlet has a point. Sun did abandon his team. He did chase after someone he'd just met who didn't want his help. He did choose to go to Haven because, as he explained last chapter, he's not a big fan of Vacuo. Which isn't a bad thing in and of itself, it just means he's not in a position to criticize others for not immediately adoring this kingdom, rejecting Beacon in the process. Like so many other RWBY protagonists, Sun holds others to a standard he doesn’t demand of himself. I can hate Vacuo and leave because there are things about it that make me uncomfortable, but you have to learn to appreciate it and forget what’s outside this kingdom, despite never having a choice about coming here. It’s food for thought and something he should be encouraged to consider. However then: 

“You wouldn’t know anything about loss, Sun. You never stay in one place long enough to learn.” 

That's not a point, that's just cruelty, and it's an attack that clearly hurts Sun a great deal. He flushes and snaps, "You all belong in Vacuo more than you think." Really, they all do. He reiterates to himself that there's nothing to work through, they all just need to move on, and then he really does leave, saying that he'll see them for patrol. Well, at least Sun isn’t planning on going off on his own again, even if he is on the outs with his friends. 

So that was an all around depressing chapter! I didn't like it. I was honestly shocked when I went back and realized that it was only six pages because it felt far longer. We're now three chapters into this novel... with only nineteen more to go 😬

Until next time! 

[cha-melodius]

The Definition of Madness Chapter 2

Whumptober No. 23: Exhaustion

Fandom: The Man from UNCLE (2015)

Pairings: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo & Illya Kuryakin & Gaby Teller

Summary: They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.

Or, Illya gets stuck in a very whumpy time loop.

Ao3 Link

*****

Previous Chapter

Illya gasps as he wakes, still choking on air that’s too thick to be breathable, but what fills his lungs is comparatively sweet and fresh despite the fact that it’s been shut up too long inside a musty safehouse and smells vaguely like onions and cooking eggs.

It was a nightmare, he thinks, still huffing his breaths. The light is dim in the bedroom, but he can see that he is, in fact, lying in his bed. He can hear the soft sounds of Napoleon in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

“Fuck!” Napoleon swears loudly.

For a moment, Illya forgets to breathe again. It can’t be. He pushes himself out of bed quickly and hisses at the unexpected pain in his knees. What the—? Pressing his fingertips into his kneecaps yields a bloom of discomfort, like they had been bruised, like he had landed hard on them.

It can’t be.

He yanks the door to his room open and finds Gaby already tutting over Napoleon in the kitchen, pushing her sleep-mussed hair out of her face while their partner runs cold water over his burned hand.

“Impossible,” Illya blurts, causing them both to look up at him in confusion.

“Christ, Peril, are you ok?” Napoleon asks, momentarily forgetting about his own injury. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

Illya knows his eyes must look wild, which is probably fair because he feels like he might be going insane. “What day is it?” he demands.

“What?” Gaby says, gaping at him.

“What day is it?”

“October twelfth,” Napoleon answers carefully. The furrow of concern in his brow deepens. “Why?”

“Have we been up to the compound?” Illya asks. “Yesterday, did we go?” Slowly, like she’s trying not to spook a wild animal, Gaby moves around the counter and approaches Illya with her hand outstretched. “Illya, what is going on?”

“Did we go?” he snaps, stumbling backward and wincing against the pain in his knees.

Gaby gives her head a little shake. “No, we got here yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

He does remember arriving at the safehouse, remembers their now-routine thorough check of the house and settling in over dinner. But the thing is, he also remembers Napoleon’s burned hand, and climbing up the mountain, and cutting through the fence… and he remembers them all being captured. Remembers falling to his knees on a concrete floor, remembers choking on some chemical in the air. He doesn’t say any of this.

“I…” he says, trailing off as he looks from Napoleon and Gaby and back again. The whole thing would sound insane, he knows, and as he stands there it is starting to seem insane even to him. He swallows hard. “Just… just a vivid dream.”

Illya retreats to the bathroom before either of them can say anything more. He needs some time to think. He needs to calm down. There must be another explanation, even if he doesn’t know what it could possibly be. The porcelain of the sink is cold under his hands, grounding, and he forces himself to breathe in and out slowly.

Eventually he looks up at his reflection in the mirror and fuck, he does look like shit. There are heavy dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and his cheeks are sallow. He feels like he didn’t sleep the previous night, exhaustion heavy in his bones, even though he knows he must have slept.

Just a terrible dream, he tells himself.

He’s almost starting to believe it, but then he reaches up to pull the medical supplies off the shelf next to the sink for Napoleon and catches sight of his wrist. The skin is rubbed raw, as if by rope bindings, and there is simply no way that could have possibly happened except…

Illya leaves the bathroom under the watchful stares of his partners and says no more about his ‘dream’.

“Maybe we should put the op off for a day or two,” Gaby suggests, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“No,” Napoleon and Illya say in unison. Well, at least they agree on that.

“We’ll be fine, Chop shop,” Illya tells her, and hopes he’s right.

*****

The hike to the compound is much the same as it was, excepting the fact that his knees protest every step until the pain finally recedes to a dull ache, and the exhaustion still hasn’t left his bones. His partners watch him carefully the whole way, clearly waiting for him to show any more signs of his earlier madness, but he knows better now. And if he happens to know exactly where Gaby will trip on a root, or the precise way that Napoleon will complain about the lunch he himself packed, Illya keeps it to himself.

He also keeps it to himself when they split up at the rally point, even though he wants to insist that they stay together. Just because he apparently had some kind of strange, precient dream, doesn’t mean that things will work out exactly that way. It’s disconcerting that he doesn’t know how Gaby and Napoleon were captured, but he can at least make his own choices to change the terrible outcome he’d forseen.

When he finds the building, right where it’s not supposed to be, he skirts carefully around its perimeter first. It really does seem to be empty, so the people who appeared must have entered from somewhere else. He checks each of the surrounding buildings, taking note of the group of five armed men in one and ten in another. They must have been part of his capture, but his vision had been too compromised to be sure of anything.

What he does not find is any sign of the man who had given the orders. Illya wonders if he tripped some kind of undetectable silent alarm by entering the building the previous time, and then he wonders if he could trip it again to draw the man out and still leave the building fast enough to get caught. In the end, he decides it’s too risky with all of the armed guards in the area. He’s supposed to meet his team back at the rally point in five minutes, so he can just report what he’s learned and they can make a plan from there.

Except his partners don’t return to the rally point. Not after five minutes, and not after ten. Illya swears softly under his breath and does the only thing he can do: begins searching parts of the compound that his partners were assigned to cover. The night stretches on, inky black shadows gaining luminous contrasts as the moon rises, and he finds nothing. No sign that they had ever been there. He must be missing something, but he can’t see what.

Eventually he returns to the rally point—and finds no trace of his team there either, of course—and decides to check on his sector and see if the guards are still in the same locations. Maybe if he plays it right he can draw one out, then use him to find his partners. When he turns the corner, though, he finds them all milling around outside the chemical building, which is now completely lit up from within.

Fuck.

It seems almost a certainty that the organization has Gaby and Napoleon, and that they’re holding them in the same building where Illya had seen them brought before. The problem remains, though, that there is only one of Illya and at least twenty armed guards outside the building, plus some unknown number within. The good news is that they don’t seem to know he’s there, or if they do they aren’t searching for him.

Most of the guards are focused around the front of the building, and he finds when he goes around the back that the rear is nearly deserted. Perhaps because there are only a few windows high off the ground, not that this would stop Illya. He manages to silently knock out the two guards posted there, leaving them slumped against the back wall, and with a small hop his fingers find purchase on the window ledge.

Carefully, he pulls himself up high enough to peer inside and confirm his suspicions: Gaby and Napoleon are bound, kneeling on the concrete floor, as the man giving orders paces in front of them. They don’t look drugged, not like Illya had been, but they clearly put up a fight, because there is a purple bruise blooming over one side of Napoleon’s face and Gaby is sporting a split lip. A few guards are posted nearby, watching the only door and not, thankfully, the windows. Before he can see much more, the man turns toward his window and he has to drop back down to avoid being seen.

After a few more moments he decides to risk another look. Fortunately the man is turned away, facing Gaby and Napoleon and apparently speaking to them, though it’s not audible through the glass of the window. Napoleon glares up at him, but Gaby is just staring at the ground. It’s a standard move for her, and it means she’s trying to look frail and unintimidating so the captors will underestimate her. It usually works like a charm, though Illya gets the feeling these people won’t be as easily fooled.

Illya carefully tries the latch and finds it unlocked, then slowly pushes it open, keeping his eyes fixed on the man’s back. His luck holds for once, and it slides open silently. Their captor seems quite intent on his partners, so Illya takes the opportunity to hoist himself up and halfway through the window in one smooth motion. The movement clearly catches Napoleon’s eye, but Illya can see the moment he realizes what is happening and keeps his gaze moving so as not to attract attention. Their captor doesn’t seem to notice.

“We’ll have your partner in custody soon enough, when he comes for you,” the man tells them. “Whether you are still alive to say your goodbyes is up to you.”

“He wouldn’t be stupid enought to come after us alone,” Napoleon bluffs. “He’s probably halfway down the mountain already, calling for backup.”

In reality, there is no backup. The whole operation had to be kept exceedingly quiet because of political instability in the region, so there would be no helicopters or armored convoys coming to save them. Just Illya.

“Oh no,” the man says, the amusement obvious in his voice. “I assure you, he’s still on the premises. We would know had he left.”

Illya watches the scene from his perch in the frame of the window, knowing that he’ll have to drop nearly half a meter down to the floor. He needs some noise to cover, and when Napoleon’s eyes flick to his for half a second he knows he’ll have it. What he doesn’t expect is for that cover to come via Napoleon trying to lunge toward the man, triggering several guards to rush forward. One slams a rifle butt across Napoleon’s face while another kicks him in the gut, and Napoleon doubles over, spitting blood onto the concrete floor in front of him.

“Solo!” Gaby shouts, which is somewhat disconcerting because it means that the man must already know their real names.

In the commotion, Illya drops to the floor and quickly hides in the deep shadows thrown by the lab benches. The man is saying something to Napoleon again, but Illya tunes them out, watching the guards intently. Their hands are on their weapons but they’re clearly not ready to fire, and Illya knows he would have enough time to take them out before they could get a shot off. What he doesn’t know is what the man in charge would do, nor how long it would take the guards outside to respond. He needs to get his partners free, but the distance between he would need to cover is too great.

He takes a few calculated risks and gets closer, until he knows he’s just going to have to make his move. The adrenaline thrumming through his body doesn’t quite muffle the pain that still lingers in his knees, nor the exhaustion that weighs heavily on him, but he doesn’t have many options. Four soft pops from his silenced handgun, and the four guards inside the building drop, but some of his shots don’t exactly find their marks. One of the guards manages a spray of rifle fire in Illya’s direction that he just avoids, and rapidly all hell breaks loose.

Illya expected guards from outside to rush through the single door, and he expected that any guards he didn’t fatally wound might try to get shots off at him. What he did not expect is for the man in charge to also have a gun, somehow hidden from sight. He did not expect for the man to grin as he pulls it and points it at Napoleon’s chest, and he did not expect him to simply pull the trigger instead of threatening to do so in order to take them all captive.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion, then. Illya hears himself scream Napoleon’s name as his partner slumps forward. Gaby lurches to the side, away from the gun, trying to get her feet under her with her hands still bound behind her back. The man twists away with what seems like too much speed when Illya fires at him, or maybe it’s just that his shots go wild. Illya feels something thud into his shoulder, just below his collarbone, and when he looks down there seems to be a rather large amount of thick liquid soaking through his black shirt.

Must have hit an artery, he thinks distantly as conciousness rapidly slips away from him. He doesn’t feel himself hit the ground.

Next Chapter

[radramblog]

Pink Lemonade: Not too sweet, not too sour.

(I think I’m brave enough to try some of that.)

Pink Lemonade is a 2014 album by Melbourne prog outfit Closure in Moscow and is one of the most banging’ albums in my collection. It sets out to have a good time and a good time it has, being probably the most consistently fun to sing along to of the albums I’ve tried to do that with. It also tells a pretty bizarre story, which between the salad of the lyrics, the rapid delivery, and sheer esoterica is pretty hard to follow- as such I’ll be explaining it as I go through this review. The clearest explanation of the plot is available in this article written by the band’s vocalist, and so a lot of what I’m saying is going to be coming from that. I’d recommend listening to it yourself, though, maybe even before reading on, if only so you can be as awed and confused as I was the first time around.

1. The Fool

We open on nature noises as a slow meandering line plays before suddenly being interrupted by a record distortion and a burst of energetic guitars and a quick beat, followed by the first lines of the song and what the fuck is he saying? Yeah, get used to that, that’s what this whole thing is like. Strap in.

The playful delivery of the second verse (“It’s a new day for the Fool today…”) had me hooked, with the backup vocals solidifying that position- its just a style that really appeals to me. The song doesn’t last much longer beyond that opening, because that’s just what it is- an introduction, a prologue, introducing the album’s style, energy, and protagonist.

Oh, speaking of. The Fool is our main character, and he’s who this track is about- a pleasure-seeker lost and adrift doing his own horseshit, and we’re going to watch him try(yyyyyyyYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyy) to find his next fix- a fast track no fuss path to enlightenment.

2. Pink Lemonade

I’d argue this is the first real song of the album, considering how brief The Fool is. While The Fool introduced the off-kilter verses of the album, the album’s title song introduces the punchy choruses, with vocals going in unexpected directions and their impact coinciding with the beginnings of technical and fluid riffs. The first chorus (actually maybe the only one uhhh) breaks off with a hard pause, and we’re back in the slow build of a new, chiller verse. There’s a contrast here- The Alchemist (bloke on the cover!) offering this miracle brew, this psychedelic Pink Lemonade that’s the cheat way to heaven on earth, and the Fool just begging for it and then losing his mind as the drugs take effect and it’s not quite what he was expecting. This build climaxes as the Alchemist speaks again, voice editing simulating the effects the Lemonade is having on the Alchemist’s mind, as he pours this wicked elixir once more and reinforces quite explicitly that he doesn’t fuck around. As the music cuts back, it’s the Fool who’s finding out, as he just says a bunch of words that I don’t really get- but we hear backing vocals teasing, with the album’s first mention of the Brahmatron (we’ll get to it) The song keeps going as this motherfucker just keeps tripping- allegedly he’s grappling with extradimensional shit, you know how it is. This song fucks, by the way. It’s a thrill ride, never going in the same direction twice, and only stopping to start again until its final, bitter end.

