#you know what as far as the show's concerned i live here now where they're smitten and nothing else happened! nothing at all

[mobius-m-mobius]

smitten, I believe

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you��the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

[mochinomnoms]

Ooo imagine meeting Mama and Papa Leech before you and your eel get together but the parents know their son loves you.

🥺 they'd be so happy that their freak son(s) found someone so sweet and patient. The actual interaction depends on where you're meeting them, though.

Maybe NRC is having a family weekend where everyone's parents, siblings, and caretakers come to see the school. Perhaps they have activities and club booths like at the SDC, and Floyd is showing them around campus, demonstrating his new parkour skills much to his mother's horror and father's delight. Mr. and Mrs. Leech are dressed quite nicely, from their shoes to their hair, they're posh, polite, and rather mafia-esque much to everyone's concern. Maybe they don't want to know what the Leech family does for a living… Regardless, Floyd takes delight in dragging you over to meet his parents. His mother, a tall, slim lady with a sleepy, but sweet face, greets you with a firm hug. She gives Floyd a run for his money with the way she nearly squeezes you like a tube of toothpaste. She calls you by your name, which is a surprise as you haven't introduced yourself yet and Floyd's only called you Little Shrimpy in front of his parents.

“Of course I know your name, it's quite rare that Floyd calls any of this friends by their name, so I remember yours very clearly. He loves fawning over you during our calls you know, it's so sweet seeing my boy with a crush—”

Floyd, covering her mouth with his hand, mutters something about not making him look uncool as he decides to drag her away to where Mr. Leech was studying Jade's club booth.

On the other hand, maybe Jade decided to take you on a trip to the northern Coral Sea, where his family takes residence in a summer home. The water is still fairly cold, but there's no ice floes anymore, so it's actually quite nice, as long as you don't dive into the deep sea. No, Jade takes you to the home that's settling in an underwater cove, not too far from the reef, but deep enough that it's private. Jade wanted to show you around the sea to get a gauge of likely you'd be to want to stay there forever (for no reason in particular.) The stripes on his hips and arms occasionally glow a light aquamarine every time you reach for him. They glow particularly bright when you have to hold onto him when swimming, arms so tightly wrapped around his chest that he's surprised you can't feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. This time, it's his father, a large, thick, eel merman with blue coloring and navy stripes, that makes a comment.

“My, my Jade. I and here I thought you were grown enough to control your glowing. Does your sweet friend here know why you're so bright and colorful around them? Hehehe, little one, should I have you start calling me father now or after the wedding—hey! Why are you swimming off now, your mother isn't going to be any nicer about it than I!”

Jade was ignoring your pointed questions and his father's cackles as he briskly swam back to the house to his mother. His only hope was that she was too preoccupied with Floyd to point out his now LED bright stripes. It's like if blushing was also a bright orange neon sign screaming, “I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU PLEASE, I'M BEGGING—” to you every time he looks at you.

[wileycap]

The Stupidest Things In Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender: A List

a.k.a.

a whiny rant from someone who has dedicated far too many of their already limited number of braincells to atla i know it's just a tv show but come on this is what tumblr is for let me whine

For your consideration, with many spoilers:

5. Katara Being Smug After Kicking Jet's Ass

In the original, Katara is betrayed by Jet. You can feel the raw emotion in the words "I trusted you! You're sick, and I trusted you!" immediately followed by her concern for the innocent people Jet has seemingly murdered. It's not a triumph, it's a wound, and the next time she sees Jet, her first reaction is "kill on sight".

This is great. It's heartwrenching, it's humanizing, and Katara using violence against Jet isn't a victory for her. It's just pain.

In the live action, Katara very mildly chastises Jet for trying to kill innocent people, which is... an interesting characterization for her, to say the least. Jet then tries to grab her, immediately followed by Katara throwing him and freezing him. She then just tells him goodbye. Her tone is placid, almost unaffected.

And then Jet says "Look at the power you have. That's because of me!"

Katara: "That wasn't you. That was me."

And then she strides off with a small smile, and that's the end of that. Sokka and Aang are not present. It's an incredibly hokey moment that's meant to emulate the style of feminine empowerment, but it has none of the substance. It glosses over any human feelings of hurt and betrayal. All that the it ends up doing is removing a story beat for Katara.

4. The Badgermoles

"They're blind! They sense feelings and react to them! Anger, fear... but mostly love."

Katara and Sokka hold hands in a cave and it makes the badgermole stop attacking them.

The blind badgermoles. Navigate by... love.

Yeah.

Do I need to say anything? Can we all see (pun intended) how stupid that is?

3. Bumi Makes Aang Choose Between Killing Him Or Letting Himself Die To Make The Dumbest Point Imaginable

Remember Bumi? Aang's old friend, a fun, kooky king? Well, here he's an actual fucking psychopath.

He collapses part of the roof onto Aang, and Aang holds it up with airbending. Another part of the roof collapses on Bumi, and Bumi just... shrugs his shoulders, fully intending to die. Aang holds that one up as well, and Bumi, instead of helping, makes the dumbest fucking point I've ever heard about "making tough choices", and urges Aang to let the boulder crush him.

Again. Bumi, the fun, wise king, wants Aang to kill him.

The situation is defused by Katara freezing a little strip on the floor so that Sokka can very slowly slide on it and tackle Bumi to safety. I can not emphasize how slow his slide is. Running would have been faster. Bumi has time to look at him and say "Huh?" as Sokka slowly slides across the floor. Oh, yeah, they were led onto the scene by the love-sensing badgermoles.

Then it's Aang's turn to be dumb. He says "you CAN rely on your friends" and hands Bumi a friendship rock. Bumi is pacified for now, but there is no telling when his next Saw trap will activate.

This made me actually feel bad. I just. I kept expecting for it to turn into a secret lesson, like Bumi in the original show, but it never did. Bumi's just a spiteful psychopath who is easily swayed by the gifting of rocks.

2. Koh The Face-Stealer Has A Backstory Now

Why? Mother of Faces? What? No.

No.

Iroh Is Intimidated By Zhao, And Then He Kills Zhao

Ah, Live Action Iroh. The most ineffectual man on the planet.

So, Zhao has the Moon Koi in a bag, and is ready to stab it with his special stabbing implement. Iroh is standing right behind him. RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Iroh has been there the whole time. Iroh does not want Zhao to kill the fish.

Iroh says: "Whatever you do to that spirit, I'll unleash on you tenfold!"

Remember how in the original, where that was like a big, shocking moment that he got angry? And how Zhao immediately let go of the fish, only to then have his anger get the best of him? How Zhao attacked the spirit by surprise?

Well, here it's a little different. For one, like I already said, Iroh doesn't come in suddenly, he sort of gets bullied into looking for the spirit by Zhao. Then he looks for the spirit, and after Zhao finds it, then he decides that he really has a problem with killing the spirit. He did protest before, but then he kind of just caved and helped anyways.

He threatens Zhao, and Zhao just... brushes him off. "Spare me your empty threats." Then the firebenders next to Iroh sort of... glower at him menacingly, and Iroh looks worried.

Zhao offers Iroh a place at his side once he becomes Fire Lord, which, uh? Okay. Fine. I actually don't have a problem with Zhao wanting to be Fire Lord, that seems to be entirely on brand for him, but everything he does to get to that goal is just stupid.

Aang arrives, they talk, Aang says "I don't matter", and then Iroh, who has sidled past the Glowering Firebenders Who Do Nothing Else, shoots the fish out of Zhao's hands. And then, as Zhao is on the ground, reaching for the fish with his special stabbing implement, Iroh forgets that he can shoot fire out of his hands, and lets Zhao stab the fish.

AND THEN Iroh, who literally stood by two different times and let Zhao kill the fish, decides to kick everyone's ass. And the Glowering Firebenders do nothing. One of them just stands in the background. Iroh doesn't even attack that guy.

In the original, Iroh immediately leaps into action after Zhao kills the spirit by means of surprise attack, takes out Zhao's guards in about a second, and Zhao escapes.

Here, he doesn't do anything at first except help Zhao find the spirit he doesn't want to see killed, then back down, then do something, then back down again, then do something again, then forget that he can do anything, and then he does something again.

It's just... so dumb. (So dumb it's brilliant!) No! It's just dumb!

And then, fifteen minutes later, after Zuko has dueled Zhao, Iroh kills him. Iroh just barbecues him by striking him from behind. Gee, Iroh, if you were willing to do that, why not just do it when Zhao was holding the fish?

Dishonorable mentions:

The fact that all of the actors fit their characters so well and have some great moments, but the show just doesn't support their performances at all. I feel so bad for all of them, being robbed of a chance to shine by some truly awful writing, editing and direction

The Ocean Spirit making Godzilla noises

June flirting with Iroh (didn't they say that they wanted to remove iffy stuff from the original? Well, that whole thing was iffy in the original. Why didn't you cut it entirely?)

Zuko doing the jazz hands to charge an attack

All the clunky and unnecessary exposition (for example: after Aang turns into the Ocean Spirit, Yue immediately turns to Sokka and narrates that Aang has turned into the Ocean Spirit, for almost 30 seconds)

The fact that Aang can only communicate with each Avatar at their shrines

The Ice Moon

The Cabbage Man literally turning to shout his line to the heavens while fire rages around him

The Secret Tunnel song being shoehorned in for no reason

Iroh's entire backstory being shoehorned in for no reason

Ozai being a caring dad actually

Zuko being shocked that Ozai prefers Azula

Gran Gran's speech

The fact that they showed Gyatso being killed by Sozin (literally nobody needed a big action scene, because that's what it was, predicated entirely on the genocide of the Air Nomads)

And finally, the fact that Sokka and Yue's reason for going to the Spirit Oasis is that Momo was fatally injured.

[starry-bi-sky]

Just so you know, I've reread your answer to my ask about how you'd rewrite "Double Cross My Heart" in your Danyal Al Ghul au several times over. And I'll just say, your whole breakdown and revision of that trainwreck of a Sam centered episode is the very reason why when it comes to the phandom, both alone and in dpxdc crossovers I tend to lean more towards fanon Sam instead of canon.

Because the people that like her yet acknowledge her glaring flaws do a far better job of bringing her to task when she's being unreasonable or hypocritical in a way that's fair than the supposedly professional storyboard writers.

Anyway, you mentioned that you don't like amethyst ocean and prefer gray ghost. Same here. (though I also like pink astronaut) Since then, I can't stop imagining Danyal/Danny with the "Damian experiencing his first crush" headcanon applied to him. The idea of him treating Valerie with suspicion under the assumption she somehow poisoned or hit him with some kind of hidden anti ghost tech that affects both his human and ghost side, when in reality it's simply him developing feelings for her is just absolute hilarity. To me if no one else.

FIRST OFF YOU ARE SO SWEET <33 the fact that you've read my post about Double Cross My Heart SEVERAL TIMES means I'm now morally obligated to die for you. I'll admit! I was a bit harsh on Sam a little in my original response, because I was irritated by some depictions of her in fanon painting her as someone who could do no wrong and had the only braincell in the group. So I was kinda picking on her a little bit. Would I change a thing? No, I love her character, I just love dissecting her flaws even more.

AND ALSO YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DANYAL THING. That's so cute and so funny, effective immediately it is now canon🧑‍⚖️ . He fought Red Huntress earlier that day and she got a lucky good hit on him, and it's literally that one Marina reaction image where the first panel she looks shocked, the next she looks into it. At least part of it. That's literally what happened, and the next time Danny runs into Valerie at school his heart flutters.

Danny puts up this whole conspiracy board because Valerie smiled at him and his heart went all flippy-floppy and what is this FEELING. He shows it to Sam and Tucker and they both are doing that hands folded prayer-style pressed against their mouths in concern thing, and they don't know whether they should laugh or cry.

Because on one hand: oh my GOD, Danny. But on the OTHER: on my god, Danny. He's never gonna live this one down but that's because if they don't tease him about it, they're gonna get all mopey and sad about it. Just another reminder of their best friend's tragic, mysterious background.

aaa. There are some headcanons I wanna go over (like how when they go on a date, Danny and Valerie have this cute heart to heart where Danny admits that he's not used to being open with people, but he wants to try to be with Valerie because she makes him really happy. He's so shy and almost flustered, and Valerie is so charmed by this side of Danyal Fenton that she's not used to.) but I REALLY wanna think about this in terms of episodic because it was super fun doing it last time, and I really enjoyed it.

If you remember (and you prolly do since you mentioned you read the last ask you sent me several times) I said in the Gregory post that I deleted a (frankly good chunk) of writing that included how i would change the Valerie episodes leading up to the Gregory one, but I deleted it because it was kinda irrelevant to the ask, and admittedly I was getting myself all twisted in knots about it.

But I kinda wanna do that now.

So. If you don't mind I am. Gonna do that. And luckily for me! I found the website I can do. that for free, and have it pulled up! It's the same one I used for the last post to chart out the gregory episode.

So, Shades of Gray! I lowkey want this episode to be like, subtly hinting at the idea that Valerie might develop a crush on Danny first. But ultimately it gets the two of them properly introduced and established with each other, and Red Huntress going.

The episode starts out with Danny being chased by Dash because he got a bad grade in a spelling, obviously if he tried that with Danyal he's gonna get his shit wiped. So! Change! It's Danny heading to his next class, he's texting Sam and Tucker, expertly maneuvering around people in a combination of teen-texting-habit and assassin training awareness. Kinda aware of what's around him, but also not and just trusting instinct.

We meet Valerie when she's showing off a (frankly unflattering) purple polo shirt that costs, AND I QUOTE: "$579, and worth every one of my dad's pennies." to Paulina and Kwan. Girl, this shirt is a few shades off from that NEON "error, image not found" magenta. It looks incredibly unflattering on her considering it's neon-y-ness and the orange skirt and headband she's wearing. Sweetheart, get your damn money back, or at least pick a different pair of pants.

