#the other three existed in my head so long i had to sketch them today

[thecryptidart1st]

Wanna know something that just gave me a crisis? (/hj)

Events of FNAF 3 would be taking place this year.

i’m aware

[milo-is-rambling]

I really want to paint something big. I think it would do something. Make me feel something. I want a big canvas project. Like a canvas the same height as me. That would be so expensive but I want it. I don’t even have paper that big I only have regular printer paper and maybe 11 x 17 (printer department flashbacks) ughhhhhhh. What time does five below open. Maybe. No. Ugh fucking stupid baby car (in my head I’m like a sim I’m stomping outside and kicking over the trash can) I hate the baby car. Maybe I could suck it up. If I can go early. It won’t be crazy hot (lying) but I could go to five below and get at least a bigger sketch pad (I know I have so many notebooks and sketchbooks and smaller canvases I’m not using rn that are fine but I want the happy buying things chemicals) I am so tired right now and I took a very large bong rip and now I’m just stream of consciousness typing and it’s ugh yeah my brain is tired and I want to be happy and do something I can pretend is productive but I don’t have any real ideas for art stuff. Well I did have an idea last night for a cardboard thing. Hmmm. And I haven’t done magazine collage in a while I could do that. Hmmmmm. I feel like if i don’t do something productive soon I’m going to explode (taking meds is working. Also three weeks back on meds as of yesterday) maybe I’ll move around my flags and posters today…… hmmm. However my mom did come into my room the other day (hanging out with funk) and randomly look at my wall (she doesn’t normally sit at my desk to look closely at that wall) and she was just like wow there’s a lot of thumbtacks in that wall. So I do feel like maybe moving posters and stuff is not the move. However. I also feel like I desperately need to get out of the patterns I’m stuck in so I want to change my environment instead of myself bc I’m avoiding changing myself always for reasons I’m not even sure of. Lie. Putting in effort scares me. Knowing i could put work into being a person and still crumble again and lose it all is terrifying and it feels like every time something goes well something else comes crashing down and I can never have everything going well at once. That’s why. But that’s also an excuse to not change my shitty behavior bc it’s hard and I’m lazy. But is that the mean voice in my head or is that the truth. Am I lazy or have I been depressed for so long I don’t know how to be happy. I was thinking about natural selection yesterday while I was swimming. (Water motif) (I laughed when I thought it so I had to add it) anyways. Natural selection. I was just thinking like. My brain is fucked. If you put my brain into any other body in any other place in any other situation they would still be depressed. I have a chemical imbalance like it’s just fucked to begin with. So then you have to be like okay so if I don’t go on meds. I can’t do anything. I’m literally like. I just rot away and do nothing when I’m depressed. But when I was like 11/12 the depression hit hard as fuck and I don’t remember when I got put on meds the first time but I think I was 14 or 15. Well. Wait. I did take a liquid dose of an antipsychotic when I was 13 because I couldn’t take pills (still hate taking pills). I forgot about that until just this moment. That was a ROUGH time in my life. And I just. Fully forgot about it. Okay. Ignoring that it’s been like six years since I first started seeing a therapist oh my god seven years since ***** i don’t even want to have a tag for him lol ignoring it !!!! Ignoring it !!!! Ignoring it !!! Not thinking about it !!! 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 ignoring it. Okay. I forgot what my point was. I think my point was I should’ve been dead years ago if meds didn’t exist and yet I still have this cycle of taking them taking them then not taking them and now I’m on a taking them cycle but like what is wrong with me !!! Oh yeah the chemical imbalance and then add some traumatic shit too !! Ughhhh!!!! BRAINS ARE SO LOUD. I want to sleep.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Ohh, this is nice! Brb I'll be wiping my tears 🥺💔 Thank you for this wonderful question!

(tw: depression; implied sh/suicidal thoughts)

Alright, so. I heard about them earlier this year when The Summoning came out. I had seen their name pop-up a few times before (when they toured with Issues back in 2019) but knew absolutely nothing about them and payed no mind (still beating myself up for it).

There is this one account on Instagram (also TT but I don't use/have) that kept popping up on my discover page. I never interacted with his content, nor had any interest, but every few weeks his reels would show up and he often used the Sexy Funky Part™ on them. The comments were always crazy over it, but again, I payed no attention.

Until the 3rd of June (I have the date on my journal). That day I woke up with that section on my head, and I finally decided to look it up. And oh. My. God. I heard it once, twice, three times. Then I listened to TMBTE (the song). Then Chokehold. CHOKEHOLD. Listened to The Summoning again. Decided that, okay, I need to listen to this album, who are these guys?? Listened once, twice. Looked them up. Oh, they're anonymous? Oh, there's lore?? Oh, there's masks??? Oh, oh, oh-

And so it began. About a week later I posted here, saying that I needed someone to talk to me about them, not really expecting to see any replies - I was mostly venting since I had no one else irl to talk about them. To my surprise, so, so many wonder people actually reached out to me. It was so heart warming. For the first time in a very long time, I felt genuinely part of a community. Not just as a spectator, but as someone actively in it. Everybody was (and still are!) so welcoming and friendly, it's great.

(if any of my moots reads this, I'm sending you a billion hugs and kissies and wonky heart signs 🥺💖)

Now, for context. I have been in the metal/emo/alt scene since I was around 11/12. It's always been my main music, and the reason why I'm still alive and standing today. About 7 years ago, when I moved away for uni, I coincidently started to get super into kpop, which then led me to embrace many other genres, like r&b and hip-hop (my 14yo self would call me a normie if she knew I was obsessed with Tyler the Creator).

For several reasons, I stepped back a little on the heavier side of music. I had a really bad depressive episode in 2018, and I was scared I'd go back to old habits. I needed to break my usual "listens to sad music to cope" cycle, because during that particular time, I was in very real danger of hurting myself again. Things got better, and I still listened to my old stuff, but with a much broader range added. I shifted my focus, and what was once an overwhelming presence in my life, became just one more thing. I changed and silenced many parts of myself. Some for the better, some because they were necessary to survive.

Fast forward to late 2021. I moved back home after graduation, as I needed some time to heal. My mental health had been wrecked beyond recognition during the pandemic, and as an art student, I was experiencing extreme burn-out. In a way, I still am. I went to painting and being in a studio everyday, to completely stop creating. Even just simple sketches were a huge task for me. I stopped writing my poetry, my stories. In the last year, I may have picked up a paintbrush twice.

I was glad to be back, but started to feel so left behind, as if time had moved a much slower pace to me than to everyone else. Somehow, three of my closest friends got married within months of each other. Others were finishing degrees, getting Big Jobs, moving in with partners. Me? I was back to living with my parents. I was taking driving lessons - something most of them had been doing for years. I had left 5 years ago, with plans and hopes and expectations, and came back absolutely broken, nothing but a shell of a person that no longer existed.

I was lost. I spent so much time not knowing what to do, or where to go. I had plans post-grad, but everything seemed impossible to achieve. I had 0 motivation, 0 energy. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I had forgotten about who I was.

But when I got into Sleep Token, something inside me clicked. It was as if their music took all the scattered fragments of me and glued them back together. For the first time in a very, very long time, I was so excited for something. The music was so unlike anything I had ever heard. Every cell of my being glowed and vibrated with each new song, each element. The lore was so interesting to study, the people here were wonderful to interact with. The words, his voice, everything - it was like I had woken up from a very long, hazy dream.

Thanks to them, I began writing again. Lore and lyric analysis, fanfiction, my own personal things, you name it. I have just picked up painting and I'm so happy to be creating again. Thanks to them, I've connected and met so many wonderful people here. It may sound silly, but I'm genuinely having so much fun these days in here.

Also thanks to them, I've re-kindled my love for my older music/bands, and I feel like myself again. I can't say I'm 100% okay, as I'm very much not, but I at least have the strength to face and accept that things are not okay, instead of bottling it up. I spent so long trying to adapt and survive the next thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, that I ended up abandoning who I was.

I don't know if this will make much sense or not but, yeah. Listening to Sleep Token has allowed me to connect with parts of me I thought were gone, while still allowing me to confront and make piece with my struggles. I think Euclid is a very fitting description of all the changes ST has brought in me. It's accepting reality for what it is, and knowing that, even though there are still things that linger, there is more to life. To myself. There is more than wallowing in grief or staying stagnant - and I am deserving and capable of that.

Like Vessel once said, "We are here to remember. We are here to forget. We are here to worship". Above all, I think Sleep Token's music is defined by connection, by shared experiences. Be it through the music, the lyrics, the band/Vessel, something about it allows us to connect with ourselves and with each other. And I think that's what I was missing - the ability to make a meaningful connection to something/myself.

By now, the night belongs to you

This bough was broken through

I must be someone new

How did you find out about Sleep Token and how have they changed your life?

Even if it's the smallest of changes,it still matters. I'd love to hear everyone's stories.

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Ten. Faces

warnings: swearing, hate comments word count: 4.1k (not including pics)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: sorry its late!!!! this feels rushed but i was just too excited to get to some parts!!! also i have had some parts written out for SO long that they dont even feel cute to me anymore so im literally praying to every deity rn that you guys think its cute lmao anyway enjoy!!!!

**********

It had been about a week since Karl's slip up but everything was already more normal than Y/n had expected it to be. Of course, George, Sapnap and Quackity were all very understanding and gave her space while simultaneously reassuring her that she was safe with them. She fully believed it too, she knew she was safe with them and they weren't going to tell anyone her name.

The one unusual thing was now she had a heavy guilt, like someone dropped another sandbag in her stomach, every time Dream texted her. If the others knew, it was only fair that she tell him her name too, right? I mean, it's Dream. Dream! The boy who had quickly slipped his way into her life and, though she wouldn't admit it to Karl or Naomi, her heart.

But how? Does she just come right out and say it or wait until it gets brought up? She hadn't practiced telling anyone her name because she wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. Though, maybe she should have been seeing as she was going to see them all in person in a little over a month.

Regardless of the guilt, Y/n had other things to worry about today; Quackity was coming to visit. Karl had picked him up from the airport and the two of them spent all day catching up and doing who knows what but Y/n still hadn't met him. She was scared. She wasn't scared of Quackity, but scared because it was the first time one of her online friends would be able to put a face to her name and voice.

Y/n shuffled across her living room rug and reached for her phone on the coffee table, looking for some sort of distraction while she waited for them to arrive.

-

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she threw her phone on the couch. Okay, he's right. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be great. It's just Quackity. If he said anything rude or annoying or anything she could literally just step on him like a bug.

A sharp knock on the front door of her apartment snapped her back into reality. She shook her limbs of nervousness as she made her way to the door, two familiar voices begging to be acknowledged from the other side.

"Let us iiinnn!! Y/nnn!!!!" Karl whined.

After countless times asking the same question, she finally convinced Karl that she was okay with him using her real name in front of Quackity. He clearly still felt guilty about telling the boys her name, asking her multiple times in different ways whether he should call her Y/n or Bugsy in front of the guest. She finally got it through his head that she didn't mind either way.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She unlocked the door and swung it open to see Karl and Quackity. "So impatient."

"Holy shit, you are tall! Goddammit, I thought that was a joke!"

Y/n laughed shyly at the greeting, looking at Quackity like he was crazy. "Hello to you too. Tried to warn you, dude."

"Yeah but, damn! You're tall and attractive, what the hell?"

"Dude," she said with a warning in her voice. She thought the flirting on Twitter was funny, but in real life she got embarrassed easier and wasn't a fan. "I'm about to kick you out of my house before I even let you in."

This was weird, meeting Quackity before meeting some of her other friends. She loved Quackity, but she had known George much longer and Sapnap even before that. There was no problem with meeting Quackity, she just had no idea how to act since she felt like she hardly knew him.

"Am I allowed to tell people that you're hot?" he asked as he fell on her couch, Karl following right after.

"Quackity!" Y/n yelled, her face heating up at a compliment. "Seriously?"

Karl cackled and shoved Quackity. "Shut up, Alex! No, you're not allowed!"

"Sorry, is that compliment reserved for Dream?" He cackled at his own joke and Y/n's face heated up even more.

"I seriously will kick you out of my house."

"You wanna be flirty on main but not in real life?" Quackity scoffed.

"I'm not flirty on main, you are!" she laughed. "Seriously, don't."

"Okay, sorry, I'll stop," Quackity promised with a laugh in his words.

The three of them fell into easy conversation, mostly because Karl and Quackity were already comfortable around each other at this point. They eventually decided to go to the mall, just to mess around and do something.

*reminder: covid doesn't exist in this fic bc we only want happy things so ignore their masks :P*

Y/n frowned as she unlocked her front door, staring at her phone. She had been so happy with all the fans freaking out about the meetup so she looked at the trending list, expecting to see a flood of keyboard smashes and happiness, but that's not all she ended up seeing. BUGKARLITY was trending, so she scrolled through the tweets and was upset to see not all of them were positive. In fact, when she typed her name in the search bar, lots of the tweets using her name were rather mean.

A few that stuck in her head called her an attention whore and said that her friends only flirted with her because she paid them too. Who on earth would even do that? Some hurt way more than others but she tried to push them aside. It wasn't like this was the first time she had seen comments like this, but they had only gotten worse since her Minecraft date with Dream. She was worried it was cause more hate for her friends and the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their own hate.

She typed several different messages to Dream, deleting them all after she reread them. She felt like she had to request the same thing from him in a different way. Maybe because she felt like his words meant more, even if he really was just joking like the rest of them. She decided to call him instead of texting.