The track on the album isn’t over, though, and here’s my first real criticism, though its more of a meta thing on albums in general. You get a lot of albums where there are additional non-song bits strapped to the start and end, typically with concept and story albums, and I just wish these would be delineated as separate tracks on the album if they’re as long as this one is. When Pink Lemonade comes up on shuffle, I don’t reaaaally want to get halfway seduced before moving on to the next song, especially if I’m not the only one listening to it.

Oh yeah, that’s what is happening, by the way. After the Fool is done tripping, he awakens in an alleyway to a voice (officially named the Tacky Ornamental Slut, ok, sure) in his head, leading him to her performance at a jazz club that is extremely forward and direct. This little swaggering, jazzy interlude (featuring guest vocals and “general insidious sauciness” by Kitty Hart who’s doing a lovely job) leads directly into and continues in the next track, as Weird Dimensional Shit happens to the Fool and by the sounds of things, either he or she is glitching through reality.

3. Neoprene Byzantine

The explosion of noise that is the first second of Neoprene Byzantine is the first thing I heard of this album, as it came up on one of Spotify’s Recommended playlists, and I’m glad I went back to figure out what the hell was going on here. Suddenly, our tempting voice has turned accusatory, essentially asking “oh, wait, you were actually into that?”, and offering the songs title character, Verina (a name never actually stated in the lyrics) to satisfy the Fool’s apparent needs. There is so much energy in this opening, essentially being *fancy guitar noodling* *sassy lyrics over a snare roll* *more guitar noodling* until it breaks, and Kitty exists the record hitting a high note that took me way too long to realise was a euphemism for cunnilingus. Exquisite. (I only realised when writing this and looking at the lyrics that this isn’t the first time that subject comes up on the album, since one of the lyrics I never got on The Fool was apparently “cunt-licking”. Earning that explicit label, I see.)

The rest of the plot of the song is basically just about Verina, a time-travelling plastic-surgery-covered literal Byzantine empress whom the Fool enters a torrid relationship with. The chorus is so much fun to belt along to, carried by the smooth guitar lines that don’t really explode like the opening does- that gets saved for part of the second verse, but we’ll get to that. The verses are also a lot of fun, with the first spending a lot of time as this cut back percussion-and-vocals bit, and when the other instruments do return the lyrics spend a lot of time with little asides (like these bits in brackets what I’m doing). The second verse on the other hand is has the vocals build along with psychedelic guitars until we are SUDDENLY YELLING, finishing with a steady fall back to normal for the final verse. The only reason I’d say they’re any less fun than the chorus is because the lyrics are fast so its real hard to keep up sometimes- kudos to the performer for nailing that.

Neoprene Byzantine is probably my favourite song on the album, and a lot of that is for similar reasons as Pink Lemonade- the energy all over the place, the different styles of vocals used, basically it has big ADHD energy, and I can appreciate that. It might literally be that this song resonates with me better only because of the better chorus, and me having a bad habit of saying (or singing) rude things with a straight face.

4. Seeds of Gold

Where Pink Lemonade and Neoprene Byzantine are chaotic and energetic, Seeds of Gold is a groovy, very danceable little tune. I don’t have as much to say as a result- its actually probably my next favourite after Neoprene Byzantine, but there isn’t as much to explain music-wise or plot-wise. The bass is grooving, and the little glitchlike noises keep it from being so smooth it feels out of place, reminding you that, yeah, this is still a track from Pink Lemonade. It’s probably the song most capable of standing on its own without the rest of the album, considering its meaning and non-reliance on themes or interstitials. That’s probably why it got a (very stylish) music video of its own.

Plot wise, Seeds of Gold depicts a more frustrated and melancholic story than its glittering guitars suggest- it’s about the ending of The Fool and Verina’s relationship, with him having no use for her anymore, his callousness turning to resentment in her mind, and he’s unwilling to take the blame for it.

5. That Brahmatron Song

Here���s where shit gets weird again.

That Brahmatron Song is the existential lament of the Fool as he discovers the truth of reality, the nature of the Brahmatron, and falls again through reality.

Like with Pink Lemonade, I’d argue this would have been better split off into two tracks, with the first half sounding completely different to the second- though at least the two are a little better connected sonically this time, in my opinion. After a mishearing of the lyrics, I can never imagine the chorus of That Brahmatron Song as anything but a particularly loud, drunken campfire tune, sung with tears in one’s eyes and a warmth in one’s heart (whether it be from the fire, the alcohol, or the camaraderie). And while that doesn’t actually fit the lyrics as the truly are, it’s a nice sentiment I’ve stuck to and kind of want to do in real life at some point.

The lyrics of this song are something that I just cannot connect to what the plot is supposed to be. Like, I get the realisation the Fool makes, but I don’t get how he’s supposed to have gotten there- the lines are just to esoteric. This is not to say it’s a bad song or anything- not as good as the previous three, but still great on its own measure- but it leaves me a bit puzzled.

The plot dives into its most psychedelic moments, as the Fool, through…some means… discovers the nature of the universe as the Brahmatron- the resonance and vibrations that make up reality as a whole. And as he fucks around with it, he gets sucked into it, leading to the second half of the song. The first half ends like a film projector being abruptly shut off, as the yawning void of the universe makes itself heard through atmospheric noise, slowly rising into a dramatic, unsettling beat. The vocals return with a transcendent BRAAAAAAAAHMATROOOOOON echoing through the noise, soon replaced by the dramatic beat continuing under what is presumably the Fool’s screaming rambles, filtered as though through a shitty radio. Guitar noodling begins, a solo lasting until the loud existential vocals come in again. Alarms blare as the raving gets more desperate, the solo restarts, and the dramatic percussion keeps going through it all. It’s almost akin to a twisted marching beat, eventually falling partially away as actual radio chatter is heard from some military type what the fuck? And then vintage video-gamey gunfire and explosions as the military dude says to fire and then someone’s really sexual moans and then it’s just over.

I don’t think I can put into words the experience that section of the song is, though I guess that’s me trying. It’s nonsensical and a little scary, but it’s a good time.

As the Fool tumbles through reality, he sees the apex, the centre of the Brahmatron, learning that it is neither malevolent nor benevolent, yawning of all possibilities and connecting to different realities. The Fool, frightened by the existential idea that all possibilities existing makes free will an illusion, desperately seeks a way out, finding a tendril leading to the forest he first met the Alchemist and diving right into that reality. It’s clearly a bit fucky, as we can assume from the military noises, but it’s familiar, and he needs that right now.

But there’s always a twist. We’ll get to the twist a later date, as at this point, I’m at almost 2,000 words and around halfway through the album. Stay tuned for Part 2.

[sushigirlali]

If You Don't Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue 

Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa's son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?

Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron

Rating: E

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: For the first time ever, I’ve actually written most of the story before I started posting! I think it will be way less stressful since I don’t have to “keep up” with updates. New chapters will be posted each Friday. Enjoy!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

If You Don't Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

Kennington, London

——————

There are moments in life that make you question everything that came before. A look from a stranger, an incident at your job, a terrible movie... things Rey Niima was usually able to push past without pause, but tonight, she was finding it extremely difficult to ignore the feeling that her life was about to change forever.

"Hey, give us your wallet!" A pair of brawlers had cornered a man at the mouth of a nearby alley, drawing Rey's attention as soon as she stepped out the back door of her favorite pub, The Black Prince.

"Excuse me?" the would-be victim responded indignantly. His voice was deep with an American lilt, his stature intimidating.

Did these fools really think they could steal from a man like that? But then, not all criminals were as intelligent as her.

"You heard me! I want your wallet!"

Rey hung back from the potentially violent situation unfolding before her, sizing up the assailants. Their outfits were all black, including the ski masks covering their faces, but she couldn't see any identifying marks or gang affiliations. "Must be lone wolves," she thought.

There was something familiar about the tall one doing the talking, but she couldn't place them. It probably didn't matter, though, because the redwood with the nice accent looked like he could take the both of them with one hand tied behind his broad back.

Still, for some reason, she was finding it hard to walk the other way. Definitely not because the man was the most striking person she had ever seen. No, it had to be due to the fact that these bums were causing a ruckus on her turf. At least, that's what she kept telling herself, frozen to the spot as she was.

"Listen, I just got done volunteering at a shelter all day and just want to get home. Please allow me to leave unmolested."

"Volunteering at a shelter?" she muttered under her breath. "Well, fuck. But it's not your business, don't get involved." Rey was turning around to go back inside the pub when the sound of a gun cocking drew her up short.

"Don't make me repeat myself again, pretty boy."

"Whoa, hey, there's no need for that!"

"Then empty your pockets! Now!"

"No," he said crossly. "Put that thing away before somebody gets hurt."

"Dammit," Rey groaned, retrieving the silver baton clipped to her belt. Sometimes, she really hated having a conscience; in her line of work, it was a real liability.

"Hey, get your hands off me!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she growled, resolutely stalking toward the turbulent scene. "Oi! You lot!"

The big guy and his sidekick paused to look in her direction. "What?" the leader said in a surprisingly feminine voice.

"Not a guy," Rey mused. "Based on your absolutely abominable bullying technique, I don't think you're getting that guy's wallet any time this century, so why don't you just leave him alone and move along."

"Excuse me?" the woman said threateningly.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter?"

"You move along, little mouse, this doesn't concern you!" the shorter guy spat.

"You do know who's neighborhood this is, don't you?" Rey said tauntingly.

"Yeah?" the first one said dismissively. "So what."

"So, knock it off! We don't need the fuzz coming down here because some hooligans are roughing up a foreigner."

"Hooligans?! And who the fuck are you?"

"Me?" Rey sneered, flicking the baton out to the side so that it extended into a long poll. "I'm no one."

"Phas," the skinny guy said nervously, obviously recognizing her at last, "we should go."

Rey had never been so proud of her reputation as a grifter who was just as likely to steal an expensive piece of art from the peerage in an elaborate heist as kick a thug's ass in the street.

"But the boss—"

"He'll understand."

"But—"

"Phas!"

"Fine. But don't think this is over!" the woman yelled before running off with her companion.

"Well," the American said slowly, "that was an experience I never wish to repeat again." He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Rey replied gruffly, still riding high on adrenaline. "Do you always walk around by yourself at night in a city not your own?"

"Do you always save unsuspecting passersby from thieves?" he retorted.

Her phone went off, but she didn't answer it. Up close, the man was even more attractive than she had initially thought. "Suit looks expensive, too… and is that a Breitling?" Perhaps it was her lucky night after all. "Only if they're handsome," she said smoothly.

"Oh, uh…" he flushed at her compliment.

"Hmm… not the reaction I expected." It was kind of refreshing, though. "Sorry, I—ugh, one sec," she said as her cell went off again. "My brother," she explained, checking the caller ID. "I have to take this or he'll just keep phoning until I pick up."

The man shrugged, "No problem, I'll just wait over here." He stepped up onto the curb and walked a few paces away.

Rey nodded and lifted the phone to her ear. "What?" she said shortly.

"Who's the stiff?" Finn asked without preamble.

"Nobody."

"Right," he huffed. "Are you working him?"

"Undecided, stop pushing."

"Whatever you say, Rey. Just be careful."

"I will. Where are you anyway?" she said, humored by his tough older sibling act.

"Hanging outside the pub, just around the corner. Why? You need me?" Finn teased.

"No, I'll catch you later. Don't wait up." She ended the conversation before he could respond and stuffed the phone into her back pocket. "Sorry about that, uh…?"

"Ben," the stranger supplied, moving closer again. "Ben Solo."

"I'm Rey," she said, holding out a hand.

Ben's lips quirked and he gave her a firm handshake, his huge hand dwarfing hers. Rey felt a shiver run up her spine at the brief contact, but she shook it off.

"So, what's that for?" he indicated the weapon still in her hand. "Joining the circus?"

"No," she grinned, "it's a bo staff. I use it for self defense."

"And the defense of others," he said warmly.

"On occasion." She folded the bo staff back into a baton before reattaching it to her belt.

"Can I get you a drink?" he nodded toward the pub. "To say thank you?"

"I was actually on my way home before I… bumped into you."

"I could… walk you home? If you want." He didn't sound desperate, but it was a near thing.

"I'm not from around here," she said evasively. She couldn't really bring him back to her base of operations, which was only a few blocks down the street, but she didn't want to stop talking to him either. "What a dilemma."

"No? Where are you from then?"

"Nowhere."

"Okay… Well, I promise I'm not a pervert or a serial killer or anything," he said earnestly, "so you can come back to my hotel with me if you want. It's late and I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

She crossed her arms. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Hey, I'm 6'3" and double your weight and I almost got jumped like ten minutes ago," he reminded her. "It can happen to anyone."

"Fair enough," she allowed, lowering her defenses. "Still…"

"I can call my security detail if you want verification that I'm not a psycho," he offered. "I'd just like the opportunity to get to know the woman who saved my hide."

Rey's interest sharpened. "That's sweet, but uh… security detail?"

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly. "My mother is a U.S. Senator. I'm in town on her behalf. She was supposed to come herself, but her re-election campaign is heating up and she couldn't spare the time."

"You disapprove," she said perceptively.

Ben's dark brows shot up. "Yeah, actually. You a mind reader, Rey from nowhere?"

"Something like that," she smirked. "I prefer the term grifter."

"Grifter?" he said curiously. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Oh, you know," Rey winked for effect, assuming the privileged American was about to run in the opposite direction, "I swindle rich people out of their valuables by preying on their weaknesses. Basically, I'm a professional bad guy."

Ben looked hopelessly confused by her explanation. "But you just helped me."

"Well, sometimes I like to help out the little guy." Rey looked him over. "Little big guys too."

"Like Robin Hood?" he said, disarming her with a crooked smile.

"What? I wouldn't say I'm—I'm a hero or anything," she stuttered.

"Well, you're my hero," he said smoothly, holding out a hand. "That's my driver pulling up over there, in the black Jag. Join me? Please?"

"I… okay," she agreed, placing her hand in his, "but just for a little while." This time, she couldn't ignore the shiver.

——————

Alarm bells should be going off in her head, but Rey felt perfectly comfortable with her new companion. It was odd, considering her trust issues, but Ben didn't seem to be only interested in her looks. And she knew she looked good tonight, her dark leather leggings were basically painted on and her lacy bra was visible through a mostly sheer black tank top. Add on her subtle smoky makeup and half-up hair style that emphasized her cheek bones and...

"Rey?"

She loved the way he said her name, almost like a caress. "Yes?"

"Are you hungry? I haven't had dinner yet."

"Oh, sure," she said, never one to give up a free meal. Though she did kinda wish something else was on the menu… "What is wrong with you? You just met the man! Note to self: masturbate more."

"Chinese okay?"

Her mouth watered. "Perfect."

"What do you like?"

"Besides you?" she said without thinking. "Uh, I mean—anything, really. Noodles, if they have them."

Ben let her comment pass, but he was beaming. "I like noodles too. Maybe some kind of chicken? Orange?"