I'm telling you this because I can't resist changing the design. So instead of. that.

She is INSTEAD wearing like, this cute, ruffled, soft pastel purple crop top and some cute jean shorts. Her hair is in like, passion twist braids with little gold cuffs in them. She looks SO cute guys, so cute.

Of course maybe they made it look ugly on purpose because in the show she gets coffee dumped on her 30 seconds later from Danny crashing into Paulina while running from Dash.

I've thought of three different ways this could go, and can't pick which so I'm just gonna write them out and see which one I'm drawn to more.

Kwan, Paulina, and Valerie are standing in the hallway. Not next to a corner but close to one. Danny turns the corner, does not run into them. He briefly looks up from his phone when he hears, they kinda stare at each other, and Danny idly, disinterestedly looks at Valeria, then compliments her with a single; "Nice shirt." Pretty anticlimatic ngl, but it startles the trio a little bit because Danny doesn't often talk to other people outside his circle unless he's in some kind of group project or has to. So for him to compliment Valerie unprompted is startling. This could or could not end with one of them snarkily saying "thanks its worth more than your entire wardrobe" which Danny would take offense to because, lets not kid ourselves, Danyal and Damian Al Ghul were raised as pseudo-princes in the League. Without missing a beat he shoots back: "at least i have a personality beyond being rich." and then disappears down the hallway.

The trio begin walking down the hallway, crash into Danny. HE gets coffee splattered all over him and he immediately reels back, instinctively reverting back to his mother tongue and hissing out arabian curses as coffee drips down the front of his red hoodie and shirt. It's even in his hair. Thankfully the coffee is not as hot as it started out, but it's still uncomfortably warm. He wipes the drink from his eyes, flicks it onto the ground, and hisses out; "watch where you're going!". The trio? Kinda unsure of how to react at first; Danny is unpopular, but not unpopular enough to be worth bullying -- besides, everyone knows he wouldn't tolerate it. But then I think Paulina finds her tongue and says "what did you say?". Danny turns to her and says; "I said; watch where you're going. Need me to say it in Spanish? Mira por donde vas!" He flicks off his hoodie, grumbling in arabic about how he's going to smell like coffee all day, and stalks off. I'm pretty partial to this idea.

Valerie still gets coffee dumped on her. But instead of sic'ing Kwan on him (because she knows that won't work), she just says a few choice words to Danny and stalks off with Paulina and Kwan to go find somewhere to clean off the coffee. Danny approaches her later and gives her a list of cleaning stuff that can get coffee stains out of her shirt. And when she tells him it's made of like, this super specific fabric that needs this really specific stuff to clean, Danny raises his eyebrow at her and says that he knows, and it is a list of stuff that can clean out the stain without damaging the shirt. He says he's not an idiot, and he knows how to recognize X-Fabric when he sees it. Just because I'm fond of pseudo-prince Al Ghul here being a bit of a snob and has an extensive care and hygiene routine. He uses this moisturizer or cologne that makes him smell faintly like sandalwood and vanilla because that is my favorite scent. Tucker jokingly handed him a 13-in-1 once while they were doing a quick supply run with Sam, and Danny literally dropped it like it burned him.

I'm really partial to two and three. So i'm going to get a second opinion. [...] Second one wins! Thank you, Naviii~ <3.

Danny could just intangible the stuff off him, but that would raise questions and also I want him to go the rest of the day stained with coffee. So it stays, and he's in a sour mood for a good chunk of the day. He runs into Cujo when he disappears down an empty hallway, and gets even more irritated when his ghost sense goes off - but hey! If it's Skulker, he can at least pulverize the dude and let off some steam. But nope! It's a puppy!

And Danyal Al Ghul, local ex-member of the world's most deadliest "we speak for the trees, the trees say fuck you" group of environmentalists ever, immediately feels his troubles melt away, and he croons at Cujo. "Oh hello, habibi. Who do you belong to?" And drops down to the ground to let Cujo sniff his hand. Cujo does so, and then starts vying for his attention, and Danny is grinning very wide and very genuinely and is more than happy to give it. "You are a much better surprise than that wretched poacher. Do you have a name, pretty thing?"

Cujo has a collar on, so Danny touches it, lifts the tag, and sees the Axion labs "A" symbol on it. He hums, narrows his eyes, and murmurs "Where have I seen this before?" But before he can flip it around, Cujo then turns monstrous. We cut to the title screen!

I want to say, the next scene is in Axion labs. The way that Damon (Val's dad), Valerie, those two guards, and his boss reacts, it heavily implies that the existence of ghosts have not reached the whole of Amity Park, and that the city itself is still largely unaware of their existence. Considering that Damon's security system doesn't allocate for ghosts, and when Danny crashes at their feet, Valerie literally asks him; "What are you!?" and she seems surprised when tucker later tells her its ghosts, and is even unaware that Danny's parents are ghost hunters.

When Valerie gets coated in dog ecto-slobber, Danny does grin a little under his little half-face balaclava. Because yes, karma! He is petty, and he can't help but flip to his feet and snarkily, smugly say; "I know what I'm not," and as he says this, he leans forward and plucks some of it out of her hair, "Covered in dog slobber." and then he flicks it away.

Before Valerie can retort, Cujo breaks into the lab, and Danyal mutters curses and bounds after him. The lab gets destroyed as per canon, and Damon gets fired.

The garage sale scene happens pretty normally, when Valerie says her little "oh great, word has already oozed down to the bottom of the social grapevine." Danny's response is snarkier than in canon.

"And here Tucker was just offering some simple help to you, you looked like you needed it." He says icily, and Tucker pipes up and says "we all just want to help!" because I don't fully see Danyal being that generous especially to someone being rude to his friends.

Sam dryly says "I don't." and Danny just stays silent, neither confirming nor denying anything. He just raises an eyebrow and turns his eyes to Tucker, who is laughing nervously.

"Well, Danny hasn't said no. So most of us want to help! That's two thirds." And he gestures awkwardly to Danny, who is wearing a red muscle tee hoodie, showing that he's rather lean. "And Danny's the strongest between the three of us, so he could be a big help! There could get a lot more work done."

Valerie is not convinced, as in canon. Although for my Gray Ghost heart she does check out Danny a little bit -- but quickly shakes it off because she's still very deeply entrenched in the status quo. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Before Danny's ghost sense goes off, I do want him to wander around the yard sale for a moment just to see what's to offer -- collector of trinkets and pretty things, he is. Projecting, I am. Slightly GNC Danny ftw, it is. There's a table of jewelry up for sale that he's drawn over to -- and almost immediately disappointed by. It's pretty, and extravagant and very obviously expensive, that's for sure, but that's not the problem. Valerie sees him looking and marches over to him, still upset that he and his friends are still there.

"Put that down, that stuff is worth more than your own wardrobe." She snaps at him, and tries to snatch an expensive, luxury sapphire necklace from his hands, and is immediately met with an icy glare from Danny as he yanks it away from her fingers.

"Who says I can't afford it?" He says -- and he can't, not really, not with the allowance he gets from the Fentons and not with their funds. However, despite their limited contact, Danny still does meet with his beloved mother. One word from him to her, and she'd ensure he got a hundred of the very same necklace. "You? You can't either, Gray. Not anymore."

Valerie looks embarrassed and furious, but Danny continues, and tosses the necklace to her. She fumbles, but manages to catch it. "I don't want this junk anyways. It's gaudy and too western. I look better in gold."

Now his ghost sense goes off, and he turns away from Valerie. He doesn't run off immediately, lingers long enough to see who the ghost is and what the danger is. And when the ground begins to shake, he grabs onto the table and reaches out on protective instinct to hold onto Valerie before she can fall over.

As you can tell, this is for my gray ghost heart. Although valerie's clothes do still get destroyed by the street water, unfortunately. And Cujo shrinks down to size by the time Valerie makes it over to her dresser to try and grab it.

Danny audibly mutters, "Its that dog again." and hurries over to scruff the thing before it can wander off. Cujo is wagging his tail and immediately, enthusiastically licks his face once he's got him up to eye level. Danny cracks a little smile, "Hello habibi, you're a little troublemaker, aren't you?"

"you know this dog?" Valerie demands, and stomps over as Danny gets Cujo settled into his arms. Sam and Tucker hurry over as well, looking mildly frazzled.

Danny scoffs at her; "Don't be ridiculous. I met him a few days ago-- wait;" and he pauses to check to see if Cujo is a boy, "--ah, yep. Him. -- I met him a few days ago in the hallway after Sanchez dumped her coffee all over me. He was rather friendly, but he ran off before I could see who he belonged to."

Sam leans over to look at Cujo, and wiggles her finger at him; "He's kinda cute, and he likes you."

Dannny has a moment where he wants to boast, of course he does, I'm fantastic with animals. But instead he keeps mum. His smile just kinda softens proudly, and he hoists Cujo into his arms a little better.

The moment is shattered by Valerie, who points accusingly at Cujo. "Whatever it is, get it out of here before it ruins anymore of my stuff!"

Annnd before Danny can do just that, Cujo begins wiggling to get out of his arms and run around. He manages to, with his ghostly strength drag Danny across the lawn before yanking himself out of his arms and knocking them both onto the sidewalk -- scraping Danny's arm in the process -- and running around.

Rather than his leg, Cujo bites Danny's arm -- and has a strong enough grip on it that he unintentionally pierces flesh and causes him to start bleeding -- and begins dragging him. But before they can reach the moving van, Danny gets his fingers wrapped around Cujo's collar, finds some purchase -- even if it means his bare arm is being dragged against the sidewalk, and yanks hard on Cujo's collar with a harsh; "HEEL."

Cujo immediately stops, and sits. Danny honestly wasn't expecting that to work immediately, but it does! And with Cujo still, he keeps one firm hand on the collar and uses his other arm -- which is now painfully road rash'd and bleeding -- to help sit up.

Sam and tucker and Valerie rush over to help. "Oh my god, Danny, are you okay?" only for Danny to hold his bad arm up to stop them from getting closer, and whirling on Cujo to scold him. He's upset enough that he reverts back to Arabic, but Cujo seems to get the point across and wilts.

Danny feels bad, but can't show Cujo any affection unless he wants to accidentally reinforce the behavior. He points to his side, and Cujo obediently goes to sit but his feet. Now he turns to the other three.

"To answer your question." He looks down to his arm and very gently brushes his fingers against the road rash, brushing out the little pebbles stuck in his skin. it stings like a bitch, and he faintly grimaces. Then he inspects the dog bite on his wrist "I'll be fine."

Even Valerie looks worried; "That looks really bad, Fenton. I think you should go to the hospital--"

"No." Danny immediately cuts her off, "No hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton keep a first aid kit at home, I'll just use that."

"And what about the dog?"

"I'll figure something out."

And then they scoot off.

Cafeteria scene goes as canon, nothing much to change there other than the fact that when Valerie sees Danny, his arm is all bandaged up and he's wearing a batman merch t-shirt rather than a muscle tee, she feels a little guilty. A small part of her kinda wants to ask how he is, but the larger part that's still big on the status quo and is still humiliated by being shunned by her friends, just wants to go eat in peace. So she doesn't say anything.

(although i am thinking that if she runs into him again later after the cafeteria scene, she asks him what he did with the ghost dog, and he lies and says Phantom swooped in and took Cujo from him.)

The park scene goes relatively the same as well, at least in the beginning. But instead of Sam and Phantom being all "he's an untrained dog" they're instead all "let's see what training he does have. Maybe it can be refined."

"You're good with animals Danny, and you're the only ghost in the area. You handle it." and then she tosses the dog obedience book at him and wanders off.

Danny doesn't need the dog obedience book, so he tucks it into a pocket dimension in his cape and whistles for Cujo. There's that whole tumble down the hill, that whole chase scene happens.

I do wanna say, I actually really like how inexperienced Valerie is here. Idk maybe it's because I haven't watched a tv show in a long while, but it's nice to see that she's not immediately good at it. She wobbles on the hoverboard, two out of the three disks she threw at Danny missed, and the third only hit him by chance. She's amateurish, and I really appreciate that.

"Let me guess, first day on the job, isn't it?" and he still gets cut by the third disk like in canon. He's not impressed or convinced when she says she's going to take him down -- it's one quick once over that tells him enough.

Wobbly feet, unsteady balance on the board. -- Her first time using it, she's unconfident and doesn't trust her own tech, as if she didn't even make it herself. She's unused to the board.

Improper trigger discipline, and shaky hands on her gun. She's holding it with one hand and far away from her like she's afraid of it going off, despite the fact that she's the one on the other end of it.

Tense all the way up to her shoulders, her voice is full of false bravado. She has no idea what she's doing. Danny's thoroughly unimpressed. At least the Drs. Fenton and Walker (maddie got her doctorate with her maiden name) trust their tech wholeheartedly and treat them as an extension of themself, just as Danny does with his blades. Just as this new ghost hunter does not.

And, of course, the way she goes flying off her board the moment she fires her bazooka. Although Cujo does still come to the rescue, although like in canon, he grabs Danny by the foot. Danny manages to recollect himself though and hoist himself over Cujo's back like he's riding a horse.

This is the biggest scene change and possibly my favorite change. The fakeout makeout scene. Now, let me preface this by saying that I love the fakeout makeout concept. I think it's hilarious, and I think it's even funnier if Danny is actually rather down with the concept because the assassin-undercover part of his brain thinks it's a simple-in-a-clever way in order to brush off suspicion. I think Sam and Tucker both are very down to kiss their very attractive best friend, and whenever it comes up there have been arguments over whose turn it is to kiss Danny.

