#or I just need to learn how to actually landscape

[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~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

[sirfrogsworth]

Frogman's Camera Buying Guide

A few weeks ago someone asked if I could recommend an interchangeable lens camera (ILC) to supplement their smartphone photos and hopefully get better pictures of important things like vacations and pets.

I decided to go very extra with my response and due to that... I'm still not finished with it.

I'm worried I am letting this person down because they did not ask for a giant post explaining every detail about cameras in the history of forever.

So I am going to do a camera recommendation post without as much explanation and hopefully I can finish the giant post at some point in the near future.

If you want to take better pictures you are probably going to need a camera with a decent sized sensor, a fast lens, a tripod, and a flash.

The bigger sensor gives you more dynamic range so you can capture brighter and darker things in the photo.

A fast lens has a giant hole in the front that lets in a ton of light. That hole is called the aperture and the bigger it is, the better your photos in dark environments will be. So you will want something that does f/1.8 or f/1.4 (lower f-stop number = bigger hole = more light). This can also help you get a lot of cool background blur.

A tripod will help get you longer exposures without any blur from camera shake. Especially good for landscape photos.

And a flash is for taking photos of pets and other moving subjects when you are indoors and don't have a lot of light. A flash is an absolute game changer for indoor photos.

HOWEVER, never point it directly at your subject.

Point it at a large white ceiling or wall. The flash happens so fast that it freezes motion. It is how I got all of my indoor photos of Otis.

Here he was playing and being rambunctious and he is not blurry.

I used no special settings. I just stuck on a flash and pointed it at the ceiling and suddenly sheep are sticking to things.

Oh, and one other huge benefit of using a flash... you can take much better photos of pets with dark fur. So if you have a cute little void in your home, a flash can help you capture detail in their fur.

Just lift the shadow slider in your image editor and that beautiful fur will reveal itself.

If you get an ETTL or TTL flash, it will output the correct amount of light automatically. You can literally just put your camera in automatic mode, aim the flash at the ceiling, and press the shutter button.

Before I talk about recommendations I want to make one thing very clear.

GETTING A GIANT CAMERA WILL NOT AUTOMATICALLY GIVE YOU BETTER PHOTOS.

Aside from my flash aimed at the ceiling trick, a big boy camera is not a magic solution for better photos. In some cases, you might actually get *worse* photos than your smartphone. You need to learn the basic fundamentals of photography and you also need to learn some basic photo editing skills.

Smartphones employ powerful algorithms and computational processes to make every photo you take look as good as possible.

ILCs say, "Here is your RAW data, you figure out the rest."

You don't have to become an expert, but if you watch this free 6 hour photography course, that will ensure you have the knowledge needed to improve your photos.

Okay, let's get into the nitty gritty of buying a nice new old ILC.

If you are on a tight budget and cannot afford a fancy mirrorless camera, I would highly suggest a used DSLR. You can get them for very reasonable prices. And unlike just about every other modern technological gadget, cameras and lenses are built to last for decades. So I have no qualms about recommending used photography gear.

However, I do highly recommend using either KEH or MPB, as they have a long trial period and decent customer service. If something goes awry with your used gear, KEH has a 180 day warranty and MPB has a 6 month warranty. So there is much less of a risk than eBay or Facebook Marketplace. You pay a bit of overhead, but the piece of mind is worth it.

Before I start my recommendations I want to quickly explain the difference between APS-C and Full Frame camera bodies. (For brevity's sake I am going to omit Micro Four Thirds bodies as they are not typically geared toward beginner photography.)

APS-C has a "crop" sensor. It is a bit smaller than full frame and does not perform as well in low light (more noise). However these bodies are cheaper and can still produce great photos. You can see above the sensor is still significantly larger than a smartphone. APS-C adds a 1.5x zoom to all lenses. This can be annoying in small spaces but advantageous for outdoor photography like wildlife and sports. You can use full frame lenses on a crop sensor body (within the same brand). APS-C lenses are usually cheaper but of lower quality.

Full frame has a larger sensor that will give you less noise in low light. It is also much easier to get background blur. Full frame also allows you to work in more cramped spaces. You *cannot* use APS-C lenses on a full frame body. However, the lenses meant for full frame cameras tend to be better quality in general.

If you can save up a little more and get a full frame body, I would recommend it. These bodies used to be geared more toward professional use, but since mirrorless cameras became popular, used full frame DSLRs have become much more accessible to those on a budget. Full frame cameras make it easier to get better results in challenging circumstances. And challenging conditions are really the main area where ILCs still kick a smartphone's ass.

For tight budgets I would recommend the following...

Canon or Nikon APS-C DSLR camera body

50mm f/1.8 lens (Nifty Fifty)

18-55mm APS-C lens (good for landscapes and portraits)

Yongnuo ETTL Flash

There are lenses called "superzooms" which can go from (as an example) 18-200mm or 70-300mm and other crazy focal lengths. That sounds fantastic and very versatile... but these are usually utter shite. You may be tempted to get one of these lenses hoping it can do everything you need, but there are no free lunches in lens land. Unless you are spending many thousands of dollars, the wider the focal range, the worse the lens will be.

When you stick to the 18-55mm range, you can be assured the images will be decent. And if you find yourself really needing a telephoto lens, you can save up and add it to your collection later on. The 18-55 will give you wide angle for landscapes all the way to slightly telephoto for portraits and moderately close wildlife. This lens cannot be used indoors or at night without a flash. Which is why I recommend the Nifty Fifty for that purpose. $100 for a moderately sharp low light lens is a no brainer.

Also, stick to Canon, Nikon, Sigma, or Tamron lenses. You can try exotic 3rd party lens brands when you know more what you are doing. And always make sure the lens has autofocus before buying.

It's hard to give you exact recommendations as used items are not reliably in stock. So I'm going to show you an example of the above, but I am not necessarily saying you should buy this *exact* combination. You might be able to get something similar with Nikon as well.

Canon 60D APS-C DSLR

50mm f/1.8 lens

Canon 18-55mm APS-C lens (EF-S mount)

Yongnuo TTL Flash

(I wouldn't recommend getting a used flash, as the Yongnuo is already a great price and you can't know if someone used the flash 100,000 times or 20 times.)

Altogether that is about $500. You can start with the 60D and the 50mm Nifty Fifty for $330 and add on the other two items later on.

My recommended full frame setup...

Full frame Canon or Nikon DSLR body

50mm f/1.8 lens (same as before)

24-70mm full frame zoom lens (full frame equivalent to 18-55mm)

ETTL Yongnuo flash (same as before)

And an example from KEH might be...

Canon 6D Full Frame DSLR

Canon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Sigma 24-70mm Full Frame Zoom lens (EF mount)

Yonguo ETTL Flash

And that would be about $800 total.

Again, you can start with just the camera and 50mm lens and add the other items later. So invest $500 initially and go from there.

And just to give a Nikon example as well...

Nikon D600 Full Frame DSLR

Nikon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Tamron 24-70mm

Yonguo ETTL Flash (Nikon version)

I highly recommend researching any camera body and lens before purchase. I can vouch for the items above, but you should definitely check out some YouTube videos before buying.

All of the stuff on KEH and MBP is marked down in price for aesthetic reasons. They do test everything to make sure it is functional. If you care if the camera or lens looks pristine, it will cost a little extra. But if you don't mind if it is beat to hell, you can save some money. Ugly or not, you will get the same photos out of the gear. As I said, photography stuff is built to last for a long time. Almost all repairs are due to user damage and not defects. And usually defects manifest when the product is brand new.

Oh, I forgot about the tripod!

Amazon's $35 tripod is surprisingly decent. It even got a good review on a very picky tripod review site. I recommend starting with this and then upgrading when you know more what you need out of a tripod.

Amazon 60 inch Tripod

I worry I'm leaving out a lot of important information, but hopefully I can expand in the other post I am working on.

That said, if anyone is thinking of buying a camera and you are not sure about the items you selected, please feel free to message me and I will help you assess your choices. Please make sure you include a budget range when asking for buying advice.

I hope that helps. I will try to finish the more in depth post soon. And it will include tips for how to get better photos from your smartphone if you cannot afford an ILC at the moment.

Further resources...

Recipe for Landscape Photos Froggie's Encyclopedia of Lens Terms

#photography #long post

[hellishjoel]

blue collar man

4.1k /  joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

Summary: Your boyfriend Joel is up to his ears busy with his contracting business. Tired and sore, he comes home to learn you’ve made the rest of the night all about him. 

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: Fluff, mentions of sex (but no actual sex), mentioned age difference, fluffy fluff fluff because blue collar man Joel Miller deserves it! He’s running a biz-ness! 

A/N: based on this lovely request! I hope I could bring your request to life, I breezed through it so fast because I love him, he’s baby. 

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him.  “Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold. 

Joel had found a lot of success with Miller Contracting over the summer months. Business was booming and his early mornings until late nights were dedicated to working on multiple projects to get things done on time for his clients. Joel worked on referrals mostly, so when he finished a client’s remodeled hill country home in late winter, the client had raved over Joel’s professionalism and hard work to their friends and now he had a list of upcoming projects. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know much about contractors until you started dating Joel. You quickly began to understand the vastness of his duties. One day he could be working on home renovation projects where he was doing demolition like removing the walls or floors, electrical and plumbing work, flooring installation, even down to the last coat of paint. 

Other opportunities were commercial like on a small office building downtown where he did site preparation, set the foundation, worked on the beams and columns, all the way up to finishing the roof. Whatever he couldn’t do himself that was a bit more specialized, he hired subcontractors to work on like heating, ventilation, and air conditioning. 

What he hated the most was landscaping projects. He’d have to do the design layout of a large backyard garden and plant trees and flowers or work on seeding grass if it was a particularly hot Texas summer. Then he would add irrigation systems like sprinklers, pathways for people to walk on, pergolas for outdoor hosting, finishing it off with pretty and unique outdoor light fixtures. God forbid the client wanted a pond. 

“Do you know how annoying koi fish are? They just… stare at ya while you’re tryin’ to work.”

You had grown to love the handy man that Joel was. Before you were moved in to his place, your shitty little apartment needed so much love that your asshole landlord never took the time to come and fix. But Joel would. That was his form of romance. He didn’t bring you flowers or chocolates on the first dates. Joel was replacing your leaky shower head and tightening your jiggly door knobs. He also managed to match the paint color on your walls so he could cover up the scrapes he made after he railed you into your mattress so hard that the frame made a few chips. 

You were so happy to see his business getting the high recognition it deserved, however, Joel was taking quite the beating from it. You could tell by the way he slinked back into the house at the end of the night, his frame hunched over and walking with a slight limp. 

He was sore, muscles aching and knees screaming at him. His joints were swollen by the end of the day and his sweaty, sticky skin ached for a refreshing shower. 

The hardest part was always trying to shut off his mind when he got home. He was already thinking about the next day. What didn’t get done on time, what shipments of supplies were expected, how the delays would set the project back. He needed a break. 

“Can’t take time off right now, baby. I’ve got deadlines to meet.”

There was this one specific project that was giving him hell. He called it the Astor because it was on Astor street. Every night this week he had come home beyond late because of the problems with the Astor. First it was that the project was exceeding the client’s budget, so they were giving him grief about that. Then it was labor shortage stuff, not being able to get people out there which then in turn caused timeline delays. With the client out of the country most of the time, Joel was receiving little to no communication from the owner. He was fighting permit and regulatory issues with the city, every day it was something new that caused a headache behind his eyes. 

His dedication was admirable, but you knew that him being so physically and mentally clouded wasn’t good for him or for Miller Contracting. 

You didn’t know shit about contracting, but you did know Joel. 

You had texted him earlier in the day to drop whatever he was working on no later than 5 o’clock in the evening. You never did that, never told him to leave work early. But the last thing he wanted was for him to come home and have you upset with him. That was worse than any project issue. 

Tonight would be about Joel. Anything you could do to make the stress melt away, you would try. 

Joel pushed open the front door once home, a heavy sigh leaving him as he closed the door back in place and set his lunch box and keys down on the entry table. 

“Joel?” Your voice echoed from the kitchen. 

“Hi, baby.” His voice was low from the lack of energy.

Joel slowly moved down on one knee, a heavy breath exiting through clench teeth as his kneecaps throbbed while he untied one boot, then the other. They were covered in dust even down to the creases, steel toe covers making his feet sore. 

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked as you grabbed a dish towel to wipe your hands with before tossing it on the counter, greeting him halfway as he made his way through the living room. 

You were up on your tippy toes for a kiss, not wanting him to have to bend over and exert himself. He hated when you treated him like an old man, but with this job, you always teased him that it was coming sooner rather than later. 

He kept his hands to himself, knowing they were a bit greasy and sweaty. His overgrown beard hairs tickled your face as you peppered him with a few extra kisses, one of his eyebrows playfully raising. 

“Was fine. Did you see what I texted you?” He asked as he looked down at you, watching as your fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, helping lift it off his head. 

“Mhm. The HVAC guys didn’t show up until noon even though you scheduled them for nine in the morning. Did you see I texted you back? Five hours ago.” Your teasing tone made him crack a smile. 

Joel was bad at texting. Typical guy thing, typical older guy thing. He said he wouldn’t even have a phone if it wasn’t for work and if Sarah didn’t insist on how texting was the new way of communication. Even though you texted him ten minutes after his initial one, his phone was already back in his pocket and he had long forgotten about your conversation as he returned to his work day. 

His response came out in a chortle, a heavy breath through his nose since he was too tired to chuckle. 

“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to complain, I guess.” He said as he watched you fiddle with his Miller Contracting shirt that had a worn in hole by the neckline. He went to reach for it, wanting to toss it into the dirty clothes bin, but you were quick to hold it to your chest. 

“I’ve got it.” You said as you went to give him a soft kiss to the open plane of his chest, smiling at the salt and pepper chest hair he was sporting. It looked so good on him. You walked off to the bedroom and did it yourself, grabbing him a fresh shirt for the rest of the evening, a pair of boxers, and his worn dark plaid pajama pants he liked. 

Joel’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. A heavenly smell was drawing him into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. You had green beans in a frying pan and a gravy softly bubbling in a sauce pan. Then in a skillet was the most perfect looking chicken fried steak, the coating coming to the perfect crisp. He pulled the oven handle open just an inch to see golden biscuits rising. 

“I put clean clothes on the counter in the bathroom, go shower, handsome.” You said before returning to the kitchen, frowning as he found his dinner before you had a chance to plate it. 

“Joel.” You playfully scolded, pinching at his hip. “You’re ruining your own surprise.” You teased as you shooed him out of the kitchen, hearing an audible grumble in his stomach. It made you sport a proud grin. It was his favorite meal, said it reminded him of his mom’s cooking growing up with Tommy. 

“I’m making mashed potatoes, too.” You said as you drained the water the potatoes were soaking in, putting them in a new bowl and getting out some milk and butter. 

“You’re makin’ me hungry.” He hummed with a small, tired smile as his hands came up loosely on your hips. 

His hands on you instantly made you grin, gently shaking your head at him as his head came to rest by your own. 

“You’re distractin’ me.” His low voice carrying the weight of his day. 

“No, you’re distracting me.” You made clear as your elbow playfully dug into the core of his stomach. 

“Go shower, please. You smell like drywall dust… and paint.” 

He rolled his eyes with his smile still lingering. 

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.” He said as his lips dropped down to place a sweet kiss of sincerity at the base of your neck, a shiver rolling up you as you let out a huff and returned your focus to your five-star meal. 

You heard the water hit against the shower wall and his small radio crackled to life, finalizing the last touches to Joel’s favorite dinner. 

Joel came back to the living room in the clothes you had set out for him, his hair slicked back wet from his shower. God, he looked so good. 

“Here.” You handed him his plate, seeing his lips part in excitement. His stomach let out an audible rumble. He probably didn’t have a spare minute to eat his lunch today, poor thing. 

The two of you settled on the couch, Joel expecting you to turn on one of your shows since a new episode came out today. 

“Do you uhm.. Maybe wanna watch one of those movies where they’re flying the jet planes? You said you wanted to show me it a while ago.” You offered, glancing over to see him already inhaling his food with the fork scraping across the plate to not let a single bit of gravy escape him. But your offer made him pause. 

“You wanna watch Top Gun? You hate Tom Cruise.”

“Well, yeah, he seems kind of like a douchebag, but it’s okay.” His eyes narrowed on you as he thought about your offer but ultimately shook his head, shrugged, and kept eating. 

“‘t’s fine, you can put somethin’ on.” He said as he stabbed a green bean, smeared some mashed potatoes on it before putting it past his lips. 

You took a deep breath and issued him the remote control. 

“You pick something tonight, honey. It’s your night.” 

That caught Joel’s attention. His head whipped a little to fast towards you, his thick eyebrows furling at the concept. 

“‘t’s not my night. It’s a Thursday.” 

The look you gave him set him straight. 

“Okay, okay.. It’s my night.” He declared in playful defense, taking in a deep breath through his nose and opted for some old Western show he liked. You didn’t care much for it, but Joel did. 

Once you two finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table and discarded, your head was on his shoudler and your hand ran slow, soothing circles over his chest. You could feel him breathing deeply, relaxing with you. 

You asked him questions about the main characters, showing genuine interest. Even going as far as to add a dramatic gasp when a shot was fired from a cowboy’s revolver which made him let out a hearty laugh. 

“You’re so full of it.” 

He was talking with a huge grin, you could hear it in how he spoke, and it warmed your heart. 

Towards the end of your night, your hands were in yellow dish gloves as you washed your plates from dinner, sliding the clean ones between the dividers of your drying rack. 

Joel slipped his strong arms low around your waist, his burly shoulders pressing into your own as you nearly toppled over with his presence

“Thanks for dinner tonight. Hit the spot.” He said as he kissed your cheek then on a spot where your jawline met your neck, right by your ear. His beard hairs tickled. You could feel that they were freshly trimmed now, he probably felt a lot better.  

“Night’s not over yet.” You hummed, a playful smile on your lips that he was quick to take notice of. 

“Oh?” His voice dropped an octave, rolling your eyes a bit as you dug your elbow into his stomach for the second time tonight to put some space between you. 

“Okay, cowboy. Relax. How about you go to the bedroom and take your shirt off. I’ll be there in a sec.” Your choice of words were still leading him in a different direction, you almost felt bad. But it was funny watching him get worked up. 

After finishing the dishes and blowing out the eucalyptus scented candles, you peaked into your bedroom. Joel was still cautiously removing his shirt, moving slow as to not disturb his aching muscles. You hated seeing him come home every night like this, as if his body had just been in a fight and taken a brutal beating.

Joel undid the clasp of his watch, the band and watch face dirty and making digging a  bruise into his wrist, but it told the time. He felt better after his shower, having made it a steamy one to relax the stinging in his upper neck and shoulders as well as his lower back. 

His belly was good and full, happy to have something homemade rather than a quick pizza in the oven or just a cold bottle of beer before bed.  