"Excellent," she seconded.

"You're easy," he said, but then caught himself, looking horrified. "I mean to order food for, not—"

"It's okay," she laughed, patting his thigh. "I know what you meant."

"Sorry, I haven't done this in a long time," he said sheepishly, catching her hand before she could remove it.

"This?"

"Gone on a date."

"Oh." Was this a date? Rey couldn't remember the last time she had been on one. Pretty much anytime she'd been alone with a man not her brother in the past ten years it was because she intended to rob them.

"Not that this has to be a date," he said quickly, releasing her hand. "Sorry, I keep saying stupid things."

Dammit, but he was cute. "You don't have to keep apologizing," she replied lightly. "Let's just have dinner and talk and see where that takes us." Maybe the night would lead to some fun extracurricular activities, maybe not, but at least she'd be able to case his place. Based on what she knew so far, the guy definitely came from old money. "Just keep reminding yourself that he's potentially a mark, not a boyfriend, Rey."

"Sure," he smiled, looking relieved. "Hey, Poe?" he said to the driver. "Can you pick up some food after dropping us at the hotel? We're starving."

——————

Ben fumbled a little opening the door, but quickly recovered and ushered Rey inside with a gallant sweep of his arm. The hotel was nice, but not extravagant, something she found odd for the son of a U.S. Senator. Then again, he had apparently been helping out at a shelter all day, so maybe he really was as down to earth as he seemed.

"The bathroom is through there if you need it," he pointed toward the bedroom.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, I'm just going to grab a quick shower. Poe should be back within the hour, so make yourself at home."

"Can I join you?" she was tempted to say. "Sure, I'll just watch the telly."

Ben nodded and left the room. A few seconds later, Rey heard the water start. Flipping on the TV, she left it on the cartoon channel before having a look around.

There weren't any expensive electronics or pieces of art in plain sight, so Rey could only assume that anything valuable would be in his room. "Oh, well, nothing gained, nothing lost. Better update Finn, though."

Yanking her cell out, Rey sent a quick text to her brother with Ben's name, the hotel's address, and a couple sentences about the modest state of his living room. He answered her almost immediately, sounding concerned.

Finn: Are you sure about this bloke? If you're not there to rob him, I assume that means you're interested in something else?

Rey: Yes? Maybe? I don't know. We just met, but…

Finn: At least text me later, okay? So I don't have to worry

Rey: I will. Love you 3

Finn: Love you too, peanut

Finn: ...check the room safe if you get a chance. Those types of hotels always have them and you never know what might be inside ;)

Rolling her eyes, but knowing he was right, Rey listened for a moment. It sounded like Ben was still in the shower, so she took the opportunity to pop into the bedroom and search his closet. A standard issue hotel safe was at the back, surrounded by some very nice black suits.

It wouldn't have been hard to crack the safe if she had her gear, but her heart wouldn't have been in it even if she did. She didn't want to rob Ben Solo, which was a first. Still, she did appreciate a challenge...

"Did you need something?"

Rey whipped around to see her host in nothing but a low slung white towel. "No, I—uh…"

"Would you like something to change into?" he inquired kindly.

Unable to respond with his magnificent chest and long thighs on display, Rey just shook her head in the negative. His brow creased and she felt like a kid who had been caught snooping for Christmas presents. "Shit, shit, shit, I've totally blown it!" Backtracking to the living room, she wasn't surprised when he followed. "What should I do? Oh, god, I don't want him to think…"

"Rey, what you said earlier… about being a… what did you call it? A grifter? Are you—mmph!" he started, unable to complete his thought as Rey impulsively reached up to kiss him.

But instead of pushing her away and demanding an answer, Ben threaded his fingers through her hair and dragged her closer. Taking his response as permission, Rey wrapped her arms around his waist, gripping his bare back as the kiss went on and on.

Somehow, they ended up next to the couch. Rey pushed Ben into a sitting position and climbed onto his lap, rubbing her clothed core against the tent in his towel. "Rey," he whispered, lips trailing down to her neck, "Rey, I want you."

"Yes," she responded as he reached for her waistband. Coming up on her knees, she growled when he yanked her leggings and underwear down her hips with one forceful tug. Things were getting out of control, going too far too fast, but she didn't care; she wanted him too. "Help me," she demanded, legs trapped by the constricting garments.

"I've got you," he huffed, reaching behind her to unzip her black combat boots and pull her pants the rest of the way off.

Meanwhile, Rey tore her top and bralette over her head before going to work on the towel barely covering his lap. "Wow!" she blew out a breath, zeroing in on his ardent erection when it was uncovered. He was big, maybe bigger than anyone she'd ever been with. Would he fit?

"Fuck," Ben sighed, sitting back to stare at her body, "you're beautiful, Rey."

Feeling weirdly shy about the sincerity in his sinful voice, Rey kissed him again in lieu of a response, reaching between them to spread herself for entry.

"Wait," he said, gasping for air, "what about protection?"

"Implant," she mumbled, rubbing her slit against the tip of his penis. "I'm clean, are you?"

"Yeah, I haven't—oh, god—uh, done it in a while."

"Good." She felt strangely possessive of him, this man she had just met. It pleased her that he didn't sleep around. "Fuck me, then. Raw."

Ben slammed his mouth down on hers again, positioning his dick with one hand and gripping her left buttock with the other. But he didn't ram himself home, instead he teased her hole, sliding only a fraction of the way in before retreating. He did it over and over, mimicking the action with his tongue until she was incoherent with desire, squirming, imploring him to fill her…

And then he was, and she found that he fit very well inside her indeed. His thick cock seemed to be made for her, hitting all the right spots and ones she hadn't even known existed until now. "Ben!" she cried, furiously pumping her hips in time with his thrusts. "This is—you're—"

"I feel it too!" he returned, palming her breast and teasing her erect nipple. "From the first moment I saw you, I—"

She licked his mouth, begging for entrance, not wanting to hear his sweet words even as they made her heart soar. He opened for her, but was obviously frustrated that she had cut off his declaration. Before she knew it, the hand squeezing her ass drew back and lightly smacked against her butt-cheek.

"Oh!" Rey jolted at the slight sting, but it wasn't in pain. On the contrary, she requested, "Again! Ben, do that again, please! I'm—"

Knock, knock.

"Oh, shit, Poe's at the—"

"Don't you fucking dare, Ben Solo," she growled, bouncing up and down on him with renewed vigor. But the driver started knocking harder, likely because of the guttural sounds erupting from Ben's throat. "Come on, man, can't you tell we're busy?!"

"But—shit!" Ben hauled her against him, no longer playing, just looking for relief before his friend broke the door down.

Rey found his soft grunts and swears endearing, so she took pity on him and increased her pace even further. "Come for me, Ben," she instructed, grinding down on him with all her might. "Come now and then we can eat. Or you can eat me, whichever you prefer."

The dirty talk seemed to work, because in the next minute, Ben was biting down on her shoulder, shaking with the force of his orgasm. Not far behind, Rey led his hand to her swollen nub, needing just a hair more stimulation to tip over the edge. Almost instantly, his trembling touch sent her into climax. Still vaguely aware of what's-his-name banging on the hotel room door, she pressed her mouth to Ben's pectoral to muffle her cries and came for what felt like ages…

"That—was—amazing," Ben panted, hugging her so tightly she thought she might pop. "The—best—I've—ever—had!"

"Me—too," she couldn't help but admit.

Loosening his hold, Ben cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"Ah—you're welcome," she said, smiling like an idiot. Before she could lean in again, Poe resumed making his presence known.

"Ben? Are you okay? Answer me! Did that woman kill you? Your mother will be so pissed if you're dead." He hit the door again. "Either answer me in the next ten seconds or I'm going to get security!"

"I'm fine, great, alive, whatever!" Ben called back loudly. "And annoyed," he said to Rey. "Go into the bedroom for a minute while I get rid of him."

"Okay," she agreed, gingerly getting up. They both groaned when he slipped out of her, which Rey found gratifying. "Can I use the shower now?"

"Sure, there are towels under the sink. My sleep shirts are in the top drawer of the dresser," he offered.

"He wants me to spend the night?" she mused, feeling giddy and terrified all at once. "Alright," she said aloud, picking up her clothes and disappearing into the bedroom she'd been casing earlier, "call out if you need backup."

"Will do," he chuckled, "will do."

——————

Ten minutes later, Rey emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and back in control. Picking a long sleeve shirt out of Ben's dresser at random, she pulled it over her naked body before toweling off her wet hair. The black cotton was as soft as it was big, but Rey didn't mind; it smelled like Ben.

Catching her reflection in the floor length mirror by the closet, she was amused to see that the garment fell to her knees like a sack, giving her already slender body exactly zero shape. "Oh, well, it's not like I plan on wearing it lon—"

A disturbance in the living room suddenly diverted her reverie. Sneaking to the door, she carefully cracked it and peaked out.

"You can't just keep her here!" Poe nearly shouted at Ben.

"Keep your fucking voice down," he snarled back. "You're not my boss or my mother and you can't tell me what to do. I'm a grown ass man!"

"Maybe so, but you're acting like a teenager! You can't just sleep with some chick you picked up off the side of the road when Leia is counting on you to—"

"I told you," Ben said through gritted teeth, "she saved my ass and I wanted to get to know her. I didn't hire her for the fucking night!"

"Could have fooled me," Poe scoffed. "For all you know, she could have been in on the attack and—"

"Get out!" Ben ordered, clearly at his wit's end. "I'll call you when you're needed again, if you are."

"Are you firing me?!"

"Not yet," Ben said grimly, marching to the door and flinging it open. "Just go before I forget that you're my best friend and say something I regret."

"Fine," Poe said, storming out of the apartment. "Let me know when you come to your senses!"

Ben slammed the door shut, then turned around and leaned on it. Scurrying back into the bathroom before he caught her eavesdropping, she started combing her hair, attempting to look natural in case he came in after her. When he didn't, she tried not to feel disappointed.

Leaving her damp hair hanging loose around her shoulders, Rey found him sitting at the dining table in his towel with several brown paper bags in front of him. He looked lost in thought and she hoped he hadn't taken Poe's opinion about her motives to heart. "Wotcher, Ben?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he said, looking up at her. "Sorry, I was just...uh…" The arrested look on his face made her toes curl. "Wow, you look amazing."

"This old thing?" she joked, sidling up next to him. "I borrowed it from a mate."

"He has good taste," he said, opening his arms.

"I certainly think so," she said coyly, moving to sit sideways on his lap. Rey curled one arm around his neck and placed the other one on his chest. "Are you still hungry?"

"For food?" he choked, holding her so that she wouldn't slide off.

"Food," she nodded, leaning her forehead against his, "and other things."

One of Ben's large hands inserted itself between her thighs. "These kinds of things?" he murmured. "I think we can—fuck!" he bit his lip as he discovered that she wasn't wearing anything underneath his shirt.

"We can certainly fuck," she teased, "but—oh!" Rey gasped as he stood with her in his strong arms. "Ben? What are you…?"

Before she could get the words out, he'd pushed their dinner out of the way and laid her down on the table. Placing the backs of her knees in the crook of each arm, Ben pulled her forward until her butt was on the edge of the table and her pussy was level with his mouth.

"Having dinner," he said in the most ridiculously sexy tone of voice she'd ever heard, flipping his nightshirt up so that she was bare from the waist down.

"Oh, god!" she whimpered as he lowered his head. "Ben, you don't really have to—ah!" Gripping the back of his head as he started to lick her folds, Rey shuddered every time his long nose bumped against her clit.

"Enjoying yourself?" he said a little arrogantly. "Is this why you came home with me? Cause you wanted me to make you feel good?"

Considering how very well he was treating her, and the uncertainty on his face, she decided to play along. "Yes, Ben, I wanted you the second I saw you!"

He smiled slightly, then resumed tasting her. "So, does that mean you want to come?"

"That would be lovely," she sighed, enjoying the pressure of his wide mouth.

His mouth quirked at that. "Never heard sex described that way before."

"Then you're doing it with the wrong people."

"Oh?" his gaze turned hot. "And how many people have you been doing it with?"

"Not many," she said hurriedly, "and not in a long time."

"Good girl," he said silkily. "So, if I were to put my fingers inside you, would your cunt feel… full?"

"Yes!" she panted, so wet she was dripping onto the table now.

"Let's see then."

Arching her back as he slid two fingers inside her body, Rey realized that she had never really known sexual satisfaction until tonight. She was twenty-five and still basically knew nothing about sex and relationships. "Huh."

Ben stopped moving, lifting his dark head to look at her. "Rey? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said dreamily. "I guess I've just never felt this way before."

He held her eyes for an extended moment, amber striking against hazel. "Yeah, me too." And then he was fingering her again, sucking and teasing her slick opening until she was crying out his name in ecstasy.

Afterward, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. Needless to say, they skipped dinner that night.

——————

Rey grunted as she felt Ben leave the bed the next morning. He had been her heater since the sheets and pillows were strewn about the room. "Come back," she said hoarsely, throat worn from use. "I'm cold."

"Just a moment," he laughed, opening the bedroom door to fetch something from the living room. "Your cell has been going off for an hour straight."

"My cell?" she yawned. Then, "Oh, no." She sat bolt upright. "Wait! Don't—"

"Rey?" Ben called in disbelief. "Who the fuck is Finn?"

——————

A/N: I love Kingsman and always think about Rey being a punk with a heart of gold like Eggsy. I didn't include the spy angle, but I was able to visit The Black Prince, where scenes were filled for the movie, a couple years ago and have fond memories. Anyway, reviews are appreciated! <3 

[autumnslance]

Lmao I got three I'm particularly curious about for you on the character meme. Thancred, Lahabrea, Igeyorhm. XD Feel free to do as many or as few as you'd like of course!

You asked for it. We’ll start with That Damned Rogue. The Ascians will be below.

This of course got long, so behind a cut it goes:

Thancred

First impression: I started in Gridania and took like 2 years to finish ARR 2.0, was already spoiled on the possession angle (I spoiled myself, no big), and had just @erickgage‘s affectionate joking summary of Thancred being the guy who shows up 5 minutes late with Starbucks to all the early battles. So I didn’t really get to meet the guy ‘til the Waking Sands.

And honestly, he was stereotypical generic bland anime prettyboy competent guy. His 1.0/ARR model is…just sorta there. He was a flirt, also generic as heck. Really didn’t register too much, until I finished 2.0 finally and then went hard on the MSQ through the patches and into HW and StB 4.0, when I finally caught up to content.

Impression now: Godsdammit.

My first replay through the game was on PunchyCat, starting in Ul’dah, which meant I got to meet Thancred much earlier. I was immediately amused by his nickname for Nanamo, and Papashan’s assessment of the witty Archon. I was more into the lore, getting the first lorebook and reading the short stories on the main site, and playing through all at once instead of piecemeal over months/years made things make more sense. Thancred hits a lot of tropes I commonly like in a lot of characters, so he jumped up to being a favorite.