BUT. I have an image in mind for this scene, so I want Danny to be alone for this. So Cujo takes him to a cluster of trees and bushes where Sam isn't at, and Danny sends him off with a ball as per canon, but rather than get tackled by Sam, he dives up into a tree and transforms back to Al Ghul before Valerie can reach him.

He is reading the Dog Obedience book, and scares the absolute shit out of Valerie. And it's never a bad day to hurt Danny, so little miss firstie over here fires into the trees, and juuuust about skims Danny's arm. The same one that has the road rash and dog bite on it, that he's forcibly prevented himself from rapidly healing because that would arouse suspicion.

"ماذا بحق الجحيم كان ذلك!؟" ("What the hell was that!?")

Valerie knows that voice, and instantly turns ashen. "Oh no." She flies up the tree and finds Danyal sitting snug amongst the larger limbs, the dog obedience book in his lap, and he's hunched slightly and holding onto his burned arm tightly.

"Oh my god, I-- I am so sorry--" she doesn't have the time to be upset (or snarky or mean) about why he's there, considering she just shot him. Danny snaps his head up and glowers furiously at her.

"Wh- why did you do that!?" He stammers over himself, trying to find his english. Part of it is an act, part of it is genuine anger because she could've killed him with that thing. He loathes incompetence, and she has it in buckets. "Watch where you're aiming that, Trigger Finger, you could've killed me!"

Valerie is all flustered and mortified, can't even find it to get angry back. "i- I am so sorry, Fenton. I thought you were something else--"

"Something else!?" Danny yells, "So you blindly shoot?! What is wrong with you!? Don't you know any trigger discipline!?"

Iiit's. a mess? Valerie offers him a lift to the hospital, or at least out of the tree, and Danny snarls at her not to touch him, and that he's not going anywhere with her on that hunk of sheet metal. He tosses the book at her and says to make herself useful and hold that while he gets down. Valerie feels really guilty -- too guilty to protest or be mad about how angry he is with her.

When he gets down from the tree he takes the book back from her, and then asks her how she even knows his name anyways. They've never met before. "Actually, now that I think about it," he narrows his eyes at her, "you sound like someone I know."

And then he reaches for her mask.

Valerie flies back, stammering over herself and briefly forgets to feel guilty in order to feel panicked and indignant, and then just goes "What are you doing!? You're crazy, we've never met before!" And then flies off.

And, before I continue, I will say right now. Danny, as himself, forever and always from then on refers to Red Huntress (or Scarlett Hunt, as I'm thinking of as an alternative) as "Trigger" or "Trigger Finger" respectively. Whenever they run into each other as Scarlett and Danny, he always calls her Trigger and asks if she's killed anyone yet. Valerie feels really bad from then on about hitting him, because where she hit him ends up scarring.

When she's gone, Danny mutters to himself that that sounded like Valerie, and goes ghost to go find Sam and tell her what happened.

Hallway scene stays the same, and -- actually, I was gonna make fun of the fact that Valerie didn't know the Fentons were ghost hunters when it's the whole reason the family is ostracized. But you know what? I can believe it. Kids will follow the crowds' lead. Witch hunts and all that.

"So, Tucker tells me your parents are ghost hunters!"

"Yeah? What else has he told you?"

Before Cujo shows up, they do actually manage to hold some kind of conversation. However, Danny uses the time to go: "Look, if you're planning on getting into ghost hunting, try not being like the hack I met yesterday."

Valerie laughs nervously, "Ah-hah, no of course not! But uh, hack?"

Danny scowls, and twists towards her with his arms crossed -- he's wearing a red hoodie today, and a band tee. -- "Yeah! I met some chick yesterday while at the park, and Little Miss Trigger Finger shot me." He says, "Your weapon should be like an extension of yourself, not something you just use! Trigger Finger was flailing that gun in her hands like it was a ribbon, and incompetence like that will get someone killed. Your weapon -- whether it be a blade or a firearm or a blunt object -- should be as easy to move as curling your fingers, and just as easy to trust. It should not be a stranger, but a part of you. A weapon must know how to use itself if it wants to be of any use to anyone else."

Sam cuts him off with a high pitched, nervous giggle, and wraps her fingers lightly around his shoulders and tugs him back, sliding her arms around the front of his chest like an anchor. "Danny." she hisses at him quietly, and Danny snaps his jaw shut and looks away.

Tucker also laughs uneasily, "Sorry," he says, leaning around Valerie to get her attention, "Dan here uh, gets really passionate about improper weapon handling. It's one of his quirks."

Danny looks away and mutters something under his breath in arabic.

(You know this already, but Sam and Tucker still don't know about Danny's past. But they've heard him talk about weapon mishandling enough times -- and have seen him fight -- to know that the way he talks is more than just theory. He has personal experience with weapons, and has unintentionally before referred to himself as one. But whenever they ask about it, he clams up and denies any sort of involvement.)

Valerie doesn't really know what to say to that, but Danny seems to know a lot about proper weapon discipline. So she might try her chances with getting to know more about it from him later, if she can catch him. She also silently makes note to get herself acquainted to her own tools like Danny was implying.

And then Cujo shows up, and things happen as canon. Oh but wait Tucker lands on Valerie while she's trying to figure out how to open the thermos, and I want to say that she hears him say "I can help you. valerie!" before he lands on her. So her confronting him after she gets out of the basketball hoop, and practically beegs him not to tell Danny about being the same girl who shot him. She really does think his help could be valuable in the long run because of his knowledge on ghosts and weapons.

Lovestruck Tuck of course, agrees. Not without some tentative hemming and going; "I don't know Val, Danny's really clever. He'll figure it out eventually if you don't do something to hide your voice, it's pretty recognizable."

For this episode, her voice stays the same but in the future she'll be working on a voice mod, and until then refuses to speak around Danny if she knows he's present. If she has to talk, then she forcibly tries deepening it.

Anyways things proceed as canon, Danny overhears the boss with Damon say "I know we should've never gotten rid of those guard dogs."

He mutters to himself "Guard dogs? Wait..." and he holds up Cujo, peering at his collar, and finally realizing where he recognizes the symbol on the tag. Immediately his expression darkens, "Oh fuck no, they did not."

Things go as canon, although Danny sneaks in not only to find what Cujo is looking for, but to hack in and get records of their guard dogs to confirm his theory and to steal them -- plus confirmation of termination of said dogs. So he can blackmail the shit out of Axion Labs later. He stays invisible and uses his league training to sneak around, and actually gets the guard dog records and confirmation before he runs into Valerie and they fight. Danny purposely keeps his distance and focuses more on dodging.

"you're a pretty lousy shot" Valerie says when he blasts above her a metal support beam above her.

Danny retorts sharply, "I could say the same." And although she can't see it, he bares his fangs at her. "Or have you forgotten about what you did to the ghost hunters' boy a few days ago?"

(He can be VERY petty)

Which, of course, infuriates and embarrasses Val. Things remain as is, Danny finds the squeaky toy, he tells Valerie he doesn't own the dog -- although he also says that he belongs to the very same Lab that fired her dad -- she refuses his apology, Tucker pretends to get caught by the Axion security lab. Etc etc.

Danny later reveals that he also stole the records about the guard dogs and how Axion Lab wrongfully euthanized all of them in favor of a security system they didn't even end up using, and was planning on anonymously releasing it online so that Axion could face the consequences for their abuse. Tucker has to beg him not to, because then that would reveal that someone else had gotten into the lab that night and would put Valerie's dad in hot water again.

Danny... reluctantly agrees. For now. But he'll be holding onto it, and keeping his eye on Axion Labs. This sort of cruelty will not go unpunished forever, he'll make sure of it.

ending goes as ending does. They go to the dumpty humpty concert, they speculate where Valerie got her suit. Etc etc. At the lunch table I think Valerie stops by Tucker and co's table to talk to Tucker -- they seemed to end on a good note that night -- and she asks Danny how his arm is.

Danny eyes her quietly, and turns his head away. "It'll heal, so long as Trigger Finger stays away from me." and he does see Valerie wilt a little, and kinda feels bad. But also, she fucking shot him. He's lowkey less angry about that tho and more angry about her total weapon incompetence

-------

When its just Tucker -- and ykw, Sam too, who Valerie would know knows she's Red since she was yk, right there next to Tucker when he fell on Valerie -- and Valerie, he tries to reassure her about Danny's apparently grudge against Scarlett Hunt.

"Aw, chin up Val, I'm sure Danny will come around to your alter ego eventually! He just.. needs some time to heal! Literally, because you... shot him."

and when Valerie realizes Sam knows too, Sam points her pen at her and goes: "The only reason I haven't told Danny is because Tucker is also my best friend," she leans into Valerie's space; "But so help me Moses, if you shoot Danny again, I will not hesitate to tell him. And i will, in a heartbeat."

She leans back, crossing her arms; "So you better learn to control your finger, Trigger."

-

Danny having beef with Red Huntress in his civilian form was not actually in the original cards for this episode, but it came to me as I was writing and I could not pass it up. I think it'd be hilarious and also like, a real point of idk conflict for Valerie. Just one more reason she wants to be abetter ghost hunter because otherwise she'll hurt people -- shooting Danny left a mark on her, and she feels really really guilty about it. Especially after finding out it scarred.

And also it's like, objectively hilarious? It's like the Love Square from MLB but its more like a Hate Square instead. Granted Val and Danny don't hate each other but my point still stands! It's there if you squint.

Every single time Danny runs into Scarlett he calls her Trigger and asks her how her aim is, and whether she knows how to use that weapon of hers. Valerie is both very frustrated by his unwillingness to forgive her and very ashamed by the fact that she's frustrated by it. He has every right to be mad at her, she could've seriously hurt him -- and she did -- but still, his animosity is grating sometimes.

Danny does eventually get over her shooting him in his civilian form -- considering she shoots him all the time as a ghost. But what he refuses to get over is the fact that it happened at all and her lack of proper discipline before she decided to jump into the fray.

No no no, that he is still burning furious about. Tucker wasn't kidding when he said that Danny was passionate about proper weapon handling. The fact that Valerie didn't even acquaint herself with her weapons and learn how to use them properly before deciding to hunt down Cujo and Phantom is the thing that keeps his burning "hatred" against Scarlett as Fenton going.

Idk if it's ever actually confirmed that Valerie and Tucker are dating, its kinda implied that they started. But I'm gonna say that they were only in a talking stage (one that Valerie only initiated for her own needs) and after this episode it doesn't go anywhere, but they remain kinda friends. That way, Valerie can show up a few more times prior to Flirting With Disaster and lowkey hang with the gang without Tucker and Valerie actually dating.

So i was actually going to share a few more headcanons too with Gray Ghost, and delve into the "Flirting with Disaster" episode, but this got... really long, and took me all evening to write (curse adhd) so I am. not going to go into that jadlfh. Plus I have to think more about them and come up with more cute headcanons.

Like how Danny calls her affectionate petnames when they're dating/sorta-dating the moment he settles into the relationship and becomes comfortable with it. One morning when he walked into a class that they shared, he smiled at her all warm and fondly said "Good morning, beloved."

And normally that might sound too strong in the fledgling beginning of a relationship, but Danny somehow manages to make it sound super natural and not at all too-much-too-soon.

Literally everyone's jaw dropped in that room. They've never seen Danny act that way, and Valerie somehow manages to invent a new shade of maroon on her dark skin. She does this cute little giggle-snort and waves her hand at him bashfully. Danny looks very endeared.

Paulina turns to Dash and angrily demands to know why he doesn't call her any cute petnames that aren't babe.

Oh and before I forget: As Phantom, Danny calls Scarlett Hunt either "Scar" or "Little Red Riding Hood" (or some variant). It pisses her off, which he does really like doing. Also, compared to how he fights ghosts, he goes remarkably easy on her. He doesn't even unsheathe his sword for her -- which she does eventually notice and gets angry about. She thinks he's doing it to look down on her.

When it's not. She is Squishy Fragile Living Human In A Meat Shell. He is Immortal Ghost With Powers. And A Sword. And A Decade Of Assassin Training. He could kill her a dozen different ways if he didn't hold back like he is, and he doesn't want her dead.

okay okay that's all I've got for now BUT, as a bonus, while I was making those three different scenes for the coffee splash scene, I stopped midway because I got art bunnies for danny for the first time in forever, and went ahead and drew him. So!! Things in Threes Danyal doodle be Upon Ye!

[dearanakin]

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode V

Summary: You go on a mission with Cal... and Anakin. You have a task as a tech engineer, but dealing with General Grievous and his army of droids can be challenging. Ps: There's a character guest in this chapter, remember it doesn't follow the actual timeline of the franchise!!

No warnings, just vulgar language (a lot of it because it's a mission and they're all on the verge of flipping out lol)

Word count: 4.7k

*

(Y/N):

I'm not sure I even had the option to actually deny the offer Cal made. To be honest, he practically begged me and forced me to agree on going with him and his team to a trade with someone with a weird name.

Worst of it all, I had to be their tech guy for the mission. A mission led by none other than Anakin. I wish I could actually have had a choice, because I sure wasn't expecting to see his face this soon.

Especially after he literally threatened me the other day. I don't think I've ever felt this scared in my life. We all know the guy has a temper and he doesn't follow any rules. As much as we all hoped he would change through the years, it seems like it's getting worse instead.

Now I'm sitting next to Cal in his ship, while Artoo is on top of it. He seemed a little distressed, he doesn't show off his emotions a lot because he knows I get worried. But I know after what happened that day he's not getting along with Anakin.

I mean, who would at this point? He looks at you like he's about to rip your eyes out.