"Hi!" he chirped happily from the other end.

"Hi, Dream," she said as her chest filled with something warm at the sound of his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he dragged out the word. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Just okay? What's up?"

"Um," she started, immediately forgetting the words she decided she'd use. "I just... would you mind, uh, not flirting with me so much on, like, Twitter and streams and stuff like that?"

There was a silence before Dream's frantically apologetic words came through. "Yes, of course, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. If I had known I was making you uncomfortable, I wouldn't have—"

"Wait, no," she interrupted but he must not have heard.

"—said things like... oh gosh. Bug, I'm really sorry—"

"Dream!" she raised her voice, getting him to stop ranting. "You don't make me uncomfortable."

"Oh. Really?"

"Of course not. I actually think it's really..." Cute? Adorable? Endearing? "funny," she decided.

"Oh. Then why...?"

She sighed heavily and explained what she told the others. "So, yeah. I just don't want you guys getting hate because of me so I figure if you stop then... you know."

"Bug..." he said gently. "I'm really sorry. I promise you that I don't—none of us think those things about you."

"I know."

"No, seriously," he said, clearly not believing her. "You need to understand that I..." he paused. "I mean what I say. Always."

Always? she thought. There's a few things he's said that certainly he didn't really mean... like calling her cute?

"I don't joke around like that unless I want to. I wouldn't say things like I say to you unless I really, really, genuinely considered you a close friend and felt comfortable around you. And I do."

Her heart swelled. "Thanks, Dream. I just... maybe don't do it so much for right now? Online, at least," she clarified, not wanting to deprive herself completely of Dream's flirting.

"Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, I don't want you to stop flirting with me but, yeah."

He chuckled. "Oh, you do like when I flirt with you?"

She hummed and changed the subject. "Did I interrupt you doing anything?"

"No," his teasing voice dropped and was back to his regular self. "I'm just editing the video we filmed the other day."

"Oh, the 'Minecraft, but you can't touch the floor'?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, not meaning to sound disappointed. "I'll let you get back to it—"

"No. I mean, you can stay on the phone. Unless you're busy."

She smiled and put her phone on speaker and set it next to her foot on the floor. "I was just gonna paint. So I can stay."

Before she knew it, almost two hours had passed of them sitting in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking to share something with the other before going back to their tasks. It was comforting knowing she didn’t need to speak constantly and could just hang out with Dream.

Y/n's phone rested on the floor next to her, Dream on speakerphone on the other end, only the sounds of his keyboard clicking letting her know he hadn't fallen asleep or hung up. She wasn't sure when they started doing this, staying on the phone even when they had nothing to talk about, but they had done it a few times before. They had talked on the phone and Discord many times but it was usually always with purpose, not usually this silently-enjoying-each-others-presence nonsense. Who was she kidding calling it nonsense, she enjoyed it an embarrassingly insane amount.

She repositioned so she was laying on her stomach as she finished sketching an image that was in her mind.

"Hey, you still there?" Dream asked softly.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I taking away from your sitting in silence time with George?" she joked.

Dream chuckled lightly. "Nah, you're more fun. I was just seeing if you ditched me for Karl yet."

"Nah, you're more fun," she mimed truthfully. "But I'm very focused on this drawing."

"Can I see it when you're done?"

"Don't expect too much. It looks bad."

"If you don't tell me what it is, I can't know how accurate or inaccurate it is."

"Very true..." she trailed off, holding the canvas further away to examine it all at once. She wanted the sketch to be perfect before she made permanent choices with paint. She enjoyed the serenity they maintained even when talking, voices low and delicate like they were keeping secrets but not quite whispering. "Are you almost done editing your video from the other day?"

"Sorta. I'm at the part where you and Sapnap almost died laughing because a ghast knocked George into lava and then Sapnap laughed so hard he fell into lava."

She chuckled, remembering the situation vividly. "That was so funny. The way George screams is so funny."

"Let Naomi know that," he mumbled, causing Y/n to gasp.

"Dream!" she laughed loudly and he joined.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's true though."

"Disgusting!"

A distant voice sounded on the other end and she assumed it was Sapnap. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dream responded with a soft, "Nothing, I'm good."

"Are you talking to Bugsy?"

He must have responded physically because the next sound was Sapnap's very clear, much more lively voice speaking directly into the phone. "Hi, Bugsy!"

"Hi, Sapnap!"

"Can you tell Dream to eat some damn food? This man literally hasn't eaten a single thing all goddamn day."

"Dream," Y/n scolded slowly. "Please eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not showing you my painting until you eat."

A door closed on the other end and she took that as a sign that Sapnap had left.

"I don't wanna see it anyway. It's probably trash."

"Take that back!" she gasped lightly. She looked at the canvas as she grabbed the first paint color and laughed. It was only a sketch and it was already trash. "Fine, then I won't go on the trip if you don't eat in the next ten minutes."

"That's punishing yourself too though."

"Who says I want to see you?" she asked.

"I never said anything about not seeing me being the punishment."

She had been caught. "It was implied."

"Sure it was."

"It's true though. Who says I wanna see your stupid face?"

He didn't say anything, but an incoming FaceTime call lit up Y/n's phone. A FaceTime call from him.

Her smile dropped. "Clay?"

"Answer it," his voice was lower and her heart started beating faster. Was he really about to show her his face to prove a point? Reveal his biggest secret that only a few close friends knew? To her of all people? She made sure she couldn't be seen in the small window and pressed accept, the voice call ending and the FaceTime call starting.

To her surprise, what came into view wasn't his face, but the logo of the hoodie he was wearing, the simple smile of his merch taunting her. She laughed, the anxiety slowly fading away as it was replaced with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Was she disappointed? Maybe a little, but he teased her into believing she would see him.

"Oh, wow! Dream face reveal! He looks just like his icon, no way!!!"

His chest moved up and down as he laughed, not moving the camera away. "You heard it here first, guys! You've known my face all along, the logo is actually my face!"

She laughed and returned to painting, not paying any more attention to her phone since he was now also showing his ceiling, a small corner of his monitor in frame but nothing else. "I mean it though, if you don't eat, I'm going to be so mad I won't even want to be friends anymore. Or you'll die from malnourishment before we get the chance to meet."

"I doubt it. I'm just not hungry."

"Whatever."

"Oh, hey, so you met Quackity today. How was it?"

"Very scary."

"Yeah?" he asked sympathetically, urging her to explain if she wanted.

"Yeah. But it turned out okay! He didn't act any different so it was fine. It was mostly just awkward. He's also so freaking loud. You would not believe how much louder he and Karl get when they're together."

"I can imagine. Aren't they doing a stream right now or something?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't wanna watch though, I've had enough of them for the month."

Dream laughed. "How will you deal with them together for New Years'? It'll be for like two weeks."

"Who knows if I'll actually go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked abruptly, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. His keyboard stopped clicking and she could picture him staring at his phone as if looking at her. "Of course you're going."

"Not if you don't eat food! You have, like, 3 minutes to eat something until I officially am busy doing other things whenever the trip is."

Dream groaned and clicked a few things on his computer before the image on the screen became blurry as he walked through the house, still pointing it at the ceiling. She looked away again and kept painting.

"Quackity's really funny though," she continued. "It was super awkward at first but it was fun to have someone else to help me make fun of Karl."

"Wait, Bug," Dream called out over the sound of wrappers crinkling.

"Hm?" She hummed, continuing to paint.

"Bug," his voice was much softer and he sounded nervous.

She looked at her screen and dropped the paintbrush as she focused on what she saw, grabbing her phone and holding it closer to her face so she could see, still making sure she wasn't in view. All the anxiety from the beginning of the FaceTime suddenly came back and hit her like a truck. Sitting on her screen, waiting to be seen, was Dream. His hood was up, tufts of blonde hair sticking out, and he was standing with his back towards a dark room, the dim light from his pantry making his face just visible.

He held up a cookie in front of his actual, real face. "Are you watching?"

"Y-yea... I... Yeah. I'm watching. Is that really you?"

He nodded once before shoving the cookie in his mouth. "There, I consumed food," he announced, his voice muffled by the cookie. "Now you're legally obligated to come."

"I—What? CLAY! WHAT?"

"What?" he asked innocently as he chewed, walking back to his room and still holding the phone up to show his face. His room light was on, making his face much more visible. If Y/n thought he was attractive in the harsh pantry light, he must have looked like a god in his room lighting, even as pixelated as he was due to the quality of FaceTime. He fell on his bed and Y/n could only gape at his features. He slumped against his headboard, surrounded by roughly a thousand pillows, sporting a small, shy smile as he stared at the screen. "Bug, what?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Needless to say, he was unbelievably handsome. Part of the speechlessness was from the shock that he showed his face out of the blue, but obviously, the majority of it was that he was pretty much the most attractive person she'd ever seen. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a hoodie, especially when pixelated.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Wanna take back what you said earlier?" He bit into another cookie.

"W-what did I say earlier?" Why was she stuttering???

"You said you don't wanna see me and that I'm ugly," he teased.

She paused for too many seconds too long before finally muttering, "you arrogant son of a bitch." He laughed loudly at that.

His eyes crinkled and he threw his head back. So that's what he looks like when he wheezes, she thought to herself, pretty.

Dream shuffled his position on his bed and rested his head on one of his hands. He looked so comfy. "Why are you so quiet, weirdo?" he mumbled.

She set her phone back down and touched her cheeks with her hands and looked away for a moment, grounding herself to the real world for a second. She couldn't process her thoughts when she was staring at a man as gorgeous as Clay. "I don't know, maybe because you gave me no warning before showing me your face? Or because you failed to mention that you're incredibly hot?"

She was so glad she had looked back at her phone or else she would have missed the glorious sight of his cheeks turning bright red before he turned the camera back to his ceiling. "Oh my gosh."

"Aw cute, I made you blush."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You threatened to not come if I didn't eat something!"

"You didn't have to—you showed me your freaking face just to prove you ate a cookie!! DREAM! I would have believed you if you just said you ate something!" she laughed breathlessly, staring at the phone now for a chance to see him again. "I was joking anyway!"

"Sure you were."

"I was."

"Well, oh well. You deserved to see me anyway."

"Oh, I deserve to see you?" She laughed. "How big is your ego?"

"You know what I meant," he groaned. "You got doxxed by Karl and you met Quackity in person. And you've clearly had a bad day because of all the hate and stuff. You've done a lot of stressful things recently and you deserved to be let in on a secret too."

He was so sweet. Like, tooth-rotting, Halloween candy stash hidden under a kid's bed, upset tummy sweet. She also couldn't get over the fact that he was a million times cuter when he was shy like he was being now, his voice soft and unsure. It contrasted vastly with the confident, loud-mouthed Dream everyone usually saw, though she liked that Dream too. She wished he could show his face for just one more second to see what he looked like shy. Probably sickeningly adorable.

This was it, wasn't it? The chance she had been waiting for to tell him her name? He just let her in on his biggest secret, now he was the one deserving to be let in.

"Y/n," she said with a confident, but soft voice.

There was a long pause. "W-what?"

"Y/n."

He understood the second time immediately. "Y/n..." he tested, the smile in his voice clear as day. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I guess you deserved to know the secret too."

"I would have been content never knowing."

"Really?" She didn't believe him. He seemed like the type to never be satisfied, always looking for something better. Not in a greedy way, but in a motivational, goal-oriented big achiever way.

"Really," he hummed. "I already feel like you're too good to be true so I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't a real person."

It was silent as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Bug? You okay?"

"Yeah, I... it's just a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not you. Well... I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say when you say things like that," she admitted.

He paused. "I think you always have the perfect responses when I say things like that."

"What do I usually say?" She smiled shyly, pulling her hoodie up to her lips.

"You usually call me a nerd or say you can't stand me. 'Oh my gosh I cannot stand you'," he mimicked before laughing.

"What? How is that the perfect response to you saying you can't believe I'm real?"

He hummed and she could practically hear him shrugging. "Because it's a classic Bug response. It's a hundred perfect you. So yeah, it's perfect."

She was silent, trying to compose herself before she exploded.

"By the way, check Twitter."

"Why, are you bragging about me calling you hot?" she teased, hoping to make him blush like she had earlier. It worked.

"Oh my gosh, no. Just look."

She clicked her home button and navigated to the app, her feed instantly flooding with the same similar messages.

"Oh, my gosh," she muttered, her fingers flying away as she typed out her own tweet in response to the love.

Dream chuckled from the other end and when she asked him why, he vaguely said that George texted him but didn't explain further.

"Um, I have to go," she said mournfully. "Karl and Quackity are coming over again."

"Booooo," he pouted.

"Sorry, you aren't the only man in my life," she teased before instantly regretting her choice of words. Too flirty, Y/n, she thought to herself.

"Hm, shame. Am I at least at the top of the list?"

She bit her lips, wanting desperately to repeat what she had told him on their Minecraft date. In the end, she gave in. "I always mean what I say too," she started. "You're my main bitch, baby."

Dream made some sort of sound, a mix of a scoff and a whine but Y/n didn't comment on it, just glowing with heat in her cheeks.

"Leave before I don't let you," he said softly and the heat only grew.

"Goodnight, Dream," she pressed, the tone in her voice letting him know he was being a tease. "Thanks for... thanks for your tweet. And for everything you said earlier."