You were taking care of him tonight. Not that you didn’t every other night. He was actually giving you the time to take proper care of him. It felt off at first, taking on all the attention he usually reserved for you after long days. But maybe it’s what he needed. 

His head turned as he felt a warm pair of arms circle just above his plaid pajama pants, your soft fingers undoing the knot he had tied in the front of them. 

“I would’a taken my pants off for ya if you’d just ask.” His tone taunting, stepping out of the soft material before spinning in your arms and attempting to scoop you into him. 

“Lay back, goofball.” You said with that gleaming smile of yours. Made his stomach twist. Whatever you had planned, you obviously wanted the lead on. 

He did as instructed, happily falling into the comfort of the mattress with ease. 

“Close your eyes, please.” Your voice was sweet like honey. He’d follow it into the shadows, into hell, more likely into heaven since it’s where Joel thought you belonged. 

He could already fall asleep, though it was no later than eight. He felt the bed dip first at his legs, your body shifting up to sit by his hip. His hand naturally felt out for you, his warm palm holding you at the curve of your lower back. 

When Joel was given the okay to open his eyes again, he was surprised to see a few candles lit around the room, the golden glow adding a bit of ambiance. 

He watched as you squirted a few pumps of a lotion in your hands, circling it up in your palms to make it a little warm before you started to lather it into his calves. 

The sensation made his breath hitch. You were giving him a massage? He sat up on his elbows and watched the white-ish cream get all wrapped up in his dark leg hair. 

“Darlin’-”

“Shh.”

He tightened his lips, feeling a bit futile all of a sudden. There was a pause before he spoke again. 

“Don’t have to do this for me.” He insisted, his eyes on yours, but you were focused on adding subtle pressure to his calf muscles. 

“Know I don’t have to. I want to. Lay back down.” 

You wanted to. You wanted to take time out of your evening and bathe him in attention. You had cooked one of his favorite meals, and to perfection he might add. You also let him watch a show he wanted to watch, something he knew you didn’t have a taste for. But you were intrigued anyway, to show you cared. 

He was so comfortable and at ease, the problems of today didn’t seem to matter much anymore when you were here to greet him so lovingly. 

Your fingers kneaded gently into his skin, Joel’s eyes dipping closed as he began to sink deeper into the mattress. Of course he couldn’t just do nothing. He had his warm palm splayed on your back where the shirt you were wearing was riding up a little bit. You smiled at the gesture. No matter how much effort you tried to dedicate to Joel, he was still showing his care even when he was dead exhausted. 

You worked the lotion up into his thighs, the slight tug on his hairs making his face crinkle a little. You dared not to get too high, again, not to give him the wrong idea of where the massage was heading. It was okay to be just attentive to his needs for tonight. You could relax him in other more sensual ways another time. He needed something a little deeper.

You leaned down and peppered sweet kisses up his torso and over those salt and pepper chest hairs you admire so much, stopping just at his lips with a small smile. 

“So handsome.” You praised in a whisper, kissing him with a grin on your lips.

He hummed softly and moved his hand to gently cup the back of your head, keeping your kind presence in his proximity just a moment longer. 

“I’m getting too old for you.” He whispered back in a teasing tone, making you bubble up a laugh in your shared space. 

“You’ve always been too old for me.” Your thumb gently glided over his chin and admired a small white patch just at the base where his neck sloped down. “But I’ve never minded. Because you’re a good man. A hard working, blue collar man. It’s very sexy.” You teased with a smile, happy to see one blossom on his lips as well. 

“Thanks for treatin’ me so good tonight. This week’s been…” he let the sentence die before shaking his head. 

“I know, Joel.” You said with a small nod before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips again before sitting up straight. 

“Wanna roll over and I’ll do your shoulders?” 

He let out a breathless laugh as he looked up at you. “Please.” Like you had to ask. 

He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but boy, maybe he should start asking for it. 

Joel moved to lay on his belly, letting out a short groan in the process that made your chest flutter. 

You let out a short huff before you straddled his back, topping yourself right on his butt after getting a short groan from Joel for being on his tailbone. 

More lotion was squirted into your hands before you started to apply it across the landscape of his back. 

“We should do a skincare night.” You said, feeling his body shudder at the cold lotion. 

“Uh what?” Joel’s voice muffled against the comforter, his head to one side so he could see you just out of his peripheral.

“You know what skincare is, you see me do it every night.” 

“I don’t know what the he-ll you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He said, his words stuttering as you pushed particularly harder in his lower back. Jeez, it was knot after knot under your fingertips. 

“Ugh, Joel!” You whined as your motions paused. 

Joel had a habit of doing this. Declaring he had no idea what it was that you were talking about, making you tirelessly explain for several minutes, before he goes ‘Oh, why didn’t you just say that? I know what that is.” It made you roll your eyes each and every time. 

“You’re handsome, but you don’t listen.” You hummed out before cupping your hands at his shoulders and doing circles with good pressure, your upper body weight being put into his stern muscles. 

“All I heard you say is that I’m handsome.” He moaned into the sheets, a blush creeping on your cheeks at his comment, but also his heavenly moan. 

“It’s.. where you apply skincare to your face. You know, using a cleanser, applying an exfoliator, moisturizer..”

This was when Joel started muffling random nonsense into the sheets and you playfully pushed into his crying shoulders harder until he let out another long groan of discomfort. 

“Okay, okay, I know what you’re talkin’ about. Skincare. I don’t need it.” 

You tutted, shaking your head as you held in a laugh. 

“Everyone needs it. Every. One.” You said as you leaned down and kissed the back of his head where his curls were starting to form. 

“Especially you, Joel! Your pores are so big, you’ve got dust and dirt getting all in there. And it’s been so hot outside, your skin’s drying up. Gotta take care of your skin baby.”

“Why? So I’ll look young agian?” He teased as he reached a hand back and squeezed your hip as well as he could from his position. 

“Because it’s good for you. Makes me feel good after a really long day.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a throat hum leaving his lips. “Thought I made you feel good after a really long day.” 

A huff left your lips as you were back to doing circles into his shoulder with your thumbs. “Shut up.”

The last of the lotion had sunk into his skin, the massage hopefully healing more than just his dry skin. 

Night’s like this with Joel were rare, but exceptionally special. He had energy to talk to you about everything under the sun, something you didn’t expect to transpire with your age difference at first. You discussed your mutual plans for the weekend, a barbeque at Tommy’s house. Joel was insisting on you wearing your new bikini, green to match his beautiful eyes. He could be such a horn dog. 

He wanted to stay up as long as he could, but the long day he endured couldn’t help but put weight on his eyelids. His words turned to mumbles, his arms snaking around your waist in his silent gesture to fall asleep with you. 

You shook your head with a small, tired smile, your hands planting themselves on his forearms to put a stop to his motions.

“Turn around.” You whispered, the notion making his tired eyes pop open with a “huh?” leaving his parted lips. 

“You heard me, old man. Turn around.” You said as your hand roamed over his warm hip. 

Joel assumed you didn’t want to cuddle tonight, maybe he was too warm for your taste despite the fan running above the both of you. 

Joel’s chest tightened as he felt your warm body return right behind him, a bashful grin on his face. 

“Are you tryna big spoon me?” His southern accent was dripping heavier than usual with the tiredness stringed in it. 

The question erupted a giggle from you, Joel feeling you kiss over his taut shoulder blade. 

“I don’t know how well I can big spoon you.. You’re so long.” Your arm tightened around Joel’s waist anway, his big hand finding yours as your fingers interlocked. He felt grateful in this moment, albeit a bit shy about the position. He was used to being the big spoon, it was different for him to be on the receiving end. But it was warm and settling, he couldn’t deny that. 

“So I’m uh.. I’m like the ladle to your big spoon?” Joel asked. He could feel your grin on his back, your legs tangling with his own. 

“Yes… you’re the ladle, but even the ladle needs a big spoon.” Joel’s blinks slowed until his eyes were closed, heavy with sleep. 

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him. 

“Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #fluff fic #joel miller one shot fluff

[astromechs]

ok, i did barbenheimer, so here are some assorted thoughts about both films (i am discussing potential "spoilers" for both, so look away if you don't want these):

on paper, and in experience, this is the wildest double feature to do. barbie and oppenheimer could not be two more different films, in terms of tone, aesthetic, and themes; on the one hand, you have a treatise on feminism in the guise of one of the most widely known decades-old ip, and on the other, you have a complicated biopic about the complicated figure who developed the atomic bomb.

and yet, there is a heart and soul linking these two films, and i actually think seeing them in the double feature makes them work: it's care and craftsmanship. these are two films made by people who actually care about cinema as an artform, and it's such a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of the dreck we've been getting out of major studios and wide releases, especially over the past decade.

barbie is not an independent film; you guys are silly, and you need to get that out of your heads. mattell's name is literally on it lol BUT. what this story turns out to be is something pretty unique in terms of today's cinematic landscape. it's a thoughtful treatise on feminism and gender roles on all sides of the equation — the unrealistic expectations put on women, the emptiness that drives men into upholding patriarchy, the absolute absurdity it is on all counts to let ourselves be consumed by this instead of getting to be ourselves and figure out who we actually are. loved every second of it.

also: "i lost interest in patriarchy when i learned it wasn't about horses", like, line of the year.

oppenheimer manages to distinguish itself from the sludge of oscar bait biopics, because, well, because of the craftsmanship of christopher nolan, but also because, in particular, it has such strong thematic focus. it is both a story about oppenheimer, the complicated figure who unleashed something terrible on the world, and the story of the plight of the scientist; just because you can do something, does it mean you should? when you put a dangerous tool into someone else's hands, is it their hands who have the responsibility for how it's used, or is it you, for creating it in the first place?

these are questions that i think the film wrestles with very adeptly, and it doesn't provide easy answers — because there are none. oppenheimer himself spent the remainder of his life wrestling with his own complicated legacy, and the film really captures the spirit of that. the final shot really makes that stick.

both of these films had clear vision for what they wanted to say, clear care and craftsmanship involved, and as someone who genuinely loves cinema and has felt so disheartened seeing shit upon shit being flung into theaters in wide release, i deeply appreciate both of these films, and i don't regret the experience of doing the double feature, because it was really something special — even if, whew, i'm going to need about five business days to process all of this.

#barbenheimer #barbie #oppenheimer #anyway i loved both of them

[kayuripax]

Valve news and the AI

So. I assume people saw some posts going around on how valve has new AI rules, and things getting axed. And because we live in a society, I went down the rabbit hole to learn my information for myself. Here's what I found, under a cut to keep it easier. To start off, I am not a proponent of AI. I just don't like misinformation. So. Onwards.

VALVE AND THE AI

First off, no, AI will not take things over. Let me show you, supplemented by the official valve news post from here. (because if hbomberguy taught us anything it is to cite your sources)

[Image id: a screenshot from the official valve blog. It says the following:

First, we are updating the Content Survey that developers fill out when submitting to Steam. The survey now includes a new AI disclosure section, where you'll need to describe how you are using AI in the development and execution of your game. It separates AI usage in games into two broad categories:

Pre-Generated: Any kind of content (art/code/sound/etc) created with the help of AI tools during development. Under the Steam Distribution Agreement, you promise Valve that your game will not include illegal or infringing content, and that your game will be consistent with your marketing materials. In our pre-release review, we will evaluate the output of AI generated content in your game the same way we evaluate all non-AI content - including a check that your game meets those promises.

Live-Generated: Any kind of content created with the help of AI tools while the game is running. In addition to following the same rules as Pre-Generated AI content, this comes with an additional requirement: in the Content Survey, you'll need to tell us what kind of guardrails you're putting on your AI to ensure it's not generating illegal content. End image ID]

So. Let us break that down a bit, shall we? Valve has been workshopping these new AI rules since last June, and had adopted a wait and see approach beforehand. This had cost them a bit of revenue, which is not ideal if you are a company. Now they have settled on a set of rules. Rules that are relatively easy to understand. - Rule one: Game devs have to disclose when their game has AI - Rule two: If your game uses AI, you have to say what kind it uses. Did you generate the assets ahead of time, and they stay like that? Or are they actively generated as the consumer plays? - Rule three: You need to tell Valve the guardrails you have to make sure your live-generating AI doesn't do things that are going against the law. - Rule four: If you use pre-generated assets, then your assets cannot violate copyright. Valve will check to make sure that you aren't actually lying.

That doesn't sound too bad now, does it? This is a way Valve can keep going. Because they will need to. And ignoring AI is, as much as we all hate it, not going to work. They need to face it. And they did. So. Onto part two, shall we?

[Image ID: a screenshot from the official Valve blog. It says the following: Valve will use this disclosure in our review of your game prior to release. We will also include much of your disclosure on the Steam store page for your game, so customers can also understand how the game uses AI. End image ID]

Let's break that down. - Valve will show you if games use AI. Because they want you to know that. Because that is transparency.

Part three.

[Image ID: A screenshot from the official Valve blog. It says the following:

Second, we're releasing a new system on Steam that allows players to report illegal content inside games that contain Live-Generated AI content. Using the in-game overlay, players can easily submit a report when they encounter content that they believe should have been caught by appropriate guardrails on AI generation.

Today's changes are the result of us improving our understanding of the landscape and risks in this space, as well as talking to game developers using AI, and those building AI tools. This will allow us to be much more open to releasing games using AI technology on Steam. The only exception to this will be Adult Only Sexual Content that is created with Live-Generated AI - we are unable to release that type of content right now. End Image ID]

Now onto the chunks.

Valve is releasing a new system that makes it easier to report questionable AI content. Specifically live-generated AI content. You can easily access it by steam overlay, and it will be an easier way to report than it has been so far.

Valve is prohibiting NSFW content with live-generating AI. Meaning there won't be AI generated porn, and AI companions for NSWF content are not allowed.

That doesn't sound bad, does it? They made some rules so they can get revenue so they can keep their service going, while also making it obvious for people when AI is used. Alright? Alright. Now calm down. Get yourself a drink.

---

Team Fortress Source 2

My used source here is this.

There was in fact a DCMA takedown notice. But it is not the only thing that led to the takedown. To sum things up: There were issues with the engine, and large parts of the code became unusable. The dev team decided that the notice was merely the final nail in the coffin, and decided to take it down. So that is that. I don't know more on this, so I will not say more, because I don't want to spread misinformation and speculation. I want to keep some credibility, please and thanks.

---

Portal Demake axed

Sources used are from here, here and here.

Portal 64 got axed. Why? Because it has to do with Nintendo. The remake uses a Nintendo library. And one that got extensively pirated at that. And we all know how trigger-happy Nintendo is with it's intellectual property. And Nintendo is not exactly happy with Valve and Steam, and sent them a letter in 2023.

[Image ID: a screenshot from a PC-Gamer article. It says the following: It's possible that Valve's preemptive strike against Portal 64 was prompted at least in part by an encounter with Nintendo in 2023 over the planned release of the Dolphin emulator for the Wii and Gamecube consoles on Steam. Nintendo sent a letter to Valve ahead of that launch that attorney Kellen Voyer of Voyer Law said was a "warning shot" against releasing it. End Image ID.]

So. Yeah. Nintendo doesn't like people doing things with their IP. Valve is most likely avoiding potential lawsuits, both for themselves and Lambert, the dev behind Portal 64. Nintendo is an enemy one doesn't want to have. Valve is walking the "better safe than sorry" path here.

---

There we go. This is my "let's try and clear up some misinformation" post. I am now going to play a game, because this took the better part of an hour. I cited my sources. Auf Wiedersehen.

#kayuri writes #infodump #valve #tf2 #portal 64 #team fortress source 2 #ask to tag #long post

[that-basic-simp]

Love A Heart Like Mine

Mizu X Fem!Reader CW: Slight angst WC: 1.4k+

"I don't know why you're still with me," Mizu said, sipping her tea.

"Probably because I followed you out here," I said.

"You didn't have to follow me."

"I didn't, but I did."

"Why? That was something I never understood. More like something you never told me."

"Think of it like a reason similar to Ringo's."

"To be a samurai?"

"Maybe," I said, sipping my tea a little too loudly. I knew it would irritate Mizu and irritate Mizu it did.

"Just tell me already," she said, setting the cup down a little too harshly, grabbing the attention of everyone that was in the noodle shop.

"Maybe when you ask nicer."

Mizu scoffed and stood up, placing some coins on the table.

"Everything is paid for. Anything else you buy or drink, it's on you," she walked out of the noodle shop.

I sighed, rolling my eyes as Ringo finally joined us after struggling in the bathroom.

"Where did master go?"

"Outside," I said.

"Did you two get in a quarrel again?" he sat down.

"It's just Mizu being Mizu."

"How so?"

"Cold and harsh."

"He was like that when I first joined him. Why did you join him?"

"He reminds me of myself in a way."

"How?"

"He's cold, harsh, and in need of some love."

"Love? You think you can love the master?"

"I want to try. There was something about him the day I met him."

The first day I met Mizu was in Kyoto at the dojo. Well, it was more of I watched him as my mother and I were tending to some of the samurai there who were training. I was fascinated with how easily he took down each of the students with only a wooden sword. I knew if he had an actual blade, it was going to be deadly and with more blood. The duel with Taigen was one I wasn't expecting, especially since it seemed like Taigen won. Afterwards, I snuck out and followed Mizu out of Kyoto and found him bathing. That was when I learned about Mizu being a woman and referred to her as 'he' in public. But when it's just us, I don't need to worry about it.

"Maybe it was the fact that I saw his eyes, saw him for what he was," I said to Ringo.

"When you said you see yourself in him, the cold and harsh parts, what do you mean?"

"My father raised me more so than my mother. While I worked at the dojo for about the majority of my life, it was my father who taught me most things and caused me to be the way that I am. Beaten here and there if I didn't do anything right. Scolded if I served the wrong kind of tea. All of that fun trauma bullshit."

"Why don't you talk to master?" Ringo suggested. "I think you need to soften him up a bit before you actually tell him how you feel."

"Do you think Mizu will return the same feelings?"

"I don't know. That's up for you to find out."

I nodded, standing up.

"Mizu paid for everything, but if you want anything else," I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bag that contained some coins. "Here," I put them on the table. "Take as long as you need, Ringo. Mizu and I will be talking to one another."

Ringo nodded and I walked out of the noodle shop, finding Mizu was waiting by the alley across the way. Walking, I stood in front of her as she looked down at me.

"Where's Ringo?"

"Still in there."

"Is he that hungry?"

"Yeah. You know him."

She slowly nodded her head.

"Mizu," I said.

"What?"

"Can we take a walk and talk?"

"Fine," she breathed out, a puff of air escaping her mouth in the cold breeze.

Walking around the village we were in, it was pretty spacious, but it would seem weird to the locals if two people were taking laps. So we walked towards the edge of the village where the mountain side was. Sitting down, we overlooked the landscape below.

"I followed you from Kyoto because I saw something in you that I see in myself."

"Being?"

"You're cold and harsh, and in need of some love."

"I don't need anything other than the satisfaction of revenge."

"But you are cold and harsh."