And I know Cal didn't want to look like he's only on this mission because of the team itself. He told me he didn't want to collaborate this time, which only made the Jedi Master walk around with a deadly look on his face.

But the redhead never felt intimidated by him in any way. Or at least he doesn't show it. As far as I know, we're heading to General Grievous' spaceship. I feel like I've heard this name before, but I can't collect it.

"So, what's the plan? Leaving me trapped in here with R2?" I ask as he maneuvers into outer pace, a concentrated look on his face as he does so.

He chuckles with dramatic concern. "You'll be looking out for us with commander Poe Dameron first" Cal explains as I nod. Who is Poe Dameron, by the way?

"He's a Jedi as well?" He shakes his head in response. "He's... not?"

Okay, that concerned me. I'm only used to being around force sensitive people, and being a human already scared me enough. Now, knowing I'm going to be around another human makes me wonder whatever happens if we get attacked.

"Nope, but he's a good Resistance's Starfighter Corps member. And a good pilot" He gives me a smile as he turns his head to face me. He can read my panic plastered all over my face and reaches out his hand to grab mine. "We're gonna need you there to break into their system".

So, we'll watch as the trade unfolds and hope for the best first. Do I agree with that? I didn't, but I had no choice but to help them.

"And if something happens, before he drops you there, he'll bring you back to Coruscant" Cal shoots his head back forward as we approach the starship.

Yeah, simple as that, right? If something happens, like, we'll just go back and live it out. Doesn't seem too tragic for me, I love the adrenaline.

Not.

We landed on a hangar, Cal preparing himself up before leaving me out here with only a Droid and a man named Poe. I hope this guy isn't a douchebag like Skywalker is, I won't be able to run away from him if I wanted to.

He gives me a small kiss on the forehead before leaving the ship, sending me a half smile before meeting the others already in formation. I watch as a brunette man walks towards from where the redhead just left and waves back to the others.

He has wavy dark hair, as well as dark brown eyes, and a stubble. Damn, this man looks fine as hell.

Poe steps in and sits down on the seat next to me, looking right up with a kind smile on his face. He finishes buckling himself before introducing himself to me, while I still glance at him like he just came out of a Disney movie.

"Hi, I'm Dameron. Well, Poe Dameron but they call me by my last name since I'm a commander" He explains, extending his hand for a greeting. I grip his hand for a few seconds before releasing.

Good handshake, firm and gentle. What am I even saying at this point?

"You're (Y/N), right?" I nod as he looks back at the panel, starting the ship.

"Yes, I am. It's nice to meet you" I say for the first time, feeling like I have never met anybody that gorgeous.

"Likewise. So, you're an engineer? You fix everything?" Poe asks, concentrating on lifting the flight.

"Well, mostly prosthetics and spacecraft. They're already too much to handle most of the time. But I can manage computers and systems as well"

"You were responsible for creating the robotic arm General Skywalker has?" He seems interested in what I do for my living and it kinda distracts me from the mission we were on.

I wish I could not hear this name on a daily basis.

"You know him?" I didn't mean to sound too surprised, but my voice gave it away anyway. "And not really, I usually fix it for him".

Yeah, and the last time I did it he almost got killed and that led to me almost getting killed as well.

"We've been out and about on a few assignments. I'm mostly doing tasks for the Resistance, leading attacks and all that" He sets the ship on standby as we watch from a distance while the group of Jedi gets in the Trade Federation Starship.

"Are you never scared of doing these dangerous jobs being human?" I ask out of curiosity, it gives me such a bad feeling being out for work like this.

He looks at me and grins. How can someone be so good looking like that? This is so distracting. "Kinda get used to it at some point, I chose this life".

I just nod and stare back at the distance. We both had comlink for communication, R2 looking out for any threats as well. I shuffle uncomfortably on my seat, desperate to be done with this mission. Poe notices my discomfort and rests a hand over my shoulder.

"You're going to be fine, they'll protect you at all costs and we'll be on full alert from afar. That's why we have other starships in position" He tries to comfort me and gives me a nod.

It doesn't change anything about this assignment, we all know how difficult they can be.

My sweaty hands grab my duffel bag and I look over the tools I brought with me. I hope this shitty idea works, because I can't be bothered to feel bad for failing their job.

A few minutes later, which seemed like hours, Cal spoke over the comlink and Poe promptly shifted the gears and flew back to the starship. As we land, I see him next to another General all while waiting for me. My nerves are on edge and I feel like I'm gonna fucking throw up.

Before I leave, Poe gives me a sympathetic look and offers a handshake. "May the Force be with you" He says kindly.

"May the Force be with you, commander" I force a smile that might have come out as a grimace and follow along with the other guys.

Cal stands next to me as we enter the enormous vessel, full of bodyguards and droids. He ignites his lightsaber and gets closer to my ear.

"We're close to the vents that lead to this small control room. We'll have to get into their system and gather as much information as we can" He whispers, walking me through a small hallway.

He and the other Jedi stop on their tracks and immediately drop both of the droids standing there. Cal turns on his heels and approaches me, handing me a blaster gun. One I was supposed to carry around but am too fucking scared to do it.

"You might wanna use it this time" He reaches out for a pocket knife strapped on his ankle and offers it to me as well. "I didn't say you'll have to. Just for self-defense".

He glances up at me with a tender look on his face. This man gives his life to protect me and I'd do the same if I could. I mean, I do but not the same way he does of course.

I just nod at everything he says and we look up at the vent. I'm not doing this alone, am I?

If I had a dollar for everytime he uses his force for mind reading, I would be such a rich person right now. "I'm going with you" He adds.

Getting in a vent with a duffel bag is probably one of the worst scenarios I never thought about. We were dragging our bodies while he tried to drag the bag without making much noise, but obviously not being very cautious with the tools, the gears and other objects in there. We get to the room, me behind Cal as he shoots his blaster against the soldiers. I can't feel my legs at this point, and it's not even because we're in such a small space.

He drops on his feet first, glancing around the room, before looking up at me. He shoots both arms up, waiting for me to jump in as well. I don't know how I was able to pull a stunt like that since I'm afraid of heights. And I mean 8 feet is already too much for me. Cal grabs my hips and slowly puts me down, a large smile on his face.

"There you go, James Bond!" He mocks, arching his back as I swat him on the chest.

"Shut up, smartass" I can barely speak as I feel my voice falter from the stress and the adrenaline.

He walks over a large control panel, hundreds of different colored buttons and keys. They have pretty much a huge system for such a small room. I mean, if there's a bigger room then this is just a gist. First things first, I had to disable the security camera before someone came bursting into the door. I sit on the big chair and Cal leans against the desk next to me. I'm sure he has no idea what the hell I'm doing. I use a small device to hack into the system and quickly find the program to the security camera. 

They clearly need a better safety system, because it's too easy to get into their computer. Either that, or it's a trap. But I'd rather believe they're just that stupid. I turn off the cameras, both of us making sure they're all shut down.

Next, I type in a few things on the keyboard, trying to find what exactly they need. Cal uses his pointer finger to make sure he's looking for the right folder, carefully reading every single word on the screen. "We need strategies folders, every spacecraft and architecture project. List of trades and traders they use".

He said it like he was writing down a fucking grocery shopping list.

I try not to send him a glare or even look at him like I'm pissed. So I just go straight to the point. "Might as well just wipe out the entire computer, Kestis. This might take hours!".

"You can just add them to the device you have?" I swear to God, he can't be that serious.

"You're smart, Cal. Use your head. How big do you think these files are? They're all programs, it's a heavy stack of files" I start to get freaked out with the idea of being there for too long.

"Okay, right I'm sorry if I'm a newbie at technology" He adds dramatically. "Can you just drag the list and the strategies folders then?".

I move the mouse right away, bringing everything to my device, waiting for the system to calculate the estimated time. I can't help but tap my fingernails over the desk while I wait for it. Cal doesn't seem too worried like I am, as though he carries a very serious look on his face.

"We've been in for ten minutes. We probably still have a good half an hour left" He says, still leaning next to me, looking at the watch on his wrist.

"Considering this ship can blow up when we least expect it, I don't think it's good" I look at him like I'm not feeling well. He reaches my right arm and folds his big hand around it, giving it a light squeeze.

"We'll know before it happens, darling" Cal reassures me as his hand goes up and down on my arm in a comforting attempt.

Fifteen fucking minutes. I'm gonna throw myself off the ship. He uses his comlink to let the others know, which they all agree. For the first time, Anakin goes in the line and says he's trying to make a trade. It was all a set up as Cal explained.

The remaining seven minutes turned into a disaster, when a loud blast echoed through one of the hallways outside the room. Then an alarm went off and the lights switched to a dim green light. I just wish they won't turn off any other system before I can transfer everything, otherwise this would be just a waste of time and job. We looked at each other, he was gripping his lightsaber tightly waiting for something to happen, while I held the blaster just for the sake of it. There was another loud burst from a distance, the red head sprinted closer to me.

"Is everyone good?" He asked through the comlink, no one answered. "Damn it" He muttered.

"We need to get out of here before it gets worse!" I try to step in and figure out a way for us to get out. He didn't seem to listen. "Cal!".

"We're closing in on the ship. We noticed a few explosions around" Poe finally chimes in, but not with good news.

Why is it never good?

And then Skywalker called out again, this time shouting words I couldn't understand. I twist my head to the side and look at Cal with desperation.

"It's a code, they're attacking us" He immediately watched as I stood up from the chair. "Hey, look at me! I'm here, you're fine okay?".

Definitely far from being fine. He then proceeded to talk but I'm too busy being stunned to care about it. His voice started to get muffled and I felt like my vision was getting blurry. Is this even the right time to faint or have a panic attack? He shakes both of my arms calling out my name, and I slowly blink a few times before staring back at him.

"For fuck's sake, (Y/N/N). Listen to me" He then places his hands over my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "Please, listen. I need to go back there and help them. There's a digital lock on the door, they can't get through if you block it. They'll need to blow it up to get to you".

And you think it's hard for them to do it? That won't be enough.

Again, he furrows his brows and keeps holding my face. "Stop with the overthinking, I can hear it louder. Look, I'll manage it. I'll be back in no time, just wait for the files to finish and you wipe out the rest, fuck it. We don't care!"

I try to agree with the plan, but it was just too hard to keep up with everything. Before he turns on his back to leave the room, Poe speaks up again.

"There's a General lying on the floor, he seems to be injured. It's on Block D" He states before going off again.

This time, me and Cal share the same look. Now he seems more concerned than I do. I follow his gaze up the vent we came from, nudging himself up as he grips the edge literally vanishing. I call out to him, but he doesn't answer.

"Shit!" My hands are shaking so bad, I can't even type without missing the keys. "Shit, shit, shit".

Two minutes. Just give us two minutes and we're out. I hear a lot of grunting up on the room, the floor above me filled with noises and shuffling. The locked door starts pounding and I look straight ahead, fright starting to wash over my body.

"Poe" I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. "Are you there?".

"Definitely here, Miss. How are you holding up?" He asks.

"Do you see any of them? There's someone trying to break in and I don't know what I'm gonna do!" My heart is racing and it feels like I'm going to have a stroke in the middle of the room.

"Just talk to me, alright? How long until it's done?" His voice sounds comforting from the other side until he shouts. "R2! Not that guy, he's friendly!".

I have no idea what's going on outside but I try to shrug it off. "Two minutes! My hands are shaking so bad that I'm not sure I can shoot whoever comes in".

"Okay, not so bad" It takes him another second to keep talking. "I remember I learned a breathing technique, we're doing it together alright?".

I forget he's not next to me and I nod, but I feel like he got that anyway because he started counting and walking me through it. Breathe in and count to 4. Then count to 4 breathing out. Repeat.

"Now, hold your blaster up. Focus on anything as a target and breathe. When you inhale, you count one second and shoot. Don't wait, just shoot. If you miss it, just keep shooting" He explains, wasting his time giving me attention instead.

It makes me feel bad that someone has to do it when he could've been minding his own task. But I'm really appreciative either way. I don't know where the fuck Cal is.

"Don't forget to use anything for hiding and leverage. And please, don't forget to bring back the device" Nice one, Poe. Imagine being in danger like this and not even being able to remember one simple thing.

"Okay, thank you, commander" I breathe through my mouth and grasp the blaster.

Looking over the computer screen, I see that there's only forty seconds left and the door is about to burst open. At the same time, I hear Poe for the last time.

"We're sharing a beer when we land in Coruscant. I wanna learn some technology tricks" I barely have time to laugh as I watch the door sling open.

Okay, breathe. One. Shoot.

Shit.

I miss it by inches. From across the room, I look at Anakin giving me a snide stare as the blast just crossed past his shoulder. I gasp from the outcome and the sudden surprise, but he doesn't give me time to process everything as he shouts at me. His eyes are pure angriness and his shoulders are stiffened.

"Come on, I don't have all the time in the world!" Anakin waits by the door as I quickly set the system to wipe everything out and grab the device before we sprinted out of there.

We rushed with him behind me, there was a mess all over the place and the blaring alarm was deafening. I couldn't even aim while running, my hands were sweating and I was afraid of tripping on my foot. He kept dodging the attacks as well as blocking them from coming at me. This is the most attention I'm going to get from him and it's kinda funny given he hates me.

Anakin pulled a hand over my shoulder to guide me towards the hangar, my eyes shifting to take notice of what was incoming. I tried to at least shoot some of the droids but I was terrible at it.

"Grievous just left the hangar with an escape pod" Cal spoke up after a while and I let out a heavy and long exhale. "Knock down these fucking droids and hurry up!"

I didn't understand the seriousness in his voice, the Jedi Knight behind me still hasn't said a word yet and I have no idea what I'm actually doing at this point. Shooting at them and missing doesn't quite help knocking them down faster and I swear I can hear Anakin just groaning in frustration.