"Of course. Sorry that you have to see those kinds of things a lot."

"It's okay when I have people like you."

"People like me? What does that mean?"

"Just.... people like you." Cute, sweet, kind, genuine people who make her heart flutter.

She could hear his smile in his words and she figured he knew the unspoken words in her thoughts, the ones she was saying without saying. "Okay. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight."

**********

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[aminiatureworld]

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

 Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

 Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

[skysometric]

dev commentary time! Oregano Oak has a storied history that resulted in it being one of the very last levels ever built for Retrush. in fact, the stage as we know it didn't exist before this year!

back when Retrush was just 12 levels – worlds 1 through 3 – i had a little sketch in the 4-1 slot, effectively a bit of level concept art built out of tiles. it was a mineshaft inspired by Wario's Gold Mine, making good use of SMB1's varied set of brown and orange palettes!

i loved the concept but i wanted to keep Retrush properly scoped to 12 levels, so i had no place to add it into the mappack.

...but as we all know, "keeping it properly scoped" sure lasted long! so when i expanded Retrush to add a fourth world, this concept was on the shortlist.

at the same time that i expanded it, i also decided that Retrush should have four vertical levels – one per world. i had two already, Saltine Sewer and Pineapple Pipeline, so i needed two more. i decided to pick the mineshaft for this, and named it Quinoa Quarry!

...eagle eyed readers may have noticed by this point that Oregano Oak is not a mineshaft, not a vertical level, and not called Quinoa Quarry. what gives?

for starters, i kind of shot myself in the foot before getting out of the starting gate. the mineshaft concept i had was very horizontal, and trying to adapt it to a vertical passage was next to impossible. the structures i tried to add to it were pretty repetitive and boring.

the concept was tweaked to use the SMB1 ground tiles with alternating palettes for a faux 3D effect, which looks REALLY cool and i wish i could've made it work. the remix's palette was already decided – a green, mossy variation – and it would've been called… Oregano Overgrowth.

Oregano Overgrowth was more inspired by the mossy walkways of Hollow Knight's Greenpath, but i never got far enough with the base level to do any actual concepting with the remix, so this mostly exists in my memory. (the screenshot above is a recreation!)

instead, i got sick of slamming my head against the wall, and decided to pivot to another old concept i had sitting around from an unrelated project (shown here). this is where Oregano Oak and Nougat Nimbus were born... though i was still trying to make it a vertical level!

Oregano Oak was going to be more like ascending a big tree, with large branches to climb into and around, as well as the bushy platforms we're familiar with today. Nougat Nimbus was intended to go the *other* way, starting at the top of a thunderhead and working your way down.

this concept, too, was short-lived, as i couldn't come up with structures that were satisfying to climb in both directions. once again, i had painted myself into a corner.

and that's about when i paused working on Retrush in 2019. with nothing concrete, just failed attempts.

i came back to the mappack in 2021, mostly porting Retrush to a later version of Mari0 (which was an involved process), and then spent 2022 preparing to release the second demo (when i got sick for a while). finally we arrive at 2023, and Oregano Oak is still just a concept.

it felt like i no longer had the time or energy to throw together level geometry like i once did... i stared at the level's blank canvas trying to make *anything* work, and coming up woefully short.

this was the level that really made me question whether i should cut Retrush back down to three worlds. this one, and some of the underbaked levels mentioned previously... it seemed like it would be too much work to bring them all up to par.

"i wish i just had something to start with," i said to myself. "just a little bit of level geometry to build on. i wish younger me had left *something* to work with."

as a matter of fact... i did. and when i realized, i went rushing to open an especially old version of Mari0.

did you know the creators of Mari0 attended Gamescom for several years? they had playable versions of Mari0, Not Tetris, and more on the convention floor. Mari0 was set up as a "time trials" demo with ghosts of other players and a unique speedrunning level!

one year the developers asked the community to make a speedrunning level for them to take to Gamescom. being knee-deep in Retrush, i jumped at the chance! iirc, i was the only person to finish... because i already had material to work with.

the level i submitted was called Reprise, and it was a "best-hits" mash-up from several levels of Retrush with some connective tissue. the developers had some great feedback for it, some of which made it back into Retrush itself!

returning to Oregano Oak, i was very interested in how deep this "connective tissue" ran, and if i could use any of it in a new level. i hit the jackpot: a completely unique middle section based around classic athletic-style mushroom platforming. exactly what i was looking for!

i copied over as much of that old work as i could, which ended up covering about a third of the level – but the momentum and excitement carried me to complete the rest of the level extremely quickly. Oregano Oak went from 0 to 100 in just two days!

it wasn't the vertical level i dreamed of, but making it a horizontal level and reusing my old work helped me Actually Make The Level instead of feeling stuck forever and removing it from the pack. symmetry and planning is nice, but sometimes you just gotta get the work done!

the end result is one of my favorite levels in the whole thing, with a unique speedrun flow that really shows how much i've improved over the years!

Oregano Oak is the epitome of Retrush's development cycle – it may have taken nine years, but it's way better for having taken its time.

Oregano Oak (3-3) | Retrush

A classic athletic style level with a fresh coat of paint! The flying enemies provide lots of opportunities for bouncing to shortcuts on higher platforms... and with good timing, some of the falling enemies do too!

[venusamere]

So as I said previously I don’t really come on here so often but since it’s the summer and i’m on break why not try this thing out! I’ve got a new hyper fixation that has me in a MASIVE chokehold so I’ve thought to myself ‘hmmm let’s try writing for it!’. So with that said my new hyper fixation is ‘The quarry’ which I absolutely ADORED watching! I’m definitely gonna write for other fandoms too but this is more of ‘try out writing session’. Just a heads up, I love angst, especially the ones that are heart breaking to read, but I will totally write more fluffy ones too!!

This little piece is gonna contain possible spoilers…actually I’m not even sure if you can consider those spoilers but like read at your own risk!!

Another heads up: english it’s not my first language and it’s currently 1:14 AM so i’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes!!

Summary: ‘The quarry’ x reader fanfic where I imagined how would it be if you distanced yourself from the group, trying to deal with the trauma you’ve experienced, also reconnecting with them some time later. The action takes place after the events of the game!!

Nobody understood why or when. You evaporated into the early morning and faded into the distance. One thing was for sure, you wanted that night to remain in the past even if that meant you had to break some connections you made that summer.

You felt numb and your emotions were all over the place. You wanted a fresh start, but you only got nights of endless nightmares that you had to endure in your own cold sweat and stained cheeks from the salty tears that were running on your face. And the best part of it was that you had to go through it alone.

Didn’t wanna bother anyone with your problems, only yourself and your therapist. That was the main reason why you distanced yourself from the group.

Of course you missed them. Kaitlyn having a sarcastic and witty remark up her sleeve whenever Jacob said or did something dumb. Dylan’s friendly flirting and comforting jokes that made you laugh in every situation. Emma’s good and energetic aura with a smile attached to it. Abi letting you sleep on her shoulder whenever she sketched the peaceful nature and you allowing her do the same whenever she pleased. Your conversations with Ryan about his favorites podcasts. Nick teaching you how to cook his favorites pastries for the kids. You missed all of that and more. You even missed the little moments you spend with Laura the night that brought you closer, only for your fears and trauma to deteriorate your almost existent relationship.

Some of them tried to contact you, only to get pushed even further away.

You let your fears consume you and your emotions eat you from the inside, leaving you rotting and hanging on by a fragile thread.

Some days were harder than the others. Unfortunately today was one of them. You haven’t slept since you woke up at 3 AM screaming your guts out, probably scaring your neighbors in the process. The small clock in the kitchen showed 6:14 AM which meant you spent three whole hours drinking a glass of water that wasn’t even half way finished since your thoughts were too busy disturbing your non existent peace.

You debated many times before if you should give them a quick call or not. The answer was always a disappointing ‘no’, but you always told yourself it was for the better…right?

A shaky hand holding the cold glass of water and the other having a firm grip on your phone with a number typed in it.

“Shit, I don’t even know if she changed her phone number or not” you mumbled to yourself, angry with your indecisive nature.

Supposedly, Kaitlyn’s number was written on your little screen ready to be called, but your heart was racing and your hand was one step away from crushing your phone. “Fuck this” and with that being said, you pressed the call button and quickly held up your phone against your ear. The room was dead silent, except for the ringing sound coming from your phone. Another two seconds and you would’ve closed the call, blocking the phone number once and for all, but that thought quickly fade away when you heard someone at the end of the line.

“Hello?” “Uhh yes…” you stopped for a bit to catch your breath and control your heartbeat, “It’s me..Y/N”. And once again everything fell into a painful silence. Not too long after that you heard a small gasp, making you prepare yourself for a harsh rejection. “Fucking hell Y/N! You dip shit! I tried calling you numerous times and you never responded!” she paused and coughed a bit from the sudden burst of energy. “I and everybody else were worried sick that you just died or even worse…” Kaitlyn said in a more sad and stern tone.

“I’m so sorry for making you guys feel this way, I just…I wasn’t ready to face anyone or the world in general” and that was the truth. You were scared shitless of facing your problems.

“I understand what you mean, in fact i’m sure everyone else does too” she spoke softly making you feel comforted, something that you haven’t felt in a long time. “I wish we could maybe start all over again” you admitted, feeling ashamed and nostalgic, desperately missing the old times where everything was normal. “We could!” Kaitlyn exclaimed “We’re all going again at the camp this summer, which I know sounds INSANE, but we want to reconnect and work through this” she sighed, before she continued which kept you at the top of your toes, “If you’re down for that you’re more than welcome to come, i’ll send you the information through text”. That sounded horrifying, but refreshing at the same time.

“It’s your decision really, but even if you come or not I’m just happy you called” she claimed in a more of a vulnerable voice. That was a new side to the Kaitlyn you knew, a more mature, intelligent and vulnerable one. Of course she still was out loud and witty, but you enjoyed the few minutes of vulnerability she showed through her tone. “I’ll definitely think about it, thanks Kaitlyn, I really appreciate it” “My pleasure only” and with that the room fell silent again, but it was more of a comforting one, a silence you could definitely get used to.

[wafflesandkruge]

One Early Morning in Os Alta

Nikolai accidentally drinks one of David's experiments and becomes obsessed with solving the mystery that is Zoya Nazyalensky. The Triumvirate is his most unwilling audience as he attempts to piece together where she goes at night with nothing but his caffeine-fueled brain and a chalkboard.

Written for the @grishaversebigbang mini bang! Thank you so much to the amazing @kolarpem (x) and @denndrawings​ (x) who created beautiful art for this fic 🥺 ❤️  

ao3

In their three short years of marriage, Genya and David had developed a morning routine. David, eager to get to the labs early so he could have the room to himself, would wake at the crack of dawn like clockwork and share a few sleepy kisses with her before getting on his way. After a few more hours of much-needed beauty sleep, Genya would commandeer some breakfast and find him tinkering away at whatever project Nikolai had put him to. It was a comfortable rhythm, a familiar constant in their otherwise hectic lives.

But today, Genya was just drifting off to sleep again after being woken by her husband when the door to their bedroom slammed open to reveal a very disheveled David. His glasses were slightly more askew than usual and his kefta rumpled. Genya let out a small yawn.

“David? What’s wrong?”

“There has been a development.” He didn’t elaborate further as he strode over to their wardrobe and pulled out her kefta. She tugged it over her head without question and followed him sleepily out of the room. They’d been together long enough that she’d learned not to try to get him to elaborate. He’d either clam up for hours trying to find the right words or talk in circles trying to fully explain a very easily explainable situation. Only the Saints knew what it was this time. She just hoped it was something easily resolvable so she could go back to sleep. Perhaps a puppy running loose in the labs, or an Inferni who’d burned off their eyebrows and wanted her to Tailor them back. Simple things.

But instead of the labs, David pulled her into Nikolai’s bedroom and Genya knew it was going to be a long day. Tamar and Tolya were already seated on a sofa, both with their arms crossed and similar scowls on their faces. Zoya was absent. And Nikolai was animatedly scribbling on a large blackboard that had been wheeled to the front of the room, “ZOYA NAZYALENSKY” scrawled at the top in large letters and circled three times for emphasis. The rest of the board was covered in near incomprehensible writing and doodles.

Genya frowned as David pulled her down into the seat next to him. “Did you steal that from the Little Palace, Nikolai? How will the children learn?”

Her king didn’t answer. He seemed busy working on a doodle of what looked like a five legged tiger on a corner of the board. David patted her hand absentmindedly as he opened his notebook and started scribbling as well.

“Is anyone going to explain this to me?” Genya asked mildly as Tolya slid a cup of tea towards her. She supposed the Triumvirate had seen worse, and their king acting like a man possessed didn’t rank particularly high on their list, but she still didn’t appreciate being woken up early for this. If anything, the twins should have just knocked him out and then everyone could get their well deserved rest.

Tamar crossed her arms. Her short hair stuck up in every direction as if she’d just rolled out of bed. “Well, your genius husband over there,” she starts, her tone not quite complimentary, “was working on one of his little experiments again.”

Genya nodded distractedly as she removed a small mirror from the inside of her sleeve. David took it from her obediently and held it up as she began Tailoring away the dark circles under her eyes. It wasn’t a substitute for her lost sleep, but it’d have to do for now.

“Coffee with a mild strain of parem in it for an extra stimulant,” David explained as she moved on to bringing more color into her cheeks. “Since you’re always complaining about the Little Palace’s coffee leaving you groggier than before.”