"Kind of have to be in this world. Because if you were me, you'd want to be cold to everyone who treated you unfairly."

"And how do you think I remained out here with you, hm?"

"Disguising yourself like me."

"Exactly."

"But when I saw you, saw your eyes," I said. "Do you remember what I said?"

"'They're beautiful.' The only person to compliment my eyes like that."

"And they are beautiful," I said. "They remind me of water. A calm before the storm that can change in an instant."

"Is that why you followed me?"

"Aside from there was this ache in my heart, no, not an ache. A yearning. I-I wanted to know more about you. Know what makes you tick, what drives you, what your goals are. Everything that makes you who you are, Mizu."

"You don't want to know a thing about me. About the people I've killed, the things I've seen, I've experienced, you want nothing to do with me."

"Maybe so, but I want to know everything."

Mizu turned towards me, finding my words and my expressions were true and genuine. Sighing, she turned away, her gaze fixated on what lied ahead of us. What lied ahead of her.

"I'm seeking revenge, Y/N. I don't think you want to get your hands dirty with the blood you're about to spill."

"As long as I am beside you, I don't care how many people I have to kill to make sure you're safe."

"I can handle myself."

"I know you can, but who will when you're injured? When you're exhausted that you can't move?"

"I can take care of myself."

"For how long?"

"Why do you care?"

"I care about you, Mizu."

"You're caring for the wrong person," she turned to face me, some anger rising in her voice. Or maybe it was more annoyance. "You're caring for a monster."

She removed her Kasa and her glasses, revealing her eyes.

"A monster is who you're caring for, Y/N. An onyro. You're going to be associated now because you're with me."

"I don't care!"

"Why do you care about me so much?"

"Because," I stopped short, trying to figure out these feelings I've had ever since I started traveling with her. It's only been a few short months, but they were strong feelings.

"Because why?"

"B-Because I-I like you."

"Like me?"

"Yes."

"How can you like me?"

"What's not to like about you?"

"Literally everything."

"Maybe you don't like yourself, but I do."

"Is it a strong feeling of like?" Mizu asked after a while of silence, her voice soft and lingering.

"I wouldn't call it the 'l' word yet."

"But it is strong like it, is it not?"

"Yes," I said.

She shook her head, "How could you love a heart like mine?"

"What is your heart like?"

"As you said, cold, harsh. In need of love. How could you love it?"

"Because I want to care for it. Show you love because you are deserving of it."

"You can't heal the past."

"No, I can't. But I can protect the future. Tend to the present. Help you move forward and make you feel stronger."

"Love will only get in the way."

"Love can make you strong, Mizu."

"I'm already strong."

"But you can be stronger," I said.

"And you think love will make me stronger?"

I nodded, "In more ways than one."

She let out a sigh, shaking her head.

"Mizu, please, let me in."

"What if I do and something bad happens? To me. To you. T-To us?" she lifted her head, finding my gaze.

"We'll find a way around it," I scooted closer to her, placing my hand against her cheek.

A soft smile formed on her lips as she leaned into my touch, nuzzling into it. Reaching up, she grabbed onto my hand, caressing the back with her thumb. Leaning towards her, I lightly placed my lips against hers. A small surprised sound came from her, causing me to pull away. Her eyes were wide and blush was all over her face.

"I-I'm so sorry," I chuckled nervously, pulling away entirely.

When I removed my hand, she reached out, grabbing my wrist. She pulled me back towards her, her lips meeting mine once more. This kiss was firm, solidifying, confirming what was already established when I kissed her for the first time. Pulling away, our gazes met, smiles forming on our faces.

"Maybe you can make me stronger in ways I didn't think I can get."

I smiled, "As long as you'll let me."

Pulling me into her embrace, she nuzzled her face in my shoulder, "I'll let you do anything. As long as you stay beside me."

"Of course, Mizu."

#mizu x reader #mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai

[stealingyourbones]

You know, the civilian Bruce au is so funny to me, just because of the whole situation with Talia.

Like can you imagine:

Bruce: *acts like a himbo*

Talia: Well I can't just not fuck him now can I?

I think Damian was created by taking Bruce's DNA?

Ra's: Who's DNA did you take to make this baby?

Talia:...

Ra's: WHOSE DNA-

Just imagine Damian leaving to go live with his father and expecting him to be this powerful warrior or something and instead getting this rich himbo.

Damian: I'm the blood son, so I will be the one to inherit his legacy!

Tim...you wanna be a doctor that bad?

Damian: What

Like, his father doesn't know about his children's vigilantism, he doesn't even know that Talia was an assassin from the league, he doesn't even know what the league is. Mother why?

If he wants to be a vigilante as well he has to listen to his adoptive brothers, which really grates him. He also has to keep it from Bruce, which he really doesn't get.

Bruce just keeps accidentally guilt tripping Damian into a normal child.

Bruce: I'm just so glad our family is getting along. I just don't what I would do if you didn't like your brothers 🥹

Damian, who is definitely not getting along with his brothers:...yeah...

Do you think he'd inherit his mother's taste in men?

Jon: *does something stupid*

Damian, near tears: I think I get it now mother, I'm sorry I kink shamed you.

Okokok I getchu, but I also need to add here that Bruce’s parents were certainly not normal and He certainly isnt normal. His parents read motherfuckin The Veldt by Ray Bradbury to him as a BEDTIME STORY!!

The Story in Summary: the Hadley family, two kids and their mom and dad, live in this automated home that can do anything for them. It can cook, clean, wash the kids, put them to bed, anything household work like you can imagine, it can do.

Kids have a VR Room called The Nursery. The Nursery is stuck visually showing an African landscape (w/ lions eating dead carcasses in the background and people screaming). They call a Psychologist for answers of this landscape. Psychologist tells them to turn off the house. The Hadley’s agree. They doubt their parenting abilities but this guy helped reassure them that doing this will help their issues. The kids protest heavily but the parents’s resolve is firm. They tell their kids they can visit The Nursery one last time.

The parents talk about the kids a bit more before going into The Nursery to collect the kids. They are met with a pride of lions. The screams they heard in The Nursery before is reminiscent as the ones they are currently making as the Lions tear into them.

The psychologist goes to check on the kids. They are in the Nursery having tea. It’s still the African Savanna. Lions are feasting on two bodies far in the distance.

The psychologist realizes what has been done. A child offers him tea like nothing is wrong.

That’s the story. Its a very shitty summary but its the best I could do with my current brain functionality. But can you imagine why I think that’s a Not Normal Parenting Tactic for the average child?

I have the personal belief that Bruce’s parents were quite eccentric and a tad on the strange side. You dont grow up stewing in your own grief and then decide to become a vigilante crime fighter after a traumatic event with a regular upbringing.

All I’m saying is that if you’re going the Civilian!Bruce route, he’s absolutely protective of his kids, but his personality would still have some similarities to the OG Bruce Wayne. Still enjoys working out and maybe this time he actually gets those copious amounts of injuries doing eccentric Rich people sports and getting hurt from trying to pull off wild as hell stunts.

He isn’t a man who doesn’t do anything when he’s in the line of fire. He still has learned self defense and knows damn well how to fight and fight back, just not to the degree of a vigilante.

I’m unsure how to fully characterize a Bruce who his parent’s death never consumed his entire being and made him into Batman but this man certainly will pretend to be a himbo in front of the press. He might not have that playboy guise anymore because normally its a way to hide his Batman identity. He certainly doesn’t have the Batcave but you bet your ass that this man HAS tried to go spelunking in the caves below his house.

Idk that’s all I got for this but its just me adding on with my thoughts. Bruce unknowingly keeping the boys grounded in normal life actives in a way that means more for the boys than Bruce would ever understand or realize is some good shit.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dpxdc #bones replies

[writingquestionsanswered]

Many artists are wary of AI. I've been using Chat Gpt and come to the realization that with my kids, school and other life obligations I need to use AI in my writing process. No, I'm NOT using the AI's writing or passing it on as mine. It's for plotting, character arcs and to help me get over writers block. I'm conflicted. I just don't have the time to write that I wish I did. :( if I use AI am I not a real writer?

Using AI as a Writer

I want to preface this by saying that we are quite literally in the Wild West when it comes to AI and how it fits into the creative world. The technology is still evolving. The legalities of use are still evolving. Public sentiment and codes of ethics are still evolving... the only definitive answer I can give on the topic of using AI in writing is that you should never use it to write all or part of your story.

Using AI as a tool to help you think through plot problems, flesh out character arcs, and move past story road blocks in and of itself is something many writers and writer organizations have embraced. You're still doing the actual writing, plotting, character arc design, etc. yourself.

However, if you're using AI to generate your entire plot, characters, character arc, etc., it gets into a bit of a gray area for me. Yes, you're still doing the actual writing, but are you a landscape painter if you only do paint by number? I'm not sure. Yes, you're technically moving the brush and making the strokes, but your brain didn't imagine the imagery and your skills didn't know what colors to use or where to put the shadows. So I'm not sure where that leaves writing. And my bigger concern is that you're not putting in the work to improve your craft, so you may get stories or books out there, but you don't have the writing skills to back them up.

What I can tell you is this: people still write when they have kids, and jobs, and school, and various other responsibilities and dependents. They may only write for twenty minutes a day, or once a week for an hour, but they find the time. And some don't... some put off writing until the kids are older or the other obligations let up... either route is fine. I guess what I'm saying is I don't think not having time or energy is a good excuse for using AI or over-relying on it. But, I also don't think you should feel bad if you're simply using it as a tool to help flesh out your own thoughts and ideas. ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[astroismypassion]

Social media poppin’

Or how to use the energy of your MC while on social media

Credit goes to my astrology blog @astroismypassion

Aries MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 1st house, Aries degree (1, 13, 25)

Post a picture of you hiking, climbing or being at the top of the mountain, photo of you in action/while doing something or intensely focusing on something, work out photos. Fresh starts. Selfies or where you are on the photo on your own. You in athleisure or work out clothes. Reaction videos. Live TikTok videos. TikTok challenges. Gym selfies. Running videos.

Taurus MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 2nd house, Taurus degree (2, 14, 26)

Post flowers, food, meals that you cooked/baked, new clothing. Photos of homemade goods (jams, pie, pizza). Photo of you in the grass or field of flowers. Photos of you at a coffeeshop with baked pastry. Teenage photos. Landscape photos. Photos of nature. What I Eat in a Day videos. Dance video. Cooking videos. Photos of you with a bouquet of flowers. Singing videos. Doing my makeup video.

Gemini MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 3rd house, Gemini degree (3, 15, 27)

Post a photo of what you did with your hands (pastry, vase etc.), what you’re currently learning (coding, pottery), show your face without makeup, start a blog, start a running journal and post it online. Sell things you don’t need. Facebook Marketplace. Write a short story. Or the story of when you almost gave up. Photos in the library. Hands photos or couple holding hands. Whiteboard videos. Unboxing videos. Gaming videos. Animated videos. Tutorial videos. Language channel. Grammar video. Photos of you at your old elementary or high school. Live stream.

Cancer MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 4th, Cancer degree (4, 16, 28)

Showcase your close friend, family members (especially your mother) and other siblings. Photos of you in childhood or your home, before and after photos, photos of your family members generations ago, whatever you’re collecting. Family game nights. Photos of the rain. You in a vineyard or a wine gathering. Baby photos. Photo of the Moon. Post about children’s rights. Christmas video. Home/family videos. Birthday collage of photos. Singing videos.

Leo MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 5th house, Leo degree (5, 17, 29)

Show your doodles, drawings, the latest creative project. People just love your personality, so showcase whatever makes your personality stand out more. Photos from a date, a picnic. Soft launches. Photos from a live concert. Photos of you at a theatre. Love song. Love poem. Photo of you doing something creative with children or young adults. Posts about politics. Photos of your back. Music video. Short film. Lip-sync (singing) videos. Post about education. Dance video. Video essay. Fan made video.

Virgo MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 6th house, Virgo degree (6, 18)

Showcase your drawings, doodles, paintings, sculptures, collages. Review foods, describe your daily duties and reaponsibilities at your workplace, start a blog, photo of you in an actual shop. Journaling, news. Content about how to organize, eat in a more balanced manner. Masquerade photo. Photo with you reading in it. You on the bicycle. Workout videos. Ask me anything videos. Educational videos. Draw my life videos. Product reviews. Study with me video. Study with me video. “Choki” type of comforting videos. Etiquette videos. Language channel. Day in my life video. Video about a job profile.

Libra MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 7th house, Libra degree (7, 19)

Post cakes, cookies, pastries, you enjoying your meal in a nice restaurant. Couple photos. High-key launching of your partner (people LOVE to see who you’re paired with), wedding photos, engagement photo. Furniture pictures in your home. Photos celebrating love. Dressed up photo. Autumn photos. Photos of nature. Photos of jewellery. Brand deals. Lifestyle blog. Dance video. Doing nails. Get ready with me video. Beauty vlogs. Make-up artist videos. Cooking channel. Sip’n’Paint videos. Couple cooking recipes. Relationship advice videos.

Scorpio MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 8th house, Scorpio degree (8, 20)

People love to see you wear leather, black matte clothes, stockings, tight clothing and everything black or red. Working out photos, ‘just ran a marathon’ photo, black cat photos. Photos of you from behind. You staring directly in the camera. Halloween photos. Photos of your eyes. Photos with a scarf. Swimsuit photos. Transformation videos. Weightloss journey. Behind the scences videos. Short documentary. Storytime/Tea time videos. “Haunted house” video.

Sagittarius MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 9th house, Sagittarius degree (9, 21)

Post videos, vlog, diary entries from your travels (especially long-distance ones), show that photo of your college degree, photo of you in an airport or in a foreign country. Motivational quotes. Inspiring stories from your life. Travel vlogs. Challenge videos. Study with me video. Representing your University (like those Day in life at University of Cambridge etc.). Language channel. Day in my life video. Videos about your native country. Geography channel. Travel vlogs with a friend or a partner (videos from date trips). Photos of you at your university. Graduation photo.

Capricorn MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 10th house, Capricorn degree (10, 22)

People love to see you in a uniform, full on suit, they love when you give off CEO AND parent energy. Post new career milestone that makes you look like a good provider. Photo of you being presented an award. Photo from the workplace. Photo with your parents on your birthday. Photos of mountains. Photos of your (grand) parents. Study with me video. Day in my life video.

Aquarius MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 11th house, Aquarius degree (11, 23)

Photos of a nature scavanger hunt. Photos of you volunteering. Photos of group gatherings. Astrology tiktoks. You coding or learning something new. Photos of you at a protest or a social activism gathering. Photo of the night sky or of the stars. Influencer content. Webinar. Drone shoots. Space food videos. Videos about electric cars. Tarot. Videos explaining astrology placements. Trailer. Zoom call video. Conference video.

Pisces MC, ruler of the 10th house in the 12th house, Pisces degree (12, 24)

Songs, poems, your love letter to someone, illustrations, tarot videos or tiktoks. Do yoga and document it. Selfcare videos. Movie night. A sleepover. Photos of you at the sea. Of you painting. Photos of the rain. Photos of you in a gallery, museum or a hospital. Astrology tiktoks. You at the movies. River/ocean/sea/waterfall photo. Animated videos. Short film. Paint with me video. Acting video. Open love letter to someone/your boyfriend.

Credit goes to my astrology blog @astroismypassion

#astrology #astroismypassion #libra mc #aries mc #taurus mc #gemini mc #cancer mc #leo mc #virgo mc #sagittarius mc #capricorn mc #aquarius mc #pisces mc #scorpio #astroblr #astro notes #astro observation #astro observations #astrology observations #astrology notes #social media #astrology blog #ruler of the 10th house in the 1st house #ruler of the 10th house in the 2nd house #ruler of the 10th house in the 3rd house #ruler of the 10th house in the 4th house #ruler of the 10th house in the 5th house #ruler of the 10th house in the 6th house #ruler of the 10th house in the 7th house #ruler of the 10th in the 8th house

[2kmps]

vash pets your head to send you to sleep, but asks you something important before he does.

notes; 1.1k, very tender vash, tristamp coded, not proofread. wrote this in my car @ 2am, freaking out every two seconds bc was that a person or just my eyes? 👁️👁️

layers of dust reaching across entire sprawls of bedsheet was a normal thing you came across in every inn you visited. no man's land had a way of making everything inhospitable, from the unforgiving terrain of valleys of sand, stone and bleached bones, down to the crevices between slabs of wood underfoot filled with debris and the pillows under your head exacerbating dry fits of coughing while beige granules clung to your throat.

vash was far more accustomed to those conditions than you were, having lived that way for over a century—an earnest confession you still weren't sure you believed. like everyone else on this godforsaken landscape, you had learned to acclimate during your harrowing travels with him, forced to take the heat deep in your skin to your marrow, the dirt and sand into the brittle branches in your lungs.

"want me to shake out the sheets for you?" vash was always courteous, did his best to lessen the blow of suffering you endured while with him. from the beginning, he had never been comfortable with you there, tried running off more times than you could count, but you were smart and determined so he never succeeded.

he didn't wait for you to respond, finding that you were arranging your bags near the door in case of the need of a quick escape. maybe it was guilt or pity, but he slipped his fingers beneath the thin sheets and whipped them out until all the dust knocked off of them. "this place isn't as bad as the last one. you'll sleep pretty good tonight, I think. can you grab my sleeping bag?"

"there's plenty of room on the bed, vash." you didn't make a motion for his bags. in your hands now was a set of linen nightclothes. "give your back a rest. sleep on the mattress for once."

his look was almost incredulous, almost as though you had said something outrageous. "I won't make you sleep on the floor. I don't mind, really!"

"I never said I was sleeping on the floor." you said, inflectionless, eyes half-lidded from the weight of fatigue and soreness behind them. "we're gonna be out on the desert for hours tomorrow. I can't have you die out there because you wanted to sleep on wood."

certain arguments vash didn't try to win, this was one of them, namely because he wasn't actually interested in the floor. so, some thirty minutes later he laid there on the stiff, musty mattress with you, taking in all the smells of age and misuse in his dry nostrils while trying not to open his mouth too wide to suck in any sand.

"not the most comfortable." he mumbled, shifting onto his back after lying on his side for a few minutes. "you sure you want me up here with—"

"it's fine, vash." again, without betraying yourself with a change in tone, you reassured him. you said it to him with your eyes closed, facing him, your back flush to the wall to give his larger body more space. "don't worry so much. just try to sleep for once."

it didn't come easy to him, this you knew. inevitably, he'd be up and around the inn or just outside of it at some point. sleep was a mortal enemy and an elusive love affair to him, a challenging dichotomy that left him tired and worn most of the time. he felt all of it ache in his joint, drag his eyelids down, sit on his shoulders as though his sins weren't enough of a burden.

you saw it and you pitied him, though you didn't have the brashness to say so.

just then, you flinched hard enough to make the bed jerk when his hand touched your head. he apologized quietly, not removing himself from you and let the warmth of his appendages seep through your hair into your scalp, gave you time to familiarize with how it had so much weight to it.