Out of nowhere my arm gets yanked back by a guard droid, pulling me over a room and wrapping its robotic arm around my neck. As if I was panicking already, this time I was pretty sure I was going to collapse. I tried to shove myself off from the tight grip, but it only made me flinch more.

"Drop your weapons, Master Skywalker" It said with their gun stuck to my temple.

I looked at him with such fright, my eyes were desperately crying for help. Anakin frowned, using his flesh hand to hold the lightsaber while the other one he used to pull back using his force.

"Let her go!" He screamed, bloodshot eyes and blue irises staring at the droid holding me. "I said let her fucking go!".

"I'm sorry, Master. We have a mission of our own to do" The droid said before managing to leave me unconscious on the floor.

Anakin:

Fuck. Shit. Motherfucker. Fucking cunt.

I kneel in front of her as she lies unconscious on the floor. She seems to be breathing, but I have no idea what this cocksucker did to her. I didn't expect my mission to be such a disastrous piece of shit. As she's still out, I look back at the droid that's staring at me with a puzzling look on its face.

I know how to read droids' faces and it's a gift from heaven. It's easy to trick them when I want.

"What did you do?" I shout and use my hands to shove it back with the force. I tap her face a few times, she doesn't even flinch. My voice barely comes out as a whisper to avoid the other droids to find me.

How much worse can it get?

I grab her, sliding my arms under her torso and lifting her up in a quick motion. At least she's easy to carry. Through my comlink, Cal starts getting riled up and spitting words like he was worried about something. And then I remember about their friendship.

Fuck me.

I try to ignore all the cursing through my ear, at the same time as I pull (Y/N) up on my shoulder, her body swinging as I run faster. I can't dodge all the attacks at once, but I maneuver myself avoiding getting us both killed. My lightsaber slashes them, knocking them down making it easier to get to the hangar.

"I have her, Kestis! Will you shut the fuck up now?" My voice screeches when I yell at him and my throat hurts.

"Why doesn't she answer her fucking comlink, then? Did you kill her, Skywalker?" His voice started to annoy me, my head was hurting from all the situation. I groan loud enough for him to listen.

"Yeah sure, I killed her and now I'm bringing her body myself because I'm just that smart. She's fucking unconscious, relax!"

And now he's just being even louder and insufferable.

Poe spoke up, his voice emerging like an angel sent from God. "Alright, guys. Let's just settle down, we're not at kindergarten".

I roll my eyes at his statement, rushing towards the hangar. The only ship in good shape was one of theirs, and Cal was standing in front of it. He was pacing around, hands on his hips, his forehead was creased and when he saw us he bolted forward.

"What the fuck happened?" The redhead asked in dread, throwing his arms up.

"We don't have time for bickering right now, Cal. Just help me get her up inside!" I swear my head was going to explode anytime soon. "A droid pulled up some shit on her and she just blacked out".

Could've said it sooner, he would probably understand. He looks at me like he knows something, but I don't bother asking.

"It was probably a spell or something. We need to lay her down" He says sternly as we approach the back of the vehicle and drop her on a cushioned bench.

"This is not what I planned for this goddamn assignment!" I mumble before turning on my back to both of them, heading to the cockpit.

"Well she got the fucking device, you should be glad she could do it and not die either!" He spat back, his hands holding her feet as he props her on the bench.

I just turn away from him making my way to my seat, turning on the gears. Hopefully we'll be back sooner than I expect, I just want to take a long shower and be with Luke for a while.

"We're good to go?" Dameron asks, his voice in a relieved tone as he watches us leave the hangar.

"Yes, commander" I mirror his tone and fly off the starship.

My mind eases as we leave it behind, I feel my hands grip the yoke from the ship tight. We didn't get to do the trade, Grievous noticed our plan way before we could get ahead of them. They attacked us in a matter of seconds, bolting at us with no time to figure out an escaping route.

This one mission is hours away from Coruscant, so it was going to be a pain in the ass to sit this close to Kestis. The moment I realized I had to be next to him it just made me pissed. I don't care about (Y/N) on the back, she tried to help and she barely knows how to blast a gun.

I won't complain about how Cal helped the team out there, as a matter of fact. But I still can't stand seeing his face, considering we just confronted each other the other day. The guy always means good to people, but it doesn't stop me from hating his guts after what he pulled on me during our meetings.

Almost two hours after we left Grievous' ship, we were almost entering the Coruscant atmosphere. That was when she finally woke, a grunt escaping from her lips as she finally took in where she was. Cal helps her lean against the wall, while she places a hand over her head.

"Holy shit" That's her first words after waking up. She can't help but smile at the achievement she made.

I watch as she still keeps the smile on her face, pulling the device between her fingers and raising the object in front of her eyes. It took me seconds to notice I myself had a side smile against my will. The red head leans for a hug, both of them laughing.

I can't help but clear my throat before I regret doing this. "Uh- Good job out there, geek. The team is proud of you" I barely speak and the guy seems to remark that.

"What did you say? We can't hear it!" He says it out loud on purpose, and I feel my hands balling into fists. "Did you just compliment (Y/N/N)?"

"Don't push it, Kestis" My eyes roll to the back of my head, I push myself off the wall. "Good to see you're up".

They stare at my figure quite shocked, their faces almost the same as their mouths hanging open in such a surprise. I'm very aware that's the kind of effect I cause on people when I'm being nice, and I know I'm not really the golden boy of the year either.

But I can't just avoid the fact that, without her, we wouldn't have information about General Grievous and his army. Even though it didn't end how we expected it, that's a win after all.

Before I walk back to the cockpit, I hear her cracked voice speak up. Like she was embarrassed of talking to me. "Thank you for saving me out there".

My head nods before I turn on my heels, it almost feels like I've switched back to the young Anakin. Real smooth, Skywalker.

@jackie-on-the-loose @adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate @himesuedi @cl0esblogg

[starry-907]

Animation vs Life SMP

alright so i said in the tumblr community if we got new life series and influencer arc ep 3 on the same day i'd post my (currently very minimal and disorganized) thoughts for animation vs life series! and uh. we did indeed get new life series today soooooo yeah.

thoughts below the cut cuz it will likely be a bit long shgsldjf

Explanation of life smp

so! for those of you that don't know what life series/life smp is, it's basically hardcore but you have (usually) 3 lives instead of just one (there's been 2 seasons that don't follow that exact idea). when you hit your last life (referred to as your "red life") you get to be hostile and kill others outside of specific circumstances. last person alive wins! there's been 5 seasons so far (and a vaugely canon april fools ep), with the 6th season starting today, leading to me writing this here.

a lot of folks also add in some additional lore with these beings called the watchers, with the lore being that they're the ones organizing the games and kinda keeping the players locked in this loop of death games. i think one of the content creators has his own lore involving the watchers, martyn inthelittlewood.

if you want an explanation of ava/avm i can't type that here or we'd be here all day so instead i'll just link this post i made a while back that should help explain some stuff

The foundation

essentially this au starts with the idea of what if instead of mcyt-ers, the watchers decided to nab some silly sticks for their death game instead? the current lineup that they grabbed is:

Vic, Chosen, Dark, Second, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, Purple, and Mango. i might add the mercs if i want more people for more complexity, but i'm still in the baby stages of ideation here.

thing is though, the watchers want to have a pawn member actually in the games, so they can manipulate events the way they want to, whenever they need to. so.....

(yeah that's right i made drawings to go along with this explanation)

ok so it isn't just because they're also purple, it's because they seemed the best candidate in terms of skill and such. cunning and resourceful, but still desperate for approval in a way, so just breadcrumb some praise and you should be able to get them to do what you need them to do right?

i mean purple does eventually realize something's up and doesn't listen to the watchers as much (when they can get away with it).

purple's changes

of course, being made a watcher does come with some changes, external and internal.

external, they get these floating eyes around their head, and the watcher symbol on their back. both of them are usually not visible, only really showing up in low light (light level 3 or less) or when under extreme stress. somehow no one's really questioned it? i mean if you're stuck in a death game (that you don't know is a loop of death games), your friend suddenly getting a bunch of eyes isn't a major concern.

what does garner attention (esp cuz these can't be hidden), is the fact that purple's elytra have turned into full on feathered wings (also with the watcher symbol). they don't allow for flight in the games (unfair advantage), but they do serve as a more... permanent reminder of where purple's ultimate loyalties should lie.

(in case you can't tell, i'm working with majority morally dark watchers here. there are some that don't like the idea, but most of them are more than down for it).

ok jumping ahead a bit we're talking curses!

what's a life series without some curses and patterns, eh? i do not have many right now, but i do know what the biggest one is, i'll do that last.

mango gets a curse to always fail to protect a close ally from death at least once

vic is cursed to always have one death that was preventable

blue has sort of a reverse of mangos, she will have at least one death protecting an ally.

ok starry but what about the canary curse?

i'm glad you asked. who's the one that always runs into battle first in ava, and is therefore the one to always die first?

THAT'S RIGHT. HECK YOU *CANARIES YOUR RED*.

i realize there's other characters that could've fit but at the same time canary red just hits so much more to me. granted the watchers didn't know for sure who their canary would be during the first game, but once red died they just collectively went 👀 and hit him with the curse.

after the first game, the ends of red's bandana become stylized to look like wings, and anyone who knows how to look can see faint images of canary wings on his shoulders. only purple knows the exact reason why.

hey so are they just stuck forever or what

uhhh haven't fully thought this part through. HOWEVER! i do know the main focus characters of this au! purple is clearly one of them, since they have a connection to the watchers (kinda against their will). the other primary focus character... well a lot of folks headcanon that the winners get to remember the past game(s) as a reward for their victory, and the first winner is someone who's more than used to dealing with having an urge in the back of their mind to kill.

basically woe, platonic bugduo upon ye. dark wins the first game, learns about the watchers and stuff, and decides to work with purple on trying to break the cycle. also! for those of you who know how third life ended take that but instead it's chosen and dark. tragic siblings.

(i guess dark did wind up fulfilling their code to destroy the chosen on- *gets exploded*)

other misc things/the scenarios imagined

they would go through all the current games, i don't have many ideas for limited life though (i've only watched all of third and secret life, i need to catch up on the others)

i realized that the boogey curse session from secret life could be very interesting to deal with (blue would be the one to start with the boogey curse), i might write that one if i ever write things for this

purple realizing at the start of limited life that everyone had their memories of third life erased (except dark, they realize dark knows but maybe by that point the alliances are already made)

purple gets to go feral at least once as a treat. is it the boogey curse? red life urges? the watchers? who knows but they get to go feral

as i said, dark is able to resist the red life urges a bit better due to experience with the mission code (which is somewhat suppressed by the watchers, they don't want to let their game be ruined by something like that). also remember how scott didn't kill anyone while affected by the boogey curse in limited life yeah dark does that and it's actually the worst

red notices the wings, he knows about canaries but he doesn't know the full significance of them.

idk what associations the winners would get (i'm still thinking about the different winners at this point anyways). I think yellow would win one, maybe also chosen or second...?

unlikely alliances, unlikely alliances as far as the eye can see. double life especially

PLEASE if you have any ideas or questions come yell at me in my ask box, i would like to talk more about this and i'm curious what thoughts y'all might have

[aq2003]

really love how throughout a lot of smith and jones martha is really skeptical and apprehensive towards ten (+ one of my favorite exchanges between them - "what, people call you 'the doctor'?" "yeah?" "well, i'm not. far as i'm concerned, you've got to earn that title."), not taking everything he says at face value, even doubting the fact he's an alien until over halfway through the episode.. And like. i really truly think the thing that wins her over isn't him kissing her or any of the other insane mixed messages he manages to send, it's this scene here, where he /earns that title/ in her eyes:

(+ david's bit in the commentary, where he says: "[the doctor] has actually sacrificed himself, and - i would say, that that final act of selflessness is what finally, eventually, welds martha to him. [...] and she now returns it. she returns that act of selflessness.")

this is what their relationship is built on. it isn't about martha being the second-best replacement to rose or a rebound or whatever. bc it isn't really about rose. it's about doctor-in-training martha meeting someone (quite literally, "the doctor") whose ideals she aspires to, and doing her best to be the same person to him as he is to everyone else. it's about ten in return admiring her intelligence and inquisitiveness and how she cares for human life, recovering his compassion, letting himself lean on her for support - and then remembering at the most inopportune moments that he's supposed to not need anyone and be on his own forever. And around in their little nightmare loop they go where they save each other over and over until one of them breaks

i've seen ppl look at martha and go "why she does she admire/why is she so in love with ten if he acts like that to her?" or something along those lines and like. it's not just the fact she's in love with him (in fact i'd argue she actively tries to push it aside post-gridlock). it's the fact that she knows he's the kind of person to put everyone else's lives/well-being over his own. she trusts him to save her when she's in trouble even though it's been like two days at most that they've known one another bc she recognizes that same "deep all-encompassing drive to help others" in him. and she also recognizes, much much earlier than him, that he needs someone to save him, especially when he's unwilling to save himself. and yeah for a bit she thinks he returns her feelings and is just playing hard-to-get, but she realizes pretty early on that this probably isn't the case, and i think that realization fully solidifies here:

(this is when she's listening to ten talk abt gallifrey). And idk it might just be me but i think this expression isn't just her empathizing with his loss. it's also guilt, for wanting something from him that he's clearly unable to give when he's wracked with so much grief. (and you see it in the next episode, where tallulah asks if they're together and martha says for certain that they're not, and that he doesn't know about her feelings for him. she keeps everything to herself bc she now knows that when he shut her flirting down at the end of 3x01 it was the genuine reaction of someone who a) isn't interested and b) is scared of getting close with someone else again)

freema described their dynamic as "she's keener than him" and i think about this all the time. martha doesn't really take what ten throws at her. what she does instead is constantly poke holes in his already-failing front of "i will show someone the wonders of the universe so i can ignore what is wrong with me". what she does is stand up and fight him when he tries to go off on his own. what she does is put aside her well-being in favor of helping someone - just like what she saw him do for the people in the hospital when they first met. tldr, that's the doctor and his doctor and rip martha you would've loved who's gonna save u now by rina sawayama

[loganwritesprobably]

First Dates With.. (One Piece)

First dates with Crocodile, Mihawk and Robin, characters decided by the recent poll I did to see what characters people liked. I'll do a second round of those polls in the future, with a slightly bigger audience for this sort of thing and set to seven days each

Reader is gender neutral for all three shorts

Crocodile had a sense of all things expensive, and it was hardly a stretch to believe that the same thing would apply to the way he treated you. He'd courted you not so gently, with daring touches and flirtatious words, and now you were finally doing something together officially. You'd figured you knew him well enough to know what to expect by now, and it turned out that you were right. He'd taken you out to a richer area of Alabasta, far from the capital and closer to the west coast, where affluent people lived away from the general riff raff. You supposed if Crocodile wasn't so busy attempting to take over the country, he'd probably want to live here too.