Genya’s hands stilled as she offered David a small smile. Even after knowing him for this long, his kindness never failed to surprise her. “That’s lovely, dear. But how does that relate to Nikolai acting like...this?”

Both of them jumped when Nikolai let out a rather concerning cackle. He had moved on from the deformed tiger to a caricature of someone who looked alarmingly like General Pensky. Genya scanned the board, barely able to decipher his scribbling. Secret lover...treason...illicit rendezvous? She furrowed her brows.

Tolya glowered at them from his spot next to his sister. “Nikolai drank David’s experiment. And now he refuses to administer the antidote because he wants to observe his behavior for the sake of science.”

“That’s not strictly true,” David said as he handed the mirror back to Genya and picked up his pencil again. “I don’t have an antidote ready. Instead of taking the time and labor to manufacture one, we might as well just wait for it to wear off naturally.”

Tolya opened his mouth again to argue, but then a piece of chalk flew by, barely missing Genya’s nose. Nikolai slammed his hands on the table and her tea splashed out of its cup. 

All four of their heads turned towards their king. His shirt was buttoned incorrectly, his hair wild, and a distinctly unhinged look in his eyes. His jacket was tied around his shoulders like a cape. It had to be the worst Genya has ever seen him, though there had been that time when Kirigin had convinced him to do a few shots of that whiskey from the Wandering Isles and he’d been convinced he was a saint—

“Friends!” His voice was entirely too loud for the intimate setting. “I have gathered you here today to solve one of our most pressing problems.”

“Our empty coffers?” Genya asked with a yawn.

“Impending war on three fronts?” offered Tolya.

“My brother’s incurable love for five hour poetry recitations?” 

David continued silently taking notes in his book.

“No,” Nikolai declared with an empathetic shake of his head, “we’re here to discuss the mystery of...Zoya Nazyalensky.”

He stepped to the side and for the first time, Genya was able to see the entirety of the blackboard he’d been writing on. Not a single inch of it had been spared from his rather enthusiastic scrawl and doodles like he was preparing to give them the world’s most fascinating lecture on the enigma that was Zoya. Genya felt a headache incoming.

“Perhaps we could do this at a more reasonable hour,” she began, but Nikolai smacked his hand against the blackboard which sent up a giant cloud of chalk dust.

“Nonsense! There’s no time like the present, and Zoya is away so it’s the perfect time to speculate upon her true intentions.” He waved his arm towards a bullet point at the top of the board, but in his eagerness, nearly knocked the entire board over. Genya let out another yawn and sank back into the couch. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if she dozed off.

“Where does she go at night?” Nikolai demanded as he began pacing furiously. The papers pinned to the board fluttered in his wake. “About once a week or so, the palace guards tell me she’s seen walking on the grounds late at night, alone. She’s almost certainly meeting with someone. But who? And why?”

“Are you sure you don’t have an antidote?” she whispered to David.

“Positive.” He scratched his ear, a sure sign he was lying. Genya sighed. She supposed she’d have him make it up to her later. She knew better than to talk him out of one of science moods. 

“A lover!” Nikolai continued. “She has a secret lover!”

Genya knew for a fact Zoya had no one in her heart other than their king as much as she liked pretending she hated him and his entire existence. In her own opinion, it probably had something to do with the very expensive gifts Nikolai routinely offered because Zoya was nothing if not a creature of luxury. Still, she took a sip of her tea and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do go on.”

“At first I thought it was General Pensky, but he’s been stationed at the border for over a month and the night walks haven’t stopped. So that leaves no other option than…” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. He executed a sloppy about-face that any army commander would have had him running laps for and pointed an accusing finger at Tolya. “You’re Zoya’s secret lover!”

Tolya frowned and crossed his arms. “I would rather go back to Novyi Zem and become a jurda farmer. Less chance of sudden death.”

Nikolai grabbed at his hair. “But if you’re not seeing Zoya...and Tamar isn’t– you’re not right?”

“I’m married, Nikolai.”

“Right, right, right,” he muttered. He turned back to look at his board. “Then there’s only one other answer.”

“We all go back to bed?” Genya suggested.

Nikolai turned to her, an oddly intense look in his eyes. “How could you suggest we all retire when Zoya is plotting against the throne?”

Genya blinked. “How exactly did you get there?”

“It all makes sense!” Nikolai babbled excitedly. He waved his arms in excitement. “The late night walks. The secrecy. Why she’s always so mean to me—”

“She’s mean to everyone,” Tamar interjected.

“She’s working with the Fjerdans! Or the Shu! Of course, I should have seen it from the start…”

Genya tuned him out again as he went back to drawing on the board while muttering to himself about how the Fjerdan’s diabolical plan to have Zoya seduce him was working too well. She put her head on David’s shoulder and focused on the page of notes he was working on. Except instead of notes, it was a sketch of a woman’s face. Her face. As she watched, his pencil scratched out the curve of her lips, one corner lifted in a half smile. “What are you doing, dear?”

“Studying something beautiful,” he answered without a moment of hesitation. 

Genya’s lips curled into a smile as she let her eyes shut. “You’re sweet today. Maybe we should let Nikolai poison himself more often.”

“There’s a seventy percent chance his heart would give out if we attempted this more than once a week.”

“Regicide,” Genya said with a sigh, “How romantic.”

[savoies]

drawings of you - braden schneider.

summary: finding braden's drawings of you that he did before you guys started dating.

word count: 1k.

warnings: will make you want artist braden to be a real thing, maybe one bad word.

a/n: credit for the idea goes to @three-headed-monster and yes this is also based on this moodboard. this is like a past present type of fic where it goes back and forth so italicized + bolded is past. lastly this is a highschool au where all the boys mentioned are as they are in q's moodboards so take a look at those!

taglist: ​( send in ask if you want to be added) ​@hartsyhart @nhlpetey @mitch-slap ​ @frostythegoalman @kirbysdch  @aria253264 ​  @josty ​ ​ @kaitieskidmore1 ​ ​ @kiedhara @laurenairay ​ @teenagekook ​ ​ @alxvlasic ​ ​ ​ @hockeyallthetime @barzy-baby ​ ​ ​ @bowenbyram ​ @martynecass ​ @joshsandersons ​  @connormcdavo ​ @maattamatthews ​ ​ @pierreslucdubois ​ ​ @selenophileangel ​ @boqvistsbabe @ana-maa @stars-canucks @quinnhughxs @sidscrosbyy @2manytabsopen @wh0r3forpatrick

​tagging some buds: @npatrickz @beauvibaby @heybarzy @tkachuk-yeah @cozycozzy

Braden was the artistic friend. That was just what he was known as. So he was always sketching whatever he could. Whatever was in his peripheral view of vision.

You were currently helping Braden clean out his drawings since for his art class he had to gather his three best works for a showcasing.

Both of you sat criss-crossed on the ground with a bunch of different drawings sprawled out around you. Ranging from his surroundings, your friends, and finally some of you.

Braden dated all his work, his way of being organized he would say. So as your eyes fell on the date a small smile appeared on your face since they were dated a few months before you actually started dating.

"B, why have you never shown me these?" You faced your boyfriend as he quickly snatched them from you and put them behind his back.

"You weren't supposed to see those." He said as he let out an awkward laugh.

"But i love them." You said as you reached over and placed a soft kiss on his lips as he let the drawings go and you grabbed them.

"Hey not fair." He said as you grabbed them.

"Why don't you want me to see them? I think they're amazing."

"Isn't it kind of weird that i drew them before we were dating?" He asked.

"I don't think so, " you said as you continued to look through them.

~~~

Braden sat in history class as you sat a few rows in front of him. Him sketching the way you had your baby hairs tucked behind your ears or the way or the way your hand rested on your face as you copied the notes on the board.

Now from anyone's else point of view this might seem odd but something about you brought a smile to his face and after many years of going to school together he fell for you. It was as simple as that. Well as simple as it could be since it seemed that you never actually paid any attention to him or so he thought.

~

"Dude your fucking whipped." Dylan spoke up as he put his skateboard in his backpack.

"Yeah dude not even i do that." Kirby said as he put his camera away before any of them could spill anything on it.

"I think it's kind of cute." Bowen said as he looked over his friend's shoulder.

"Of course you'd say that." Jamie said as he pulled the strings of his sweatshirt.

"Huh what." Braden looked up at his four friends. "Did you guys say something?"

"Oh just stating how we talked to Y/N today. Turns out they actually know you exist." Dylan spoke up as he faced Braden and saw his eyes widen.

"What did they say?" Braden asked as his full attention was now on his friend.

"you're such a jerk." Jamie said as he slapped Dylan on the shoulder. "He's just fucking with you, why don't you just ask them out dude."

"It's not that easy." Braden said as he put his sketchbook away and he turned to face you and you were already looking up, both smiling shyly as you made eye contact.

~~~

 Bringing you back to present day. You and Braden dating for about six months now after his friends finally made him ask you out after pinning against you for so long.

"Are we studying for history today?" After so many drawings of you instead of paying attention in class Braden was falling behind so you guys would study after school some days when both of you were free.

"Depends. Kirby wants help with getting some prints he took. But I think i can make it home before five." He said as both of you walked hand in hand to the lunch table.

"Stop the lovey dovey crap we get that you're in love." Dylan said as he skated around the lunch table.

"And this is where Bowen says I think it's cute." Jamie said.

"I was gonna say that." Bowen rolled his eyes and bumped Jamie's shoulder.

"You guys are so weird." You said as you let shook your head at their antics.

"Y/N remember when you used to sit over there." Dylan said. "That table is still open if you want to escape us now." Dylan added to his previous sentence.

"Honestly i'm not sure why it took you guys so long to get together, it was literally like oh y/n i love you so much but im scared to tell you so im just gonna draw you." Kirby said.

"And then y/n would look over and be like oh Braden i'm just gonna throw longing glares at you and hope you notice i feel the same way." Dylan added fluttering his eyelashes for effect.

"It was not like that. You guys exaggerate." You said.

"No yeah it was exactly like that." Bowen said.

"See and Bowen never lies." Jamie said.

You looked over at your boyfriend who had his sketchbook open, sketching away from you.

"Oh can i see what you are drawing." You said as you scooted closer to him.

"If I showed you it wouldn't be a surprise." He said.

Him handing it to you once he was finished with it. All of the guys crowding around you to see the newest creation their friend had made.

"You know Braden if you sold these you could get a lot of money." Coz said.

"I'm not gonna sell a portrait to my girlfriend." He rolled his eyes at Dylan.

"No, I mean to other people." 

"So you're saying if i sold one to you you'd buy it?" Braden raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Well i mean no since i am your friend and i can just ask you nicely."

"Yeah sure." Braden said as all of you guys just laughed at how fast Dylan's idea fell and continued to enjoy each other's company before the school bell rang.

[notdonesimpin]

Sorcery ~r.s.~

ceo!ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

warnings: sukuna in a suit??, fluff

synopsis: [request by @draconic-dumbass​ ] “two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery” OR the reader doesn’t take care of themselves and sukuna has to do it for them.

a/n:  For fic purposes, Sukuna has his own two armed body. I wanted a CEO!AU where curses don’t exist, okay? Sukuna’s just a man who looks great in a suit. The curse aspect isn’t really needed in the way it’s portrayed in the show so i don’t wanna think about it😣 don’t hate me.

The door opens as you peek your head in the hallway to see Sukuna roughly loosen his tie with a huff and unbutton the top of his shirt as he takes off his shoes. 

“Long day?” you ask.

“My assistant cried today if that tells you anything. They overbooked me, and didn’t realize it until this morning.”

Your eyes narrow, “What did you say to the poor thing? She didn’t cry for nothing.”

Sukuna throws his hands up defensively as he walks over to you with a teasing smile, “I didn’t say anything! Though, I wanted to say a lot. I think she got the message when I sent her home.” The last part came out in a mutter, but you heard it well.

You hit him in the chest, “This is why you can’t keep an assistant! You’re too aggressive. I liked that one, too.”

“Well, I had an amazing assistant for years, but they quit when their husband told them to focus on art. My days ran so smoothly, and I had a beautiful sight all hours of the day,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he continues, “Was I too aggressive with you?”

“You could barely say a sentence around me when we first met, Ryo. Don’t get cocky.”

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and you moved to answer it.

“It’s just Nao. They’re being my other model for today! I can’t model and draw myself, so I needed an amazing stand-in. How about you rest for a bit and I’ll do Nao’s solo poses and get you when I need you?” you suggested as you opened the door.

“It’s been a while. Good to see you, Y/N. Sukuna,” Nao says, giving Sukuna a wave and you a small hug.

“Nao, don’t fuck up while I’m not there,” Sukuna jokes, turning around to walk towards the bedroom.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I think I got it.”

“Don’t take those clothes off! The more wrinkles, the better!” you call after him.

~

You softly shake Sukuna. “Ryo, I need you to model for me now.”

He groans, opening his eyes to see you beaming at him. “It’s not fair, your face makes it hard to say no.”

“Then get up, so I can finish for today!” you urge.

He follows you to the living area with sleepiness still extremely apparent on his face. 

“No wonder you chose him to be your muse for the King of Curses. He’s like The Walking Dead right now,” Nao laughs, earning a glare from Sukuna as you drag him to the spot you want him.

“You still haven’t told me anything about your art show,” Sukuna reminds you. 