"do you ever regret your decision?" he started stroking your head in short, smooth motions, flattening your hair against your crown. "regret traveling with me, I mean."

you weren't sure why he was asking this during bedtime, but coaxed you to crack your eyes at him, proving you were still awake. his made of brilliant azure we're looking back at you, somehow piercing through the inky night straight into you. they had an eerie, otherworldly glow to them, almost.

"I dunno." you are honest, unsure of the kind of answer he was looking for. did he want comfort, or was he going to try to bail on you again? it had been a while since he last tried. "I dunno. I don't mind it most of the time. you're a good guy, vash, you don't deserve to be all alone in this world."

his hand stopped, but his fingers splayed out a little more. the corners of his eyes started to narrow, crinkles forming in the corners. you couldn't handle how softly, so sweetly he was looking at you now.

"you gave up everything, though." he said, smoothing his hand along that same path on your head again. "you shouldn't have given up your entire life—your career just to…"

he didn't want to finish. your eyes were open fully, the whites of them glistening at him in the dim moonlight.

"you shouldn't have given it all up to be with me." it sounded so unnatural to him, like it was some unfathomable, convoluted thing he had had no business putting a voice to. "nothing—no one is worth that. I'm not worth that."

in these moments, you wished he would let you touch him. all you wanted to do was feel the warmth of your bodies meld together, wrap your arms around him so he couldn't leave you alone in that dusty, dark room, and so he knew he wasn't alone.

"don't talk like that," was all you could bring yourself to say, even though you didn't think it was amiss.

the shadows around his mouth deepened, his smile just a little higher than it usually was. his thumb moved towards your temple, callused pad stroking the skin there, tempting you to lean into his touch even more.

parts of you wanted him to kiss you, because you caught his eyes wavering at times, unsticking from your gaze to sweep lower beneath his thick lashes. you knew he was looking at your lips, and you thought that maybe you had made the mistake of looking first.

he never acted on that as much as you wished he would, but he did keep his hand on you until the gentle motions on your hair finally lulled you into slumber.

pls comment or reblog if you enjoyed! 🫰🏻

#vash the stampede x y/n #vash x y/n #vash x you #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #vash the stampede #trigun imagines #trigun x reader #trigun x you #tristamp #trigun stampede #trimax #trigun maximum #2k writes

[rhoorl]

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 16: The Countdown

Series Masterlist | Chapter 16 A03 Link

Word Count: 8.8k

Previously on As the Mule Falls: Benny and Vanessa went on a date. We learned a bit about a woman from Santiago’s past. Frankie got things prepared for a little weekend trip up to Atlanta to celebrate a big milestone.

In this Episode: Another Benny-heavy episode as the guys get him ready for fight night. Similar to the last episode, we’ll jump through time and will end the Saturday before Benny’s fight. We also have another neighborhood party!

Chapter Warnings: This one is pretty fluffy, just some swearing. Special thot warning - Cousin Joel, Marcus being a sweet brother-in-law, the boys spending time at the gym. Frankie in his menace era. Benny is a flustered, adorable mess. David comes with his own warnings. 

*Cue the theme music and roll opening credits*

11 Days to Fight Night 

David: Ok since when has Will had a motorcycle?! Katie you have to keep us updated on stuff like this.

Megan: If we had a neighborhood newsletter it'd be the lead story this week 😂

Ty: Don’t give him any ideas…

Katie: Sorry…he just got it

Olivia: Have you taken a ride yet?

Melissa: 💀

Olivia: On the motorcycle

Oliva: Shit! 🫣

Ty: I thought for a second D took your phone 

Megan: 😆 aw Liv, we love you never change.

Oliva: Quick someone please change the subject. I am so sorry Katie!

Katie: 😘

David: Anyone up for another party? We haven’t welcomed the new neighbors yet.

Megan: Lulu and I were actually talking about that!

Lucille: Yes! I am happy to host! Maybe this weekend? 

David: Theme?

Megan: Do we need one? 

David: ….

Megan: The theme is Lucille is going to cook us a bunch of food and play great music. And dancing!

Ty: Ay dios mio. He’s already getting a mood board together.

Lucille: Megan - can you talk with Victoria? See what night works for them. 

Megan: Great idea! Katie you’re in charge of the boys!

David: I’m not jealous at all 🙄

Frankie propped his elbow up on the armrest and looked out the window as the plane made its descent. The early morning flight meant there were actually a few open seats, including the one next to him in the exit row, for which he was grateful.

His weekend trip reinvigorated him. It went as perfectly as he could have imagined it, save for the constant rain but even that wasn't a problem since it meant they got to stay in. All the anxiety he felt leading up to the trip about revealing parts of his past to Jo evaporated the second she took his hand, rubbing her thumbs across his knuckles. She appreciated Frankie's openness and willingness to share some of the deepest, darkest parts of his past. But what meant the most was when she said how proud she was of him for reaching his milestone. 

The distance was not ideal. All they wanted to do was spend every day, every moment with each other. He wanted to wake up to legs tangled and sheets rumpled. She wanted to surprise him at his job one day with lunch. They wanted to cook dinner together at night and settle in and watch a movie or play a game.

But for now, their physical time together would be relegated to a more sporadic schedule. She was gearing up for a busy time at work, but they made plans for the following weekend for Benny's fight. Frankie was already counting down the days when he could see her and introduce her to everyone. That thought brought a smile across his face; the pride he'd feel about showing off his girl.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even realize they were landing until the wheels hit the tarmac. He quickly pulled out his phone, knowing exactly who his first text would be to. 

Frankie: Just landed. Miss you.

Jo: Good! I miss you too. Got to the office a little bit ago.

Frankie: You weren't late right?

Jo: Nope, all good! Gotta go to this meeting but tell Benny I said hi!

Frankie: Have a good day mi cielo. Talk later

Jo: xoxo

10 Days to Fight Night

“Fish, can you help me with something real quick?” Benny panted as he racked up the bar onto the squat rack.

“With what?”

“Can you…uh…take a picture?” He turned around, offering Frankie his phone.

Frankie furrowed his eyebrows. “A picture? Of what?” 

Benny’s eyes looked left and right. “Um…me?” 

“Can’t you just do like a selfie or somethin’?” Frankie leaned against the weights.  

“No…it’s more of an…action shot. C’mon Fish, it’ll take two seconds.” Benny walked over to an open space, peeling off his shirt so he was left in just his black basketball shorts. He flipped his baseball cap around and got into a plank. “Just take a couple of me doing pushups.”

“Por amor a díos, Benjamin. What the hell?” Frankie shook his head laughing.

“C’mon, Fish,” he grunted through another rep, the pendant of his chain hitting the floor each time. 

Frankie tried his best, even bending down on one knee to get a better angle. “Ok…see what you think.” 

Benny chewed on the inside of his cheek as he scrolled through the mostly blurry photos. He was about ready to prop up the phone against a dumbbell and try it again but managed to find a clear one that showed off the definition in his shoulders. “Good, thanks, man.”

“Hey…um…think you could… never mind, it’s dumb.” Frankie rubbed the back of his neck, walking back towards his water bottle. “Who’re you taking that for anyway?”

“It’s for uh…my Instagram…damn that sounds really fuckin stupid to say out loud. I'm a grown-ass man,” Benny chuckled. 

“Hoping that someone in particular sees it?” Frankie raised an eyebrow, lightly punching Benny in the arm.

“Yeah…kinda,” Benny blushed, eager to change the subject. “What? Like you don't send any pictures to your lady.”

“Uh…that’s actually what I,” Frankie sighed, shaking his head as Benny’s face lit up with the realization of what Frankie was trying to ask about earlier.

“Oh hell yeah, Fish! Tryna show off all that hard work aren't ya,” he winked, slapping Frankie in the stomach. 

Despite the focus on Benny and getting him in ring shape, Frankie reaped some benefits from their daily gym trips too. Recently he noticed his shirts fit a bit tighter across his chest and arms, a fact Jo was all too pleased about during his little weekend getaway. 

They'd exchanged photos over the past couple of weeks, but they had been pretty tame. Mostly silly selfies as they went about their day. This morning, however, Frankie did manage to send one of himself shirtless, brushing his teeth which seemed to get quite the reaction. He was having fun and feeling playful.

“Can you help me?” He looked over at Benny who sported a lopsided grin.

“Hell yeah!” He led Frankie back to the locker room. They stood in front of the mirror as Benny gave him tips on how to pose and hold the camera, taking a couple of his own to show as an example.  

“I dunno man, this feels kinda dumb,” Frankie winced, looking at himself in the mirror. 

“Stop it…she’s gonna love it. You’re lookin’ good these days, Fish, show it off!” Benny shook him by the shoulders, making Frankie’s shy smile grow more confident. “I’m tellin’ ya, send her one of those and you’re in for a good night later,” he winked.

Nine Days to Fight Night 

Will and Santiago finished the work on Melissa's backyard earlier than expected thanks to some extra help from Connor. It was perfect timing, with a little over a week before Benny’s fight. All the guys rallied around Benny, helping him prepare however they could.

Today started with an early morning jog around the neighborhood. Benny, Will, and Connor ran together, the younger boy pushing the older two to keep a faster pace. Frankie followed on a bike, barking out encouragement. Meanwhile, Santiago sat on the Millers’ front porch drinking a coffee and reading the paper, giving the guys a little wave each time they came around the block.

“Nice, that was your fastest yet,” Frankie stopped the bike and clicked off the stopwatch.

Benny stood bent over trying to catch his breath while Will took off his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow, tucking it into the waistband of his red gym shorts. Santiago strolled down the driveway with some water bottles as David drove by, giving a polite wave. 

“It was all this guy,” Benny panted, patting Connor on the chest. “Your coach is gonna make you run the drills this season man,” he chuckled.

“Happy to help. You feeling good?” Connor asked as he took the cold bottle from Santiago. 

“Yeah. Cardio wise I feel great.”

“You testing out that cardio in your free time?” Santiago smirked as Frankie smacked him on the back of the head, cutting his eyes over to Connor.

“He hasn't even kissed her yet,” Will added before dodging out of the way and hiding behind Frankie to avoid a slap from Benny. The guys broke out in a fit of laughter as Benny blushed. 

“She’s excited about the fight,” Connor said as he took a long drink of water, eliciting confused looks from the guys. “What? She cut my hair earlier this week so it came up. Thanks for noticing by the way,” he teased as he removed his baseball cap and ruffled the top of his hair.

Santiago assessed Connor’s haircut with a sharp nod, approving Vanessa’s handiwork. “Looks good, kid. Maybe I’ll go and see what those hands can do.” He winked at Benny, getting a sense of glee at seeing his fist ball up and his nostrils flare.

Oblivious, Connor continued, “She gave an awesome scalp massage, she has long nails so it helps to…” He stopped when he saw all the guys looking at him with blank stares. Benny’s mouth twisted while the others tried to hold in their laughter. Finally, Will’s snort made them all bust out laughing. 

“Better be careful there C,” Will smirked. 

“Oh…ah…sorry Benny, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” he winced, fearing he’d offended Benny.

Benny clenched his jaw, before taking a deep breath. “All good lil dude,” he patted Connor on the back. “I’m used to these guys being assholes…so…what did you guys talk about?” He raised his eyebrows.

More relaxed now knowing Benny wasn’t mad, Connor told them about how she seemed excited to watch Benny but a bit nervous too. “She mentioned something about how Victoria is going to be there to help too?”

Benny shifted from one foot to another, feeling butterflies in his stomach at the thought of her excited to see him in action. “She…uh…yeah, Vic’s gonna help tape me up before the fight, you’re off the hook, Fish.”

“Ha, I see what you did there!” Connor laughed as they all groaned.

“You've been over there every night this week,” Will observed, taking a long drink of water. 

“Vic has been doing some treatments…to help me with recovery. Now that I’m getting older, I'm feeling it a lot more than I used to…now I know how you all must feel,” Benny smirked.

“Vanessa hasn't been helping you with some extra um…treatmen-” Santiago could barely get it out before bursting into another fit of laughter.

“Hey, you boys are having too much fun,” Lucille joked as she wheeled her trash bin to the curb. 

“Lulu, qué estás haciendo? Trash comes tomorrow not today,” Frankie knitted his brows taking the bin from her and walking it back up her driveway. 

“I thought so, but David told us it was a special day and to take it out to the curb right away and…well never mind,” she shook her head. “You boys are coming over on Saturday, right?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world, Lulu,” Will regarded her with a soft smile. 

“Are you cooking Lulu?” Benny's hopeful look made her laugh.

“Sí mi amor, I am starting today. And I'm making some extra empanadas just for you…although I hear I have some competition,” she winked.

“What? Someone else is making empanadas?” Benny scoffed. “Doesn't matter, I know where the best ones are made darlin’.”

“Ah well, vamos a ver, I think you may like these more…you boys going to the gym?”

“Yeah, one last hard workout today and tomorrow, and then it's all maintenance, right Benjamin?” Frankie clapped a hand on Benny's shoulder.

“You're coming next week to watch right, Lulu?” Benny's puppy dog eyes made the biggest smile come across Lucille's face. 

“Por supresto mi vida, I’m looking forward to it.”

Eight Days to Fight Night 

Today’s gym session was especially fun because everyone got into it. Connor and Benny started off alternating between jumping rope and running sprints on the treadmill. Of course, they had to make it competitive and see who could jump rope the longest without messing up or who could run for the fastest speed on the treadmill. 

Santiago and Frankie spent time lifting, getting a chance to catch up on each other's week. Will went off to a corner to do an ab circuit. When Benny finished his cardio, he and Will faced each other on the ground to do one of their patented Miller Push-Up Contests. They'd started doing this as kids and it became something Benny would do to lift everyone's spirits during missions. 

Each time they came up for a pushup, they extended one arm out to slap hands before going down for another push-up. Will rolled his eyes because Benny wanted to push the pace rather than go at the slow and methodical one Will set. Like always, they ended up play fighting, with Benny putting Will in some kind of WWE-style hold.

“Ok, ok you two break it up,” Frankie chuckled. “C'mon Ben, let's get some sparring in so we can all go eat.”

Seven Days to Fight Night

"Bean what the fuck is a 'thirst trap' and why did Sarah say she saw it on your Instagram? Jesus I don't even know what half of that shit even means," Joel muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat in his truck outside of Steph's house. 

“Oh…ah…I dunno man, you know the kids and how they talk, can't keep up,” Benny tried to laugh it off but Joel pressed on until he finally revealed what that phrase meant.

“What kind of picture you posting Ben? My daughter, your niece, is on that app!”

“No, no, it's just a selfie in the mirror at the gym. I had my shirt off, it's what she'd see at the beach, man, nothing worse than that.”

“Hmm…” Joel rolled his eyes, “It's not you I'm worried about…why'd you post that anyway? Not enough havin’ all those stay-at-home moms at the gym goin' crazy for you.”

Benny could practically see the smirk on Joel's face. He knew he could try and bullshit his way around this, but Joel would get the truth out one way or another. “I…shit this sounds so fucking silly, I'm almost 40 for fuck’s sake, but…I was kinda doing it hoping someone would see it.”

“Someone in general or some specific? Is it for Nox?”

“Who the fuck is Nox?”

“Your girl…you said she drove an Equinox, so I’ve been calling her that in my head,” Joel chuckled.

“Nox…” Benny tilted his head. “You never gave Amy a nickname...”

“You didn't answer the question, Bean.” Joel countered.

Benny leaned back in his dining room chair, pausing from the drawing he was absentmindedly shading as he talked with Joel. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“Ha, I knew it. Trying to remind her what she's missing when you're not around?”

“Ahh…well…”

“Y'all’ve done stuff right? Will said you've been at her place like every night this week.”

“No man…I…we almost kissed last weekend but her sister and brother-in-law got home from their date night,” Benny scratched his scalp as he continued, “I dunno…I haven't felt nervous like this around a girl like…ever.”

“Well, she sounds special Bean…I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

Benny sat up straighter in his chair, “when's that gonna be?” He eagerly anticipated Joel's response.

“Well, that's kinda why I called. Dropped Sarah off at Steph's for her two weeks and we got to talkin’…the county is draggin’ its feet on these permits and some of the materials we need for this job are back ordered so I'll have some downtime while Sarah is with Steph…looks like it's going to line up with your fight.”

“Holy shit! You're coming? Fuck yeah!” Benny pumped his fist in the air.

Joel chuckled, “knew that would get you excited. You actually have Steph to thank for this one, she made the decision for me…says I need to take a vacation.”

“I can't remember the last one you went on.” 

Joel shook his head, “Hey Tommy, Sarah, and I went tubing last summer…or was that two summers ago…”

“My point exactly J, plus that wasn't a vacation. So is Tommy coming with you too?”

“That's the plan, as long as he doesn't do anything stupid.” Joel rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. 

“Oh shit, it's gonna be a hell of a week with you two down here.”

Joel smiled as he drove, listening to Benny go on and on about the different things he wanted to do while his cousins were in town. 

“...and Pope mentioned this cigar shop, we were thinking of getting some to celebrate but I dunno I don't wanna jinx anything and -”

“Ohhhkay Bean, gonna stop you there. I'm about to head in to grab some food. We'll chat later…try and I dunno dance with Nox at the party tomorrow night, put on that Miller charm.”

Six Days to Fight Night

“Mmm, it smells so good in here hermanita,” Victoria walked through the door with Nico and Mariella in tow. 

“Thanks, got the last batch going,” Vanessa said over her shoulder, careful not to take her eyes off the hot oil. 

“Oooo Tia you made empanadas?” Nico bounded over, getting his hand slapped by his mom for reaching for the tray Vanessa had already neatly assembled.

“It's ok Vic, he can take one. Here mi amor take from this plate, those are the guava y queso ones.”

“My favorite! Gracias, Tia!” He managed to say between bites. 

“Cooking up quite the storm huh?” Victoria regarded the counter which included a glass dish full of boiled yucca, a container of citrus-garlic mojo, two types of empanadas, and a tres leches cake.

“We can't show up empty-handed,” Vanessa fished out the last empanada and placed it on the paper towel-lined plate.

“Well you know what they say…fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach,” Victoria giggled as Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Speaking of his stomach, d’you see his Instagram? Ay Papi! She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Vanessa blushed as she started packing up the empanadas into containers. “Um…yeah…I mean, I think I saw it when I was scrolling.” In reality, Vanessa set up notifications for Benny’s posts, so she immediately saw yesterday’s gym selfie. Not wanting to seem too eager, she waited about an hour or so after he posted before she actually liked it. 

“Hmm…sure. Anyways, what are you wearing tonight?”

Vanessa sighed, “I don’t know…it’s a casual backyard party so nothing too fancy.”

“C’mon,” Victoria grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her up the stairs holding Mariella on her hip. “Vamos, Nico…let’s help Tia figure out what to wear tonight.”