Gunbreaker suits him as a tank job (thank goodness he can stop trying to tank warmachina as a rogue, ffs Thancred), and tanking in general suits him when it comes to fighting for those he cares about.

I’m interested in the ShB story mentioning why he wears white in all his gear iterations; I’d previously made a post about his color choices and that aspect of character design, but having a lore explanation for his affinity for that color was interesting. I didn’t think his HW model suited him, honestly; way too rough mountain man hobo. His model in ShB is closer to his ARR model, but different enough, and imbued now with actual character, that he’s a bit more visually interesting and while still pretty typical handsome anime protagonist in appearance; his true personality just comes through a lot more.

I’m still forever mad about the unintentional character ‘ship with Aeryn, tho. It took a 3rd playthrough for it to happen.

For myself, mind, when I got into playing and learned his canonical age, it was at the time the same difference between myself and my younger brother. My assessment of the Scion “family” with Thancred being the middle child (esp his behavior pre-HW) maybe helps that. I’m getting to a point, really, where I look at the characters under 35 and think “OMG disaster children, all of you.”

Favorite moment: Oh goodness. There’s some good ones.

‘How was I supposed to know all my girlfriends would track me down and show up at HQ all at the same time: a master class in how to not to deal with multiple paramours by Archon T. Waters.’

His dramatic reappearance and duel with Ardbert in HW 3.1.

Taking out his frustrations by soloing the Coerthas cyclops boss so we can get on with the Tournament and fight Raubahn. (Side Bonus: pre-tournament when he jokes about fighting for the other team to even up the odds, and then: “It looks to be a veritable who’s who of the Eorzean Alliance. The only question is: who came to watch and who came to fight? Hmm…Nanamo. Definitely Nanamo.”)

Making sure Urianger knew he was still part of the team post-Soul Surrender climax.

“All right, which one of you triggered the obvious trap?” Also learning he can hold his breath for 10 freaking minutes–but still gets to be jealous of the WoL, Lyse, and Alisaie for their kojin blessing.

That dramatic teamwork with Urianger to knock Ran’jit down the pit in Rak’tika.

That frickin’ Trolley duty and it’s aftermath with the completed checklist of anime death markers and then just sitting there battered and bleeding and smiling and then giving Ryne a name and a headpat and “You’re family.” Bastard.

Idea for a story: Have you seen my Ao3 account? *grumbles*

Unpopular opinion: While he likely used drinking as a bad coping mechanism at times in ARR’s patches, I doubt he ever really went to blackout, as losing control to that extent, after having been controlled and probably losing a lot of time while possessed, would be awful. We see him drink a few times, but I don’t think he is/was an alcoholic.

I also agree with @ahlis-xiv that his flirtatious persona was mostly adopted. While he probably does have a healthy libido and enjoys time with paramours (that Urianger keeps a handy list of), there’s a lot that’s likely exaggerated, allowed to be assumed, and otherwise used as a cover, given his specializations. It’s also noteworthy how he’s mostly acting the same even after being lost in the wilderness, right up until our foray into the Antitower. The wit/humor gets toned down a lot, but the flirting is cut out entirely after that. He still charms some ladies in the First, based on incidental dialogue, but that seems a general reaction to him being a handsome hero type rather than any intentional flirtatious act on his part.

Favorite relationship: Thancred and little sister types. I do wish we’d seen more of his relationship with Minfilia outside of informed moments and the short stories. I feel like he has a semi-older-brother relationship with Lyse, too, given their antics in the 2.0 patches (particularly the “Hoary’s fighting the WoL, come watch!” and Thancred not even considering how one of his girlfriends would see him sending Lyse to retrieve an item until after and going “oh yeah, whoops”). And now there’s Ryne, and she is totally running things if you watch their background conversations/body language. But that’s kind of where Thancred likes it; find a girl who needs a protective older brother and do what she asks and whatever she needs.

I do have a special place in my heart for the expanded broship with Urianger that Shadowbringers gave us, though. I’ve already spoken on that one.

Favorite headcanon: Everything people assume about how he spoils the nutkin. And really, focusing on taking care of and doting on a pet would be good therapy. Goodness knows he needs it.

Also I assume he and Hilda hooked up at least once during the HW patches. Part of that expectation and cover, sure, to immediately flirt with the pretty, tough, half-elezen guard captain. But also, he spent however long mostly alone, and then only with the Vath and a nutkin for company; the guy was probably touch-starved and lonely and just needing a connection to another person he could relate to (that wasn’t a bug).

Otherwise, again, have you seen my Ao3? Ugh. Damned snarky smart rogues…

————

Lahabrea

First impression: Laughing Organization XIII-wannabe is obvious villain. Wonder what their deal is.

Impression now: So much lost/wasted potential thanks to being stuck as the ARR villain when it was so hastily rewritten and acted, and so little was decided on the Ascians and their motivations yet. A lot of what we learn now retroactively makes him more interesting. The fact he was a workaholic who looked at the workaholic Scion and went “ah yes; that one will do, perfect” makes me laugh.

Favorite moment: I like his interactions with Elidibus. And I am actually fairly fond of his theatrical reveal in Praetorium about the Ultima Weapon, the Heart of Sabik, and casting Ultima.

Idea for a story: Maybe stuff while he’s possessing Thancred. Maybe stuff between then and the Reactor. I dunno; I’ve been enjoying a lot of others’ stories about our first Ascian antagonist.

Unpopular opinion: Dunno if this is unpopular, but some of the retroactive information is to excuse why he seemed so much less powerful than other, later Ascians, but I do think the Speaker could be quite devious and powerful, if he had better writing around him. He suffers for being from ARR.

Favorite relationship: I am not ashamed to admit I am a Lahabrea/Igeyorhm shipper and Hades Ex seems to agree with me so there.

Favorite headcanon: The Speaker likely also had a good singing voice. Another thing good about possessing a man whose primary cover was a bard–excuses to indulge that.

————

Igeyorhm

First impression: Wannabe-Organization XIII also hires women, cool. Wonder if she’ll get to do anything?

Impression now: I’m sad so much got cut from HW; as great as it was, a lot got left on the editing room floor and it shows in spots–particularly where the Ascians connect with the plot. We learn much about her retroactively as well, including how she worked for/with Lahabrea thanks to being the one to wreck the Thirteenth, and change Ascian policy on how to bring about Rejoinings. I still wanna know more about her.

Favorite moment: You beat the whale, good job–thanks, that’s my key now. It’s such a perfect dick move. Excellent timing and taunting. 

Idea for a story: Maybe some of her inner thoughts working for/with Lahabrea. She was a raised up shard, so does that mean they found the scattered pieces of her original soul and force-merged them? I doubt it, since Emet-Selch mentions raising up those who are a piece of the previous office holder, but I wonder if it came with imbuing the new title-holder with some of those memories and knowledge. Perhaps she wonders if some of her interactions/feelings/whatever with Lahabrea are her own, or her tapping into her previous life’s memories. Something to think about, anyway.

Unpopular opinion: I dunno, she shoulda gotten to stick around longer? Or been allowed to do a lot more? Should have been much more of a presence in HW, but I don’t think that’s unpopular so much as unconsidered.

Favorite relationship: Lahabrea is really the only one she gets significant interactions with. Though I wonder about her interactions with the other few women in the Ascians.

Favorite headcanon: See above with the story ideas, really; she didn’t get a lot of time onscreen so there’s a lot of room to make things up, and retroactive info from ShB to make her more interesting, or at least her situation as an upraised Ascian.

[chipper9906]

The Best Laid Plans- Chapter 1: An Unwanted Visitor

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Rey, Ben Solo/Rey

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 4,168

Status: Multi Chapter Fic- In Progress

Summary:  Based on a twitter post on a tumblr post, requesting an AU where Kylo and Rey have to fake fight in front of the First Order.

Preview: Kylo dipped his head with a deep, sad-sounding sigh, and for the first time since they last connected through the bond, she could see just how vulnerable he was. He slowly raised his head to lock eyes with her, and with just one look she could feel just how tired he was right now. Tired of their situation, perhaps. Tired of their constant squabbling, knowing that he’ll once again have to keep on guard, ready for whenever the Force decides it wanted to connect their minds once more

.“I don’t want to kill you,” Kylo spoke so softly, she nearly missed it. “Not since that night on Illum.”

And, for some reason, she believed him.

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Chapter 1: The Unwanted Visitor

It had begun with an agreement.

An agreement that would never have been forged, if it wasn't for this... connection, that somehow existed between them.

Leia had been surprisingly understanding, at the time. Possibly one of the only ones that understood her reasoning, her sudden urge to isolate herself once more.

After all, she had spent most of her life alone. It was only natural that, in these times of panic and uncertainty, her reaction was to flee to the furthest reaches of the Galaxy.

Perhaps Leia could see it in her face when she had returned from the Supremacy. Or perhaps she sensed it, had known it somehow. Rey wouldn't put it past the General to know more than she lets on...

Rey's sure Leia could tell, the second she caught sight of her, that she would have to let her go. Let her find her own way through this mess. For if she didn't, there would be no doubt that Rey would one day be gone, with or without her permission. It's like they say, no animal is more dangerous than one that's been caged...

"There's something there... Something inside me, that knows this isn't the place to be." Rey had tried to explain to the General.

"...Within the resistance?" Leia had asked so timidly and, for the first time, that weary worried look she had seen in the older woman's eyes were directed at her.

"No! No, not as in with the resistance, but within, as in... I..." Rey shook her head as she let out a tired sigh, her explanation not coming out of her mouth quite as well as it had been in her head. "I still believe in this; In the mission, in the light, the Jedi, but... I just need some time to figure out where I belong amongst all of this."

For a moment, the General just looked up at her. Studied her, was more accurate. Her eyes scanned across Rey's face, searching deep for any bit of information she could find. With a somewhat painful jolt, Rey had recognized that same searching look on another's. Although his method of prying information had been a lot more... Unpleasant.

"You really feel like you need to do this, don't you?" Leia had asked softly.

"I do," Rey responded just as gently. "I really do."

"I just wish this was something you could do here. Surrounded by those that care about you. There's no better reminder of the light than that which exists amongst the people."

"I won't be gone forever." Rey had assured her. "This isn't like before. I know I have something to come back to. Friends to come back to."

"No," Leia said firmly, shaking her head at Rey's words. "Family. You have family to come back to."

Rey smiled at her words, the sentiment of them lighting a warmth within her chest.

"Thank you." She said with as much sincerity as she could.

"Don't thank me yet," Leia told her with a knowing smile. "We'll see how your tune changes when I have to tell every one of your plans. Trust me, your family is going to put up one hell of a fight about this."

And oh, how Leia had been right...

"I'm sorry?" Poe said, confusing Rey immensely by digging a finger vigorously into his ear. "I must have damaged my hearing in that last fight, because it almost sounded like you said you were willingly going to... Oh, where is that place again, Finn?"

Poe had turned to face Finn next to him, who stood ramrod straight with an equally stunned and, partly horrified, expression.

"Oh right, that's it!" Poe continued, snapping his fingers sharply. "That island on a planet in the middle of nowhere that barely anyone knows how to get to!"

While Poe's reaction had been a bit more... Wordy, Finns was... Well, a bit less...

"No."

"Finn..."

"Mm-hm" Finn had hummed low, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh. Nope."

Rey couldn't help but smile fondly at the memory of her closest friend's reaction. While it was awful to know he was under such distress, it was comforting to know that he genuinely cared about her, and that he didn't like the thought of her not being around. She supposed it was just nice to know she would be missed...

Ahch-To was just as refreshing as the first time she had stepped foot on the island. The lush grass under her feet was just as soft and vibrant as ever, happy with its access to the planets constant rotation of bright sunlight that shone down with a gentle warmth, and its restoring rainfall, that of which its chilly droplets pricked at her face as she climbed up the same, exhausting steep mountainous landscape of this beautiful place.

She hadn't been here long, before. Certainly not as long as she had lived in Jakku, and yet, coming back here felt a lot like... Coming home. A lot more than returning to Jakku ever would.

The island wasn't without its pains, however. Most particularly, had been of her master. The loss of his force signature seemed to leave a giant hole, one that seemed unrepairable. Even now, as she studies the Jedi texts that Master Luke had been working on, she finds herself standing, ready to go to his hut and ask for his advice, only to be hit with the painful reminder of his fate.

The island didn't just cause emotional problems, but physical ones, too. The biggest of which: Food. It wasn't like it was on the Resistance base, where she had begun to adjust to the idea that food was no longer something to be worried about. It was different now, now that her instinct for survival had kicked back in. Back on Jakku, the idea of looking for food was downright laughable. Not much lived to hunt in a scorching desert, and not much grew there either.

No, if Rey wanted to eat, she would have to search for something else. Something deemed much more valuable; Scrap Parts

Now, on this island, there was no middle man, nothing to trade for, and nothing for her to trade. If she wanted food, she would have to search for the food that the island could provide to her.

There was once such food source that was plentiful, living within an environment that covered most of this planet. An environment she was so very unfamiliar with... And as such, she was still rather unsure what to think of the odd creature that, not too long ago, had flailed its scaly tail weakly in an attempt to escape the spear that had pierced through its side.

Rey's face twisted in disgust as she slid a knife along the fish's belly, pulling the animals sides open and holding back a gag as she reached a hand in, grabbing hold of the deceased creature's insides and pulling them out, wincing at the wet slapping sound as they slipped off the carved stone table of her new hut and onto the rocky floor.

"I hope you taste better than you smell..." Rey murmured to herself as she worked, shoving her hands in once more.

"Would you believe me if I said it does?”

Rey's heart jumped into her throat at the voice, yanking her hand out of the fish's body so fast that it sent the animals corpse flying to the floor. Her bloodied hands reached for Luke's saber, cursing silently in her head when she remembered how it had been split in half in their previous fight. Mere seconds later, she's summoning her staff into her hands, whirling around to face an intruder she knows should not be here. Not when she had worked so tirelessly to block him out.

Kylo once again donned his mask, the one she had seen him without for so long now. Although, now, the helmet had vivid red lines streaking across its sleek black surface, bursts of crimson lightning surrounding his face. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could just tell his eyes were trained on the staff she held in her hands.

“Are you going to kill me with that?” His robotic voice filtered through his mask as he nodded towards her weapon.

“If I have to.” Rey spat back in retaliation, wringing her hands around the worn surface of her staff’s handle. “What are you doing here?”

“You know as much as I do that I can’t control this,” Kylo answered. “The force seems to connect us whenever it desires.”

“But why now. Why after so many months of nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Kylo replied curtly, sounding like he hated the fact that he didn’t.