“Hands in pockets please…” you gesture to your own pockets when you make the statement and Sukuna lazily complies as you continue talking and telling him what to do. “My theme is Sorcery. Take a step but don't step… There! I wanted to do three bigger panels for my main showcase. They have the King of Curses- AKA you- and the ruler of blessings- aka Nao but Nao is just modeling so I can shade the pose right and put myself in it. Then the middle panel will be them together. Look at the ground. Now, only bring your eyes up the look at me… Perfect! Stay still. Basically it shows two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery.”

~

You yawn, waking up the sound of Sukuna roaming around the penthouse. You check your phone to see the time. 4:36 A.M.

You suddenly find yourself wide awake and decide to get up and work on your rough sketches. 

You go out of your shared room, rubbing your eyes as you adjust to the light and walk to the kitchen.

“Where the hell is my…” Sukuna’s muttering comes to a stop when he sees you sitting at the island, drinking a glass of water as you wait for the coffee pot to get ready.

“Good morning,” you softly say with a yawn.

“Why are you up? Did I wake you?” Sukuna asks, buttoning the cuffs of the shirt and walking over to you.

“I need to work on the rough sketches anyways since my canvases come in today. I’m so behind,” you groan, “What are you looking for?”

“My passport. I swear I grabbed it from home before I came here.”

He watches you tie his tie for him as he tries to recall where it might be.

“It’s definitely at home on the kitchen counter. I saw it before I left. I meant to grab it for you. Sorry, Ryo.”

He tosses his head back in frustration, “Why is this penthouse so inconveniently located. I have to go in the opposite direction of the office and the airport to go home and get it.”

“You’re the one that said my apartment was too small to be my studio.”

“I know.”

“And that I should separate home from work.”

“I know.” He squeezes your cheeks to stop you from talking. “I don’t regret buying this penthouse for your work. You get an ocean view and you have an entire space to do your work. I’d buy you the entire building if you needed it.”

He lets go of your face and you say, “Okay, Mr. CEO. All you had to say was that you love me.”

He chuckles and pours two cups of coffee, handing you one of them. “This business trip is pretty short, so I should be back around afternoon or tomorrow night at the latest.” He checks his watch, “I should go, so I don’t be late with my detour.” 

He grabs his blazer off of the back of the chair, sliding it on as he walks towards the door with you right behind him. He slips his shoes on and turns to you, giving you a soft kiss.

“Be safe. I love you.” you say.

“I love you. Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone.”

As soon as the door closed, you muttered: Sorry, Ryo. That’s exactly what I’m about to do.

~ 

A few hours later, you get a call from Sukuna and immediately answer.

“How’s the new assistant, Ryo?” you immediately ask.

He paused, glancing at the assistant beside him. “So this was your doing. I can’t say that I’m surprised. This one seems a lot more competent.”

“Don’t run him off. He knows how to run businesses well since he grew up with his father.”

“I got it. Mx. CEO,” he taunts, “How long have you been working?”

You glance at the time on your phone. 10:32A.M.

“Technically five hours but only been diligent for the past four hours. I finished my sketch for the King of Curses panel about an hour ago. So, I’ve just started drawing it on the canvas.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s time to take a break and eat something,” He suggests, but you both know that it was a command. 

“I’m not going to pass out on you again, okay? I can take care of myself.”

“As you’ve proven on multiple occasions, you can’t. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you. Make good decisions!” You hang up and get back to work.

You didn’t know how much time had passed or how long you’d been actively moving around and working until your regular Wednesday at 11:30 alarm went off. 

Wait… Wednesday??? You’d only been up for a couple hours. How has an entire day passed without you even realizing it?

At the same time, you received a text from Sukuna: I have to stop by the office before heading to you, so I’ll take you wherever you’d like around one. 

“Shit!” you exclaim, typing back a quick response before rushing around the penthouse to clean and change your clothes.

Sukuna couldn’t know that you haven’t slept in the past 31 hours. 

By the time you cleaned up and got dressed, Sukuna was already at the penthouse, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding a glass of bourbon in his hands.

“Let me see your hands,” he requests.

You stick out your hands, trying to calm them down because both of you knew that you get really bad tremors when you haven’t slept in a while.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so early,” you softly spoke.

“Darling, I texted you. I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember since you responded with a jumble of letters,” he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I just got really focused. I’m so close to finishing the King of Curses panel. I started the Ruler of Blessings panel as well… I gotta keep the ball rolling while it’s hot,” you explained.

“That isn’t healthy. How have you been painting? With the way your hands are shaking, you shouldn’t even be able to hold a paintbrush straight.”

“I was focused! And before you say it, I’m not tired, so I’ll just get back to work.”

He looks at you in amusement as you walk away. “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“I’ll stop after I finish the curse panel, okay?”

Before you could even get out of the kitchen, Sukuna had picked you up by your waist and started walking away.

“Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!” you exclaim, “I told you, my feet stay on the ground!”

He laughs and continues walking, “I told you that if I want to pick you up, I will. If you think you’re heavy, then you’re wrong. You’re like a feather compared to what I lift at the gym, okay?”

You fall silent, letting him carry you all the way to the bathroom. He sits you on the counter and starts running the water for a bath. As you wait for the bath to fill up, he stands in between your legs, bringing his hands up to your face and lightly grazing underneath your eyes.

“They’re puffy…” he looks at you with a hint of sadness, “I understand that the art show is very important to you, but this is the third time in the past few months that I’ve had to physically stop you from overworking yourself. If you don’t take care of yourself, your art will suffer, too.”

“I know. There’s just a lot of big names coming this time. I really want it to be good.”

“It will be because you’re an outstanding artist,” he reassures.

You give him a small thank you as he turns to stop the water and you shed your clothes, getting in and closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

“You see how nice hot water feels?” You could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Self-care or whatever.” 

Sukuna begins to wash your body for you, humming a soft tune and lulling you to sleep.  He finishes washing you up and takes you to bed, putting one of his shirts on you and crawling in beside you, letting you wrap yourself around him to steal his warmth.

He softly smiles to himself and gives you a soft kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “Sweet dreams.”

[starshavegoneastray]

Perfect Lovers

Angst // h.hj

Inspired by Félix González-Torres 'Untitled (Perfect Lovers)' 1991; an installation art.

CW // loss of a loved one

1,923 Words

IT has been a while since Hyunjin came out of his apartment. The door to his unit creaked louder than he anticipated, but couldn’t blame the lack of new oil it required in order to work. Green carpet under his soles felt a little different from the last time he mindlessly trudged and tumbled into his cold unit. Newly painted hall greeted him, and before he knew it, he was waving politely at the landlord as he stepped outside of the building.

His blonde hair, caught by the wind as cars passed by, had gone longer than the last time he locked himself, reaching just above his shoulders in a half up half down. For sure it hadn’t been long, but the new stores that opened up right next to the bakery he visited often made it seem like he’d missed at least three months.

That was enough time for Hyunjin to get cooped up inside his tiny living space, free from any pain he had to endure. It was just the right number of weeks for him to be by himself, to look for some sort of interest in order to get his mind off the unpleasant thoughts hunting him for the past weeks.

Painting was one of the things he did, recalling the amount of oil paints and canvases littering across his apartment floors. He’d given up on sketching because the only image running around his head was you. The outcome made him light a match and let it eat the paper into ashes. A similar occurrence happened the last time he painted, but instead of setting the building on fire he decided to dump a whole bucket of lightning blue over it, then left it as it is in his work room.

Part of him wanted to rekindle that passion again, to get his brush going across the canvas and start over. But he lost the spark to ignite his flames, and morning came to replace the light he lost. Leaving him to scout for some sort of exit during the darkening night. He’d doused himself in bottles and bottles of booze the other night, and woke up the next morning with a booked ticket to an exhibit downtown on his laptop.

Hyunjin took his time wandering amongst the crowd, feeling the warmth of the room as people gathered around a few installations placed along the way, and paintings hung up on walls. Some visitors came in batches of elementary students in their orange uniforms, there were groups of (possibly) art students admiring another philosophical work, then there were the interested couples. He came alone in his cream knit vest, black cross bag and a pamphlet in his hands.

There was a mini map of the exhibition inside the neatly folded paper between his fingers, and he began at the very first spot his eyes landed on which were the paintings. Hyunjin stared at a few fancy frames, before moving along to the next in hopes of catching a glimpse of interest within the colors, the shapes, perspectives, anything.

He looked at his pamphlet again then proceeded to the next part of the exhibit. Sculptures in many shapes and sizes stood on white pedestals, behind glass boxes, and even stood on their own to showcase its amazing heights. More people took pictures here, seeing this is a perfect spot for such activity. Hyunjin, after looking around at the people pulling their phones and posing for the camera, fished for his own from the pocket of his jeans and snapped a clay statue that he thought looked like a memorable piece. A smile crept up his full lips, chuckling as he slid his fingers across the screen at the picture he took.

Y/n would love this.

Hyunjin’s lips faltered slowly. Just when he thought he could put down the weights from his shoulder, he couldn’t. Not now. Not even after three whole months. Every time he gets a little happy, he thinks of you. And you were the reality he’s not ready for. With a push of a button, his screen turned void and he shoved his gadget back from where he took them before walking to the next part of the exhibit.

Nothing caught his eye. Not the paintings, not the statues, not the impressive wall art on one side of the building. For starters, he never really frequently visited an exhibit. He started going to some back in the day because of someone’s influence. Someone who would go out of their way to get two entry tickets and accompany him despite their responsibilities and schedule. The same person who would be the first to point out an artist’s work and the meanings behind the intricate strokes, dents, parts, and smudges. The very individual who taught him how to paint.

He kept glancing back and forth towards the pamphlet once he realized he’s stepping into the installations exhibit; the field of art he’s having trouble understanding. Nothing ever makes sense in his eyes, as his steps progress deeper into more stacks of cups, papers, possibly metals displayed on the floor. His eyes jumped from one installation to the other, and all he could process were the odd-looking mismatched objects glued to one another. But he knew for a fact it was because he did something wrong, not because the language doesn’t click.

Take your time, the three words lingered like an aftertaste of a bitter coffee in the shape of your voice. That was what he did as soon as his eyes landed on two clocks hung up on a wall side by side. Félix González-Torres was written on a card right next to the installation, under the title that named the art:

‘Untitled (Perfect Lovers)'.

Take your time, and it’ll all make sense.

Two of the same clocks ticking by the same exact time like what they are and what they’re intended to do; to tell the time. Their needles ticked by the number ten, then ran past eleven. Hyunjin chuckled after the hour hands slightly moved closer to the number seven simultaneously as the seconds morphed with the minute hand on twelve. Upon closer inspection, it was his first time seeing an hour hand move. Nothing fascinating, but now that he thought about it, he’s a quick-paced guy; he never stopped for once to take in the smallest things around him.

Different from how you were. He could almost see it, you would probably stop on your tracks as well, and stared at the two clocks which bore a deep meaning that only few could understand. Installation is a language that took some time to perceive, it’s a different concept of relaying opinions, messages, or a story. The language of art isn’t just from how visually pleasing it is, but also how the message behind it resonates with the people who interact with it. It’s not what you see in it, but it’s how you feel when you see it. Because it captures emotions and memories that exist without a visual form.

Hyunjin never got that idea through his head, especially when he encountered the particular abstract movements. But perhaps his perspective changed once he noticed the right clock began ticking a little slower than the left, gradually falling behind and out of sync; as many clocks do.

Eventually one of them would stop working as the exhibit went on.

For many reasons, you were the very first person he thought of. Fights were a repetitive occurrence but it never tore you apart from each other. And even when disagreements filled the gap, somehow you both found a way to come to terms with it. Your dynamics brought the best out of him, even he was surprised himself. And the both of you had the craziest idea of holding onto each other, until time did their worst and pulled you apart from his grasp on one spring.

Despite the green hues covering his steps, the grey morning he returned from your funeral was one of the hardest things he had to do. Walking back out was another hell he didn’t want to live in, so he locked himself in where he could succumb into an indefinite amount of sorrow and grief at the loss of the love of his life.

Perhaps the harsh reality pushed him at his worst, locking you up in his attic, only to have you drip down the ceiling and he could only see you, you, and you. Even in his dreams, all he saw was you.

The only argument he couldn’t come to terms with was the fact that you’re not here to hold onto him anymore.

But the title still remains ‘Perfect Lovers’. Even when the two hands fall from each other, going their separate ways, or stop dead on their tracks, they were the best for one another. His heartbreak was the evidence of your unconditional love. A mark that will forever be remembered as your beautiful life that collided with his at the imperfectly perfect timing. Despite the circumstances, despite the abrupt end to your chapter with him, you remain as his perfect lover.

**

It was a small flower shop that opened right next to the bakery Hyunjin stopped by. Warm scent of croissant filled up the air as he leaned back onto the white chair, scrolling back through his phone as another warm loaf met his full lips.

“Did you visit the exhibition?” A voice made him crane his neck to see the owner of the little bakery in his white apron pulling a chair to sit next to Hyunjin. He nodded as a reply, munching slowly at the warm bread while letting his friend see the pictures he took.

“You know, Minho,” Hyunjin began to speak, putting down the goods on the plate as he did so, “I thought my time would stop the second hers did.”

Minho listened intently, not too sure where he’s going with the conversation. “But I guess, even soulmates aren’t synchronized.”