Frankie took a deep breath as he looked at himself in the mirror. Benny's words from the other day were in his head encouraging him to show off all of the hard work he'd been putting into the gym. As he contemplated which of his colorful, silky buttoned-downs to wear, a thought popped into his head. Earlier, Jo sent him a picture of her outfit before she headed out for the night with a friend. She looked gorgeous, but of course, she did. That photo would be in his head all evening, so he thought it would be fun to return the favor. 

He pushed back from the mirror and pulled the bill of his baseball cap down low so that just his mouth was visible. He checked the angle of his phone making sure he was in the frame before looking down and snapping a couple of photos. He sighed as he scrolled through them. This was so unlike him, but he had to admit, it was kind of fun. He got a little rush of doing this for her, curious what her reaction would be. Having fun like this, being silly and carefree and just being in…love? Is that what he was feeling? It had been so long.

“Alright, let’s see what you think baby…” he muttered to himself as he hit send, immediately putting the phone down on the counter and walking back to his closet to figure out which shirt to wear. 

Bucky enthusiastically greeted Katie as she walked into Megan's house. He was excited to see her, sure, but he was more excited about the tray of little Cuban sandwich sliders in her hands.

“Bucky, no no this isn't for you…maybe your mom can give me one of your t-r-e-a-t-s instead,” she winked as Bucky jumped up on her legs. “Ohhh ok, note to self, he knows how to spell,” she laughed, rounding the corner into the kitchen where Megan and Connor were getting their stuff packed up.

“He acts like we never feed him,” Megan laughed. “You've got it good my man,” she looked down at Bucky who gave her big puppy dog eyes. “Don't…ugh dammit it works every time,” she laughed as she grabbed a Milkbone. “Damn you Benny Miller. He got Bucky addicted to these damn things so I had to go to Costco to get more,” Megan gestured to the new treat container as Connor snorted.

“Speaking of Benny, how’s it going with the training, C? Katie leaned against the counter.

Connor sat at the kitchen table, “Oh pretty good. I feel like this week it's all really clicked for Benny. He seems to be having fun. Plus he got some good news, so that put him in an even better mood.”

“News? What news? Ooo something about Vanessa?” Megan asked.

Connor absentmindedly scrolled his phone, “Nah, no it's about his cousins from Texas they're coming to town.”

Megan and Katie looked at each other, a smirk forming across Megan's face. “Cousins from Texas huh?”

“Yeah, Benny was excited about it,” Connor added.

“I guess we'll see if all of Melissa's detective work paid off huh?” Katie tried to sound neutral but she knew Megan was onto her.

“You gonna give David that bit of news or am I?” Megan raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, your kid was the one who had that little tidbit, so it's all yours Meg,” she winked.

With Frankie headed to a party at Lucille's tonight, Jo finally took her neighbor Bea up on her invitation to join her and some friends for a trivia night at a local brewery. They finished the first round and awaited the results, so she had time for a quick trip to the restroom. She checked her phone out of habit, not expecting to see any messages from Frankie. Her stomach did a little flip when she saw she had a message from him – and a photo at that. Intrigued, she leaned against a wall and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one could see her phone. 

Frankie. Without a shirt. Wow, he looked good. And the part that made the slick start to pool between her legs was the little smirk she could see from under his baseball cap. It reminded her of a week ago, looking up at him as he was buried inside her, one of her legs wrapped around his waist. She pushed her thighs together for some relief before responding.

Jo: 🫦

Jo: Benny is teaching you well there Morales

Frankie: Thought you might like that

Jo: Call me later 

Jo: Actually, we should FaceTime 😈

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Vanessa fussed with her hair before heading downstairs. She could hear Victoria going over the kid’s nighttime routine with their cousin Maria, who agreed to come over and watch them for the evening. She smiled when she saw Nico lying on the couch playing a game on his tablet, watching him as she turned the corner into the kitchen, she nearly ran into Marcus. 

“Vandy!” He narrowly avoided crashing into her and took a step back to take her in. “Wow…you look beautiful,” he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “He’s going to love it.” He whispered in her ear.

She shyly smiled, “It’s not too much?” 

“No, you look perfect.” He winked as he walked over to the kitchen island to help pack up the food they were taking to Lucille’s.

“You don’t look too bad yourself Buck, is that the guayabera Tio Gerardo got you?”

Marcus looked down at his black linen dress shirt, “Yeah this is the one. Some of the guys wear these to the office and now I see why, they’re comfortable as hell,” he chuckled.

Lucille hadn’t thrown a party like this in ages. It felt nice to have the house full of people, the music playing, and the aroma of food wafting throughout. She was thankful to the boys for helping her get the backyard in order. Frankie and Benny set up a beautiful display of twinkling string lights among her trees while Will and Santiago and Connor constructed a dance floor and moved furniture out of the way.

A group congregated in the kitchen, David holding court as he took stock of all of the delicious food Lucille had on the menu. He let out a loud whoop as the Delta Force guys arrived. All of the neighbors showered them with hugs and warmth. In their own ways, each of the guys relished this. It was nice to have people genuinely excited to see them. 

Everyone decided to take the party outside, helping to carry out various dishes and containers. Once everything was set, Benny reached into a cooler to grab a beer. He heard Lucille excitedly announce that the guests of honor were there. Turning around, he immediately locked eyes with Vanessa, like a magnet that found its other half. He let out a breath as he saw her. Fuck, she looks beautiful, no idiot, she looks gorgeous, he thought to himself. Will patted him on the back, but Benny couldn’t hear what he said. It was like everything was in slow motion. 

Vanessa wore a simple forest green wrap dress with a floral pattern that hugged her curves in all of the right places. The straps of the garment were delicate and the neckline formed a modest v, showing just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination but also enough to make his mouth water. His eyes honed in on her collarbone, wondering what it would be like to pepper kisses along it as he moved his way up her neck to behind her ear and…

“Ben? Earth to Ben?” Santiago chuckled next to him.

Benny shook his head to bring himself back to the present. “Hmm?”

“You’re staring, Bean. Put your tongue back in your mouth and go over there and say hi.” Will added as Frankie smirked. 

“Shit. Yeah, ok.” Benny smoothed the front of his short sleeve blue button down, undoing another button because it suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees outside despite it being a very pleasant evening. 

A crowd formed around the new arrivals with everyone eager to welcome them to the party. Benny made a beeline to Vanessa waiting impatiently but respectfully as David chatted with her. 

“Girl! Stunning. Tens across the board on this. I didn’t know you had this little figure on you mama!” David winked. 

“Aw thanks, you look great too!” Vanessa blushed as she caught Benny’s eyes from over David’s shoulder. 

David followed her gaze. “Ah, Benny! Hey, d’you hear we have more empanadas? Vanessa made some too, so now we don’t have to fight over all the ones Lulu made. Although if we did actually fight you’d kick my ass so…” David chuckled.

Benny snorted as David excused himself, taking the opportunity to ask Will about his new motorcycle. “Hi,” Benny looked at her with a soft smile, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

“Hi,” Vanessa replied, a bit shaky. 

For as much as he was in awe of her, she was equally as mesmerized by him. He’d been almost exclusively wearing a baseball cap since they met, so she hadn’t noticed that his hair was getting a little bit longer. His shirt fit him perfectly, showing off all of the hard work he’d put in at the gym. She looked down at his chest, appreciating the fact that he had a few buttons undone. His chain glimmered as it sat nestled into some sparse hair on his chest. He looked like a model and Vanessa couldn’t believe he was standing there talking to her.

“Y-you look absolutely beautiful,” he gave her a quick but appreciative up and down, trying his hardest not to let his eyes linger for too long.

“You clean up pretty good yourself Bun,” she smiled back, brushing some lint off his shoulder. Her stomach did a little flip when he chuckled at the mention of his nickname. 

Benny looked over his shoulder as Marcus and Will moved dishes and plates to make room for the newest additions to the buffet. “D’you make all of that?”

Vanessa nodded, looking down feeling her face getting hot as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah…spent most of the day doing it.”

“Well, I’m excited to taste you…I mean your um…whatever you brought. What ah, what did you make?” Benny rubbed the back of his neck, thankful it was dark outside and she couldn’t fully see how red he was turning. 

“Want me to show you?”

“Absolutely, lead the way boss lady,” Benny winked, letting her walk in front of him so he could check her out, noticing that she put a little extra swish and sway to her hips.

Lucille stopped for a moment as she walked outside with another plate of empanadas and croquettas to refill the trays. She took in the sight of her backyard so full of people, of laughter, of music, it brought a tear to her eyes. She wished her Julio could be there to see how their little neighborhood had grown. With a deep breath, she set down the plate and turned to see everyone starting to hit the makeshift dance floor thanks to David who has commandeered the speakers.

“Vamos bailar Lulu?” Marcus winked, extending his arm out to her which she happily took. 

“Habalas español muy bien Marcus,” she complimented as he led her onto the dance floor.

“Well, I had to learn quickly. Had to know what my mother-in-law and her family were saying about me,” he chuckled.

On the other side of the backyard, David dragged Olivia onto the dance floor, to the cheers of everyone including her husband Chris. They didn’t get out much and were so thankful to Aria for coming over to babysit so they could have a night with their neighbors. Santiago twirled Victoria around, the two keeping up with the quick beat of the song.

In a move that surprised most of the neighbors, Will was eager to get out on the dance floor, bringing Katie along. Although she was a bit unsure of how to keep to the beat, she was pleasantly surprised to see Will take the lead.

“Where'd you learn to dance like this?” Katie giggled as she held one of his hands and lightly rested the other on his shoulder.

“Learned a few things from my exes,” he winked as she rolled her eyes.

“Didn't pass along those tricks to your brother?” She nodded towards Benny who was sulking in the corner nursing a beer as he watched everyone.

Will shook his head as he twirled her, “Tried…we finally found something he's actually not good at,” he chuckled before cutting his eyes over to check in on Benny. With a sigh, he added that Benny's ex used to make fun of him when he tried to dance, one of the countless ways she found to tear him down.

“Aww poor Bean,” Katie pouted, sneaking a look at Benny as Will spun her around again. She noticed Benny's eyes were glued to Vanessa who sat twirling her Solo cup and politely chatting with Ty at a table.

“He'll get his big boy pants on soon,” Will smirked.

“So…your motorcycle is the talk of the neighborhood,” she teased.

“Ha yea,” he twirled her before bringing her back in close. “I have to admit, it's been kinda fun, you should go with me sometime.”

“No way,” Katie shook her head. “Couldn't pay me enough money to do that…but I know someone who would,” she arched her eyebrow. 

“And who is that?” Will looked skeptical.

“Miranda, my coworker. She's been watching this show about a motorcycle gang and it's kind of a thing for her now,” she chuckled, noticing Will's ears getting red. 

Despite the fact that the two of them had moved on from anything romantic, Katie still had love for Will and wanted him to be happy.

“Oh c'mon, I think you'll like her. She's really sweet and super smart.”

“She been helping you with that big presentation for work?’

“Yeah! Poor thing, she's been juggling a lot because of…well, she has a lot of responsibilities at home. But yeah, we both are looking forward to Monday being over with,” she chuckled.

“You gonna dance with her or what?” Frankie leaned against the wall, turning his head to look at Benny who stood chewing on the inside of his cheek and looking down at his feet. He kept missing the occasional hopeful glances Vanessa tossed over her shoulder. Frankie sighed, shaking his head, “Well if you won’t, I will.” He pushed off the wall and strode over to Vanessa.

Vanessa heard someone clear their throat behind her and she felt a lump form in her throat. 

“¿Quieres bailar?”

She tried to hide her disappointment that the voice behind her wasn’t the one she was hoping for. Turning around she saw Frankie looking down at her with a soft smile. He looked so much like her ex she had to do a bit of a double take. “You’re sweet. It's ok, Frankie, I don't really like this song anyway,” she forced a tight smile. 

“C'mon,” he leaned down and lowered his voice, “show him what he's missing.” He offered her his hand with a wink.

Vanessa chuckled to herself and with Ty’s encouragement took Frankie up on his offer. She stood up from the table, smoothed her dress and placed her hand in Frankie's as he led her to the dance floor. Victoria cheered and Lucille clapped as she welcomed the newest couple to the dance floor.

Benny scratched the back of his head and took a long swig of his beer, wishing he could get past his insecurities. He watched everyone carrying on and having fun, but really he was only watching one person. He couldn't take his eyes off Vanessa. The way her nose scrunched as she giggled at something Frankie said, the way she tossed her hair, the way her hips swayed.

Frankie kept a respectful hand at her mid-to-upper back, but still brushed against some of her exposed skin making Benny’s fingers twitch. As she twirled around again he saw her smile, a smile he swore could light up a pitch-black room. He was so caught up in this trance it didn't even register that Megan had walked up next to him.

“You know, you strike me as the kinda guy who is the first one out on the dance floor no matter what the music. Didn’t peg you as the wallflower.”

“I…ah…I’m not a good dancer,” he pulled his lips into a tight line. 

“I don't think she'd care,” she nodded towards the dance floor.

As the song ended and another started, a musical chairs of sorts ensued as everyone switched partners. Marcus kissed Lucille's hand and passed her off to Frankie just as Victoria crashed into her husband's arms in a fit of giggles. Santiago danced with Olivia after Melissa walked away from him, while David whisked Katie around, leaving Will and Vanessa. Even though Will had been nothing but sweet to her, she was still intimidated by him, like she wanted to make a good impression.

“Wanna dance darlin'? I’m not as good as Fish but I can hold my own,” he chuckled, looking down with a shy smile that reminded her of Benny. 

“That's ok, as long as you're having fun that's all that matters,” she smiled, taking his hand.

Somewhere between the second verse and the bridge, Will’s eyes clocked Vanessa stealing a glance over at Benny.

“Dancing isn't really his thing, at least not fast songs like these. For as good as his footwork is in the ring, he's not the most coordinated on the dance floor...’specially when there's a pretty girl in his arms distracting him,” he winked, which made Vanessa's cheeks feel hot. “He just doesn't wanna look dumb, it's nothing on you sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Will. Hey, you know for a gringo you dance really well. Took Marcus forever to learn,” she giggled, making Will break out into a huge grin.

As the song neared its end, Will tried to subtly get Benny's attention while also making sure Vanessa was having fun. Finally, he caught his brother's eyes and gave him a stern look that said get your ass over here now and dance with her. 

Benny finished his beer and took a deep breath, willing his legs to move even though it felt like he had cement blocks tied to his boots. Thankfully, the tempo slowed down considerably for the next song, easing some of Benny's anxiety. 

Vanessa's back was to him as approached, which gave him another chance to admire her even though he could feel Marcus and Victoria's eyes on him. He cleared his throat and tried to muster some of that Miller charm, “S’cuse me miss, this guy bothering you?”

Will smirked, looking down to see Vanessa's face light up at the sound of Benny's voice. He let her go putting up his arms in surrender, “just keepin’ her company waiting for you,” he snorted. “Thanks for the dance darlin’,” Will kissed her hand and made his way over to Olivia since Santiago had bounced to Katie.

“Hi,” Benny smiled, suddenly feeling like a middle schooler who finally worked up the courage to ask the pretty girl to dance. 

“Hi,” Vanessa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I…um…” Benny's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his mind went blank.

“Here, give me your hand, Bun,” Vanessa reached her hand out. She guided his hand to her waist, placing it lower than Frankie or Will's hands had ventured. She rested one hand on his shoulder and with her other she threaded her fingers with his. “There, now rock side to side. See? All good.”

Benny shook his head before a mischievous smile danced across his lips. “Not yet.” His fingers dug firmly into her back as he brought her closer, their bodies flush against each other. She let out a surprised giggle which was music to his ears. “There. Now we're good.”

Vanessa dropped his hand, seeing his brows slightly furrow before relaxing again as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck. They swayed side to side, completely off the beat but it didn't matter, they couldn't hear the music anyway. 

Benny willed himself to keep it together but his eyes fluttered closed when Vanessa started lightly scratching the back of his neck with her fingernails. He wanted so badly to feel her fingers through his hair, to feel her tug on it while he….he took a deep breath and tried to think about puppies or baseball, anything that would distract from the fact that his body was pressed up against hers. An abrupt inhale made Vanessa's eyebrow twitch.

“Are you ok?” She recoiled a bit.

Vanessa's words pulled Benny back to the present. “Hmm?”

“Did you just fall asleep on me?” She chuckled.

“No, no…I'm just really relaxed…the way you're scratching the back of my head, it's um…” He trailed off laughing to himself as he shook his head to rid his mind of the dirty thought that flashed through it. 

“Sorry, I…didn't mean to…” She moved her hands back to his shoulders.

He shook his head and with a smile gently placed her hands back around his neck as his hands then traced down her sides, before finally resting on her hips. “No, it's ok, I like it,” he licked his bottom lip, deciding to test things just a little bit. “You’re just distractin’ me a bit is all…” he looked down at his feet.

“Oh…well, I think you're doing a good job.” 

“You're a sweetheart, but you and I both know I'm shit at dancing,” he said with a lopsided grin.

Vanessa's eyes narrowed as she stopped, bringing her hands down to Benny's biceps. “Don't say that about yourself. I'm having fun. Aren't you?”

The corner of Benny's mouth curled up as he nodded. “Course I'm having fun. I somehow convinced the prettiest girl here to dance with me and my two left feet.” 

Vanessa tried to stay calm and coy, but inside she was exploding at not only what he said, but the way he was looking at her.

“Well, you can't get any better unless you practice right?” 

Benny smirked, feeling bolder seeing her reaction to his flirting, “You tryna help me then? Help me…practice.”

“Maybe,” she bit her bottom lip, their eyes locked on one another.

Benny took a deep breath through his nose as one of his hands snaked its way to the small of her back, resting at the top of her ass. Hearing her breath hitch gave him an extra boost of confidence to affirm he wasn't misreading this entire exchange. “Well, darlin' I wonder if I may bother you for some um…private lessons…you know, so I can get better,” he winked.

Vanessa could feel her heart pounding in her ear drums and the wet spot in her underwear growing. She gave him an up and down and leaned in, nodding so he'd lower his head toward her, “I tell you what, you win your match and,” she leaned in further and whispered in his ear, “let’s skip the lesson and I’ll give you a little private dance instead.”

“Fuuuuck,” Benny let out a shaky breath and Vanessa swore she felt him instantly get hard. His grip tightened on her. She smiled to herself seeing the effect she had on him. I've still got it. 

She giggled and leaned into Benny, resting her head on his chest and they continued to rock back and forth. Her mouth was dangerously close to his chest, thanks to the undone buttons. It took everything in her to remember where she was and who was around because all she wanted to do was grab his chain with her teeth and drag him to the nearest bathroom. She hadn't felt like this about anyone since the early days of dating Luce.

Benny cleared his throat and she looked up to see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, sensing he was a bit flustered. “Y’know, it's gonna be a hell of a long week till Friday knowing that’s what’s waiting for me darlin’, but I'm patient. I can wait,” he winked. “Do I get to pick the song?” He raised his eyebrow which made her giggle.

“Nope.”