The restaurant was gorgeous, and you'd expected that you'd be taken somewhere exactly like this. Grand chandeliers, golden decorations, waiters dressed in the finest fabrics even for their working uniform. It was gorgeous, there was no doubt, though perhaps a little high brow for you. After all, you were what these people considered riff raff.

He'd made a reservation, and followed the waiter without concern for fitting in or price. This was what it was to date a man like him, and it was a nice change of pace compared to men who never showed up or expected you to all the work to keep the relationship going, but doubts crept in too. You sat without a word to the waiter, and took the menu in hand - it didn't even have prices on. "If you were worried about ordering the cheapest thing available, stop. Money is no issue, you know that." Crocodile said with a smile, the soft kind that you knew he didn't show to anyone else. It made you feel special. You didn't reply, just laughed and shook your head, and read over the menu for what you wanted.

He ordered for the two of you when the waiter came back around, sensing your discomfort, and once the waiter was gone, he struck up a conversation. He started with familiar topics, like the casino, and his warlord meetings, and your tension began to ease. It didn't take long for it to feel like you and Crocodile were the only ones in the room. "He's obsessed." You remarked with a laugh, quickly moving some hair from your face. "It's disgusting." Crocodile replied with a grimace, glancing up as the waiter returned with your food. You each took your plate, and you looked down at it with a smile. It looked damn good. "Well, nothing more about him then, because this food certainly isn't."

You ate mostly in silence for the first few minutes, enjoying the flavours, and the quiet company that Crocodile was so good at proving. He didn't need to say anything, just his presence was enough. "Did you see the newspaper yesterday?" You asked after a minute, pausing between bites so you could speak without being rude. "I'm not sure I did." He remarked, head slightly tilted with curiosity. "New rookie bounty released, pretty high for someone so new, and coming from the East Blue." You said, setting your fork back down on your plate so that you could use your hands to speak without making any mess. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." "Not for you, of course, but it doesn't hurt to keep an eye on rising stars." "You seem interested in him, or optimistic at least." "Well, he's a D. They're all interesting."

Everything with Crocodile seemed to come easy. He was so unapproachable, so frightening often, a harsh and dangerous man. Not to you. He'd decided that he liked you, and so he treated you like royalty because he'd decided that you deserved that. He tried not to lose his temper when you were involved, and never as a direct result of you - he never apologised if he did lose his temper, but he made sure to check in on you, and make sure you were okay afterward.

The rest of the meal went off without a hitch, and the meal was perfect. You couldn't complain about anything that Crocodile did for you, even his displays of wealth were done with careful consideration for your interests and tastes. You opted not to get a dessert, the main course was perfectly filling, and instead decided to take your leave. Crocodile paid out of earshot, so you couldn't concern yourself with what he'd spent.

The best part of the night, however, was when Crocodile effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, holding you close and tightly. "What are you-" "Just trust me." Crocodile said softly, a smirk on his face that promised mischief, and then he turned to sand. He travelled swiftly across the Alabastan desert, with you kept safe and sound in the centre of the storm, far better transport than any camel or crab you could've commandeered. You screamed and howled with laughter, after you recovered from your initial shock. It was almost magical.

He deposited you directly outside your door, gracefully setting you down and returning to his solid shape. "Are you alright?" "It was worth trusting you." That sentiment seemed to shock, or maybe even scare, Crocodile. He took your hand in his and gently kissed your knuckles. "I'll see you again soon." He practically promised, then once again he turned to sand, carried away on the soft evening breeze, toward the casino once again.

Being invited back to Mihawk's island was an honour, really. He had been so polite, and openly given you the chance to refuse his invitation, but of course you hadn't. He'd offered you his hand to help you into his little coffin shaped boat, then climbed in after you, untying it from the dock and setting sail. Despite the small size of his boat, you had no fear of danger, because he was there to look after you and make sure that you were just fine. There was no risk when Mihawk was there to protect you. The sail was nice, with the sea breeze blowing gently over your skin, the salt in the air, and the warm beams of the sun gently beating down on you.

Kuraigana was not as nice as the open ocean, but it was exactly what you'd been expecting it to be. It was dark, gloomy and overcast - at least there was less risk of skin cancer from the sun. Probably. But, it was quaint in a way. You knew he was the only person living there, and that he had taken to cultivating the land in order to grow his own produce for times that he couldn't sail for fresh produce from other islands. He also lived in a castle which was a huge bonus in your books, even if it was dusty (you hadn't asked about the dust, because you didn't dare, but there was no way he was keeping an entire castle free of dust that would be a full time job for one guy).

When you arrived, he docked with ease, and helped you back up and out of the boat. A date, in his own home, rather than some fancy restaurant or in a park on some nice summery island. Instead, you'd be dining at the table he used every night, eating a meal that he'd prepared himself - because not only is he the world's greatest swordsman but he also cooks - and then you'd spend the rest of the evening in front of a warm fire before heading to sleep in a spare bedroom because he refused to ferry you back to your island in the dark, that was a risk he didn't want to take.

Like a true gentleman, Mihawk offered you his arm to take, and you dutifully hooked hand around the crook of his elbow to be guided up to the castle. It wasn't so bad, you'd expected the island to be colder, and yet it was a perfectly comfortable temperature. You could hear the hooting of the humandrills amongst the trees that Mihawk had already warned you about, and so the sound didn't worry you. Apparently they'd come to some sort of civil agreement to leave each other alone, which suited you just fine. The castle was cleaner than you'd expected, though sparsely decorated which you had expected, only the necessities like a rack for Yoru and candles to keep the place lit in the entryway.

You headed right to the dining room after you'd both taken off your shoes and Mihawk had taken your coat to be hung on a stand near the door, and it was a large room. A dining table sat in the middle of the room, far larger than you thought he'd need considering he lived here alone - when it struck you that it was likely none of this was Mihawk's, rather having been left behind by whoever had lived here before. You took a seat at the table, though pulled it out to be more comfortable, while Mihawk set a record to play on the other side of the room. The music was less classical than it looked like he'd enjoy, more so rock in style, and you found yourself interested in all you were learning.

Mihawk disappeared to cook, and it didn't take long, maybe a half hour for him to prepare the meal. He brought out spaghetti in a delicious red, wine-based sauce (very Mihawk) served with what you were fairly sure was sea beast meat. He also presented a side dish filled with garlic bread (not a vampire then, good to know), as well as the rest of the bottle of wine that he'd used to cook for the two of you to drink. You took your first bite and almost moaned - he wasn't just a cook, he was a brilliant cook. Better than most you'd encountered. You ate with enthusiasm and vigour, happy to sit together in silence aside from the music playing in the background - you'd replaced the record with another one at some point while he was cooking.

"So, you made that pretty fast, all things considered." You remarked when all your pasta was gone, and a slice of garlic bread was in your hand. "Most things I have pre-prepared and frozen, so that my day can end with ease whenever I return from where I've been, especially since I frequently take long trips away from home." He replied, sipping at his wine, casually reclined in his chair. "Smart. You're an amazing cook by the way." "Thank you, dear." He'd never called you that before, and it made a little buzz shoot up your spine, and your face turn warm. Dear. You liked it.

He took away the dishes once you were both done, and you followed after him, intent on helping him clean up. You refused to let him turn you away. While he washed, you dried, and in no time everything was done and returned to where it belonged. He then led you out to the living room where you curled up in matching arm chairs in front of the grand fireplace he'd mentioned, once again listening to music, and now enjoying books. A perfect night, if you said so yourself. And you did.

You'd offered to organise the date, since you were the one to suggest going on a date to begin with, but Robin had insisted that she wanted to plan it, and you couldn't find the strength to deny her. You had no idea what to expect, but you found that you didn't mind too much. She surprised you a day after the ship had docked at another island, and told you to meet her in the town centre at midday on the dot. You could do that. You spent the morning with Sanji, while he took stock of what the ship had and needed, you cleaned the surfaces and sharpened the knives, just to offer a helping hand where you were needed. Just before midday, you left the ship to locate the town centre.

There, already waiting, was Robin. "You're early." She said, standing from the bench she'd been sitting on to reach out for you. "Well I wasn't going to be late." You replied with a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. It may be your first date, but you and Robin had known each other for some time now, affection came easily between you two. With your hand in hers, she gently began to guide you away from the square and the fountain at its centre, into the town.. and then back out of it on the other side. You had no idea where you were headed, but you had nothing less than the utmost trust in the girl you'd chosen to call your own.

She guided you away from the town, into the trees at the edge, and through them. She did it easily, as if she'd done it a hundred times before even though you knew it was the first time that either of you had been to the island. Just one of her many talents, you supposed, and that was why you cared for her as much as you did. She was incredible. You bobbed and weaved between the trees, over rotting stumps and roots grown out of control, all while hand in hand. When you passed through the trees, finally, the light shining down on you again, you were in a large open field. You weren't sure you'd ever seen grass so green, and the flowers growing amongst the blades were beautiful, creating the perfect spot for a date. You scanned over the area, and finally your eyes fell on a blanket, and a basket.

With a warm smile, Robin gently tugged your hand to keep you moving, and you followed once again as she led you to the blanket she'd set up, where there was a basket of food and drinks provided by Sanji, and some of the local market stalls. You sat down first, still amazed by the scenery, unable to take your eyes away from the natural beauty. And then Robin stepped into your sightline and you had to wonder how anything could've distracted you from her beauty. She sat beside you, and you reached out to squeeze her thigh. "You like it then?" She asked, reaching for the basket to pull a flask full of cola kept cool inside for the two of you to drink. "It's beautiful, just like you." You replied, and she laughed airily. You weren't sure either of you had stopped smiling since you'd met up in the town centre. You took a cup from her, filled with cola, and the cold of the drink cut up the heat of the day. It wasn't an unbearable heat, but still the cool drink was welcomed.

The two of you ate, drank, and shared idle chatter, talking about the crew and the town, and what islands may be in your future. Things always came so easily with Robin, you never had to worry about what she was thinking or whether you were doing the right thing. There was no wrong thing to do. She'd been intimidating when you'd first met, but now you struggled to remember why aside from in battle, she was so gentle, and gorgeous like the perfect flower. You wanted to kiss her - so you did. You leaned in closer, waiting for her to finish her sentence before you sealed your lips together, a smile on your face all the while. She rested a hand on your upper thigh, happy to kiss lazily under the sun - you were in no hurry after all.

[lemotmo]

I love everyone trying to remind people to remain calm.

Q. I'm going to throw up. For real.

A. There are currently lots of posts being made trying to remind people to breathe so here's mine. We are on episode 5 of an 18 episode season. And people have a LOT of expectations for the next two episodes. There is nothing wrong with wanting things to move quickly but it's not a practical demand. Based on the tuff that has been released so far, I fully expect tonight's episode to end on positive terms for BT. Probably pretty good terms, actually. It would be true to form for the show and for Buck. We may see the beginnings of the cracks but it would be true to form for Buck to choose to look past those for now. I do think we will get some hints tonight though, especially where Eddie is concerned. But people are going to have to be patient. Eddie is not going to come out, shave his mustache and tell Buck he's in love with him all in one episode. And Buck is not going to dump Tommy and tell Eddie he's in love with him all in one episode. That's not going to happen. They're going to drag it out. Eddie being all over their story is a start and if we get actual hints beginning tonight and in episode 6 then everyone will see where things are headed but it won't be told in one or two episodes. And as long as people can see what they're setting up you shouldn't want them to rush through it. I know the audience has been waiting 7 years but Buck and Eddie haven't. Let them have the build up. Let them be awkward and nervous and sure of their individual feelings but unsure if the other shares those feelings. Let them purposely flirt. Let them have looks and touches that linger just a bit longer than they should. Let them PINE. Let the story will they or won't they. We all know they will. That's the better story. The truth is if all of this is heading where most people think it is, then we are just at the beginning. They will take the time they want. Don't make yourselves sick expecting it all to happen in one episode and then convincing yourselves that if it doesn't all happen immediately then it's not happening at all. And always ignore Max Gao, he is a troll who lives to rile you up. If you're not new to 911 then you should be well aware of his game by now. I understand the noise that will come after tonight's episode. And I understand that everyone is over it. But that won't make the show speed up the story. Enjoy the moments you get and just try to ignore the nonsense.

Thank you nonny!

And as for Ali's post?

YES, YES and YES!