Hyunjin looked around the afternoon sunlit streets. Orange hues kissing the autumn leaves that fall from their respective trees adorning the chalkboard sign he drew an hour ago for the bakery. Minho exhaled, taking Hyunjin’s phone gently and swiping a few pictures until he stopped at one with two store bought clocks that was supposed to be deemed an art.

“Is that another philosophy you learned for today?” The question made the blonde boy lean back on his chair, crossing both arms on his chest and said, like it’s a matter of fact, “It’s a new language I learned.”

A tiny small pulled the sides of Minho’s cheeks at his friend’s little banter, it has been a while since he’d last heard of Hyunjin’s sassy remarks. Pinching and zooming the photo, Minho asks again, “And what do you think about it?”

“I think…”

He thought of your eyes, the crinkly ones every time a smile adorn your face at the paintings he finished, or the paints he threw your way, coloring a few strains of your hair. And the way you cried in front of an art you resonated with the most, as if the world you see was filled with the same frequency of affection, despair, desire, sadness, or happiness that none could muster or perceive. Your heartfelt emotions that never fail to make him fall harder every day. And he knew definitely how you’d feel if you’d come along.

“…Y/n would have loved it as much as I do.”

[toomanyrobins]

a little bird told me pt. 5

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, allusions to fertility issues, cursing, mentions of forced marriage

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Surprise! It’s a boy!

Series masterlist // next part

The first day Y/N felt like herself and the injuries had mostly healed, Pepper insisted on them going into the city and shopping. With the holidays coming up, they had a lot of events they would be required to attend and Y/n didn’t think that her old style suited her very well. Before going to meet her mom, she stopped by the Ivory to drop off a coffee to Tony and Peter. The former had tried to convince her to bring some guards with her, but she rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness. She was outside the office texting Pepper, when she heard squeaking. When she looked up there was nothing there. She heard the noises again and followed it into the hallway. Y/N knelt down and stared into the blue eyes of a diapered baby. “Well, hello. Who do you belong to?” she lifted him out and settled him on her hip. As she shook the toy, he babbled at her.

“Jamie? Jamie!” Frantic male voices were heard calling through halls.

“If Jamie is a baby, you’ll find him in here with me!” Steve came flying around the corner, a wild look in his eyes. He lifted Jamie from her arms and hugged him to his chest, kissing his forehead. 

Y/n was surprised to see so much open affection from the blond. She tilted her head and stared, “So… who’s is he?”

“Mine,” his eyes never left the baby.

“You have a kid?” Y/N felt a twinge in her heart. Another thing she had missed because of her selfishness.

“You’d know about all of this if you had stuck around.” she winced at the harsh comment and before Steve could apologize, Bucky and Sam came running around the corner, “JAMIE!” They both ran over and quickly checked on the baby as well. The diapered infant just babbled at the three men and shook his toy, basking in the attention.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did he end up in the hallway in just a diaper?”

Steve glared at his two friends, “I made the mistake of leaving him in the care of these idiots. I have meetings for George all day.”

“He just got away from us while we were having a discussion about what outfit to put him in,” Bucky at least had the decency to look ashamed about losing his nephew.

Sam turned to him and pointed a finger, “You know the whales are much more stylish, Barnes.”

Y/N looked at the men and shook her head, “I can help watch him. We could call it part of my amends.”

“Birdie, you don’t---” She gave him a don’t mess with me look and Steve sighed, “Would you, really? That would be a huge help. He just started crawling and it’s been an adjustment. Obviously.”

“I was going to go shopping with Pepper. I’ll just bring him along.”

“You’re bringing some men with you, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Tony tried the same thing.” A mischievous grin spread across her face, “But, since they already had their day cleared to watch Jamie, I’m sure Bucky and Sam will be up to the task.”

“I thought if you would take the kid, I could get some other stuff done.”

“You thought wrong, Buckaroo. Boys, pack your bags. We leave in an hour.” Steve and Y/N walked away, talking about Jamie’s routine. The other two men were left glaring at each other, still bitter about their argument earlier. The duo walked into Steve’s office and were greeted with a baby explosion. 

The blond cursed under his breath, “I swear this room was organized when I left an hour ago.”

“I believe you, big guy.” She patted his arm, before turning to Jamie and picking him up, “Okay, little man, let’s get you dressed.” Y/N made quick work and blew a raspberry on his stomach when she was done. A huge smile grew across her face when she heard the baby giggles. She looked up and saw a strange look on Steve’s face, “What? Is there something on my face?”

“It’s just so strange to see you again.”

“Stevie…”

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I’m glad you’re back. I’d forgotten what life was like with you around.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean let’s face it, Birdie, you have the nickname for a reason. You never stayed in one place long enough and it was exhausting the amount of energy you had.”

“Am I still that same person in your eyes?”

“Some of it is the same. It was always hard to imagine you settling down. But, the minute you are around kids, it’s an entirely different story. If you ever decide to settle down, you will be an amazing parent.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the thought of her secret. She felt herself starting to get emotional and busied herself by going through the diaper bag. Once she had herself back under control, she smiled up at him, “Well, you made a damn cute kid, Stevie.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiled down at his son. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the imagery of the large man holding such a small child. “Okay, Jamie, be good for Birdie. I’ll see you later. Oh, and here’s a key to my truck and the apartment in case you’re done before I am.” 

“I’ll text you plenty of photos.”

“Thank you for this,” Steve leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I missed you more than you know.” He had left her breathless with that last comment and she moved robotically as she put Jamie into the car and headed to meet Pepper. Her mother had raised her eyebrow at her showing up with the baby, Sam, and Bucky, but laughed when she heard the whole story. 

While her mother enjoyed shopping, the activity was the bane of Y/N’s existence. They moved quickly through the stores, grabbing what she needed and trying things on. Jamie was on his best behavior, even clapping a few times when Y/N had come out of the dressing room. Despite the fact that they all knew it didn’t mean anything, anything the baby reacted to was purchased. By the time they had finished, everyone was dead on their feet and the baby was knocked out in his stroller. 

Y/N decided to let Pepper take all of the clothes back to the house and she went back to Steve’s apartment to put Jamie down for a proper nap. Walking through the door was like entering a time capsule. The only difference was the addition of baby things. She walked through the hallway and looked at the pictures and framed sketches on the wall. Y/N stopped in front of a picture of them from Tony’s infamous Christmas party four years ago. Steve had been her guard for over a year at that point and the two of them had spent practically every day together. It was hard to believe how much the two people in that photo had changed. As she moved further down, the sketches she had stolen and framed for him still had pride of place. Her musings were interrupted by her phone chirping:

Steve: I’m sorry, but meetings are running longer than planned. Are you okay with Jamie? You can bring him to Becca if you have plans.

Y/N: No plans. I’m happy to stay. You focus on work. Little man and I got this.

She walked into the kitchen and found a drawer of takeaway menus and the cabinets only filled with food for Jamie. When he woke up from his nap, she pulled her shoes on, “This won’t do, little man. We are going to the grocery store." Y/N strapped Jamie to her chest and walked to the nearest store. They made quick work at the shop, filling the cart with essentials. Once she got back to the apartment, she put the baby in his high chair with a snack. Music filled the kitchen as she danced around. 

Steve came home and followed the delicious smells and music playing. He found Y/N in the kitchen, dancing with Jamie in her arms. He leaned on the door frame, watching her hips sway as she switched her focus between what was on the pan in front of her and his son. Birdie Stark was definitely not a teenager anymore. He walked into the kitchen and put his hand on her waist, making her jump. “Jesus!”

He chuckled and took Jamie from her, “Nope, just me, sweetheart.”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

He apologized, but didn’t sound that sorry. He stared down at her, thinking how the flush on her cheeks from the heat suited her. “Are you making dinner?”

Y/N suddenly looked nervous. “I’m not overstepping, am I? You said you’d be working late and I thought I’d help out,” she looked up at him and smirked, "Plus, I saw the takeaway drawer.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I’m mad at a home cooked meal. But from what I remember, you once set fire to a pot of water.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “That was almost five years ago, I will have you know. My skills have vastly improved. Y/N realized how close she and Steve were standing. She pulled away and felt his hand slip away from where it had been resting comfortably on her waist. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Jamie who was babbling at him. 

Y/N dished up two plates and got Jamie’s bottle ready. “Birdie, you don’t have to do that. I can feed him and eat after.”

“You’ve been at work all day, Steve, and I know for a fact you forget to eat. I don’t mind, really.” She settled herself on the couch with Jamie in her arms and her plate on the arm. . He held his own bottle and she ate a few bites while staring at the baby in her arms. She was entirely unaware of Steve watching her, 

He rubbed his eyes and took a pull from his beer, “I can’t believe it’s only 7. I feel like today will never end.”

“Did you say 7? Shit!” Y/N looked worried, “I need to go.” She had forgotten that she had made an appointment with a doctor to make sure that she wasn’t pregnant. Her paranoia had taken over and she had to be sure. 

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Birdie, you’ve been going all day. Just reschedule.”

“I can’t, Steve.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.” They sat in awkward silence, the only noise coming from Jamie and he hungrily sucked at the bottle. She kept her eyes on the baby and whispered, “Are you mad at me?”

Steve sighed and came to kneel down in front of her, “Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?”

She ran a finger over Jamie’s cheek, biding her time, “Because I’m keeping secrets. That tends to make others angry.”

“God, Birdie, no. I’m not angry. I’m disappointed that you think you aren’t safe to share, but i never want you to be scared of me.” Y/N nodded sadly. Steve wanted herto tell him everything, “Want to help me put Jamie to bed? 

She shook her head and passed the baby to him, “I should go. It’s late.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call for a driver. You haven’t seen Jamie all day, you should spend some time together.” Y/N grabbed her bag and jacket, and leaned over to kiss the wiggling child.

“I have tomorrow afternoon off, want to go for lunch?” Steve tilted her head up to meet her eyes, “We can go to Galletti’s.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Y/N got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, “Night, Stevie.”

He grinned, “What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Follow through on your threat and I might actually take you seriously.” 

[mister-supernova]

If I Saw You on the Street

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader - Platonic Josie Saltzman x Reader

After Malivore

For as long as you could remember, summer vacation was your absolute favorite time of the year. To your surprise, it’s actually been a huge drag for you this year. It wasn’t like this was the worst summer ever--you could think of a few others that could take that spot--but there was definitely something off that you couldn’t piece together. 

For instance, no one has any idea as to how Landon destroyed Malivore, not even Landon himself. That whole day seemed to be a huge blur to all of the students. You remembered the bigger events like the school defeating Triad, but everyone seems to struggle when it comes to the smaller details.  

In order to keep yourself busy, you decided to stay at the school and take a summer job at the Mystic Grill. Besides the fact that everyone else was back home with their families, the whole school had this off-putting sense of emptiness. The place has magic in the walls for crying out loud, you usually feel some sense of liveliness. 

There was this one room in particular that you felt strangely drawn to. You had no idea why since you knew that no one stayed in that room this past year. At least, no one you knew anyways. 

One day out of pure curiosity, you picked the lock to that room to see what was special about it. 

Just as you expected, it was just a regular empty dorm that was probably going to be taken up by a new student during the fall. It looked like every other bedroom at the school, but this one felt familiar. 

Something that caught you off guard was the scent that faintly lingered in the room. The best way you could describe it was something floral with a hint of sweetness and spice--vanilla and cinnamon maybe--and it wasn’t like anything else you had smelled in the school before. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave for the longest time. The urge to stay and wander trumped over the obvious choice that was to walk away. 

Something happened here, you thought. 

A few small drops of pastel blue paint chips stained the wooden floorboards and you wondered how the hell they got there given the rooms have white walls. 

Instead of questioning it any deeper, you just assumed that a student who had this room before must’ve gotten the paint on the floor and the janitors hadn’t noticed it. 

But how could they have missed that? 

You stood there for what felt like hours, trying to piece together what it was that made this place have this unexplainable affect on you. You could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day digging through your brain for an answer that would never come. 

At the end of the day, you knew nothing would come to mind no matter how hard you tried. It was like the answer was at the tip of your tongue, but your mind was radio silent.

Frustrated and defeated, you had to force yourself to leave the strange room. After that, you made yourself forget about that place completely for the rest of the summer and refused to ever return to it.  

Whenever you weren’t at work, you spent time with Landon, Josie, and a wolfed-out Rafael which was fine in the beginning. Dorian gave you permission to shift in the woods on full moons for the summer so that Raf could talk to somebody and you guys could possibly get information on how to help him. 

He definitely appreciated the company that you could provide, but alas he had no idea on how he could be turned back. 

The happier times were the nights you four had weekly movie nights by the Old Mill. You all would alternate who would pick the movie to watch and Landon absolutely hated that you chose a horror movie every single time, but you loved hearing the phoenix boy screech with terror. Josie would get a good kick out of it, too and you were positive that you’d see Raf wag his tail every time Landon screamed.

During those small moments, things felt like they could possibly get back to normal, but once you stepped foot back in the school, you were lost again. 

Your thoughts were much louder through the night. It would get so bad that you could barely get any sleep and the times that you would, you’d wake up screaming from a night terror. 

There was one night when you were tossing and turning, you knocked on Josie’s door to ask if she knew some kind of incantation to get you to fall asleep. You were up for anything at that point, even letting her swing a frying pan over your head to knock you out.  

Not wanting to hurt you or possibly kill you, Josie made you some sleepytime tea instead which actually helped a lot. It didn’t help so much with the vivid dreams you’ve been having, but you thought that it was better than getting no sleep at all. 