They continued to giggle and talk in whispers, as one song bleed into the next and the next. They didn't even realize they were the last two on the dance floor. Looking around Vanessa felt a bit embarrassed, but she saw that everyone else was off talking or eating leaving the two of them in their own little bubble. A yawn escaped, the excitement of the day finally starting to catch up with her. 

“Tired?” Benny looked at her with some concern.

“Yeah a little…woke up early so I could start making the food.”

“You um…going to head home?” Benny asked, a little sad that their evening would come to an end. 

“I should…we're talking the kids to the aquarium, so I could use the sleep,” she smiled. 

Benny cleared his throat before locking eyes on her again, “Mind if I walk you home?”

Her first inclination was to say no, that she could handle walking a few houses down the street by herself. But seeing how earnest Benny looked, she thought she'd take him up on the offer. Plus, she knew Victoria would rip her a new one if she left this hanging. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Victoria saw Vanessa give her the signal that said she wanted to leave. After 10 years of being in the family too, Marcus picked up and saw it too. 

“Should we start packing up since Vandy is leaving?” He asked.

“Not yet mi amor, I think she has an escort home. I still feel bad that we cock blocked them last week. C'mon let's get another drink,” she winked, squealing a bit when Marcus lightly swatted her ass. 

Normally a fast walker, Vanessa deliberately slowed down her steps to prolong the walk back to the house. She and Benny walked closely side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against each other until one time where Benny reached for her hand and she took it. They both struggled trying to mask the massive grins on their faces.

“I had fun tonight,” Benny looked over. 

“Me too. I really like it here, everyone’s so nice. Feels like it was the right decision to move here.” She whispered to herself.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. Occasionally Benny’s thumb would rub up and down her hand.

When they finally reached the Pike residence, Vanessa turned around, still holding Benny’s hand. “Well … this is my stop.”

Benny looked up at the ceiling of the porch with a smile before returning his gaze to her, “Yes this is.” He stepped a little bit closer, hearing her breath hitch. All he wanted to do was cup her cheek and kiss her, but he didn't know if it was too soon…or if he'd be able to control himself because he wanted to do a lot more than just kiss her.

“Y'know I didn't have dancin' on my bingo card for tonight, but I'm glad I was able to check that off.”

“What else did you check off?”

Benny gave a mischievous smile, a playful glimmer in his eye. “Hmm, let's see. David made a comment about Frankie's hair. Check. Delicious food. Check. You played a big role in that last one by the way.”

She blushed at the comment, giddy that he enjoyed the food she made for the party. “I'm happy to cook for you whenever you want.” Her eyes darted back and forth between his as he stepped a little closer. “What…um…what else did you check off tonight?”

Benny snorted, “Melissa avoiding Pope, that counts for two.”

“Sounds like a pretty packed evening.”

“It was…pretty awesome night I'd say. But I am missing one thing I was kinda hoping for.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?”

It was now or never. Benny could hear Joel’s voice in his head telling him to go for it, so he took a deep breath. “A kiss.”

“Well, I'm sure the ladies would line the block if you’re offering,” she smirked.

He shook his head. “No, not just any lady. I had a…uh…very specific one in mind.”

She stepped a little closer as he sucked in a breath. “Tell me about her.”

“Well, she's smokin’ hot,” he said with a lopsided grin which made her giggle. “She's got the most beautiful smile, her laugh instantly makes me feel better, and her eyes…” he trailed off. “Yeah, I can get lost in them. But as beautiful as she is on the outside she's even more stunning on the inside,” he ran his hands down her arms and stopped to take both of her hands in his. “She’s smart and kind. Plus she's an amazing cook. She's kind of a catch.”

Vanessa steadied her breath and smiled, feeling like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. “Well, I didn't think Lucille was your type but I can see it,” she teased.

Benny threw his head back in laughter. She loved seeing the way his entire face lit up when he laughed. 

“No way I'm taking Frankie's girl from him,” he chuckled, licking his bottom lip and returning his gaze to Vanessa.

“Well, this…great catch…seems pretty special. I hope you're able to kiss her.”

“Yeah me too.” He looked down, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and mustered up the courage. “Vanessa, I…” he let out a little chuckle, trying to suppress that nervous feeling he felt in his stomach before doing something that scared him.

Ever since he suggested walking her home he thought about kissing her. But seeing her now, the way the soft light of the porch glowed around her, she looked like an angel. And she was looking at him in a way that made him feel like the most important person in the world – a fact that made him feel both unworthy but also like he could conquer any obstacle.

He brought his hand to cup her cheek, his calloused thumb caressing her soft skin. He willed his mind to not wander to how soft she must feel in other places.

“Vanessa…I really like you. And I…” he closed his eyes, shaking his head with a chuckle. Composing himself, he decided to just take the plunge. “Can I kiss you?”

She enthusiastically nodded, knowing she couldn't trust herself to form a sentence. All she wanted to do was kick her feet and squeal with excitement.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

He slowly lowered his head, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue as he moved his hand from her cheek to her neck. Their lips softly touched, both of them stunned but utterly giddy that they'd gotten to this point. 

Benny pulled away, resting his forehead on hers and nuzzling her nose as they both smiled. “That was…wow…can I do that again?”

Vanessa tugged on his shirt, their lips crashing together. Benny walked her backward, his hand extending out behind her so he could catch the wall, guiding her to rest against it. With one hand still cradling her neck, his other trailed down her body. 

She opened her mouth a bit wider, giving him permission to test the waters further. He softly licked along her bottom lip as started to explore. A soft moan from her was all he needed to push himself right up against her groaning as her hands found his hair and tugged slightly.

From a distance, they could hear some whooping and cheering from Lucille's house, instantly transporting them back to reality and the fact that they were making out on a porch. Benny pulled away, his thumb caressing her kiss-swollen lips. 

“Can't believe we were able to do that without getting interrupted.”

Vanessa let out a soft giggle. “I know…Benny that was…”

“Perfect.”

“Yeah.” She brought her hands down his chest, stopping to play with the pendant at the end of his chain as his hands lightly rested on her waist.

He let out a shaky breath, “I want to kiss you again darlin' but I won't be able to stop,” he smiled as she giggled. “I…um…I want to do this right.” He pulled back, both hands moving to rest on her waist. 

“Me too. I don't want to rush this.”

“And what is…this?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Well, I'd like to explore that, if you're up for it.”

“Yeah, I'd like that.” He kissed her again and he'd never felt more invincible like he could take on anything as long as she was by his side. He trailed kisses down her neck, lightly tracing her collarbone with his tongue, in a move that made goosebumps appear on her skin as she mewled. He kissed up the other side of her neck. “I really can't fuckin wait until I win that fight now,” he whispered in her ear as he grabbed a handful of her ass and grinding his hardened length against her.

It was a miracle she was able to remain standing and not dissolve into an instant puddle. Feeling his warm breath against her ear and hearing the need in his voice, it was intoxicating. They made out a little bit longer, neither one wanting it to end but knowing if they continued things would escalate to a place they both wanted to go, but weren't ready for yet. 

Benny kept trying to say goodbye but ended up kissing her, both of them giggling as they continued to explore with their hands and mouths.

Vanessa pulled back, cupping his face between her hands. “We are definitely going to get interrupted soon, I'm surprised we haven't yet.”

“You're right. Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I'd like that. You get home safely Bun.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Next Time on As the Mule Falls: Friends. The long-awaited arrival of Cousin Joel is here. He arrives in the next chapter oh my am I excited. We’ll also gear up for fight night. 

A/N: Hi! Woof that was a long chapter but we had a lot to get through, didn’t we? I mentioned this after the last chapter, but I’m experimenting with doing a few little side stories/extras for this main series. I’ve written two stories - Strike a Pose (Benny x Vanessa) and Weathered In (Frankie x Jo). You don’t have to read them to keep up with the main story, but they add a little extra to the whole experience. We’re gearing up for a storyline I’ve been tinkering with since the fall and am so excited about it and hope you all love it as much as I do. 

On a personal note, I’m headed out for a work trip and then vacation, so I’m hoping to get some writing done but we’ll see. Until next time! Thank you as always for reading, sharing, or sending me a message about this story!

Taglist: @goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @noxturnalpascal / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beboldbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @pimosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain / @partyofone3413 / @inthedarkestnight / @millennial-teenybopper / @csarab615 / @darkheartgatita / @southernbe / @weho2kcmo / @itspdameronthings

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#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie morales #benny miller #friends thank you for patiently waiting for cousin Joel - he's arriving in the next episode

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 3: Noise

You start getting to know Jackson - and yourself. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Attempted SA (not completed). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 6.5k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Electricity had a sound. 

You’d never noticed it before but that had to be what it was. The buzzing. 

It felt loud in the small room, a constant whine that made your ears ring. Everything here was loud, it was so fucking loud. The people on the street outside, the sound of the lights and the power humming in the walls, the tick of a clock in the corner. 

Was the world always this fucking loud before? Were you just numb to it before? 

You closed your eyes and crossed your arms tight over your body. You were still in that man’s coat. Your legs were freezing, feet numb. Your fingers were starting to defrost and they hurt but your stomach felt oddly numb. The wetness of your blood was there against your skin but the pain wasn’t there. It should be but it wasn’t. You didn’t know if that was good or bad. 

“You’re a hard woman to keep track of.” 

You jumped back, away from the voice, eyes flying open, arms flying out and hands groping for something - anything - you could use for a weapon. 

“Woah, you’re OK,” there was a woman in front of you. She was older than you - you thought, anyway, you weren’t quite sure what year it was - and she had a gentle, kindly look to her. Her hands were up in front of her, empty except for a pen, a notepad tucked below her arm. “Not going to hurt you, you’re OK.” 

That seemed like bullshit. Everything in this fucking town seemed like bullshit, none of it made any goddamn sense. Your eyes darted but there wasn’t much here. It reminded you of a doctor’s office waiting room. A few couches, a coffee table with some books and old magazines on it - the kind of magazines your mom would put out, not the ones she’d actually read, shit with short stories and pictures of landscapes in it. Nothing you could really use as a weapon. Your best hope would be running. 

You should have just left when you had the fucking horse, you shouldn’t have listened to that man. It didn’t matter that he seemed strangely familiar and safe and beautiful you should have listened to your fucking gut and run, had you learned nothing since the outbreak? You don’t trust people, that’s how you get fucking killed or worse. People were dangerous, people were so fucking dangerous. 

And now you were in a town full of them. 

“Can you talk?” The woman asked, her brows raised, hands still up. 

“Yes I can fuckin’ talk,” you kept backing up until you were flush with the wall behind you. God this was fucking stupid how had you been this goddamn stupid? “Do I look like a moron to you?” 

“Absolutely not,” she said kindly. She was talking to you the way you talked with wild horses. Like she was trying to keep you from lashing out or taking off. “You just seem scared and like you’ve been through a lot. Sometimes people aren’t able or willing to talk after things like that and that’s OK.” 

“I’m fine,” you snapped. “Just need to get out of here…” 

“OK,” she said. “I can help you with that. Let me just take a look at where you’re bleeding and we can get you out of here, sound good?” 

“Why.” 

The woman frowned. 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you want to see where I’m bleedin’,” you asked. You were starting to feel the pain in your stomach. Your head was light, vision fuzzy on the edges. “What do you want with me?” 

“Just want to help you,” she said. “Promise. If you don’t get in bed soon I’m guessing you’re not going to have much say in the matter, you’d lost a lot of blood when you came in and you’re losing more. You’re going to pass out if you’re not careful. So just let me help you, that’s all I want to do.” 

She was right. You knew enough about keeping yourself alive that you knew when you were close to passing out and you weren’t far off from it. You couldn’t stay on your feet much longer, not without help. 

Help this woman was apparently offering. For whatever fucking reason. 

You tried to think of another option but your brain was fuzzy, too. Slow and sluggish, like working your way through the well worn pathways of survival in your head suddenly required swimming through Jell-o. 

But you wouldn’t survive if you tried to run now. Even if no one ran you down, you’d pass out in the snow and freeze in hours at best. That’s assuming no one else got their hands on you first. It was better to give in to whatever these people wanted and escape when you were stronger. Then you’d have a chance at making it. You’d stolen a horse once, you could do it again. And you doubted anything they were going to do to you here was going to be any worse than other shit you’d managed to live through. 

“You can look,” you said, relaxing back from the wall a bit so you were no longer clinging to the wood. 

“Thank you,” she smiled a little. “Come with me? It’ll be easier if you’re in my exam room. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

You didn’t trust that. You couldn’t afford to trust that. 

But she was probably in her late 60s, smaller than you and definitely weaker. Even injured, you could overpower her. That made it better. 

You didn’t say anything, you just nodded and followed behind her a small room with a padded table in the middle. She set out a step stool and patted the end of it. 

“Can you hop on up for me and lie back?” She asked. You kept your eye on her as you obeyed. You might be in here with this woman but you weren’t about to turn your back on her. The table was cold on your bare legs and you found yourself oddly thankful to the man who’d given you his jacket. You didn’t understand that either. “Just going to…” 

The woman opened the front of the coat and lifted the shirt, making you stiffen. She gingerly touched near your injuries and you tried not to flinch. 

“You pushed it too hard, honey,” she said, smiling a little sadly at you. “I’m going to need to repack these and you need to actually take it easy for a while, OK?” 

You looked back toward the ceiling and didn’t respond. 

“Let me know if something I do hurts too much, we can take a break,” she said, going to a cabinet and coming back with a tray of shiny medical equipment. She set to work around your stomach and your fingers dug into the cuffs of the man’s coat, the wool and leather of it comforting to the touch. “Want to tell me your name? I’m Carol Livingston, the doctor here in Jackson…” 

“What do you want my name for?” You clenched your jaw as you felt her pull something out of you. “What was that?” 

“Gauze,” she held up a wad of bloody fabric in a pair of tiny tongs. “Can’t stitch up a gunshot wound, had to try and make sure we’d cut off the source of major bleeding and then pack it for a bit while it healed. If you don’t do things like climb out a window and take off on a horse, it’s usually pretty effective. And I’d like your name so I know what to call you. Start a file for you since you’re here now, all that.” 

“A file?” You hissed it as she pulls more gauze from you. 

“Sorry honey,” she said. “Almost done. And yes, a file. You’re old enough, you remember before, you must have gone to some doctors, they had records. Going to flush this with water now, stay still for me, OK?” 

“I remember before,” you gritted your teeth and tried to think about something besides what she was doing to you.

“It’s important to have a medical history,” she said, sounding a little distracted. “And to keep track we need a name. Going to put more gauze in now, almost done…” 

It had been years since anyone knew your name. You hadn’t given it to anyone in decades.

The last time had been 2003. September 27, 2003, to be precise. 

Just a few days into the outbreak and you were already disoriented and uncertain about how much time had passed. But the first day was easy to remember. You rode Nike until she was foaming at the mouth, pushing her far harder than you should have. But you didn’t have another choice.

You stopped at a ranch, one that seemed quiet and still now. There were bodies, though. Flies were on them, gaping wounds in their chests and stomachs. One had a bite at their neck like Justin did. 

The ranch was big, one you recognized from the summer tourist season and taking rich people who wanted to pretend they were roughing it on trail rides. There should have been a lot of people here but they were gone. 

You were still quiet, guiding Nike slowly to the paddock, eyes wide open as you waited for someone - something - to come for you. Nothing did. 

You got off Nike for the first time since you’d left home, opening the gate and letting her in. The trough was dry and a horse in the corner lifted its head from where it was grazing to look at you, not paying you much mind. You looked around for a moment and found a water spigot and refilled the trough before pulling the gun from the waistband of your panties. The metal had all but carved a spot in your skin from where you’d been bent over it, clinging to Nike as you fled the chaos and the death. You crept toward the bunkhouse, so like the ones you’d fled hours before, when it was still dark. 

Pickings were slim when it came to clothes. You were the only woman rancher where you’d come from and there had been no women working on your parents’ ranch when you were a girl. You checked a few rooms at the bunk house before you spotted the main house through a window. If there was a woman living here - your best shot at finding pants and boots that fit - it would be there. 

You crept over the open land, gun in front of you and aimed at the ground, the sharpness of the earth snagging on your feet. The main door to the house was open and the table in the entry was overturned, broken glass from what looked like was once a bowl scattered across the ground. You tiptoed around it, hoping you didn’t cut your feet too badly, and went upstairs, whole body tense. 

It didn’t take long to find the bedrooms. There was a teenaged girl living here, one who looked like she was a bit younger than you judging by the posters on the wall and the canopy over her bed, but not much smaller than you. You raided her closet, focusing on things that could be a little tight but would still work - t-shirts and sweatpants. You emptied a backpack that had been tossed in the corner onto her bed and started packing. 

You found the master bedroom next. Thankfully, the rancher was married and his wife was closer to your size than his daughter. Another blessing, this rancher’s wife actually dressed like she lived on a damn ranch unlike your own mother. Her Levis were the same size you wore but a different cut than you usually went for. Her shirts would just about fit, and she had bras that were only a cup size off from your own. You got changed quickly and grabbed extras of everything. Her boots were a size too big, so you grabbed a few pairs of thick socks and layered them before putting them on. Being dressed again was a comfort. You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you’d felt because you’d been half naked, not just because you’d been attacked and everyone seemed to be losing their humanity. 

Next was the kitchen. You grabbed what non-perishables you could fit in the pack - a stash of Poptarts, cans of chili and soup - and gorged yourself on what was left in the fridge. You chugged sodas and peeled hard boiled eggs so fast that you knew you’d eaten some shell, too. You devoured the pears in the basket on the counter and added the apples to your bag before finding a canteen and filling it with water. There was a bottle of Advil in the pantry and you grabbed that, too. You tried turning on the TV in the living room, seeing if there was a news network that had information, but all that was being broadcast was an emergency alert signal, the sound so loud it made your ears ring. It said to stay inside. Like hell you were doing that. 

Overly full and no longer half naked, you made your way back toward the barn to look for tack for Nike. Once she’d had a rest, you planned to get underway again. It might be quiet now but you weren’t counting on it to stay that way. You’d feel better with some distance, at least until all this shit - whatever it was - got figured out. 

Once you were at the barn, you started at the gun safe. Lucky for you, someone had left the door hanging open in the chaos of whatever the fuck had happened the night before. There was just one weapon left - a shot gun - and some ammo. You grabbed all of it and put the ammunition and the handgun into a saddle pack you’d grabbed from the tack room. You loaded the shotgun and tucked it under your arm before you moved on.

You’d just found a saddle that would work well for both you and Nike when you heard the door creak. You spun, whipping the shotgun around into your grip, aiming it at the man standing in the doorway. He threw his hands up and froze. 

“Woah there little girl,” he said. You narrowed your eyes. “Not here to cause you any trouble…” 

“Then get the fuck out,” you said. “Shot two other men today, don’t mind makin’ you the third.” 

“You’re the one in my barn,” he said, still in the door, hands still up. “Takin’ my shit…” 

“This ain’t your ranch,” you looked him up and down. There hadn’t been a bedroom for a young man upstairs and he wasn’t old enough to have a teenaged daughter. 