Rey narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his answer, ignoring the nagging feeling that surrounded her that she should be relaxed in his presence, fighting against her survival instincts to always be on guard and ready to fight against such an uncontrollable threat. She let her eyes scan across the blank and expressionless mask, knowing he was probably donning the same expression underneath.

“The mask is back to stay, then?” Rey asked, taking a cautious step back from him, comforted by the feeling of the stone hut against her back.

“I’ve found my people are more receptive to me when I have the mask.”

“You mean terrified of you?”

“Is there a difference?”

Rey didn’t respond to that, instead choosing to tighten her grip even further around her weapon.

Kylo watched her for a moment before he slowly reached up with his leather-clad hands, wrapping them around the sides of his helmet and pulling it up off his head with a hiss of air. He gave a slight flip of his hair as he pulled the helmet off, before lowering himself down on what Rey could only assume was either a seat or perhaps even his bed wherever he was.

“Could you put that down?” Kylo asked as his eyes flicked back up to her staff, his words now sounding a lot more kinder and human, now he was rid of his mask.

“And give you a chance to kill me when I’m defenseless?”

Kylo dipped his head with a deep, sad-sounding sigh, and for the first time since they last connected through the bond, she could see just how vulnerable he was. He slowly raised his head to lock eyes with her, and with just one look she could feel just how tired he was right now. Tired of their situation, perhaps. Tired of their constant squabbling, knowing that he’ll once again have to keep on guard, ready for whenever the Force decides it wanted to connect their minds once more.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Kylo spoke so softly, she nearly missed it. “Not since that night on Illum.”

And, for some reason, she believed him.

Not that she could let him know that.

“Am I supposed to take your word for that?”

Kylo’s tired face turned to a frown, his forehead creasing in annoyance at her words.

“All I ever wanted was for you to join me, to be by my side.” Kylo began his side of the argument. “If you’ll remember, I was the one that saved your life. And your way of thanks was to try and snatch my Uncles saber from my side while I was-“

Kylo suddenly stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as his frown deepened even further at what he was about to say. His eyes continued to scan across her face as he thought of what to say, turning his head away with an annoyed huff when words seem to defy him.

“What was I supposed to do? Let you take the saber and cut me down?” Kylo continued to ask. “I acted in self-defense. Not that I would have done anything with the saber if I had won it back anyway-“

“Yeah, sure.” Rey interrupted with a half-amused, half disgusted snort. “Like how you wouldn’t have done anything once you caught sight of the Falcon on Crait?”

Kylo couldn’t help but wince, not only at the mention of his father’s ship, but of what Rey was implying.

“I wasn’t aware you were on it.” Kylo weakly tried defending himself. “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight in the moment.”

“I’m of the opinion you weren’t thinking at all.” Rey put her thoughts forward as she began to drop her staff to her side in a more relaxed position, perhaps against her better judgment.

The corner of Kylo’s lips curled ever so subtly and, for the briefest of moments, Rey wondered if she was about to get a smile out of him. The thought disappears as quickly as the beginning of his smile vanished off his face, returning to his usual stoic look.

“Not that it mattered anyway,” Kylo mumbled. “Not like my men could get anywhere close to bringing that damn ship down…”

If Rey didn’t know any better, she would almost say he sounded… Proud?

Kylo had gone so silent, staring down at his joined hands that hung loosely between his knees with his index finger tapping absentmindedly against his other hand. He stayed quiet for so long that Rey was certain the bond would be seconds away from cutting them off as it did before, when it would somehow seek out the lull in their conversation and break them apart, its timing always so impeccable.

“Are you going to keep watching me? Or are you going to continue with what you were doing?” Kylo finally broke the silence, the sudden presence of his voice nearly making Rey jump.

“You can’t really expect me to just turn my back to you. And besides, if I did, surely you would have nothing better to do than to watch me.”

Kylo simply shrugged his shoulders at her in response, a rather childish act that she wouldn’t expect from him.

“I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re cut off from each other anyway.” Kylo supplied. “So, I think we can both agree it would be a better use of your time to, as I assume you were doing, finish up preparing your breakfast, instead of staring me down and thinking you would be able to smack me to death with a stick.”

Rey felt irritation flare-up in her gut as Kylo once again did all he could to try and undermine her. How many more times would he underestimate her capabilities? She had already bested him in combat before, proved herself just as powerful as was, and yet he still saw her as less than him?

“It wouldn’t be the first time I had to teach someone a lesson with this stick.” She informed him, practically spitting out the last word, still angry at him for referring to her weapon as such. She knew he did it purposefully to rile her up.

“It would be a bit different this time, don’t you think?” Kylo replied snarkily. “I’m not just some dirty scavenger on Jakku trying to sneak in to steal your food.”

“That’s not the only thing they tried to take from me.”

For a split second, she could see something dark flittering past his eyes at her comment. They shone with an anger she wasn’t familiar with, although one she knew wasn’t directed at her. It was gone as fast it came, an obvious glitch in his usual emotionless state, which he was quick to return to as he took a deep breath in.

“I can imagine,” Kylo said gently, now finding it difficult to keep his eyes locked with hers. “And I can also imagine they learnt quite quickly not to come anywhere near you.”

“Yes, well…” Rey began somewhat awkwardly. “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not on Jakku anymore.”

“You didn’t return to your home, then?”

“Why would I?”

Kylo shrugged once more.

“Jakku is…It never really was my home. I have no reason to return there, not anymore. That place is nothing but a bad memory to me now.”

“If Jakku isn’t your home, then what is?”

Rey paused at this, his question echoing around her mind. What was her home? Well, what made a home, a home? Did it have to be an actual place? Somewhere she would plan on staying for a long length of time? To that extent, she supposed Ahch-To was now her home. It was a place for her to rest, a place for her to eat, a place for her to train, and a place for her to…To live, she supposed. Of course, she couldn’t tell Kylo any of that. She couldn’t think of anything more dangerous, than telling him where she was. She was sure that, even with just the mention of this planet, the First Order would find a way to track her down. Having him appear to her across the Force was bad enough, she didn’t want to think about having to confront him and his army alone on this island, face to face.

“I don’t know yet.” Was all she would give him.

A part of her was expecting for him to get annoyed at her avoidance of the question, perhaps expecting that he would assume she would slip up and tell him of her whereabouts. Instead of that, he nodded his head slowly at her answer, perhaps resonating with it himself. She was moments away from asking him what his home was, when he spoke.

“I hope you find it, one day.”

Even Kylo himself seemed taken aback by the sincerity in his tone, turning away from her inquisitive look with a clear of his throat, raising a hand to scratch absentmindedly at his chin whilst making sure to look anywhere but at her.

“Could you please, just…continue with what you were doing?” Kylo asked awkwardly, unable to escape her gaze. “Put your weapon away and go collect your meal from…wherever it ended up.”

Rey looked to him in confusion then, glancing down to the half-boned fish by her feet and then back up at him.

“Can you not see it?”

“No,” Kylo stated. “Like before, I can’t see any of your surroundings; only you.”

“Not ever?”

“There are…occasions, when something else comes through the bond. Sometimes you emit a burst of power that lets me see more. Other times, it can be from another’s power.”

“Another’s? You mean like Master Skywalker? Did you-“

“Yes. I saw him.” Kylo answered sharply, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I saw him burst through your door, I felt his anger, saw the hut practically explode and when the force cut us off, and for a moment I assumed that-“

Kylo stopped, his mouth closing shut with an audible snap as that familiar look of anger spread across his face. A frown was quick to appear on his features, though this one was one that was aimed at himself, annoyed that he was, for some reason or another, finding himself close to sharing more than he wanted to let on.

“You…You couldn’t really have thought he had tried to kill me?”

His dark eyes flickered up to hers.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to kill one of his students.”

Rey kept a cautious eye on his brooding figure, glancing down every now and then at the weapon by her side and wondering if it truly was safe to let both her guard and her weapon down around a man that was supposed to be her enemy. Kylo had followed her line of sight, sighing in frustration when he caught her staring at her own weapon for the fifth time.

“Fine then,” Kylo said, standing so swiftly from his seated position that Rey had to resist the urge to swing her staff at his knees to bring him down. “Will this make you feel better?”

Kylo’s hand moved leisurely to his side, wrapping his gloved fingers around the wide hilt of his saber. Rey went from her more relaxed position to combat-ready the second his fingers touched the surface of his lightsaber, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at his actions, wondering what it was he would try to do next.

Out of all the options she could think of in that short time, none of them were for him to throw his lightsaber at her.

Her staff dropped down to the damp stone hut floor with a resounding ‘clang’, releasing her weapon without a second thought to ensure it wasn’t his lightsaber that would be sent careening to the floor. She very nearly dropped the saber in her flailing as she caught it, taken quite by surprise by the hefty weight of his saber, especially compared to Master Luke’s one. Rey looked up to Kylo in complete and utter shock, unable to think of a single reason why he would be so comfortable with simply handing her his signature weapon (and quite carelessly, might she add).

“Why have you given me this?” She asked him, flicking her eyes from the saber to him as he sat back down again.

“I thought you might feel more comfortable around my presence if I didn’t have a weapon.”

“Your saber isn’t the only thing you could kill me with.”

“True.” Kylo conceded, nodding his head along with his response. “But then again, so could you. So, I’d say that makes us even right now.”

Rey couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at this.

“And so, you’re just…what, assuming that I won't kill you with your own lightsaber.”

“I’m not assuming,” Kylo replied calmly. “I know you won’t kill me.”

“Excuse me?” Rey spluttered, taken aback by his certainty of the situation.

Kylo pushed down on his knees as he once again stood from his seated position, wasting no time as he took a few long strides towards her. Rey stood her ground as he advanced, despite how their difference in height meant she was now having to crane her neck up to look at him. Kylo said nothing for a moment as he stood over her, the long pause, and consequential silence, sending her heart into overdrive as adrenaline begins to race through her bloodstream.

“Go ahead.” Kylo challenged, stepping impossibly closer, until she could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Do it. Kill me.”

Rey stared up at him for a few more seconds before her thumb began to slide over to the ignition of his saber, making sure to keep her eyes firmly on his own as she flicked the slide up. Lines of fire roared to life in her peripheral vision, the blades of his saber crackling with unstable and ferocious energy. Rey raised the saber, the spitting blades mere inches from his face, further highlighting the ragged red scar that ran down his face and disappeared within his shirt. And yet, Kylo did not flinch in the slightest.

Because he was right. And just like he had said, he knew he was right.

She couldn’t do it.

Rey couldn’t explain why. It should be so easy, to just swing the saber to the side and…that would be it. She would have killed Kylo Ren, supreme leader of the First Order, leader of the Knights of Ren, and one of the last, most powerful Sith, left alive. It would be a massive blow to the First Order, surely making it infinitely easier on the Rebellion to take down the First Order once and for all.

Yet, all the while, there’s a voice, a presence inside of her, screaming at her not to do it. Something that shouted ‘No! No! No! No! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!’ whenever she had so much as a thought to move her arms.

So, instead of doing what was arguably the right thing to many people, Rey voluntarily let her fingers slip away from the ignition switch, extinguishing the hut of its fiery red glow and returning it to the glow of the early morning light.

Rey still couldn’t tear her eyes away from Kylo’s, just the same as he kept his gaze locked on hers whilst he raised a hand to wrap around his saber that she still held, gently prying it from her in one quick and efficient movement. Rey swallowed nervously as he re-attached his saber to his belt, only feely mildly reassured at the fact that he didn’t immediately turn the weapon on her.

“I’m glad I called your bluff,” Kylo told her, so close now that she could feel his breath on her face as he spoke. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

And then, in only a blink, he was gone from her sight. Rey let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, feeling the jitters of her hands as the adrenaline in her system began to wear off.

She got the feeling that the loss of the heat from his fiery saber wasn’t the only reason the hut suddenly felt colder than before.

Link To Chapter 2

[mysamcedesmadness]

So, What Are We Doing This Summer?

It was called to my attention that Henry's age was confirmed as 17 in either the Frittle episode or his birthday episode (I've not repeatedly watched those, so I didn't remember), which would either put them in their senior year or put Henry as a graduating 18 year old next year, which does happen, so I'll go with that.

Also, for some reason, all of the italics and bolds and such disappear whenever I paste to Tumblr. I honestly don’t feel like redoing tonight, but the ffnet post has them, for various emphasis on words and stuff, if that’s a better read for you.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13274210/7/So

So, What Are We Doing This Summer?

There was no Sweet Sixteen thing that she wanted to do. To be fair, her parents wanted to throw her something and invite her friends over, but she just wanted a nice dinner, some cake, maybe a museum trip and to look over college packets. Last birthday, she went to a show that she wanted to see with her friends, but it was such a hectic night that she almost didn't get to see it.

That's how plans with the friends tended to go. Unexpected and hectic. So, Sweet Sixteen, she was doing things with her parents! And that was all that there was to it!

"But, what about the time WE want to spend with you?" Jasper asked.

She furrowed her eyebrows and handed him a pamphlet. "Here. Underline cons in red, highlight pros in pink."

"What is this?"

"College brochures."

"Why are you looking at college brochures, we still have more than a year of high school left?"

She laughed, "And I very well can't figure out what schools to apply to after graduation. Senior year student council has so much to do for all of those senior ceremonies, I want to make sure I've given myself time to think about where I'm going."

"Why not Swellview University?" He wondered.

"It's on my list, but not my top choice. I want an HBCU or an Ivy League school."

"I'm gonna go right there to Swellview U. It's a good school!"

"I'm sure it's great. It's just not exactly what I want," she said and they heard the sound of Captain Man and Kid Danger coming down the tubes.

She smiled at them as they approached, resuming some kind of debate. "Dude, there's no way that a giant pancake could best a giant waffle. The waffle has ridges!" Henry fussed, then kissed her on the cheek.

"What are you two even TALKING about?"

"Animated and animatronic breakfast foods," Ray said, popping gum into his mouth. "Henry thinks that sausage would be more of a romantic than bacon and that a giant waffle could defeat a giant pancake in a fight to the death, covered in butter and syrup!"

"HOW do these subjects get started?" Charlotte wondered as they changed back.

"What about a crepe?" Jasper wondered.

Henry and Ray both laughed and repeated, "Crepe?"

"Oh yeah, a giant CREPE can fight!" Ray taunted.

Henry added, "Guess it's gonna just roll up to the scene, since he's gonna lose his innards if he steps up." The duo fell on each other laughing. Jasper sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure why you entered their weird little world."

"Third Wheel Syndrome has me sensitive, I think."

Henry took a seat next to Charlotte and asked Jasper, "What do you mean?"

"Since the two of you got together, I'm feeling left out," Jasper admitted.