Don't expect everything at once. Let the story play out the way it needs to be played out. These characters deserve a good love story for once. Let's not have them rush into this, but let them pine and long for each other. It'll make for better TV and a better shipping experience.

That's all. 😉

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[bat-mom-writer]

Bat Baby: Part 4

Pregnant Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, find their pregnant non-biological mother missing, how would they react?

(I do not own any DC characters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, mom, I got your ice cream," Dick called out as he pushed open the bedroom door, the ice cream in his hand. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the curtains fluttering gently in the cool night breeze. He paused, the sight before him not at all what he had expected. The bed was empty, the covers thrown haphazardly aside, and the room was eerily still.

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the room, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Mom?" he whispered into the quiet, his voice tentative. The only answer was the muffled sound of the television from the living room.

With a frown, he stepped into the hallway, calling out for her again. The house felt too still, the silence a stark contrast to the usual hum of activity that filled the Wayne Manor. He made his way through the corridors, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. He checked the bathroom, the nursery, the kitchen, the study, the library, and even the fucking batcave, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart was racing now, fear blooming in his chest. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

The ice cream slipped from his grip, the containers of mint chocolate chip ice cream spilling out onto the floor. They landed with a soft thud, the lid popping off one of them, the cool sweetness immediately making a spill on the floor. Dick barely registered the mess as he sprinted down the hallway, the urgency in his steps echoing off the high ceilings.

Entering the living room, he found Tim and Jason still engrossed in their show, their backs to the door. "Guys," he said, his voice tight with anxiety. "Where's mom?"

They both swiveled around, their expressions mirroring his own concern. "What do you mean?" Tim asked, his eyes looking to Jason, and back to Dick.

Jason leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't she go to bed?"

"Yes! But then Bruce sent me to get ice cream and when I come back she was gone!" Dick exclaimed, his voice laced with panic.

"Did you look anywhere else?" Tim asked, his brow furrowed.

"Everywhere!" Dick said, frantically. "The whole house! She's not here!"

"She's a fucking pregnant woman, she couldn't have gotten far," Jason murmured, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern. "Maybe she just went for a walk or something."

"At one in the morning?" Tim echoed. "It's not like her to just wander off, especially in her condition."

Jason stood up, his posture rigid. "Bruce should know where she is," he said, his voice laced with accusation. "Where is he?"

Dick's mind raced as he thought back. "He said he had to check something in the garage," he recalled, the memory feeling distant and fuzzy. "That was when I came into the house the ice cream."

"Go find him, Dick!" Jason barked, his eyes flashing with urgency. "Tim and I will look outside."

"Don't bother," Damian said, his voice cutting through the tension as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes heavy with a knowing that didn’t quite suit his age. "They're already gone."

The words hit Dick like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from his lungs. "What?" he choked out, his eyes wide with shock.

"They left," Damian confirmed, his voice eerily calm. "I saw them drive off."

"What the hell?" Dick says, his mind racing. "Why wouldn't they tell us?"

"Is she okay?" Tim's voice was strained with worry as he stared at Damian.

Damian's expression doesn't waver. "They're on their way to the hospital," he says, his voice as calm as a lake on a still night. "Her water broke."

The words hit the others like a sucker punch. Tim's eyes widen, and he takes a stumbling step back. "What?" he gasps, his hand flying to his mouth. "We need to get to the hospital."

"Father told me to not let you go until he calls," he says, his voice devoid of its usual smugness.

The realization hits Dick like a truck. "Wait, you know the whole time?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Spill the beans you little shit," Jason grabs Damian by his shirt and pulls him up, his eyes blazing with a mix of fear and anger.

Damian shrugs, his eyes meeting Jason's. "They didn't want to alarm us," he says, his voice a little too calm for the situation. "They thought we'd make a scene."

"Make a scene?!" Jason's voice rises, his grip on Damian's shirt tightening. "Make a fucking scene?! I'll show you a scene!" He shoves Damian away from him, the force enough to send the younger boy stumbling backward.

Dick moves quickly, pulling Jason back before he can do any more damage. "Jason, stop!" he snaps, his voice filled with a command that he rarely uses. "We need to focus on finding them, not fighting with each other."

Tim nods, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. "He's right," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

Jason's eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. "I don't care what this little boy says, I'm going," he says, his voice a low growl.

Dick grabs his arm, his eyes pleading. "Jason, please," he begs. "It's what mom wanted."

Jason's gaze darts to Damian, then back to Dick, his anger slowly morphing into understanding. "Fine," he says, his voice gruff.

"Good," Dick says, letting out a sigh of relief. "We'll wait for Bruce's call. And when he does, we're going to be calm. No panicking, no shoving," He glances from Damian and Jason. "We need to be there for her, not cause more stress."

They all nod, and sit on the couch, the leather cool against their skin. The room feels suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with unspoken anxiety. The only sounds are the distant wail of a siren and the occasional beep from the security monitors. Each one of them stares straight ahead, lost in their own thoughts.

Hours later, the Dick's phone rang.

Next

Writer's note: Gonna be honest I see a lot of other wristers naming the daughter of Reader X Bruce, Martha, and I'm sorry, but I don't really love the name. Can I PLEASE have some other girl names idea? Then I'll make a Part 5.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Not sure if this has been asked before, but Vox in located in NY, they have the shack that Drift is in and Alastor has his place. But where do they spend most of their time? And is it hard juggling locations like that?

OOOOOO, a location question. I can't answer in full yet because not all the locations have been revealed....butttt I will mention a few that have been shown in the story, referenced in asks, and whatnot:

So, Alastor has a few locations associated with him and two homes. The first is the flat in New Orleans proper, over by the French Quarter. It is briefly seen from the outside in the epilogue to (Never) Let Me Go. Mimzy frequently stays here, and Al has given her a spare key to the upstairs just for herself. This is also the place Al lived after moving out of his childhood home, just as he was starting up his radio show and really digging into his, ahem, 'extracurricular' activities.

It was also around this time that the shack was built because, well, he needed a place for all his prep work. The shack is much, much further into the bayou and beyond where any normal person would dare to go. It's a very wild, almost haunting kind of place. The kid has only been here. I know it seems like it's been long time because all the asks...but most of them are non-canon to the story. They haven't actually had to leave the kid alone for much more than getting groceries. Thankfully, both have been able to push off having to jump right back to work in person. Ah, the days before people always knew where you were!

Al's other home, which he basically gave to his mother until her passing, is usually called the 'estate', and can be seen in the background of some asks, like this one. It originally belong to his father....buuttt for, ahem, reasons, he grew up basically owning the house and everything in it. We'll be seeing this more shortly, but it's kinda the base of operations for most of the going ons that shall be shown...unless said otherwise. You'll see why ;)

The bar location that shows up most often, and always when Husk is around, is the Black Cat casino and bar. Husk originally owned the joint until Al came and won it, and Husk, in a game of cards. We haven't seen it from the outside yet because it's something a little special that I'm saving for later ;))

We haven't seen too much of the Vox centered locations, but just be aware that he's got a house in almost every state, and a secret place in South America that he got after he realized just what kind of, um, 'tab' him and Al were drawing up, in case they ever needed a place to get away to.

He has a penthouse in NYC proper, with a view out to Central Park. The poolside was shown very, very briefly in a early funny one off, non-canon ask here. If he's got a long busy week, he'll usually stay there just for convenience.

His business building is also in NYC, and one of the offices was shown in (Never) Let Me Go Part I . It's also sometimes featured in asks, but is almost always shown from the view of the offices or his station set. His studio building is in Hollywood proper, and we'll see more of that further along the line.

Otherwise, the two other locations to keep in mind for now are the big, Gatsby-styled mansion on Long Island, shown briefly here, and the private island he owns with a small fortress on it, seen here.

Also, because it's kinda a location in of itself, especially where Vox is concerned, consider his yacht as another 'home' of his. It has enough bedrooms to count XD.

Whew! I think that's the short summary of all the ones shown or teased so far. But to get back to the original question:

Vox almost always visits Alastor, unless explicitly stated. Between Vel and his own obsession with work, he makes time for the things he really wants, like traveling down south to be with Al. After Alastor's mom passed, they're almost always at the estate whenever it's their usual downtime. Al doesn't have any real neighbors for miles and they can kinda do whatever they want there. Also, now that his mother is gone, Al doesn't mind using the place when getting his hands dirty...so long as his mother's things aren't disturbed. Again, we're going to see more of the interior shortly.

The shack is supposed to be just for their prep work and maybe the occasional sleepover that gets called a hunting trip. It's not really meant to serve as a home but...well, with the kid there, they haven't had much choice in the matter. That's why at the end of Something Wicked, when Al realizes Vox is attached now...yeah, probably time to bring the kid to a proper house (which is going to be Al's estate).

So, yeah, it's hard, but they make it work.

Thanks for the ask!

[sarucane]

Why didn't Izzy shoot Ed (then)?

Turns out that teasing out character logic is fun and people are interested so I'll just do it again ;)

Izzy has good reasons to shoot Ed here. Ed shot his leg and then outsourced the "kill Izzy" job to Frenchie. Now Izzy's a one-legged pirate, and as far as he's concerned his life isn't even worth living.

But Izzy is alive here. And he's alive because of what started when the crew intervened a few episodes back, told him he was in a toxic relationship with Blackbeard. The choices he made after that led to Ed shooting him, but also sowed the seed of a real bond between him and the crew, which led to him being alive here. Which--most importantly for answering this question--adds up to Izzy not being sure anymore that the old way is the right way.

Ed thinks Izzy will shoot him because there's rules to follow. Izzy told Ed "Blackbeard is my captain, not Edward. Edward better watch his fucking step." Well, Ed has come to the conclusion that he can't not be Edward. And he doesn't want to keep living torn between Blackbeard and Edward, alone and hopeless. He's desperate to let go, and is convinced the only thing "letting go" means is death, so he's setting out to make someone force him to let go.

And Izzy is the obvious choice of someone to make him let go, because Izzy does what Blackbeard tells him to.

But it's no longer that simple on this ship. It never has truly been that simple--Izzy was in denial about how human beings work when he demanded Ed just be Blackbeard again. And Izzy's changed, too.

Ed and Izzy are both caught between two ways of being in this scene. On the one hand, there's the pirate script, the Code of the Sea. Life is cheap, new first mates kill old first mates, first mates kill captains. Weakness is death. Roles are static and permanent, and the only "correct" change is death.

On the other hand, there's the Revenge script, where "life means something" and people "live for each other, not just to survive." Where deviations from the norm aren't just accepted, they're encouraged. Where people can be vulnerable and be supported, be weak and still worthy of life. Where people can change.

When Izzy refuses to shoot Ed, he is embodying that conflict. Izzy doesn't shoot Ed because he finds he really is done with the script. Because when it comes down to it, he may have threatened him--but he does not want to kill Ed.

But rather than risk or show the kind of vulnerability he did right before Ed shot him, Izzy frames this in the old narrative terms. He expresses contempt for Ed, that it's weakness that is making Ed come to Izzy for an assisted suicide. Izzy calls him "Eddie" as a way of diminishing him. He uses the kind of language he used back in S1E4, falling back on ideas like 'making a mess' that make sense to him, but invalidate the seriousness of what's happening here.

But at the same time, Izzy's actually setting his first healthy boundary in his relationship with Ed. Not "you need to do/act/etc," but "I will/will not do/act/etc." Izzy's spent years encouraging, feeding, and enabling this toxicity. He's not going to anymore. And he's not going to do it because he knows it's wrong--but he can't say that. Maybe doesn't even really know it.

It's a truly mad mix of growth and regression, and it's no wonder that Izzy falls back on the old script when he's alone and tries to shoot himself. And it's also no wonder that he fails, because he knows this is the wrong way to be. That both he and Ed deserve better.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Book of the Damned: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Charlie found the Book of the Damned which has the spell to undo the curse of the Mark. You've made yourself clear but they're not listening to you. What better way to show Dean how serious you are than to hit him where it hurts: Your kids, Sam, and Charlie.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

"Where's the book?"

Charlie has no choice but to trust you. If Sam and Dean do then she does. Stupid girl. She walks over to the small coffee table as she explains its origins.

"Okay, here's what I've learned so far. About seven hundred years ago, a nun locked herself away after having visions of darkness. After a few decades squirreled away by herself, she emerged with this." She removes a cloth covering around the book. Your eyes immediately widen at the sight of it and your mark burns. Your head starts to feel fuzzy as the only thing you can think of is that book. "Each page is made out of slices of her own skin written in her blood. I told you, it's eekish." She hands the book to Sam and he starts flipping through the pages. "According to the notes I found, it's been owned and used by cults, covens, and the Vatican had it for a while. There's a spell inside that thing for everything like some black mass, dark magic, and end-of-times nastiness. As far as what language it's written in, I'm thinking it's some kind of...uh..."

"Dean? Dean!"

You and Dean snap out of whatever trance you're in only to see Dean standing in the kitchen with the book in his hands.

"What?" Sam and Charlie exchange concerned glances. "I don't think it's a good idea that I touch this."

Before Dean can give it back, you snatch it from his hands. You have to feel this at least once. Magic pours out of your hands in the form of a mist. The fuzziness in your head comes back and it pounds while the book screams at you to use it. You open it and look through the pages, immediately understanding the text. It's like it's written in English to you. Before you can get to the page regarding the Mark, Sam takes it out of your hands. You're not going to tell them you can read the book.

"Cool book," you nod.

"I'll go get the rest of our shit," Dean says and leaves the cabin.

"Me, too," you say and follow Dean outside.

"What the hell was that?" Charlie asks.

"They're not getting better. He's trying to cover and she's... Don't believe a word she says, okay? I don't think she's on our side."

"Why did you let her come?"

"I've learned very quickly that we don't let her do anything. She'll get whatever she wants but she cannot have this."