“No but I work here,” he said. “Think I’m the last one left. Think that makes it mine. You’re not gonna lose your mind on me like everyone else here did, right?” 

“No,” you snapped. “Are you?” 

“Don’t think so,” he said. “But I don’t think they did, either.” 

You lowered your gun slowly, still watching him. He lowered his hands but stayed by the door. 

“That your horse out there?” He asked. “The filly?” 

“She’s mine,” you said. “Couldn’t get her tack before I left, wasn’t safe.” 

“You can take that,” he said, nodding to the saddle that you’d dropped in your haste to defend yourself from him. “Reins, bit and bridle, too. Whatever else you want… She broke enough for you to ride though?” 

You scoffed. 

“She’s dumb broke but I’m the one who got her there,” your fingers twitched on the gun. “Don’t need you fuckin’ her up for me.” 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Just never seen a girl rancher before, let alone one who breaks horses…” 

“I’ve been breakin’ horses since I was 13,” you stuck your chin out, defensive. “And I’m a champion bronc rider, too, so I can promise I can stay on the back of an unbroken horse a lot longer than you.” 

“Alright, alright,” he smiled a little. “Not tryin’ to call your expertise into question. I’m Leo, what’s your name?” 

You clenched your jaw for a second. Part of you was telling you to run, even if you didn’t shoot him, at least get the fuck away from him. 

But you were also alone. You’d never been alone this long before. You’d moved straight from your parents house into the bunkhouse. You had your own room but there was always someone just on the other side of the wall, always someone in the barn, always someone else working with a horse or repairing a fence or mucking a stall. You’d never been truly alone, not like this. If this guy hadn’t become an inhuman monster, maybe he never would. Maybe you didn’t have to be alone. 

You gave him your name. He stepped closer. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “Like I said, there’s no one else here. Everyone else is dead. Don’t think there’s anyone but you and me for miles. Stay. For a bit. You and I both know your mount needs some rest, not sure where you pushed her from but you pushed her.” 

“You would too if you were in my shoes,” you snapped and then sighed. “But she could use the rest…” 

“I’m just glad to know I ain’t the only person left who wasn’t some flesh eating monster,” he laughed once. “It’ll be good. Promise.” 

It was good, for a day. Nike rested. You and Leo went through all the rooms of the bunkhouse and the main house, taking inventory. You figured the two of you could hold out there for weeks at least while the rest of the world got its shit together. Plenty of time for things to calm down and some new kind of normal set in. You could figure it out from there. 

Your second night there, Leo raided the liquor cabinet at the main house. You recognized the labels from your dad’s own stash, the thick amber liquid in heavy crystal glasses as much a part of his identity as his belt or his hat. Leo poured you a cup and you got drunk around a fire, not far from the horses, the stars bright overhead. 

It felt good. You liked it. Until Leo tried to kiss you. 

“No,” you shoved him back, twisting your body so you could put your boot in his chest if you needed to. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” 

“C’mon baby,” he leaned closer but stopped when you gave him a warning look. “You really gonna tell me that I might be the last man on Earth and you’re turnin’ me down?” 

“Could be the last man in the universe and I couldn’t give less of a shit,” you snapped. “If that’s what you want, I’m leavin’.” 

You got up to go but his arms flew out, his eyes wide. 

“No, please!” He was begging, pleading. “Don’t go, please don’t go. I don’t want to be on my own here, I’m sorry I did that, won’t happen again…” 

You looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. But he looked sorry. He sounded sorry. And you didn’t want to be alone, either. 

“It better fuckin’ not,” you said, sitting down on the ground again, putting more distance between the two of you. 

He kept his hands to himself until you woke up with his weight on top of you. You could feel him through your jeans, your wrists in his hands holding you to the ground, his mouth by your ear as he moaned your name. 

You shrieked, making him jump, lifting his head enough that you could slam your forehead into his nose. It crushed beneath your skull and he yelped, his hands leaving your wrists and flying to his face as he collapsed next to you. You scrambled away from him, going for the saddlebag and grabbing the pistol from inside it. You aimed it at him, standing over him as he sobbed, holding his face, blood on his fingers. 

“What the fuck?” He was crying, his face red. “Why’d you do that?” 

His voice was thick. 

“Told you not to fucking touch me,” you snapped, panting for breath. Your heart was pounding, you could hear your blood in your ears. You were shockingly sober after all the whiskey you’d had earlier in the night. You aimed the gun at his leg and shot him in the thigh. He screamed. “Lucky I don’t fucking kill you.” 

You grabbed the backpack and tack for Nike, hauling it outside. You kept the gun easily accessible as you saddled her up before going back into the barn for one last check for what you needed. Leo was still on the ground, clutching his leg. You sighed and got the first aid kit off the wall, throwing it at him, before you got the shot gun and some rope from the wall. You tucked the pistol into your jeans, slung the rope on your arm and aimed the shotgun at him as you made your way to the paddock again. 

“I ever see you again, I will shoot you in the head,” you said. “Understand?” 

There was a trail of blood from his nose over his mouth, his chin, staining his shirt. 

“You’re gonna die on your own out there,” he snarled. “And you’re gonna fuckin’ deserve it.” 

“Better than living here with you,” you said, leaving him alone in the barn. You opened the gate and led Nike out before closing it and mounting up, keeping the shotgun accessible.

“C’mon girl,” you gave her ribs a squeeze as you pointed her in the direction of the mountains, away from the place you’d come from. “You and me, let’s go.” 

It was the last time you’d told someone your name. It was the last time you’d heard your name said by anyone who wasn’t you. It felt dangerous, sharing it, but you sometimes said it to yourself the first few years of the outbreak. First, middle, last. Just to make sure it didn’t fade into nothing. 

You hadn’t done that in years. 

But you did then, you said all three to the doctor as she gently put gauze into your body to soak up your blood. 

“See, not so bad to share is it?” She said, smiling gently. She got out more gauze and medical tape and put it over your wounds. “There, you’re all set. Want to see?” 

You nodded and she helped you sit up and got a mirror from a cupboard, holding it in front of your stomach so you could see without needing to bend as much. 

“You were shot twice,” she said, pointing to the spots covered in clean, white gauze. “We were able to make the worst of the bleeding stop and pull the bullets out without opening you up more, which is good. You have some other bumps and bruises but we’re pretty sure there’s no internal bleeding, which was a concern, and no broken bones that we could find evidence of. You’re just still down a lot of blood, hon, so you have to take it easy, OK?” 

Being shot sounded familiar. You knew there was a stretch of time you were missing. You remembered running, Cody helping you get out. You’d been on the run for three days - you thought, anyway - before they caught up with you, the fresh snow giving you away. You didn’t remember much after that. There was pain and red snow and something soft and warm that smelled woodsy and wild, like the coat you still had on. 

There was a knock at the door and you jumped, eyes going wide. The doctor smiled a little and tugged your shirt back down. You pulled the coat back tight around you. 

“Come on in, Maria,” she called, keeping her eyes on you. A woman opened the door, a pile of clothes in her hand. She was about your age, you thought, and pretty. She smiled a little at you. “She’s all set with me but I’d like to keep her here overnight, make sure she hasn’t lost too much blood…” 

“Sure thing, Carol,” Maria said. 

“I’m going to leave you in Maria’s very capable hands,” Carol smiled. “You’re OK now, honey. You’re OK.” 

She got up and left, closing the door softly behind her. You fought the urge to back away from the woman standing next to you now. 

“Hi,” she smiled gently. “I’m Maria. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m here to help you. First thing, you’re safe here. You don’t have to be afraid of me…” 

“Not afraid,” you cut her off. “Just like knowing where I am and that I can leave when I want is all.” 

“Well, you’re in Jackson, Wyoming,” she said. 

You nodded slowly. 

“What part of the state is that in?” You asked. 

“Near the Idaho border, south of Yellowstone,” she replied. You nodded again. Not too far from where you’d been then. That was oddly relieving, knowing they hadn’t taken you that far. “And you can leave whenever you want. We’d just like you to not die when you do so we’d like it if you stayed with us for a little while, at least. You were picked up by one of our patrols a few days ago…” 

“This a QZ?” You asked. “There are a lot of people here…” 

“No,” she laughed a little. “No, we’re not a QZ. We’re a commune, just a few hundred people who have agreed to share the work and the benefits of living together as a community…” 

“So what do you want with me?” You frowned. You still hadn’t gotten a straight answer to that, not one that made sense, anyway. 

“Nothing at all,” she said. Her voice was so calm and even, you wanted to lean into it, to trust her. That alone made your chest tight. “Our patrol didn’t want you to die in the woods and we take care of the people who come here. You’re welcome to stay, if you want. We have houses, clothes, plenty of food. If you stay you’d have to pitch in but no more than anyone else.” 

You narrowed your eyes at her and she laughed. 

“You don’t look like you believe me.” 

“I can’t say I do,” you said. “That doesn’t… people don’t just do that shit, especially not now.” 

She smiled, a little sadly. 

“You were on your own for a while out there, I’m guessing,” she said. She was mostly right so you nodded. “We are an unusual place, I’ll admit that. But we’re good people and we’re proud of what we’ve built here. We won’t hold you prisoner and if you want to go, you can go. But I think you should at least consider sticking around. People aren’t all bad, you just have to find the right ones.” 

“And you think I’m one of the right ones,” you said, still skeptical.

She shrugged. 

“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “But honestly, anyone who tries as hard to live as you did is a good person to have around. And we have plenty of room here. May as well have you take up some of it.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“To start, let’s get you into something that isn’t bloody and a little warmer,” she said, holding out a small pile of clothes. “When was the last time you ate something?” 

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Don’t know how long I was running or how long I was out.” 

Maria nodded. 

“I’ll get you something small to start, see how you do,” she said. “In a day or two, when Carol says you’re up for it, I’ll give you the tour, get you settled into a house. Sound good?” You nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. Try not to hurt yourself getting changed, I’d rather not get on Carol’s bad side.” 

You smiled a little and waited for her to leave before you delicately shrugged out of the coat and peeled off the bloody shirt. She’d brought you a long sleeved t-shirt this time, a little oversized and pale blue. The pants were plaid, the same color blue in part of the pattern. You lay down to slide the shorts off and pull on the clean underwear and pants Maria had brought. Sitting back up took work but you were proud of yourself for getting there. You lifted the shirt and checked to make sure the gauze was still white, no signs of bleeding getting bad again. You shrugged back into the coat and were pulling on thick, wool socks when Maria came back, knocking once before opening the door with food in hand. 

“We’re starting you slow, don’t want to push it according to Carol,” she said. “But I have some soup, half a sandwich, an apple and some water for you. Eat what you can, OK?” You nodded. 

“Any questions for me right now?” 

“When is it?” You asked. She looked at her watch but you cut her off. “Sorry, no, I mean what month is it?” 

“November,” she said. “Early November, Thanksgiving is in three weeks.” 

Thanksgiving. You’d all but forgotten about Thanksgiving.

“What year?” You asked, brows raised, fingernails digging into your leg. 

“It’s 2025,” she said.

You tried to hide your surprise at that but it didn’t go well. 

“What?” She asked. 

“I’m younger than I thought I was,” you replied. It felt like you’d been with them for longer than that but apparently not. “Not that it really matters.” 

“You can say you’re even younger if you want,” she smiled a little. “Beauty of the apocalypse, no one is going to check your birth certificate. Just be 22 forever.” 

You laughed at that, hard enough that you felt the wounds at your stomach pull and you winced. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to not be too funny. Anything else?” 

“Yeah,” you gripped the edge of the table. “Could you hand me that mirror? The one on the counter? I just… haven’t seen myself in a while.” 

“Sure,” she smiled tightly again and handed you the mirror, face down, before heading for the door. “I’ll see you again soon, OK?” 

You nodded and she closed the door behind her. 

It only took a few seconds before you could hear what felt like everything again. The room was tinged pink, the sun setting outside, and the electricity was buzzing. You lifted the mirror slowly and held it in front of yourself with your eyes closed for a second before you took a deep breath and opened them. 

Recognizing your own face was a shock. It seemed like, after everything, you should look different now. And part of you did. You were bruised and there was a cut on your cheek and you thought the signs of creases next to your eyes were more obvious now than they had been the last time you saw yourself. Your hair was starting to streak with gray. But your eyes were still your eyes. So were your teeth, your nose, your eyebrows. You were still you. You still looked like you. It was disorienting. It was comforting. You set the mirror down before you ate the food Maria brought you, suddenly starving but just a few bites feeling heavy in your empty stomach. 

Eventually, Carol came back and brought you to the room you first woke up in. The bed had been made with fresh sheets. 

“Here,” she smiled gently. “Why don’t I take that coat…” 

“No,” you said quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. She frowned. “No, I… I want to hold onto it, if that’s OK.” 

“Not going to try to run on us again are you?” She asked, brows drawn together. “Because…” 

“No,” you cut her off. “I just… it’s warm, I like it. I want to keep it. For now.” 

She looked at you, like she didn’t believe you. Which she shouldn’t. You didn’t want to keep it because you were cold or because you wanted to run. You wanted to keep it because it felt good. It smelled right. Your fingers tightened on the cuffs. You didn’t remember much about coming here the first time. All you really knew was because of this coat. The man had given it to you and when it settled over your body, the collar brushing your nose, the smell of it brought back a memory you didn’t know you had. One where you were warm and in a daze and swaying on the back of a horse with something broad and warm at your back. Safe. You liked safe. You needed the coat. 

“OK,” she said. “If you need a bathroom, there’s one right through that door there. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” 

You waited until she closed the door before you crawled in bed. It was dark outside now but you knew it couldn’t be too late. Even so, you were exhausted, and you somehow felt safe enough to close your eyes and rest. 

*** 

“That girl is not sticking around,” Maria said as Joel sat beside Tommy in the mess hall at dinner. 

“Who isn’t?” He asked. 

“That woman you brought in from outside,” she replied. “She is skittish as hell, seemed fucking terrified…” 

“After seeing what she did to the men out there, we should be thankful she’s just skittish,” Joel said, starting in on his meatloaf. 

“What’d she do?” She frowned, looking to her husband. Tommy winced, bouncing his son on his leg. 

“Well, now, see, I didn’t want to worry you…” 

“Tommy,” she said in a warning tone. 

He sighed. 

“Well we found the other guys first,” he said. “One was just shot, nothing bad…” 

“OK…” she said slowly. 

“The other,” he sighed. “Well she’d damn near scratched his face off with her bare hands.” 

She startled back from him. 

“You didn’t think this was an important piece of information for us to know before we offered her a place to stay with us?” She asked. “Before you brought her into our community?” 

“Guy deserved it,” Joel said. Maria narrowed her eyes at him and he shrugged. “Well, he did. Did you look at her at all? Got the shit beat out of her. Looked like she’d been tied up, someone fuckin’ branded her….” 

“Jesus,” Maria shook her head. “Can’t say I looked too close, no. Too busy trying to keep her from taking off on me.” 

“Sure the fuckers we found deserved it,” Joel said. “We won’t give her a reason to do that to us so we’ll be fine…” 

He couldn’t be sure of that, of course. He didn’t know you, not really. But he felt like he did. Looking at you, it felt like he knew you. 

“Well it’s a moot point,” she said after a moment. “She’s taking off as soon as she’s able, mark my words. She’s terrified of this place.” 

Joel didn’t bother to respond. He knew what that felt like, coming into a place like this when you were used to something so different. It had been scary for him and he’d come here of his own volition. He’d known someone here. 

You were different. Of course you were terrified. 

Tommy and Maria left to go back home before he did and Joel sat there, watching for Ellie to come in with her friends. She usually did, about half way through dinner. If she came in the right door, he’d sometimes hear her laugh. That was worth sitting there for a bit. More than worth sitting there for a bit. That girl, her life, her happiness were worth a lot of things. He could justify damn near anything for her. 

But Ellie came in the door further from where he was sitting that night and he didn’t hear her laugh. She saw him watching her and shot him a glare as she crossed the mess hall. A warning message, of sorts.

“I’ll go back, but we’re done.” 

That’s what she’d said to him. She’d meant it. And that was OK. She was alive so he could live with that. But at least this way he got to see her. Even if it was just for a second. Even if she hated him through it. 

He was gone before Ellie and her friends were looking for a place to sit. 

It was cold out, without his coat. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked on his belt loops. Going home sounded lonely. Lonelier than usual. He didn’t want to go bother Tommy and Maria, they had enough going on with a toddler at home. Getting a drink at the Tipsy Bison sounded miserable. 

There was one thing he felt like doing. It was just a bad idea. So Joel just walked for a bit, wandering aimlessly through the town, letting the cold bite at his exposed skin. But he kept finding himself back in front of the clinic, the light on in the front room. 

It couldn’t hurt anything, right? Just… he could check. Just check. 

Carol smiled when he opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking. 

“I can take a look at that for you,” he said, closing the door behind him. 

“Just a squeaky door,” she said. “Nothing much to worry about fixing. Can I do something for you?” 

“No,” he shook his head for a second, looking at the ground and cupping the back of his neck before he could bring himself to look her in the eye again. “I just… was hoping to check up on the woman I brought in. Make sure she’s alright. You know.” 

She smiled a little wider and shook her head once. 

“She’ll be fine,” she replied. “Just keeping her here tonight because she lost a lot of blood. But, as you know, she was up and about plenty today. She just needs to give herself a chance to heal before she tries to crawl out a window and take off on a horse again.” 

Joel laughed once at that. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he said. 

“I’m afraid I can’t give you your coat back, though,” she said. Joel frowned. “She’s still wearing it. Wouldn’t let me take it. I think you might need to go find a new one, Mr. Miller. I don’t think she’s giving it up.” 

“Oh,” he said. “That’s fine she… she can keep it.” 

He turned to leave before he stopped in the doorway. 

“Don’t tell her I came by,” he said. “Don’t want to freak her out.” 

“Sure,” she smiled a little. He nodded. “Have a good night, Joel.” 

“You too.” 

The night was still biting and cold but he felt a little better, walking home in it as he looked at the clinic window as he passed, the one he knew you were just on the other side of, wrapped in his coat because you didn’t want to give it back. 

He was still warm when he got home. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm so sorry this update has taken so long! I wanted to finish up Beskar Doll before I fully dedicated myself to Yearling and now I can settle into a comfortable writing space with this fic which I am so excited for.

Bambi has officially landed in Jackson and Joel has taken notice. I love that for him.

I'm also really enjoying this softer Joel compared to Lavender Joel. It's interesting to write the same character who is in such a different place in his emotional journey and I can't wait to explore both of them further! I hope you enjoy the ride as we do :)

I do have a taglist. Please comment below if you'd like to be added!

Thank you for reading! Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #yearling

[quakearts]

Random strawhat headcannons because I can:

Luffy: He seems so dumb until you ask him about beetles. He's a bug enthusiast. Thinks Buggy doesn't deserve the name bc actual bugs are WAY cooler. Tone deaf.