"How? I just spent four hours stuck in a vat of scrambled eggs and country gravy. You and Char have been here going through…" he picked one up from in front of Charlotte and she sucked her teeth. "College brochures." He set it down, "Jasp you're leaving for college too?"

"No. I'm marking pros and cons for Charlotte. I'm going to Swellview University. We talked about this."

"I know! I was gonna be super upset if you were gonna run off on me. Bad enough she will be." He pointed a thumb to Charlotte.

"What happens when that happens?" Jasper wondered.

"It's at least a year in the future. We haven't even discussed what we're doing this summer," Charlotte said. The three were quiet for a moment. Ray and Schwoz were talking among themselves a few feet away.

Henry broke the collective silence between their trio by asking, "So, what are we going to do this summer"

"There's my birthday.." Jasper said then squinched his face and shook his head, "You weren't talking to me, were you?"

"I was talking to you both. Anybody have plans already?"

"I never have plans," Jasper said, almost certain that Henry was definitely only talking to Charlotte.

She said, "Same old same old for me. Summer Youth Program in June. Beginning of July trip with my parents. The only thing different this year is I'm going to add three or four campus tours of whichever colleges have the least cons and most pros."

"Need company?" Henry wondered. She furrowed her eyebrows and actually looked up at him. "Just to you know, make sure that you enjoy yourself despite the work."

"I love college tours. I'll enjoy myself," she said.

Henry pouted, "Fine." She looked questioningly at the sky about his salty tone, but left it alone. Henry sighed, "Jasper, do you think you'll want to spend any time with me this summer?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Jasper cheered. Charlotte rolled her eyes. She hadn't said that she wasn't going to spend any time with him.

In fact, her visits would be four weekends from the entire summer. Her Youth Program was on Thursdays. Her trip was two weeks. Aside from that, she was pretty sure she'd see both of these clowns every other summer moment. She'd tuned out the boys making plans without her whenever she heard Jasper declare, "It's gonna be super hard for us to do these things whenever you and Charlotte are married and stuff."

Henry shook his head and Charlotte chimed in, "Whenever what?"

Jasper reminded her, "Remember that whole hashtag Henlotte thing?"

"That was a joke, Bro," Henry said, laughing a little uncomfortably. "Nobody actually thought that I was proposing or that we were gonna be kissing. That's why it was so hilarious."

"Yeah, but you are kissing. You kiss a lot. You're together. Charlotte's thinking about her upcoming colleges before junior year end. Do we really believe she's not thinking beyond that?" Henry's head turned sharply and quickly to Charlotte.

She scoffed and said, "Don't look so panicked. As it turns out, I've been focused enough on my educational future that I haven't been circling anything in bridal books on the off chance that my boyfriend ever wants to me to participate in the antiquated institution of marriage."

Henry sighed, relieved, "Oh thank God. Wait. So… You never wanna get married, at all? To anybody?"

"Honestly, it's never crossed my mind. I've had one stupid boyfriend and I'm only 16. Why I would daydream about becoming someone's less respected partner is beyond me."

"Less respected?" Jasper repeated.

But Henry was stuck on "Stupid boyfriend?"

Charlotte snatched her brochures from Jasper and explained, "Married women are taken less seriously than their married male counterparts in the corporate world. Whether I go into STEM, academia, politics, business, or even if my degree proves useless and I wind up regretting decisions in retail - women are already valued less and when you add a wedding ring, they're expected to be full time workers and full time homemakers while Daddy retreats into his little solo space to unwind after his hard day's work. And don't let her become a mom! She doesn't get the necessary time off to be the kind of mother that everyone expects. Simultaneously, whatever kind of mother she is, the workplace thinks is too much." She was stuffing her bag and then looked at Henry, "And for the record, just because I haven't thought about it doesn't mean that I need your graphic depictions of relief about it!" She snatched her bag and headed for the elevator.

Jasper called out, "Okay, but that explanation of the workplace tells that you've definitely thought about it."

She glared at him and snapped, "That information is common knowledge to women!"

As the elevator door shut, Henry looked confused. "So.. Am I supposed to be thinking about marriage, or not?"

"I think that you shouldn't be, because Charlotte doesn't have marriage plans, but maybe if it crosses your mind, try to not seem repulsed by Charlotte being your wife? Her execution of the subject was all over the place."

"The place of lies," Ray said. "Women wanna get married. It's their reward for being good girlfriends!"

"That's a gross oversimplification of like everything involved in what you said," Henry commented. "Honestly, now that I think about it, Charlotte has literally never mentioned anything about weddings or marriage or anything like it. Not even so much as a "I'll play this song someday at my wedding."

Ray commented, taking a seat by Henry, "That's probably because she's been resigned to the fact that nobody's ever gonna marry her. I mean, she's the worst, amirite?"

"You're not," Jasper said, at the same time Henry said, "No."

"So, either of you can picture having Charlotte there, every single day, nagging you, telling you what to do, why this is unsafe or that's unwise?"

"That sounds like every day of my life since 5th grade," Jasper said.

"Yeah! Char is the smart one. We all know that. We need someone like that everyday!"

Ray muttered, "Still the worst."

"What is your problem with Charlotte?" Henry asked, exasperated."I mean, what if this does go different for us than my other relationships and it winds up being something real and lasting. Do I always have to worry that you're gonna be a butt to her?"

Ray laughed, "Yeah. I've known this was coming for a long time. I'm not treating her any differently no matter what status you have. Because as far as I'm concerned you've always been endgame… Also, she's the worst."

"Because she forces you to have to be better?" Jasper wondered.

Ray groaned and mumbled, "For your information, yes."

.

Charlotte came home and her uncle was on the couch, watching TV. What else was new? "Hey, Uncle Roscoe.

"Hey, Niece! You wanna watch the Kids Danger cartoon with me?"

"No. I've gotta look over college info so Mom and Dad will be able to plan my visits in between their orchestras and excavations. Speaking of, are they out tonight?"

"The Swellview Opera House. Your mom says there's a casserole just for you in the oven. Don't worry, I don't want whatever that is. I'm ordering a pizza." She nodded, disappointed that she wouldn't be able to discuss her college choices with them tonight. "You wanna watch one of your wedding dress shows?" Uncle Roscoe wondered.

"No."

"Not even Say Yasss, This is Your Drass?" He turned off the TV and wondered, "What's wrong, Tiny?"

"Sometimes, I feel like an outsider. Even in my own home and even with my only friends. Like, we're all sharing this one life, but nobody's on the journey with me and those that are on the journey, we're not on the same page."

"You know, I was an outsider like that too. Shoot, still to this day, as a starving artist."

"How can you be starving when you live here and eat everything we have?"

“I ain’t eat that grass casserole your mom made you.”

“I’m sure you mean bean sprouts,” she said, “And that’s not the whole casserole…” The doorbell rang and she looked at him. He reached for the remote control and she gave him a look. “I’ll get it.” She went to the door and by the time she peeked out of the peephole to see Henry nervously bouncing, Uncle Roscoe was laughing at something on the television. She called, “I’m gonna step outside and talk to my friend, Unc.”

“Girl, I’m watching my shows,” he said. Basically, he didn’t care.

She opened the door and stepped outside. Henry laughed, “Your friend? Something you need to tell me?” He joked, awkwardly. “What do you need, Henry?” She asked, sounding irritated.

“I need to explain what happened earlier.”

“Okay.”

“So… Jasper was talking about marriage and we’ve never spoken about that, because neither of us are thinking that far ahead into us. But, whenever I seemed relieved, it wasn’t because I think I’d never wanna marry you or something. I just thought that we were both in the same space - a space where that’s not even a conversation yet. So, I’m sorry if I sounded insulting to you.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “We rushed really fast into the entire boyfriend-girlfriend thing. There’s no need for us to rush anything into anything else. So, it’s fine.”

“But, you seemed upset.”

“Yeah. For the reason that I told you, but it’s not a big deal. Honestly, I have other things to be upset about. Maybe it just landed on you. So, I’m sorry.”

"You wanna talk about your things?" He asked.

She sighed and leaned against the front door. "You know how my parents and I go on a trip every summer together?"

"Yeah?"

"This year is the last one. Next year, they're sending me on a solo trip after graduation to see the world myself before college."

"That sounds awesome."

"But, I hardly see them now and I just want them to go over the pros and cons of these colleges with me. I know that sounds silly to other people, but it's a huge decision to make and I wish sometimes that they'd be more involved instead of just trusting my judgement. They raised me to be independent and they don't realize that sometimes, I could use just a little dependency, you know?"  

Henry nodded, "Yeah, I get that. I haven't been able to depend on my parents in quite a while. But… I've always been able to depend on my friends. So, if you just need someone to lean on, I literally have nothing better to do than here for you." Henry offered her a hug and she smiled a small smile and accepted it. When she was hugging him, he said, "And it'd be excellent, I think… some time in the far future… you know?" She looked up at him. "IF we were thinking about that."

She nodded, "If I was gonna sell myself out in that way, it'd be with my best friend." He laughed. "I meant everything that I said about marriage! The only way that I'd be on board is if it was handled like a business arrangement with someone I trust."

"You trust like two people," he chuckled.

"Yep. And they'd both be IN the marriage."

"Me and???"

She stared at him and suggested, "Think it through."

"OH, YOU!"

"I already regret this unofficial contract."

"Fortunately, we've got a long time to even think about that. We haven't even discussed..  the physical evolution of our relationship." Her eyes widened and she wondered if he was talking about what she thought he was. He noticed and quickly changed the subject, "Or what you and me are doing this summer!"

She relaxed and nodded, "Aside from the few weeks, four weekends and Thursdays, I'm all yours…"  He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm open! I mean my time is free! I have a casserole to check on. I gotta get inside!" She rushed back in, shut the door and Henry shook his head and left. "Why would bring that up, Henry? She was already having a day. I mean, sure.. you wanna discuss it. But, you haven't been together that long and it was a FLUKE that you even got her. This happened kinda haphazardly. You're gonna screw it up if you keep being weird!"

Charlotte leaned against the door, breathing hard. Are… we THERE yet??? She glanced out of the window and saw Henry look back at the house before walking away with his head down. A few minutes later, she got a text: Hey. Sorry if I scared you bringing up THAT. I won't mention it again. I don't want stuff weird between us. Call me when you don't feel awkward.

She sighed with relief and replied instantly: Thanks, Hen. You're a great friend and honestly the best boyfriend.

Henry: Not stupid boyfriend?

Charlotte: Not at all. ILU

Henry: SAME.

[killervibe]

The (God)Parent Trap

Killervibefanficweek18 Day 2: Undercover Missions!

Notes: This is a future fic that really took a life of its own!! It’s fluffy and I had a lot of fun writing it, enjoy!! <3

The (God)Parent Trap

Cisco knew this was a bad idea the moment this club’s DJ decided Rebecca Black’s Friday was worthy of being played.

Cisco shot Caitlin an agonized look.

Caitlin winced sympathetically, and opened her clutch for her phone. “I’m going to text Barry to let him know we made it in. You can try to fix the music.”

Cisco straightened his tie and marched over to the DJ’s booth with the determination of a soldier. “Oh, I’m three steps ahead of you,” he called over his shoulder, and grinned at the fond yet exasperated look on her face.

The DJ is a lanky, nerdy thing, very much similar to old pictures of Barry Iris showed Cisco from their days in high school. He tapped the kid on the shoulder, waiting for him to stop bopping to this horrible excuse of a song and remove his headphones.

“I’m sorry, Friday? What year is this, 2011?”

“I think it’s pretty rocking.”

Cisco groaned. “Okay, how much are they paying you for this gig? Fifty? Eighty? One Hundred?” Cisco slid over several twenty from his pocket. “I will double whatever they’re offering if you play something better. I’m desperate.”

The boy looked at the cash longingly, but shook his head.

“Sorry Sir, this song was requested.”

“By who?” Cisco cried, trying to forget that this dude called him sir. He may not be twenty-three anymore, and he may be wearing an itchy fake mustache, but god forbid anyone actually starts treating Cisco like an old irrelevant man.

The DJ pointed out a bossy girl teetering in heels wearing a flower crown.

“Oh Lord, she’s just as crazy as her father,” Cisco muttered under his breath. Of course it had to be Yelena, Dr. Sinister’s fourteen year old daughter.

Cisco rolled his eyes and left the DJ to his horrible life choices, maneuvering around the cheering pre-adolescent children on the dance floor as they slosh their orange crush over the rims of their red solo cups.

“It’s no use,” Cisco grumbled to Caitlin, who was leaning against the wall as Friday faded out and Miley Cyrus circa 2008 started next. He grabbed two drinks from a passing caterer tray. 

He peered into the first glass.

“Shirley Temple?” Cisco guessed, handing the pink concoction to Caitlin.

“Thanks,” she said. She took a careful sip, grimaced, then rolled her eyes at finding Cisco covering his ears like a child.  

“What do you expect?”  She said, and Cisco let out a long tired sigh. He hates when she excuses crazy situations they get themselves into with logic.  “This is a teenage dance hall converted into a makeshift club for the birthday party of a 14 year old who happens to be best friends with the daughter of Barry’s newest arch nemesis.”

“What I expect is to not have to fear that my brain will bleed out of my ears before the end of the day!”

“You’re being so dramatic,” Caitlin laughed, “As if you don’t love Lady Gaga and Katy Perry.”

Cisco scoffed, offended. “I’m sorry but Poker Face cannot even compare to Fly On The Wall and you know it.”

A teenager came up to them then. “Excuse me, are you two the chaperones?”

Caitlin bended down, “Yes! My name is Katherine Rodriguez and this is my husband, Arlo. We’re Sonya’s parents.”

The kid gave Caitlin and Cisco a once over. “You two don’t look anything like her.”

They shoot each other a quick look before both replying at the same time.

“She looks like her grandmother.”

“She’s adopted.”

Caitlin stepped on Cisco’s foot. “Uh, what we mean is we adopted Sonya when she was three but we were told she looks like her maternal grandmother.”

The girl snapped her gum, “Yeah, whatever. We’re, like, not friends or anything.”

Cisco tilted his head to the side and squinted. “Is there a point to this or…”

The girl seemed to remember the reason why she came and perked up, “Oh this is, like, tbh, really awkward now, but I just wanted to let you know that I caught her picking on Yelena. Maybe you should go and see what’s going on.”

Yelena Sinister. Dr. Sinister’s daughter. Perfect. The plan was working.

Caitlin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and blinked innocently. Cisco snorts. Is that how Caitlin thought it looked to be motherly? He’d tease her later about it if he didn’t find it so weirdly endearing. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Caitlin said, placatingly.

The kid looked skeptical, but put her hands up as if to say Oh well I tried  and turned back to the buffet table.

“Arlo?” Cisco exclaimed, scandalized, once the girl was out of earshot.  