"Okay." Charlie nods.

Forget trying to destroy the book. You want it. That book contains the power you're craving. You'll get that book even if it means you have to kill them to do it. It doesn't hurt to know what you're up against. If the book is being tracked then there is someone or something that knows how powerful it is. They'll come for the book and will most likely be armed. That doesn't bother you but it doesn't hurt to know who they are. So, for right now, everyone and the book are safe.

You and Dean are sitting in the living room with a box from the bunker while Sam is sitting on the bed in the bedroom. The floor plan of the cabin is an open room so besides the fireplace in the middle of the room, you can see every inch of the place. There are no walls and doors separating you and Sam. Charlie is in the corner of the room drawing something on a piece of scratch paper. She gets up and walks over to you and Dean when she's finished.

"Okay, I got a pretty good look at his tattoo. It's something like this." 

Dean takes the paper but you see the drawing. It looks like an eagle with two heads turned away from each other. In the middle of the eagle is a cross that's sharp on the bottom.

"The douche clan. Got it. Well, this is everything the Men of Letters had on occult families, so there should be something in here."

"Sam, got anything?"

She leaves your side to join Sam's and Dean looks at you with narrowed eyes.

"Are you really on our side?"

"What do you think?" you smirk and take out a book from the box.

"I think you have a secret agenda and you're playing us."

"If you thought that, you wouldn't have let me come here," you chuckle.

Dean wants to hit someone but he refrains. Instead, he balls up his fist and you chuckle when you see them.

"Just tell me what you're up to and leave our kids out of it."

"Now if I told you, what fun would that be?"

You get up and leave Dean alone while looking at Sam. The Book of the Damned is open in front of him and it's taking everything in you not to go over there and grab it. You might be soulless with no emotions but you're not stupid. You have to play this right if you want things to go your way.

"From my best guess, this is all in an obscure Sumerian dialect. I actually found a rough match for it in this book," Sam says and holds up a different book.

"That's great," Charlie smiles.

"I thought so, too, but I've been translating and none of the translated words make any sense. It's all just gibberish. I mean, maybe it's in a different dialect?"

Charlie grabs Sam's notes and looks through them.

"No, I think you're right but I think it's in code."

"An entire book of unreadable text that's also in code. Great."

"And you call yourselves nerds. Come on. You got this," Dean says.

"He's right. Let's get our Alan Turing on and decrypt this bitch."

Sam looks up and sees both you and Dean staring at the book. He sees raw hunger in your eyes and longing in Dean's

"You know what, Charlie? Why don't we stick with my notes for a little bit? This book is literally making my eyes hurt."

Sam puts the book in the warded lock box, snapping you out of your trance. Just a little longer.

A few hours passed of reading, reading, and more reading. You're about to take the damn book and run when Dean stands up with a file in his hands.

"I found something. Those people following you are all kinds of wrong. I'm talking multi-generational, centuries-old wrong. The Styne family. Men of Letters' files have them dated back to the early 1800s. They used spells to create disease and to destabilize markets. Hell, they even helped the Nazis before they came into power, and they profited from all of it." Dean hands the file over to Charlie just as Sam joins her on the couch. "All the spells they used came from a book of 'unspeakable evil' which they lost nearly a hundred years ago."

"Okay, so they're bad. So what? We faced worse."

"Sam read the file," Dean sighs. "The way the book works is when you use it, there is a negative reaction. I'm talking biblical negative. Dark magic always comes with a price. We know that. We've been down that road before."

"Well, let's at least translate it and see what it says," Charlie says.

"I bet the Scarlet Witch can decode it," you smirk.

"Like hell, you're using the book. Not going to happen. End of story."

"You guys don't understand. The book's been calling out to me ever since I laid eyes on it, okay? I'm pretty sure it's been doing the same for Y/N here. It's calling out to the Mark. I can hear it like it's alive. It wants me to use it but not for good. Look, I wanted it to be the answer too, okay? I really did, but we have got to get rid of that. Burn it, bury it, I don't give a damn. We'll just have to find another way to fix the Mark."

"Like what?" Sam asks and stands up.

"I don't know."

"You're giving up?"

"No, I'm not giving up. Charlie, I don't have a death wish. Okay, even if I did, I can't die, not with this thing on my arm. What I can do is I can fight it as long as I can until--"

"Until what? Tell me. Until what, Dean? Until I watch you become a demon again? Until then? I can't do that. I won't do that."

"Well, then you'll just have to lock me up. Bind me to the bunker like you did last time."

"That doesn't solve anything," Charlie says.

"Look, just let us translate the book, okay? If there's a cure, we'll do it and deal with the consequences later. I can't lose you."

"This is my cross to bear, Sam! Mine! That book is not the answer! Now we have to destroy it before it falls into the wrong hands, and that includes me and Y/N!"

Before Sam and Charlie get too heated, you put a hand on his shoulder and lean up so your mouth is next to his ear. To Sam and Charlie, you're whispering when really, you're manipulating. You can't let him burn the book. You can't let him destroy it.

"Listen to them, Dean. Let them decode it. Know its power before you decide what to do with it. Listen to them, Dean. Let them decode it."

As you're whispering, you send a stream of magic into his ear to cloud his brain. He relaxes under your touch and before you know it, he's completely under your control.

"You guys are right," Dean says. "Decode the thing. We should know its power before we decide what to do with it."

He walks away and goes to the kitchen for something to drink. Sam and Charlie look at you with confused looks.

"What did you do to him?" Sam asks.

"Does it matter? Decode it. I'll be back. It's getting stuffy in here. Plus, we forgot your snacks, Charlie."

Sam and Charlie feel much better without you in the cabin but they're worried about two things. What you did to Dean and what you're doing out there. It's fun to let them think you're off murdering people or conspiring against them when in reality, all you want is some damn food to eat. You'll get Charlie's snacks because you're tired of hearing her stomach rumble every five seconds.

x

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[songofwizardry]

Ok I'm out of the UK and meant to be on an organising break so I don't even know the worst of it, because I'm off all my usual networks and chats, but here's a long post, because I'm angry: in the last few days, across the country, there have been (halal and Muslim owned) businesses burnt down and attacked including cafes (1 and 2) and a supermarket in Belfast; a Muslim cemetery was vandalised; multiple hotels housing asylum seekers or said to be housing asylum seekers were set on fire sometimes with people inside. And that's just what's on the news. The stuff coming out anecdotally, from the people I'm talking to, is even worse. And again, I'm not hearing the worst of it right now.

The rhetoric is blatant and obvious: the leaked list of targets for Wednesday evening that's going around explicitly says they won't stop coming until we make them. It explicitly targets immigration support, immigration lawyers, and asylum seeker and refugee support centres; and just because you think you live in a diverse area does not mean it’s not a target and that numbers aren’t needed. By virtue of it targeting immigration support (and by design!!!) they’re targeting areas with large Brown, Black and immigrant populations. Particularly Muslim populations.

I don’t want to fear monger, bc where communities have been showing up, the fash are being driven out. But like. I will not lie. It is terrifying to see blatant far-right, Islamophobic, explicitly anti-immigrant and anti-asylum rhetoric so openly on our streets, days on end. It makes me incandescent with rage to hear about mosques across the country issuing warnings and shutting down events, and to hear about my friends outside London whose families haven’t been able to leave their homes in days, to hear from my friends who are or support asylum seekers about how terrified they are. It infuriates me to see, even at this point, the language and reporting, because to make the news we have to step out of a mosque being targeted and offer the fash food and a tour of the mosque; because they're still talking about how much we "contribute" to this country and that's why you shouldn't target us; becaus there's still people pointing out super "reasonably" that this is a natural response of the white working class to unchecked immigration or our terrible crimes or the violence of Muslims or those fucking savages or because there's too many goddamn people crossing the channel or. Whatever new bullshit. Genuinely, this is still turning up in the reporting, and on socials, go look on twitter and you will be utterly horrified at the shit that's being said. I'm seeing it on tumblr too.

It makes me so fucking angry and yet I am unsurprised, because Nigel Farage is an MP and can still say that this is a “response to unchecked immigration”, because the shadow Welsh secretary can say there is “political justification” for the far-right action on our streets, because my friends who are asylum seekers have seen years upon years of being blamed for every ill and failure of the social safety net that the government has been responsible for. This is where we end up after years of talking about “no-go zones” in Muslim areas of cities, after “Stop the boats” (full of terrified people who are escaping unimaginably bad circumstances) becomes a reasonable political chant, after we had a prime minister whose blatant islamophobic comments were just… ignored for years, after years of newspaper front pages demonising us.

This isn’t just about the stabbings. (Tommy Robinson was in London leading a fash march before these stabbings. This has been a long time coming.) This is the result of years of this shit. So yeah, we are scared, and concerned, but also angry (maybe that’s just me; I am always angry). Look out for your friends. Check in on people, particularly if you know PoC and people targeted by Islamophobia (misplaced or otherwise, our Sikh friends get a lot of this shit as well), immigrants, and asylum seekers and refugees.

Numbers have been key to keeping the fash down. Counterprotests are happening everywhere—if you can get to one SAFELY (being the key word here—if you’re visibly going to be a target, there is no shame in staying home and staying safe) please do, don’t go alone under any circumstances, take the GBC number, don’t split off from the group, etc. Repeatedly, we have been the ones keeping each other safe. Counter-protests are being called by Stand Up To Racism (which is a SWP front), but particularly within London, BLMUK and LAFA (the London Anti-Fascist Assembly) are also coordinating responses—you can see stuff on the BLMUK instagram. Do what you can to help, but if you’re going out there, do it as a group and do it safely.

And please please push back against the anti-immigrant rhetoric, against these prevalent ideas (even) amongst “polite” middle class white liberals about Muslims who refuse to assimilate, about the “state” of “those” areas of Birmingham and Manchester and London, against the good immigrant narratives and the blame we get for everything from inflation to overcrowded classrooms to NHS underfunding, against the fucking vile way people talk about asylum seekers and people crossing the channel.

I am tired and sick to my core of the myth of “polite” British racism. I am tired of being told that things like that don’t happen here, of the shock I get anytime I describe the Islamophobia and racism that people (that I) experience. I’m actually very very tired full stop, and I don’t know how to end this paragraph.

Fuck the fash. We keep ourselves and each other safe. We need each other to keep our communities safe. Organise. And for the love of god, listen to us.

[mushroompollution]

Chapter 46: Persona

previous chapters: The Sablier Arc Masterpost(35-42) || 43 || 44 || 45

read the manga: imgur || mangaread (ad warning)

Vincent meets with the Baskervilles to discuss the Sealing Stone. Fang is hopeful that the rest will be easier to find, as they're likely placed in a cirle. But Lotti is concerned by the fact the Stone was shartered by the Headhunter, not one of them. That's a problem, they don't know the assassin's motivations.

Lotti asks if Vincent knows anything, since he is a Nightray.

Once again, Lotti moves the conversation along. Somehow, she's become the straight man here. She asks what Vincent is supposed to be doing while they're hunting and breaking the Stones sealing Glen's soul.

Vincent explains that each Abyss Gate owned by the four Duke Houses has its own Key. The Keys' true forms are spheres of magical light, concealed inside unique objects carried by each of the Dukes at all times.

Now we understand why he's been spending so much time with Ada Vessalius. Though Oz's father is the one Contracted with the family's Black-Winged Chain, their uncle Oscar is the Duke Vessalius, and must be the one who carries the Key. He's also someone who would do anything for his family.

That's why he goes out with her again.

LEAVE HER ALONE. GET A JOB.

After the opera, Ada takes him back to the second house her uncle had set up for her, as her father had forbidden her from having friends at the main house. As she leads him inside, Vincent reminisces about how much he despises women for a while. As far back as his own birth mother, who had sold him and Gilbert to a freak show because of his red eye. So Ada must be the same, stupid and selfish, hidden behind a mask of purity and pretty words.

Yeah, he's the worst.

Ada leads him to her room, trembling all the way.

Vincent is left flabbergasted as Ada rambles on and on about her interest in the occult. After Oz had been cast into Abyss, she had tried to learn as much as possible about it. However, the only books available to the public treated the Abyss as a fairytale. It had awoken an unquenchable thirst for information on ghosts, magic, and the occult, though.

So when she heard from Gilbert that Vincent often cut up stuffed animals with scissors....

Vincent asks why Gilbert called him to meet at Pandora, and Gil asks if the rest of the family is alright after the news about the Headhunter. Which. gotta love the Gil logic there.

"I wanted to make sure you and Elliot are safe from the assassin. so I called you out of the heavily guarded mansion to meet because I'm scared of my family."

yeah. anyway. They exchange sentiments that they're worried about each other, Vincent reminds Gilbert that he had been poisoned once before by the Headhunter. As they get ready to say their goodbyes though, Gilbert asks his brother one more time if he remembers anything about their lives 100 years ago. Vincent still insists he doesn't remember a thing.

Over at the Rainsworth estate, Sharon meets with her grandmother, the Duchess Sheryl Rainsworth, in her office. Sheryl asks if her granddaughter is alright, after the gruesome things she saw on her trip with the Oz gang.

Sharon thanks her grandmother. As she leaves, Sheryl calls out to Break, evesdropping behind a door, that he didn't need to worry about Sharon so much. They chat a bit about how he treats Sharon like a little sister, and Sheryl says he should tell her the truth about his eyesight beforetheyir conversation turns back toward business at hand.

In a much more serious tone, the Duchess Rainsworth asks Break about his investigation into Oz Vessalius's past. Break reveals that Oscar had given him some extremely confidential information about Oz's birth.

His father had taken him immediately after birth, storming off without telling any of the nurses, servants, or his own wife, where he was going.