Everything felt like it was going decently well until Raf decided to bow out once Josie and Landon started getting close. You wanted to curse at him for making you the third wheel, but you understood that he couldn’t wait here forever for some solution that could help him become human again. He had to move on somehow, especially seeing that his best friend seemed to be moving on, too.

Regardless, you started feeling awkward hanging out with just the two of them. They wanted to include you during their weekly movie nights, but you’d just make up some excuse that you had to be up early for work the next morning. 

Landon--damn him for knowing your work schedule--could tell that you were bullshitting, but he didn’t want to force you into doing something you didn’t want to do. 

You tried busying yourself with other activities like running through the woods, canoeing in the lake, taking extra shifts at work, binge eating all the good snacks in the kitchen; you even got yourself into drawing and painting for some weird reason, but no matter what you did, there was still something missing. 

Towards the end of the summer, you didn’t feel like your usual jokester self. Sure, you’d throw out a line of sarcasm or make a witty comment here and there, but most of it would sound forced. You’d mainly do it so that Josie and Landon wouldn’t worry about you so much, but Josie quickly picked up on your facade. 

They really wanted to help you figure out what was making you feel this way, but as much as you appreciate their help, there was nothing they could do. How could they figure out what was wrong if you didn’t even know for yourself?

One day after your shift at work, you decided to do something you never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever do. 

You started cleaning your room. 

Josie volunteered to help even though you assured her you’d be fine doing it alone. She bribed you by saying she’d buy you a milkshake if you let her help, so without another word, you agreed to let her stay and assist.

“Gosh, do you throw out any of your old assignments?” Josie asks as she rummages through your desk drawers, “This is an algebra one paper from three years ago, Y/n,” she says, flashing your old homework assignment with a huge F circled in the front. 

“Hey, less judging and more cleaning.” You say, digging through your dresser for clothes you don’t wear anymore. 

“Did you try writing a reminder for a history test or something?” 

You furrow your eyebrows before turning to look at Jo, “What do you mean?”

“You have this post-it note that says “Don’t forget H”, but that’s all that’s written,” she holds up the note and from the other side of your bed, you read exactly what she had said. 

It definitely looked like you tried scribbling another letter after the H, but it ended up being a long messy squiggle, “Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug, “Probably. I must’ve been half asleep when I wrote it though because I have no clue when I did that.” 

Josie puffs her lip out in confusion, “Well. I would be surprised by that, but judging by the ten cans of energy drinks I just tossed out, it’s not so surprising to hear that your memory is a little fuzzy.” 

You drop your jaw in shock, “Is today Judge Y/n Day and I wasn’t made aware of it? You asked to help clean my room Jo, now save your judgments for another day please.” 

Josie playfully rolls her eyes at you, followed by a small chuckle, “Toss?” She asks, ready to crumple the piece of paper up. You take a second to answer back, wondering whether or not if you did forget some history assignment or maybe something even bigger than that. 

“Sure,” you feel your stomach churn seeing her throw the note in the trash bag, but there was no taking it back now. 

Another few minutes of silence pass until Josie speaks up, “Since when do you draw?” 

You look back up from your clothes to see Jo now holding up a sketchbook you snagged at the lost and found a few weeks ago. It was brand new and untouched, so you thought to yourself “why not?”. 

After explaining that to Josie, she flipped through some of the first few pages. You were no Leonardo DiCaprio--or whatever that painter guy’s name was--but you thought you were decent with your sketches. 

“These are really good, Y/n. Did you just think of these by yourself?” She asks, talking about the drawings you had of a girl you’ve been seeing in your dreams. 

You could only see parts of the girl’s face. Mostly you’ve only been able to clearly see features like her eyes and hair, so most of the pages were taken up by a pair of blue eyes and waves of auburn hair. 

“Not really. I’ve been having these really vivid dreams lately.” You tell Josie.

“This is who you see?” She looks down at the pages again, “Who is that? She doesn't look like anyone we know.”  

“Yeah, I don’t know either. She’s all I’ve been seeing, though.” 

“Well, it looks like you’ve found yourself a hidden talent.” Josie smiles, gently setting the book back down on the desk, “And maybe she’s your soulmate,” she teases. 

You just roll your eyes with a small smile and get back to your tasks. 

Like a girl that beautiful could even exist let alone talk to me, you think to yourself. 

As you continue sorting through your clothes, you notice a pair of sweats that look almost smaller than half your size. 

“Uh, Jo?” She turns to your attention, “These aren’t yours, are they?” 

She raises an eyebrow at you, “How short do you think I am? I think my legs are a little longer than whoever those are.” 

“Well, they’re not mine, obviously. How’d they get into my drawer?” 

“Maybe they belonged to whoever lived in this dorm before you?” Josie shrugs.

“But the dresser was completely empty when I moved in,” you think for a moment, now questioning everything, “At least, I thought it was. I would think that I would’ve taken these out if they were here. Why would I keep a pair of sweatpants that I don’t fit in?” 

“You do a lot of questionable things, you know. Like that one time you jumped through a bonfire wondering how hot it really was or when you tried to do a backflip off the roof of the school and into the pool or the time you “drank” a beer through your-” 

You raise your hands in surrender and cut her off before she could finish, “Okay, I get it! I do stupid shit. The sweatpants belonged to whoever lived in here before I moved in and I didn’t take them out of the drawer. Case closed. Swiftly moving on.” 

You were positive they weren’t there when you moved in, but there weren’t any other reasons you could think of as to how they got into your dresser. 

Seconds before you tossed it back into the bottom of your drawer, your nose barely caught the same sweet and spicy floral scent that you recalled smelling in the strange room. Breathing it in again brought back that memory of being mentally lost in that room, but oddly enough this time it made you feel calm. 

After another hour passed you and Josie ended up filling three bags of trash, one of them recycled trash, and one large donation box of clothes. 

You didn’t waste any time reminding her that she owed you a milkshake. She kind of hoped that you would’ve forgotten about your deal, but she was a woman of her word.

You made a “compromise” to take your box of clothes over to the donating center on the other side of the town square while Josie bought the milkshakes. 

Your task was a lot quicker than Josie’s since it was pretty much rush hour at the Grill right now, so you waited for her on one of the benches in the square.

Sitting by yourself with nothing else to do but wait, you couldn’t help but feel that empty feeling return. The emptiness never hit you all at once, but it definitely drained the hell out of you. 

Again, you felt stumped. Like there’s somewhere you should be or something you should be doing or someone you should be with. You knew Josie was going to be back any minute, but that wasn’t what was missing. 

You anxiously looked toward the Mystic Grill, feeling your breaths becoming more and more shallow as every second passes. You started wishing Josie would walk out so that all your worries could just go away. 

Then--almost like you knew right where to look--your gaze stopped when you noticed someone looking at you from where you just came from on the other side of the town square. 

You couldn’t make out her facial features from so far away, but it was the auburn color of her hair that stuck out to you more than anything. For a moment--and just for a moment--all the weight that had been weighing on your shoulders this summer felt much lighter and everything felt okay again. 

“One cookies and cream milkshake,” Josie’s voice startles you and you face her abruptly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles, lending you your milkshake.

“No, you’re good. I was just…” you look back to the spot you saw the girl only to find that she was gone, “I was just lost in thought.” 

You had no idea what just happened or how you seemed to have possibly seen the girl from your dreams, but just a glimpse of her made you feel more emotions than you have all summer long. Because of that, a huge part of you hoped that you would see her again. 

~

heyyyyyy beautiful people! thanks for over 100 likes on This Isn’t Goodbye you guys gals and nb pals! i’m super super happy that you’ve been enjoying this series so far! still have no idea how many more parts this will be just yet lol but i really appreciate every one of you for the love <3  

*also the title was inspired by the song Dreams Tonite by Alvvays in case you were curious ;)*

taglist: @chicken-wang09​ @trikruismybitch​ @sodangtired​

[lemon--squeezy]

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 | 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Summary: 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 found love during his teen years and ended up married to his high school sweetheart. However, he hadn't been prepared for the effects caused on him by a younger Agent and coworker.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Original Female Character

Warnings: Mentions of/implied attemped rape, sexual scenes, adult language, angst, boss/employee relationship, cheating, age difference and  canon-typical violence.

A/N: Before we start I just wanted to warn you that English is not my first language so you might see some grammar and spelling errors, if you spot any just let me know please. I hope you can bear with me! This story in also available on Wattpad 

“You made a really deep cut and baby, now we’ve got bad blood…” — Taylor Swift

Rays of a morning sun shine through the many windows, bringing a needy warmth to the cold bullpen of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. As soon as one enters the room, the bitter but invitingly warm scent of black coffee would invade their nostrils; a much needed drink to endure the consuming aspects of working for the FBI. Hushed footsteps, discussions of rapports, chairs moving around and whispers of good mornings are the prominent sounds filling the environment. 

At the center of the room, three distinct agents are discussing among themselves about gossips of the office. A strong, shaved headed man, with dark skin and a smirk plastered on his face. By his side, half sitting on his desk is a woman with fluffy bright blonde hair, thick black glasses supported by her delicate nose and wearing colorful clothes, making her stick out in an ocean of grey suits and blazers. Standing in front of them is a raven-headed woman, with pale skin and dressing a dark outfit like no one else could do. 

While grabbing his mug and sipping his morning coffee, the man looks at his wristwatch, slightly shaking his head in a mocking disapproval and declares, “It’s officially five minutes since our work time started and Agent Davis hasn’t arrived,” he flashes a smirk to the black headed female who had being part of the team for barely a month and continues, “I hope you’re ready to witness your first breakfast time quarrel between the bossman and Amy.” 

Emily, the sophisticated gothic woman, stares confusedly at her teammate and says, “Okay, I’m gonna take the bait. What are you talking about, Morgan?” 

He flashes a mischievous smile, “Do you want to explain it to the newbie, baby girl?” Morgan asks the blonde and eager female to tell the new girl about the most volatile - and funny to watch - dynamic of the team. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already noted that my lovely girl Amelia Davis and our stiff yet good-looking Superior don’t tolerate each other,” Penelope happily blabbers. “Since today is Monday and Amy loooves partying hard on the weekends, she’s already late. Something that displeases the bossman who is constantly waiting to scold Amy because of her little mistakes.” 

“That is intriguing. Are you sure it isn’t all about sexual tension? That would explain their behavior.” Agent Emily Prentiss questions inducing a gasp from Penelope and a laugh from Derek. 

“We’ve all considered it at some point,” the man affirms. “Just don’t say that to Davis or she will lecture you about how terrible it is that two people of the opposite sex aren’t allowed to sincerely and deeply hate one another,” he concludes and looks in the direction of his Superior individual office through the open blinds. “Hotch seems to be especially annoyed today so I bet he won’t even wait for Davis to reach her table before he calls her attention.” Morgan deduces and the elevator cheeps in sync announcing new arrivals, making the three agents stare in its direction. They see a couple of interns hurrying to the coffee marker and the next person to come out is the disheveled figure of Agent Davis. Her crystal blue eyes are hidden by black sunglasses, the woman’s usually perfect long brunette hair is currently disheveled, her button up white shirt is supporting some wrinkles while her dark grey blazer is in her left hand along with her bag. She connects the fingers of her right hand with her temple massaging it in a foolish attempt to ease the headache obviously caused by a hangover. 

Amelia tries to walk discreetly in the direction of her desk, hoping she would pass unnoticed by her boss, but she isn’t successful. Seeing her state, Derek whistles and loudly states, “I think someone had a wild night,” he laughs with Prentiss and Penelope. His booming voice affects the balance of Davis, making her stumble over her own feet and before she gets a hold of her chair and tells the man to be quiet, the harsh sound of a door opening echoes through the entire space of the bullpen. 

“Agent Davis. My office. Now,” the chief unit’s demand rings like thunder, giving chills to the ones around.  

“Fuck,” Amy murmurs while taking off her sunglasses  and dropping her belongings on her desk. 

The brunette drags her legs, taking her time along the short way to her boss’s office. 

Amelia feels like she’s in high school and the principal is calling to lecture her, but that’s something she never experienced during her school years since her teachers adored her effort to have the best grades and eagerness to learn. Besides, she could always blast a polite amiable smile to make people bend at her will. It came easily to Amy, being friendly and kind towards others, virtues that paid off and made everyone like her. Well, everyone but him. 

The door to the room is already opened and to Amy, it resembles the entrance of a

scary and dark cave. After she’s inside, she makes sure to close it to shield herself from the curious ears of her coworkers. She goes straight to one of the chairs across from the stoic man, a journey she’s so used to, considering that Hotchner’s constantly expressing his discontent with her whether it was about being a few minutes late, or about a typo in a rapport, or even choosing to use a grey folder instead of the yellow ones. Everything would lead to criticism and by now she would just take it with humor. She mumbles a good morning but Aaron simply ignores it.

“Tell me, Agent, what’s your excuse for today? Two weeks ago there was something wrong with your car, four weeks ago it was a problem with shower. I can’t wait to hear about another one of your misfortunes,” there’s venom watering each word, his eyes colder than a winter day and his entire posture screams irritation.  

Amy thinks how he’s ever so ridge when she’s around. Every time she enters the same room as him, the jet black haired man would instantly go ridge like her mere presence was a heinous crime. She’s used to it and more than happy to demonstrate that she is also offended by his existence.  