“It rhymes with Cisco!” Caitlin defended, peering over the crowd for Nora. “It should be any moment now.”

“Are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” Cisco asked.

Caitlin nodded, “It’s Nora. She practically begged us to let her do it. Besides, you know she’d do anything to help her dad with a mission. Even if it means crashing a lame party and going by the terrible fake name Sonya.”

Cisco stopped sipping his club soda to retort, “Like Sonya is so much worse than Arlo.”

Cisco could feel they were just about to get into an epic bickering match over names when a man about five years older than Cisco comes towards them. 

“Excuse me,” The man interrupted politely.

He was tall and somewhat handsome, but very obviously not naturally blonde. However, Cisco supposed it wasn’t fair to judge. Caitlin was sporting a ginger wig, like she was channeling a young Molly Ringwald and Cisco’s own fake mustache and goatee Iris forced onto him made him laugh so hard the first time he saw himself in a mirror, they almost flew off his face.

“Are you the other chaperone?”

The question was pointed at Cisco.

“Yes, I’m Arlo,” Cisco introduced himself, and he really did have to fake the smile. He shook his hand, “And this is my wife, Katherine.”

“Oh!” The man flushed pink and began to stutter. “Oh, we met before.”

Caitlin began to flush too, and Cisco sensed he was missing something.

“Really...When was this?” Cisco asked.

“I believe you were with the DJ. You know, it’s so refreshing to hear our children listen to appropriate songs, thank you for reminding the DJ of that.”

Caitlin hid her laugh in a cough as Cisco’s fake smile turned into a pained expression.

“Well, yes. That’s my job, protecting the children,” Cisco said smoothly.

The man turned to Caitlin.

“I’m so terribly sorry, Katherine. I didn’t know you were married or else I never would’ve said those things.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry, what? Wait...Were you flirting with my wife?”

Cisco found himself getting ticked off, and it was weird, how he didn’t even have to pretend to feel vindictive. How he had no real claim at all over Caitlin but he still wanted to put his arm around her waist and drag her the hell away from this man.

Cisco didn’t like the way he looked at her. Cisco didn’t like the way she looked at him either, especially with her all flustered like this.  

Caitlin put her hand on Cisco’s arm, sensing his discomfort. “I thought Eric was being friendly, I swear. It didn’t click until just now.”

Caitlin’s explanation felt sincere, and Cisco felt himself unwind when Caitlin kissed his cheek, for show, obviously, but still, it was a nice gesture for him...Or was it for Arlo? Cisco was starting to get confused.

For what it’s worth, the man truly did seem like he wanted a hole to swallow him up.

“I’m so sorry I flirted with your wife, man. I was just saying she looks so young to have a teenage daughter.” Eric paused to look at Cisco, “I mean, so do you. Also, I couldn’t help but notice neither of you wear wedding rings.”

Oh damn. Cisco knew they forgot something.

Caitlin smiled tightly. “We’re both allergic to gold, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Of course. Again, my apologies. Anyway, whose parents are you again?”

“Sonya.”

“How old is she?”

Cisco and Caitlin both spoke at the same time. Again.

“Eleven.”

“Fourteen.”

This was why Cisco and Caitlin hated working undercover.They sucked. 

All three chuckled awkwardly.

Cisco cleared his throat, “We adopted Sonya when she was three...” He began, and Caitlin continued on for him when he began to falter.

“Exactly, so she’s really fourteen in age but we’ve only had her for eleven.”

They linked their arms together, smiling charmingly.

Speaking of their fake daughter, Cisco was hoping Nora picked up the pace so they could call Dr. Sinister already and get him out of his lair. Barry must’ve been staked out there for over two hours now.

Nosy Eric, as Cisco began to call him in his head, even though he probably doesn’t deserve it, frowned. “My daughter never mentioned her before. How does she know Vanessa?”

“Who?” Cisco frowned.

“Vanessa? My daughter.” Eric began to grow impatient, “The birthday girl.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over this wholesome music!” Cisco replied, snidely.

Caitlin jabbed an elbow into Cisco’s rib. “Sonya was invited by Yelena. They go to piano lessons together.”

“I see. Wait a minute...Yelena doesn’t go to piano lessons. She does ballet.”

Thankfully, Nora swooped in and saved them when a loud crash followed by shrieking caused everyone to swerve their heads to see what the commotion was.

Cisco, Caitlin and Eric ran over to the dessert table where Nora was bent over, hands on her knees, laughing her ass off at Yelena who was on the floor, covered head to toe with hot melted chocolate from Vanessa’s chocolate fountain.

“You little bitch!” Yelena cried, slipping in the gooey mess as Vanessa stood several feet away completely stunned.

“Language!” Eric scolded at her, but it became very clear he agreed. 

The snitch that advised Caitlin and Cisco crossed her arms over her chest and sighed loudly, “I warned you.”

All of their friends were pointing and laughing, which would’ve made Cisco feel a little bad if she wasn’t the spoiled brat spawn of one of Earth’s most despicable metahumans. 

It was time to spring to action.

Cisco offered Yelena a hand as Eric began to scream at Caitlin about Nora ruining his daughter’s party.

“Your daughter did this?! I thought you said they were friends!” Eric accused, snapping at the teens to put their phones away.

“I can’t believe Sonya did this, I’m so sorry,” Caitlin apologized profusely, pretending to be aghast.

Cisco looked at his goddaughter straight in the eye and mentally psyched himself to sound as fatherly and as angry as possible when all he wanted to do was laugh. She quirked an eyebrow challengingly with a mischievous smirk.

“Sonya Isabella Rodriguez how dare you,” he scolded, “Your mother and I raised you so much better than this. Have you not one ounce of shame? This behaviour of yours is out of hand!”

Nora pinched her fingers together discreetly, telling him to tone it down a notch.

“But Daaaaaaaaad!” Nora whined, “You would’ve done it too if you knew what she’s like!”

“I don’t care,” Cisco said, “You’re coming home immediately. Apologize to this poor girl right away. Also you’re grounded.”

Caitlin rushed to the table to get napkins and wiped off the chocolate from Yelena’s hands.

“Here,” she said, whipping he phone out where it was conveniently left at the dial page. “Call your parents, honey. They’ll pick you up.”

Smart move, Cisco thought. Now Caitlin will have Dr. Sinister’s cell phone number, a valuable asset for tracking him in the future, and potentially finding out where else he goes.

Teary-eyed and humiliated, Yelena took Caitlin’s phone gingerly and called her father. She began wailing into the phone, and Cisco continued to fake berate Nora until she hung up.

“My daddy is coming right away to pick me up,” Yelena sniffed, picking her wilted flower crown from off the sticky floor.

Cisco shuffled Nora towards her. “Yelena, Sonya has something she’d like to say.”

Caitlin grabbed her cell back,  texting Barry that Dr. Sinister should be leaving any minute, and that he should go ahead the moment the coast is clear.

Yelena shot Cisco a death glare she definitely learned from her father. “Your daughter is a fake ass wannabe weirdo who doesn’t even go to our middle school! I never invited you! Nobody knows who you are! How dare you crash Vanessa’s party!”

Nora’s jaw dropped, “Yeah, well you’re a prissy princess daddy’s girl! Even worse, your dad is a total psycho!”

Yelena gasped, then lunged at Nora, slapping her right across the face.

Cisco sent Caitlin a panicked look. Name calling and slapping fights that could end up exposing their fake identities during their undercover mission was not part of the plan.

“Okaaay! That’s enough! We’re going home now!” Cisco said in a rush, dragging Nora away by the collar of her skater dress. Quickly, Nora sped the three off to the dance hall’s lobby where Cisco opened a breach and they all quickly jumped through it and into Star Labs.

~.~

Iris startled at the control board of the cortex. She surveyed the three of them catching their breath and narrowed her eyes. 

“Why is there chocolate all over my eleven year old daughter’s hair?”

Nora threw both her hands up in the air, “You were the one who said Uncle Cisco and Aunt Caitlin needed me to get into the party!” 

Iris opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Well... Yes, but it was their job to end the party and get Dr. Sinister out of his lair! Not yours.”

“Hey,” Said Cisco, putting a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “We were the ones that let��  Nora get involved in the mission, and she did an excellent job, if not slightly carried away at the end, but who could blame her.”

Iris massaged her temples, “You couldn’t have pulled the fire alarm or something?”

Caitlin shrugged sheepishly, “...We didn’t think of that.”

“Sweetie, come here,” Iris said to Nora, but at that moment Barry’s voice crackled over the intercom system, requesting Iris and Cisco for help.

 He must have found something in Dr. Sinister’s lair.

“Ah crap,” Iris sighed, “Caitlin, do you mind?”

Caitlin shook her head and beckoned Nora over to the Med Bay, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She made Nora sit on the examining table and wet some paper towels to wipe the chocolate out of her hair.

“That was fun,” Nora said happily.

“I”m glad you thought so, but I’m sorry you got hit. Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” Nora reached towards Caitlin’s head to take off the red wig. “You looked like Kim Possible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Caitlin smiled.

“Aunt Caitlin, can I ask you a question?”

Caitlin turned off the water faucet, and turned towards her, all ears.

“Sure,” Caitlin replied.

“I saw that guy talking to you. Why didn’t you get his number?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow at the little speedster. This wasn’t what she had in mind when Nora asked to chat. 

“It would’ve blown the cover. I was pretending to be married to Uncle Cisco, remember?”

“But you’re not in real life!”  Nora objected.

Caitlin handed her a junior sized Star Labs sweatshirt and sweatpants to change into. Nora hopped off the table to get dressed.

“Yes,” Caitlin agreed, “But that man didn’t know that. I didn’t want his number anyway.”

“Why not?” Nora asked innocently.

“I just didn’t.” 

“So if you’re not with anyone, and you’re not really with Uncle Cisco, then why haven’t you or Uncle Cisco ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Caitlin paused, taken aback. It was true that she had been single for a long time, but coincidentally, Caitlin had never been more content in her life than she was now. She had her life back in order, she had struck up an unlikely friendship with her alter ego, who had been less Killer and more Frost for several peaceful years. She made amends with her mother and was in fact really proud of her work with Barry, Star Labs and her personal research.

 “I can’t speak for Uncle Cisco but I’m happy with my life as is. I don’t need anyone new.” Caitlin looked out the window at Cisco, giving Barry directions of what kind of tech to look for in Dr. Sinister’s lab and sighed wistfully.She was right. She didn’t need anyone new. It was an old friend that she had wrapped around her finger.  

Nora followed her gaze.

“You looked awfully happy pretending to be Mrs. Rodriguez, though,” Nora pointed out.

Caitlin blushed. It wasn’t lost on her that there was a lot of truth to that statement. “I was playing pretend,” Caitlin insisted, knowing how weak that sounded..

Nora put a hand on her hip sassily, pursing her lips a lot like her mother.

“Were you, though?” She pressed.

Caitlin ruffled the damp hair of Nora’s head, shutting down the conversation all together. She loved the kid, but she sure was Barry Allen’s daughter, meddling in personal affairs.  “You’re all good to go. Why don’t you run home to your brother. I’m sure he misses you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Caitlin opened a drawer and handed her a lollipop. Nora rolled her eyes. “I’m too old for these.”

Cisco peeked his head in at that moment, his faux facial hair all gone, “No no,” He admonished, “You’re never too old for candy.”

He snatched Nora’s lollipop out of her hand, unwrapped the plastic and plopped it in his mouth. “Your loss my gain,” he said, muffled around the candy.

“Just think about what I said,” Nora told Caitlin, then sped out the building.

Cisco leaned forward. “What was she talking about?”

Caitlin fiddled with her medicine drawers. “Um,” she said lightly, shaking her head like it was no big deal, “Just about us being Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez. She didn’t quite believe that we were acting.”

Cisco sat in down heavily in Caitlin’s office chair. “But you told her we were…” 

“Of course.” 

Cisco sighed. “Right.” 

Caitlin turned around, curious at Cisco’s tone of voice. “Why, you wish we weren’t?” She felt overly conscious about the way her heart  sudden quickened in pace.

Cisco made a contemplative humming noise, “Weeeellll,” he dragged out the word, avoiding Caitlin’s gaze. He toyed his dress shoes into the floor as he swiveled left-right-left in her chair and removed the candy from his mouth. 

“Arlo might’ve been a little jealous that a man was interested in his wife. It made him feel a bit stupid. Arlo has this amazing beautiful woman and he never really tells her enough what she means to him, he always kind of assumed she knew.”

“Ah,” Caitlin responded. Cisco glanced up at her, vulnerability written all over his face. “What does Katherine think?”

Caitlin lifted a shoulder, nonchalant. “Katherine was too wrapped up in her feelings about Arlo to even notice that another man was interested. Katherine felt silly that she lost her touch. And then she felt not so silly, because who was she trying to impress, if Arlo cared about her so deeply without her even having to try?”

“Really?” 

They weren’t joking anymore. 

Caitlin nodded. “Yeah.” 

“I do,” Cisco breathed. “Care about you deeply. So much. For so long.”

Caitlin felt like she might die. In a really good way. In a ‘I ate three belly burgers and had one milkshake too many but I’m so very happy’ way.

“Is this Arlo talking or Cisco?” Caitlin teased, holding her breath.

Cisco stood up and grabbed Caitlin’s hand, tugging her towards him. “It’s Cisco,” He said softly, seriously. “It’s me. I’d be lying if I said you’re not who I want. Who I think about all the time. Who I’d want to be my partner in crime not just when we fight crime.”

Caitlin squeezed their joint hands. “That’s a relief. Caitlin feels the same way.”

Cisco moved closer, following Caitlin with his eyes, beaming. He leaned in just as Caitlin placed her hands on his waist when Nora zipped back into the Med Bay with her twin brother in tow, scaring the two half to death.

They jumped into each other’s arms as Nora crowed in victory. “Thank you speedforce!” She exclaimed, “I did it! You owe me ten bucks!”

“Congratulations,” Don cheered as unenthusiastically as a kid could sound. “No offense, but I thought it was never going to happen.” He handed Nora a crumpled Hamilton.

“See, I told you it would work!” She stuck her tongue out at Don smugly.

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces clicked. “Wait a minute…” Cisco said, shaking his head at Nora, impressed. “We’ve been bamboozled! You were the one that put the idea that we should be your fake parents in our heads! You set us up!”

“To be fair,” Nora pointed out, “You are our godparents, so it’s not like it’s that unrealistic.”  

Caitlin tilted her head, thinking that reasoning over. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Who cares!” Nora cried, “You’re together now!” 

“Okay, thank you, we owe you. Now let us have our moment!” Cisco said, ushering the Tornado Twins away. 

They zoomed off, and Cisco could hear Iris yelling after them as he pulled the curtain around the bed. 

“Now,” Cisco said, winking, “Where were--Mmmph!”  

 Caitlin cut Cisco off, finally bestowing him their long awaited kiss. 

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy Episode: 14X20

It’s the Weedisode!!! Haha here we go! And of course Meredith is completely relaxed and Jo is freaking out! Classic. “You’re gonna stress out David Bowie.” Haha one of my favourite lines of the episode and there were many! I really love Catherine’s red outfit. She’s worn it before and it always looks great on her! There’s some great fashion in this episode. At the end of the episode Carina wears a striped top that she has worn before and it looks great on her! Jackson was being a distracting jerk at the beginning of presentations and that was really annoying. Enter the weed cookies oh dear! I love how DeLuca took a bunch so you knew right off the bat he was going to be high as a kite the whole time! 

“They are lesbian gratitude cookies!” I will miss lines like these when Arizona is gone. The way she looks at Carina when she leaves to go attend to her patient says it all. She is so in love! It’s very cute. I’m happy for her. After everything she has been through she deserves happiness. I’m guessing Carina was hired on as an OBGYN and pediatric surgeon by Bailey after her research concluded? Thank goodness Jo said no to the weed cookies! As we learn later that would have been a completed disaster! At first I was glad thinking April hadn’t had any and then she did and it went from bad to hilarious in 30 seconds and it was great! 

Wow a Sexual Harassment settlement. So not a light dust up. My first thought was wow you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier when Jackson asked you outright Catherine? Seriously? This is so textbook her. I don't know why Catherine does this or why Jackson keeps on believing her when he knows her to be a liar. Sigh. When the problem with the cookies was revealed I felt so bad for the new Moms! They seemed genuinely so distraught! They’ve got enough problems. Another favourite line, “We can make a better vagina!” Haha the weed kicking in with Jackson! So great! April laughing hysterically is my new favourite thing! Arizona having to parent everybody because they’re high and she’s done this before was great. 

High Alex was amazing! When Bailey’s OR was revolving I couldn’t stop laughing! When Vik lied my first thought was that they should have stuck with rat poison. Oh well they call him the douchey one for a reason. When Vik returned and I realized he was about to treat a patient while high my first thought was this is why you shouldn’t lie and this can’t end well. Thank goodness Richard showed up the same day as always. Him and Meredith have the same sixth sense. You can tell they are related. When the truth came out and Vik got fired I was glad. He deserved it. I also felt bad for Parker and Qadri. Parker was busting his ass to treat Vik and Qadri was COVERED in blood! I hope she has a good dry cleaner! I would be beyond pissed if I found out I’d done all that work for a friend/colleague which could have all been avoided if he’d only told the truth. That’s the second intern down this season. Although Bellos left by choice because she got a starring role on another series it’s still a very quick par down in comparison to other seasons. At least they are getting on screen exits. The last few seasons have seen interns and residences simply disappear after a season or two or do a brief cameo and then disappear without explanation. 

I liked the storyline with Meredith’s hand being damaged and Jo having to step in for her and do a solo surgery she hadn’t perform before. Although I felt bad for Meredith and her hand. And it’s the Path Pen to the rescue! I liked this connecting of storylines a lot. It was nice to see Schmitt come into his own and be there for the family. I liked seeing him and Jo worked together too especially after the whole Glasses/Sex debacle. I was SO proud of Jo when she pulled the whole thing off and Meredith showed her why she made her do it that way and make her own decisions like a true mentor. When she came to pick up a still high Alex and was super pleased with herself I was so happy. She’s worked so hard for this. She deserves it! 

DeLuca curled up in the corner went for hilarious to sad really quickly. Although it must have been really fun for them to film! Then Maggie wanted to talk about cheese and Arizona wanted to talk about Carina. One thing that did really bother me, and has always bothered me about Arizona’s character, is how hypocritical and selfish her monologue was talking about Carina and Callie. This is one part of Arizona’s character I have always disliked. She’s incredibly selfish for no reason. When she was talking about Carina to Maggie she sounded a lot like how Callie sounded talking about Penny to Bailey. The fact that she follows that up with the same lie that Callie just randomly took off an stole Sofia makes her a complete hypocrite. Everyone knows that isn’t what happened, but Arizona seems to believe that if she says this lie out loud enough it will eventually become true and justify her actions. I won’t miss this part when she’s gone. I’m not sure what her Carina/Callie confusion meant or was supposed to mean. I’ll let Calzona and Arina Shippers comment on that, but to me it means that her ending on the show will see her move to New York. 

When Maggie lost a virtual liver I couldn’t stop laughing! I loved the part about Bailey being a Mr. T fan! I love these little nuggets of information about Bailey they are so great! “I thought marijuana made people peaceful but I’ve never hated you more.” Bailey bringing in a classic zinger. When they cut to April and Bailey and the couch was revolving I lost it! This must have been SO fun to film! I wonder how they did that? “Beak like an owl.” Bailey is always great and she tells it like it is. Bailey talking about sex toys while April talked about Jackson’s love life and her love life was hilarious to watch. I think that Bailey is a smart business woman to do it that way and I like that Meredith’s teasing gave her the idea. I wonder who April is seeing? Is it still Koracick? Time will tell. 

Arizona and Maggie draping and announcing a time of death for the virtual patient with no liver was hilarious. DeLuca’s spontaneous crying over a lost Sam? Not so much. I felt really bad for Jackson in the revel scene. In trying to be a good person he’s lost his grandfather, his father, and his mother. Jeez. The look on Meredith’s face and the throat singing was priceless! Especially since that is one of Sarah Drew’s talents that she let the writers in on at the beginning of the season according to Twitter. 

When Alex answered the door I couldn’t stop laughing! It’s not funny but it is. “Would you like some chips?” One of my other favourite lines of this episode. I loved seeing Alex use his past to help Owen. His speech about giving all the craps and it making a difference really is true. It’s what makes him a great pediatric surgeon, parental figure to Meredith’s kids, and it’s going to make him a great Dad to him and Jo’s kids. 

When Meredith found out the truth about Harper Avery and it ruined everything that her and her Mother had worked for I was so mad. And then we found out these 13 women, and probably more, were sexually violated, limited in their career options, and taken permanently out of the running for a Harper Avery Award I was livid! Shudder big time. I like that they evolved this storyline in a way that makes both Ellis Grey and Marie Cerone were right and Harper Avery wrong, but doesn’t make Meredith wrong. I hope Marie and Meredith can make peace now that the truth has come out. 

I really loved seeing Caterina interact with the baby at the end of the episode. It felt like her as a person not Amelia and it was really cute. Melts my heart! Also Maggie helping herself to a whole cheese platter was everything. Now I want cheese. This week’s episode was really fun! Which was obviously the point and something it achieved well. Next week’s episode looks intense as usual! Although I think the promo is as usual misleading. Meredith sure as heck isn’t taking the blame for anything as none of this is her fault and it certainly isn’t Jackson’s as he was lied to the whole time. I think Catherin will end up taking the fall and Grey Sloan will end up bringing on new investors and distancing itself from the Harper Avery Foundation. That’s what I liked to see anyway. I’m excited to hear everyone else’s thoughts!

[dylandayley]

Let me Talk

Trial solo #3

✗ Title: Let me Talk ✗ Time Period: Beginning of March 2020 ✗ Trigger Warnings: Mentions of murder.

The second day of the trial and it was looking towards the worst possible scenario. The prosecution's evidence seemed a lot more compelling. Add that to the start of the witness statements that included Dylan's stepmother who tried to talk of his character. Not that the witch really knew anything about him. She was too busy corrupting her own daughters lives to get involved in Dylan's Which was better for him in the long run. The story and act that she put on while on the stand only swayed the jury more to how Dylan was some heartless monster. 

"Can't we just change to the insanity defense. With that heartless witch's statement, I'm pretty sure that would be more believable than anyone believing it was self defense at this point," Dylan spoke up amongst the talk that his lawyer was having with the private investigator. That shut both of them up, at least temporarily. "It's too late for that," his lawyer explained. "Besides we still haven't exhausted every option. We're still waiting for footage to come back from the hospital and from the street view camera from Bailey's murder. That discredits the prosecution's claims. If we can do that then there won't be enough evidence for the jury to find you guilty. We just need to find a way to try and stall the court while we await for that footage." Uncertainty was the only thing that Dylan could think in that moment. How was a few seconds of moving pictures on a screen going to stop Dylan from getting sent to prison for the rest of his life? Logically he would have been able to know that if footage from that night with Bailey surfaced then he would be seen as being held down. Not having gained the injuries from Bailey trying to escape his grasp. But Dylan wasn't thinking logically. Not when the whole rest of his life was on the line. It took a while for the second part of his words to hit Dylan and an idea to pop into his mind. "Put me on the stand," he nodded. Just because it was an idea didn't mean that it was a good one. That was proven by the looks of both the lawyer and his private investigator. "We very rarely put defendants on the stand. And when we do, never in cases like this." That was the explanation that Dylan received. But once an idea came into his mind, it was hard for anyone to deter Dylan from pursuing it. "Look, you guys need time to get a hole of that footage and you have no more witnesses. We can pack up for the day and give into a guilty verdict tomorrow after closing statements," he began to explain as he stood up from his chair and slammed his hands down onto the table in front of him. "Or you can put me on the stand. Give us some time, and even possibly sway some of the jury to our side." ——— "Raise your right hand and state your name for the record please." Raising his right hand, Dylan's baby blue glanced at one of the court officials who stood in front of him with a book in their hand. His best guess was the bible, not that he found much interest in the book itself. "Dylan Dayley," he spoke simply, having repeated it multiple times for things around the estate. He kept a fairly straight face. No smiles, but also not a completely devastated look like he thought he actually might lose this trial. He couldn't let himself sink down that hole right now. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?" It wasn't clear what it was, but something about being asked that was ironic considering half of the witnesses and people that the jury had heard from were telling lies. "I swear," he spoke softly. With that, they stepped aside and allowed Dylan's lawyer to step up to the stand. "Mr. Dayley, how would you describe your relationship with your father?" That was a stupid question. Dylan knew that he had to answer questions that his lawyer knew the answers to, because the court didn't know the truthful answers. All they knew were fabrications from supposed evidence that had been presented to paint his father as  a complete angel. "Non-existent," he answered honestly.    "What makes you say that? From what we've heard so far, your father was a very involved parent. Doing everything in his power to be with you support you through your difficult times." This one was more than just a little ridiculous. It took a lot for him to restrain himself from snickering at the thought of his father being anything like that. "He was anything but that," he began to explain, taking the time to go into further detail. "It was known from a young age that I was supposed to take the throne. So my father pushed me towards that fate even though I had no interest in it. After walking me through the ropes he sent me off to do royal duties alone so that I could learn how to do it without any help. To be the leader that he forced me to be." "Interesting, so if you didn't want to be a king then what did you want to be?" The questions were slowly but surely getting harder. Obviously starting off easy. Something that he felt was going to get worse when he got questioned by the prosecution next. "I wanted to be normal. Have a life that didn't have every single moment controlled and accounted for. A life where I could have a dream of my own and live it out. Instead of pushing away everything that brought joy into my life." "What about Miss Thomas, what was your relationship with her like?" Part of Dylan wished that his questioning would have only involved his father. He could contain his rage with that. He'd been doing it for the last couple of days. Dylan had never really talked openly about Bailey. Talk about his emotions when it came to someone else. It gave him a vulnerability. One that he couldn't just easily cover up. With a deep breath Dylan averted his gaze from anyone in particular, instead focusing on the walls behind the people who sat on the benches. The ones who were waiting for Dylan to be found guilty or not guilty. "It was the first serious relationship that I've ever had," he finally spoke up. "It's true at first I only went after her because she wasn't a royal and I knew that would upset my father. But the more I got to know her, the more I realized how important she'd actually become in my life. She made me more human." Dylan got choked up talking about it. Tears glistening from the corners of his eyes. "I didn't expect my father to murder her for loving me though." Like that the other lawyer called out in the court that he was accusing something that hadn't been proven. "Sustained," the judge responded before turning to the jury who sat watching everything intently. "The jury is to disregard the last statement." His lawyer took a step closer to Dylan, taking advantage of the closer proximity to do a quick one over at Dylan to ensure that he would be fine to continue questioning. "One last question for you Mr. Dayley," he began. "Did you love your father?" Any other time that he would have been asked that Dylan would have thought that it was a joke. How could anyone love someone that did what his father did? Who forced him into situations that were bad mentally and physically for him. Who would kill someone he loved just to get him to do what he wanted. Who when he realized wasn't going to get that, sent Dylan to an estate so that he wouldn't have to accept that Dylan refused to take the throne. "I used to. After my mother left he was the only person I had besides my brother. I thought by encouraging me to take the throne that he was taking an interest in me. That I was still important and that the situation didn't affect me," he spoke honestly. Knowing that this was some of the most raw emotions that he had ever expressed. "The truth was that he was only doing everything to work into his favour. "The longer that I forced to continue that life the worse our relationship got. Losing Bailey was the last straw. I lost everything all at once. I lost my mother, my girlfriend.." Dylan paused, struggling to get the words out. "And the father who was supposed to protect me. Look out for my best interests. Encourage me to do things that I enjoyed." "Nothing more your honour," his lawyer nodded before moving back over to where the left side of the room. The judge accepted his lawyer finishing with his questioning before he turned his gaze over to where the other lawyer stood. "Does the prosecution have any further questions?" Dylan anticipated this to be a lot worse than anything his own lawyer could have asked him. Instead she surprised him. "Only one, your honour." Stepping forward towards Dylan, she wore a look of complete control. Something Dylan knew that he didn't have in this situation. Something he never truly ever had. "You say that you loved your father, at first at least," she spoke elegantly. Before Dylan could even get a proper yes out she already had a scrutinizing look on her face, like she didn't believe it for a second. "By your own words though you expressed how you would have done anything to get out of that life. Like dating a commoner, killing her to frame your father, even killing him when nothing else worked.. Or maybe the drugs you took made you hallucinate everything. Like maybe you thought you were protecting Miss Thomas, but instead you hurt her." "Speculation, your honour," his lawyer called out with his hands up in the air. With a nod the judge agreed. "Sustained. The jury is to disregard the last statement," he explained before turning to the lawyer. "If you're making a point you better make it." With a shake of her head the prosecution gave a shake of her head as she walked back towards her table. "No need, everyone saw my point." It was only in that moment that the reality of the trouble Dylan may have made to his case hit. That although it may have caused time and a partial distraction, that maybe he just wasn't enough for people to believe any words that came out of his mouth. Not with his past in drug use and the party lifestyle. Not when he spent a lot of his time distracting himself from the depression he was in by drowning his sorrows in liquor. People may have taken the time to show Dylan he wasn't a lost cause. But it felt very hard to not feel that way with the weight of it all pushing down on him.