“Would you believe me if I told you that my nanny died?” Davis playfully replies and grins, which boils Aaron’s anger further. 

“Do you think this is some sort of joke?” he snaps, standing from his chair and positioning his hands on the desk that separated them. “I can’t have people in this unit that don’t take their job seriously and I don’t have time to endure irresponsibility and lack of respect.” 

I bet you would have a lot of free time if you just left me the fuck alone, dude - Amelia thinks while maintaining eye contact with the man. 

“One more day of tardiness and you will have to suffer consequences. Is that clear enough for you, agent?” he fumes. 

She bites her lips and swallows a bitter response. Not afraid of the outcome, just too tired to deal with her boss’s intensity so early in the day. “Yes, boss.”

“You can leave now,” he grunts and sits back in his chair. Starting to reach for one of the files on his desk; at the same time, Amelia makes a quick way out of the room. Once she gets to her chair, she releases a loud sigh, longing for the day to be over already. 

“That seemed intense.” Emily comments. She and Morgan are in their respectives chairs and Penelope has made her way to her own office - after the end of the show, of course.  

“You have no idea,” Amy answers while starting her work. 

 “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between the two of you?” Prentiss carefully asks, genuinely curious.

“He’s the one who decided to hate me since my first day, I’m just returning the sentiment,” Davis explains, unbothered by the question, being a curious person herself she knows how it is once interest sparks. That’s when Dr. Reid and Agent Jareau arrive, talking to themselves. Spencer is carrying a notebook with a sketch of a boy’s face in it, moving around the room frantically and picking a telephone. 

“What’s wrong?” Amelia worriedly questions. 

“Need to get that to everyone as soon as possible,” Reid hurriedly explains while making a call. “Detective Barnes, this is Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico,” he clarifies to the person on the other side of the phone and continues rapidly, “Have you had recent murders involving prostitutes? They would’ve been stabbed to death and their hair would’ve been cut off by the killer,” that causes the other Agents to exchange confused glances, intrigued by the sudden event. 

“When was the last recent victim?” the Doctor inquires to the Detective on the line. 

Seems like we have a case, Amy processes. 

[realm-sweet-realm]

Sammy and Jack. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Crisis of Faith, chapter 2

Sammy didn’t dream of Jack again until his next crisis of faith, and Sammy’s faith was very difficult to break. It had begun while Sammy, now a lost one made of fluid ink, was hiding in a wall, watching as a severely ink-infected woman raved.

“Mother, why do you punish me!?” she shouted as, with all the power left in her body, she tried to force open the padlocked doors of the women’s washroom. Her veins, prominent due to age and leanness, were a pitch-black web on her skin, and her wiry muscles had wasted away to bone.

Sammy had, on Joey’s command, overseen dozens of ink infections by now, and knew that there was nothing unusual about Emma Lamont’s case of it. Every single victim he had overseen had held some kind of delusion. Some believed that they were being poisoned by the government or their enemies, or that they were developing a mental illness. A very common one, however, was that they were receiving some sort of punishment, test, or reward from an all-powerful being- either God, or from a seemingly random entity that they’d decided to treat as one.

What if... Sammy’s beliefs were no different from this madwoman, screaming at the ghost of her mother?

Sammy moved on to check on the other infection victims. Even if Bendy wasn’t to be worshipped, the thought of ascension was all that kept him going. He sacrificed people on Joey’s command because the ink had told him to. He wrote his scriptures because he believed they were meaningful. He led the lost ones to Bendy and away from the lies their voices had told them because he truly believed that his voice had been the truth, and it seemed to give them hope, too.

Sammy passed  through the prison of ink creatures as he made his way to Joey’s sanctuary, where he now slept. A Charley was repeatedly banging its head against the bars of its cage. Lost ones wept. Ink stained every surface, making the brightly-lit room feel suffocatingly dark. Sammy was glad to phase through the wall into Joey’s sanctuary, where he could lie down on the couch and rest.

All this had to be leading to something. He couldn’t take it otherwise.

---

Sammy woke to the feeling of someone softly shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to see Jack, tears in his eyes and that disarming smile on his face.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Jack asked gently.

Sammy, with a bit of difficulty, sat up and realized that he was in a hospital room, complete with an IV in his arm. He felt very weak, but also lighter- like a burden had been taken off of him. “Awful,” he admitted.

“Well, you want some good news? The ink is gone. All of it. You still have a lot of organ damage, but it’s nothing they can’t fix in a couple weeks. In other words, it’s over, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took Sammy a half a minute to even process that. Once he did, though, he broke into tears of relief and hugged Jack as tightly as he could.

“Thank you. God, thank you for making me come here. You saved my life.”

Jack hugged him back. “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything. I know this took a lot of courage for you. And... I’m really glad you did it. I was so scared when I found you in your sanctuary. You were so sick... I thought I’d lose you. Sammy, I think I love you. But... we can talk about that later. Right now, you need to rest.”

“I love you, too.” Easiest words Sammy had ever said.

After a little more chatting, Jack left. Sammy wandered over to the bathroom to get a look at himself in the mirror. Admittedly, he didn’t look great. He looked like a person who’d narrowly survived a life-threatening illness, because that’s what he was. His skin was still pale and sunken, and he was still pretty gaunt, but the black veins, the bruise-like purple splotches on his skin, and even the staining in his mouth and his long, blond hair- it was gone. When Sammy woke, he would have given anything to see his human face again.

---Two years later---

As often happened whenever Sammy decided to play his banjo, a small crowd had gathered around him. Today, the crowd consisted of three lost ones, Jack (of course), a moderately ink-infected woman, and one of their last healthy men. The song Sammy was playing was "I’ll fly away.” He wasn’t singing it today, but he had sang it for his followers in the past, simply replacing the word, “God’s” with “his,” since “Bendy’s,” unfortunately, was two syllables.

“You know, it’s amazing how you can remember music like that,” said David, the only non-infected person in attendance. “I'm already forgetting the words to my favourite songs since it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just turn on a radio. How do you do it?”

Sammy would have smiled if he still had a mouth. “Well, a part of it is just natural ability,” Sammy admitted. “But. I have a secret to tell you. A part of it is faith. Faith can do great things. Collective faith in Bendy is the reason that we are the largest organization in this dimension. This village was built on faith. Faith keeps us united! Faith keeps us safe! And... faith allows me to to see into the old world every night when I close my eyes. I hope that all of you one day achieve that absolute belief that something in this world is good.”

“Heh. I’m trying. But all I have are nightmares of Bendy,” a lost one complained.

“Well, keep trying. Believe in his benevolence.” With that, Sammy got up and left for bed, patting Jack on the head on the way out. If only they knew that he used to be plagued by those same nightmares.

---

Sammy’s dream came in to form. He was on a bus, sitting next to Jack. Outside their window, snow was falling gently over a pretty,  snow-covered forest. For a while Sammy just sat in peace, holding Jack’s hand and enjoying the scenery.

“Excited to see your parents again? I know I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sammy nodded. “I can’t wait.” Sammy had always wanted to introduce Jack to his parents. He remembered that there was a strong reason why he hadn’t done it while he was alive, but he couldn’t remember what it was. “My Dad is going to love you. You’re a lot like him, you know. Do you remember why we didn’t do this sooner?”

“Because I’m a man,” Jack answered, totally calm.

“Oh!” Sammy had forgotten a lot about the outside world since his transformation, but nothing so big as the existence of homophobia. It was kind of alarming that the ink was affecting his brain that much. “God. I’m so... forgetful. I’ll just have to introduce you as my musical partner or something. It’s unconventional, but they've seen me do weirder.”

“You  know, Sammy, it’s like you got new lease on life after the ink incident. I love that. But yeah, you’re forgetting things left and right!” Jack teasingly jabbed him with his elbow.

“Yeah... Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Jack said. Sammy worried what Jack would think, but looking into those calm brown eyes, he trusted him to not to react badly. And it would be nice to have one person he didn’t have to lie to.

“This is a dream. In the real world, I never got help for my ink infection, and now me and dozens of other people are trapped a dimension full of monsters. I’m holding a large band of people together by convincing them to collectively worship one of them. And you,” Sammy took a deep breath, “you’re there, too. But you haven’t had a coherent thought in years. I keep hoping that one day, we’ll make it out, and I’ll be able to confess to you and we’ll actually build a life like this. So... I’m forgetful because that ink is affecting my mind, and I’m happy because this world is my escape. And because you’re here, of course.” Sammy couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. He’d probably just made himself sound like a lunatic.

Jack turned Sammy’s head to look at him. “Hey. I believe you. And... that sounds really rough. I wish I could help you.”

Sammy smiled. “Thanks. But you've been helping me all along.” Sammy laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. Maybe once the bus stopped, they’d get some hot chocolate and look at some shops before seeing his parents. It would be nice.

---

Sammy was violently shaken awake by a trio of searchers. More were behind them- as though half the village had crammed itself into his bedroom.

“Bendy is here!” one of them yelled. “What do we do?”

That was a good question. Sammy reached for his axe, but then he stopped. This was, according to the gospel he’d been feeding them, their saviour. “Go out to greet him,” Sammy instructed, trying not to sound as hesitant as he felt. “Bring him offerings of bacon soup. Bring everyone, even the Boris clones- they used to be human, too.”

The crowd of lost ones dispersed. Sammy watched with bated breath from the balcony of his lost-one village home as a massive crowd- lost ones, searchers, people both infected and healthy, and their three Boris clones- gathered along the ink river. Dozens of cans of bacon soup were placed along the river bank as an offering. Bendy stood on the other side of the river. Their drawbridge lowered, but Bendy decided instead to walk on the ink’s surface like the God they treated him as. The crowd gasped and made way. Bendy took an ink-infected man in one arm, stroked his cheek, and bit his face off.

Screams filled the air. People ran in all directions. Sammy was frozen for several seconds before he took action.

“Everyone! Run for cover! We have displeased him! I repeat, run for cover!” Sammy's booming, demonic voice covered the great distance it needed to. Upon seeing the people run and Bendy chase after them, Sammy himself slammed shut his doors and windows and listened in horror to the screams.

When it was over, all he could think to tell his people was that they needed to reconsider how they were paying tribute to the ink demon. If they changed their methods just a little, then the demon would be helpful instead of violent, and they would be freed.

To Sammy’s mixed relief, they actually believed it.

---

eleven years went by. Within the first three, every single flesh-and-blood person in the sketch dimension was infected, killed, or both, and became a lost one.

Their minds were rotting. Increasing numbers of lost ones struggled to remember anything about themselves or the outside world. Wandering aimlessly or resting in ink puddles, they were helpless as zombies.

But not Sammy. Sammy remained- comparatively, at least- as sharp as a whip, and told the lost ones tales so vivid about the outside world that they could almost taste its brilliance and freedom. Sammy only wished that Jack- the real Jack- could understand any of it.

There was nothing to do about that but what Sammy had been doing all along: keep the community together. Keep the lost ones moralized and sane. Figuratively and literally dream of a  better world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sammy didn’t want to forget a thing about the real world, but little pieces had fallen away, bit by bit. In his dreams, there were now places he couldn’t visit because he didn’t remember what they were like. His reflection in the mirror had become a human-shaped blur as he forgot his appearance. The same thing had happened to the faces of people he used to remember clear as day. One day, he would forget it all, too- just as everyone else had.

It was hard to keep hope.

One of Sammy’s dreams found him walking down a beach with Jack at his side. Sammy knew that the two of them had relocated at some point, but he didn’t know to where. His American geography was rather fuzzy at this point.

“Can I vent to you about the other world?” Sammy asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. Jack was one thing that Sammy’s memory hadn’t gone fuzzy on. Sammy still remembered every soft curve of his face, every freckle, every detail. His dark brown hair was starting to grey, but not because Sammy remembered him that way- it had been many years, and growing old together was part of the fantasy.

“Bendy came to the village again today. He killed a few lost ones and then left. People are losing faith in me and I don’t know how to get it back. And to make matters worse, a false prophet is going around saying we should worship the angel instead! She’d enslave us if we did that!" Sammy chucked a baseball-sized rock into the water, then composed himself a bit. “And you know, we’re all going to be mindless drones eventually. I’m thinking... maybe I won’t fight the false prophet. I could leave the village, hide in a vent, and spend as little time awake as possible. Ink creatures can sleep for days, you know. What do say? Can we stay like this forever? Enjoy this world until I lose my mind like all the rest?” Sammy took Jack’s hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

Jack hesitated, but by the look on his face, Sammy already knew what his answer would be. “I’m sorry. You know I have to say no. The lost ones need you.”

“But why am I the one who has to stay strong for them? I’m sick of it.”

“Because you’re the one who can. I know it isn’t fair, but you’re the reason they’ve been protecting each other. And it sounds like if you leave them now, they’ll throw themselves at Alice. Do it for them. And if you can’t bring yourself to care about them... do it for me. The real me. You still love him, right?”

“Of course...” Sammy probably would have done this sooner if he didn’t care about the well-being of his searcher friend.

Jack put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, but you’ll get out some day. And in the meantime, I’m here.”

Sammy tried to think of some objection, but he couldn’t. He muttered a “thanks” and kept walking along the beach. Jack followed. It was, if nothing else, a beautiful night, and he might as well enjoy it.

“Jack... tell me what I look like. I don’t care that it’ll just be something you made up. Tell me anyhow.”

[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.