Zoro: Genuinely likes to hear about history and culture, he just gets the geography mixed up. I bet he has shoulder pains but just doesn't say anything. Has an appreciation for art, just doesn't feel like putting time towards developing the skill. Also Tone deaf.

Nami: Likes drawing quite a bit, and in her free time she doodles the landscapes she sees. Farsighted but her eyesight isn't too bad.

Usopp: IDGAF what Oda says he's a lefty in my book. Favorite medium is watercolor, but enjoys charcoal drawing too. Wants to get a tattoo to be cool but is too afraid it'll hurt too bad.

Sanji: tone deaf. Cannot hold a tune to save his life.

Chopper: doesn't even bother telling Zoro off about his bad habits anymore. He knows he'll never listen. Wants to learn how to draw (it'll help him with his medical journals), and spends time with Usopp and Nami to learn.

Robin: She enjoys some shenaniganery too. She very easily sneaks up on everyone else to spook them. On top of general history, she also admires architecture. She and Franky nerd out about it.

Franky: how his ginormous hands play an average sized guitar is beyond me, but I bet he has regular jam sessions with Brook.

Brook: You hand this man ANY instrument and he already has previously mastered it, or will in a matter of minutes. The skeleton jokes are a coping mechanism. Enjoys when anyone else joins in on his musical endeavors.

Jinbe: (I'm about to start the Marine Ford arc, I'm in impel down right now, at the part where everyone is trying to escape to go save Ace, so fair warning if he's mischaracterized, I'm going off what I've seen in clips and little in-show material) Gives the best hugs out of anyone else. Amazing at comforting others without sugarcoating much.

BONUS ROUND

Bon Clay: Typically not the violent type until push comes to shove, or until there's a new pair of pointe shoes that need to be broken in. I mean this guy is so violent with the pointe shoes. I know they need to be broken in and fitted right but damn what did the shoe do to you?

Buggy: He starts rehearsing different circus acts when he's stressed out. Like "Captain!" "What?" "What are you doing?" "I'M WALKING A TIGHTROPE THAT'S AS UNSTABLE AS ME RIGHT NOW!"

#one piece #buggy the clown #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #nami #luffy #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #usopp #chopper #tony tony chopper #nico robin #franky #franky one piece #soul king brook #brook #one piece jinbe #jinbe #jinbei #first son of the sea jinbe #bon clay

[failureface]

thoughts on "Welcome Home, Franklin"

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Okay, this special was really great.

I love Franklin. He's a sweet boy who never had a unkind thing to say about Charlie Brown- he was the straight man to the wacky antics of the Peanuts gang. But I never got the feeling he was more than that in the strips. This special serves as the backstory and character that Franklin didn't originally get, but sorely needed.

And this special beautifully and gracefully rights some of the wrongs that past Peanuts media made.

I was surprised this film even went there in terms of discussing racism a little. Peanuts is an IP that you expect people to be overly-protective of. 'No, the scene in "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" isn't racist- and it's NOT weird that all the kids are white' is more of what I expected to hear from this. But refreshingly, this special addresses it. Like, YEAH, there IS a lack of diversity! It feels so much better for that stuff to be acknowledged rather than swept under the rug.

I love the fact that Franklin is unsure of himself and his ability to make friends. This makes him super relatable and sympathetic, and also makes a clear connection to why he gravitates towards Charlie Brown. The two of them bond over their shared feeling of being "the Underdog", and not knowing how to make friends or navigate social landscapes. Franklin also opens up Charlie Brown to new experiences and knowledge, telling him about discrimination and introducing him to music he hasn't heard before. Not only that, but Franklin encourages Charlie Brown to be less anxious and push himself further. And Charlie Brown is a much needed friend and sympathetic ear for Franklin. They have each other's back and their bond is undeniable.

That's what this special is truly trying to get at. That friends of different backgrounds and experiences from us can help us to learn and grow as people. I think that's a really wonderful message and one that we all need at any age, and one that we especially need now.

Overall, this special really blew it out of the water, and I gave it five stars.

Special shoutout if you were able to make it to the premiere stream in the Peanuts discord, that made it twice as fun to watch!

Some miscellaneous thoughts under the cut

Franklin's music taste is so elite

The music picks in this movie are honestly fantastic. The soundtrack really elevates the experience and every song is awesome

THE BEACH SCENE! It's so rewarding as a fan to see moments that are plucked straight from the strip. It feels like the people making them really know Peanuts

All the little tiny schrucy crumbs- I eat it up. I know screenshots and gifs will be made and posted and I will be reblogging them.

Lucy and Franklin's beef- I wasn't expecting it but it's so funny and adds some really great dynamics into the fold

Since this is about the friendship between Charlie Brown and Franklin specifically, minor inaccuracies Franklin actually being on Peppermint Patty's baseball team in the strip are forgiven. Some fans more scrupulous than I would probably have an issue with this, but I'm not one of those fans. This isn't 100% faithful to Peanuts Lore but I don't mind.

I LOVED the scene where Charlie Brown wants to pull the breaks and Franklin wants to keep going. It shows so much without saying anything, and it gives way for great conflict that makes sense and comes from real places within the characters

And I love how Franklin is allowed to be mad, and he and Charlie Brown fight. We're not afraid to rock the boat anymore, and it makes Franklin feel so much more human

Just the right amount of Snoopy scenes, this one reached the perfect balance of Snoopy and Story

Everything is just so overwhelmingly cute here I had to restrain myself from writing "cute" or any of its synonyms in my review

"We saved you a seat!" <3333

#Welcome Home Franklin #my posts #reviews #Peanuts #franklin armstrong #Charlie Brown #theres so much stuff im forgetting to mention but my ADD mind cant think of everything at once sorry guys

[theladyrebecca2]

Stranger Things: The First Shadow (My spoiler-filled review and thoughts)

“Nerds, do you copy?”

Buckle up, because this is a long one! I've tried to remember as much as I can from when I saw the play on Dec 5th.

Disclaimer: This is in no way a complete recollection of things that happened. They really packed a LOT into it. This is just what I can personally recall, helped along by other reviews and recollections I’ve found online that sparked my memory. 

If you don't want to be spoiled, don't read any further!

Act 1.

After an epic intro scene, where soldiers on a ship at sea get dragged off by demogorgons (more on this later), we’re shown the Stranger Things intro exactly as though we’re watching an episode.

Chapter One: The Girl from Nowhere.

Hawkins, 1959. 

It opens with a young Bob Newby on air, talking on his radio show (the founder of Hawkins AV club! <3). We learn that he actually has an adopted sister, Patty Newby. She’s black, so she feels like an outsider (bear in mind it’s the 1950s/60s, so… yeah.) Principle Newby, their father and only remaining parent, is also very religious. 

He’s also the pastor (?) at the local church, and often makes Patty go to the church with him. She admits to Bob that she only likes to go to listen in on people’s confessions (some of which are really juicy). She also enjoys the choir there (?) as she likes to sing.  

Principal Newby doesn’t like that Bob and Patty read comic books. There’s talk about how some things are discouraged or outright forbidden because they involve sex (gasp!) and morally ambiguous behaviour. Patty in particular is looked down on by her father for acting rebellious. He disapproves of her answering him back. 

Instead of praying to God, Patty prays to Wonder Woman.

One of the first sections in the show’s programme is dedicated to the impact of comic books and science fiction on kids in the 1950s:

[This has always been the way with fiction. Whether you are talking about adventure, fantasy or sci-fi, stories set in faraway places reflect the anxieties of the here and now. Just as the children in Stranger Things turn to a fantasy game to help them make imaginative sense of a dangerous world, so we escape to alien landscapes to think about ourselves. As South Africa novelist Lauren Beukes once said, “By imagining the unimaginable, it’s possible to make reality more bearable.”]

[As Patty in Stranger Things: The First Shadow is aware, however, whether male or female, superheroes were almost exclusively white. Unless you happened to get hold of a copy of All-Negro Comics, published in 1947 by Black journalist Orrin Cromwell Evans, Black children would not see themselves represented in popular culture.]

[... in this age of technological advance and political uncertainty, [comic books] provided the thrills, the escapism and the imaginative fuel that audiences, young and old, needed more than ever.”] - Mark Fisher

Next, we’re introduced to Joyce. She’s Joyce Maldonado at this point. She’s half undressed and trying to find her clothes, obviously fooling around with Lonnie Byers, who is already talking down to her in a very casual way, telling her she’ll never amount to anything and that she’ll never leave Hawkins like she dreams of. It was another example of only physical attraction existing between two characters - there’s little to no emotional compatibility there. I sort of had the vibe that the scene was effectively introducing Joyce and Lonnie’s unequal power dynamics as they are in the show moving forwards. Lonnie sits with his legs encasing Joyce as they both sit on a mattress, and she’s visibly vulnerable in her bra, listening to him say these casually demeaning things to her. 

Joyce wants to direct the school play, although she’s pretending to Principal Newby that they’re doing Oklahoma. Oklahoma will serve as a smokescreen for the real play she wants to direct: The Dark of the Moon. This has its own page in the programme too: 

[From the depths of Scottish folklore to the Broadway stage, the journey of The Dark of the Moon is as shrouded in mystery and intrigue as the contents of the piece itself. Over the course of several hundred years, the story evolved from humble beginnings (The Ballad of Barbara Allen) into something rather darker and more brooding than its simpler folktale roots.] [In its original versions, it seems to have been an innocent, if tragic, ballad about a young man who dies of unrequited love, only for the grief-stricken object of his affection to follow him to the grave. There, they become a rose and a briar respectively, destined to be intertwined for all eternity.] - The Creel House front door, anyone?

[In 1939, it had somehow become part of the Appalachian mountain lore of the north-eastern USA… [sometimes] with a central theme of divorce rather than death. But perhaps its oddest reincarnation is as a regular feature in the annual school play catalogue across the United States… retitled The Dark of the Moon, the play recasts Barbara Allen as a young maiden desired by a witch boy whose request to be made human is granted on the condition that she is faithful to him for a year. When that condition is tested to destruction, tragedy naturally (or unnaturally) ensues. The play is rich with allegory, including themes as knotty as religious fanaticism, demonic possession and mob psychology, and with its plot of star-crossed lovers meeting across the divide between this world and a mystical parallel one, it’s a kind of Gothic Romeo and Juliet.]  -Michael Davies

In the next few scenes we’re introduced to a whole host of characters as they come into the high school, and eventually gather around for the casting of Joyce’s play:

Ted Wheeler, school jock, Mr Popular. Very much a ‘peaked in high school’ vibe. 🙈

Karen Childress, Ted’s popular cheerleader girlfriend. Ted and Karen are depicted as two teens who can barely keep their hands off each other. They constantly make out. It’s suggested that Karen is only dating him because he’s popular and um… well-endowed. 

Walter Henderson (who must be Dustin’s dad) is a total dick. He’s openly racist towards Patty at one point, earning him glares and snappy remarks from both of the Sinclairs who are present at the time. Patty has a horrible nickname at school, “mystery meat”, because of her unknown origins. But it’s clear with Walter's comments that her race also plays a factor in her general ostracisation. 

Claudia Yount (Dustin’s Mom). She has a cat called Prancer, and is dating Walter. I thought it was very fan-servicey to include Dustin’s parents at all, because we know canonically that Dustin and his mom only moved to Hawkins when he was 4th Grade. So I guess Claudia and Walter moved away, had Dustin elsewhere, then Claudia came back to Hawkins again with Dustin after Walter had left/divorced her?? 

Sue and Charles Sinclair. Again, it was a cute Easter Egg to include them, but all the parents of the OG boys being there felt very fan-servicey - especially with them all already being coupled up in high school. It felt too unrealistic and a bit jarring. I’m choosing to take this as they were literally intended as cute little Easter Eggs, and as prime opportunity for comedic relief (e.g. seeing Ted Wheeler as a total player, in total opposition to the Ted we know). 

Alan Munson. He’s a little strange and quirky, a lot like Eddie. He has a rock and roll vibe, and sticks out his tongue and does devil horns with his fingers, lol. The others don’t seem to know what to make of him, but there’s no animosity or anything. He’s really funny in all his scenes.

And of course, Jim Hopper Junior. To me, Young Hopper was like… a weird mixture of old Hopper from the show, and Steve! The actor did a great job, but yeah, it was giving Steve more than Hopper in some places (to me, at least). I don't know if this was intentional.

Hopper has some dad issues - his father is the chief of police, and they don’t get on. There’s a whole scene later on in the show where they even have a physical fight in the police station (although this isn’t depicted super seriously, and is actually part of a larger comedic section that involves some of the other cops in the station getting involved for laughs. At the end, Hopper and his dad sort of come to an agreement.) It’s kind of slapstick. They’re all falling over each other, and there’s even a part where one male cop falls against another face forward onto a desk, and it’s pretty suggestive (one is sort of mounted behind the other). Idk if this was supposed to be a standard ‘gay joke’ just for lols, or if it was more that the cops had an unexpected ‘moment’ together (they take a while to part from each other, and then they avoid each other’s eyes, so… idk). Just something I noticed happening off to the side.

Anyway, back to Act 1. We’re taken away from Hawkins High to outside the Creel house, and introduced to the Creels moving into Hawkins, just like they appear in the show’s flashbacks. They’ve moved from Nevada, and the reason they’ve moved is because something had happened with Henry, and this is meant to be a new start - it’s left ambiguous as to what exactly happened, but there’s mention of a kid that had been ‘left in a wheelchair’. 

At first, Virginia Creel seems somewhat loving towards her son, hugging and kissing him and trying to act ‘normal’, but she’s clearly unsettled by him. Henry is unpredictable, and almost seems to switch between different personalities: one that’s familiar, shy but friendly, and one that quickly rages and turns violent. 

Whilst it’s not explained WHY yet, we clearly see that Henry is somehow ALREADY under the influence of the Mind Flayer - and that he has powers.

Virginia becomes more and more openly terrified of Henry as the play goes on. Meanwhile, Victor Creel is generally absent the whole time as he’s dealing with his own ‘demons’ (severe PTSD from the war). People in Hawkins think he’s odd and weird. Remember that nobody understands PTSD at this point in time. 

Again, we get a spread in the programme about this: “These are the tranquilized fifties… the legacy of trauma in post-war America”:

[It is very likely that Corporal Victor Creel, 9th Airforce, missed the birth of his son Henry in 1945… Getting their bodies back to the US would be a huge undertaking… getting their minds home would be another problem, and one which no-one had thought to predict.] [Victor Creel is a familiar figure to us now: shellshocked, prone to outbursts, turning to alcohol to numb his trauma… what to do with the man who has seen atrocities - who is in himself a living testament to the fact that they exist, that they happen - who, in Victor’s case, may even have committed them himself? The answer was to bury him. Though shellshock was first given its name in the aftermath of the First World War… there was no widespread study of PTSD until after the Vietnam War, even though more than double the amount of American soldiers showed symptoms of PTSD during WW2 than WW1… Those suffering on the front were sedated and told they were exhausted… once they made it home, they were told not to talk about it: that they were lucky to be alive.]

[One response in particular would have been familiar to the Creels - the child who becomes aloof from their father, and who disengages from the emotional life of the family… Much like Jim Hopper and his father, there was often immense love between these children and their fathers, but they had no way to talk about the pain they were feeling.] -Beth Kelly

Henry is clearly lonely and feels misunderstood when he first moves to Hawkins. It’s like he’s aware that there’s a darker side of him that’s dangerous, but he can’t fully explain why he does certain things (e.g whatever he did to the kid left in a wheelchair). There’s a scene where he sees the smoke of the Mindflayer swirling around him in the void, and he yells, "What are you??"

He’s the new kid at Hawkins High. People at school think he’s strange. They’re not necessarily cruel to him, but they’re not really sure how to take him either. Joyce is pleasant to him. But the only person he really connects with is Patty Newby - who we know is also a bit of an outsider at the school because of her peculiar origins and skin colour.

It’s clear there is an instant connection between Henry and Patty. Henry in particular is obviously crushing on Patty, and acts awkward around her. They bond over their love of comic books, and decide to be friends. 

Anyway - back to Joyce’s play. So the reason she wants to direct the play in the first place is to impress some visitors from a university, so she can achieve a scholarship to study theatre outside of Hawkins. 

It involves “witches, satanism, religious allegory”. Lots of things that Principal Newby would definitely disapprove of (hence why she pretends that they’re doing Oklahoma). 

Joyce talks about the overarching message: “That’s what it’s all about in the end, isn’t it? Whether love can conquer fear.” (paraphrased). I think that was perhaps a really meta moment, and applies to THIS play and even Stranger Things as a whole.

Also there was something like, “they’re witches, not lesbians!”/ “They were witches as well as lesbians”… “Does it matter?” (again, paraphrasing, I can’t recall the actual lines, and I think this was either said at this point by Joyce and someone else, or a conversation that happened earlier between Bob and Patty when they were talking about a comic or story they had read. I’m sorry, I can’t remember!) But I thought it could be a reference to the Fear Street trilogy, maybe. I was on the lookout for any kind of LGBTQ+ imagery or dialogue, and yet my brain still managed to forget details by the end of it all (Act 1 needed to be 20 minutes longer, seriously. They went through so much dialogue so quickly, it was difficult to keep up. I feel like I need to see the whole thing again to properly take it all in).

Maybe I was tripping, or maybe I misheard, but I thought there was also a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it line about “the ending is happy and gay”. I wish my brain would have held onto those lines, but it happened so quickly. Something like, “the ending will be happy and gay”… “isn’t that what everyone wants?” Now, I’m certain they meant ‘gay’ as in ‘happy’ in the context, but I couldn’t help but side-eye that moment a little because it’s an outdated term in today’s language. It was, I believe, a quick exchange between Joyce and… I want to say Bob? Or possibly Walter? I honestly cannot remember. I'm begging people not to run away with this because it’s also totally possible that it was said in a derivative sense, like, “this story is dark, gothic and tragic... not happy and gay”, you know? "That's what everyone wants, right?" "Maybe, but this ends in tragedy." I really hope someone, ANYONE else caught these lines, and can give me their own two cents on it. (Curse my shit memory and also just how FAST those lines were coming at us during those scenes in Act 1… like guys, please slow down so I can actually take in what you’re saying!) 

Anyway. Joyce is having trouble casting the main leads, John and Barbara Allen, as the two are lovers and will need to kiss, and nobody seems to have the right chemistry or is taking it seriously enough. 

At one point, Karen (acting as the female lead) confidently and passionately kisses Bob (acting the male lead), who’s awkward and flustered afterwards (this is done for the audience lols). 

After hearing her beautiful singing voice (encouraged by Henry), Joyce decides to cast Patty as her female lead. Meanwhile Henry has unwittingly found himself in this room along with everyone, and accidentally gets involved in the casting process. Joyce sees that Patty and Henry have chemistry together, so she decides to cast Henry as her male lead too. 

Henry and Patty grow closer. Henry tells Patty that he’s bad, and she should stay away from him. She doesn’t listen, and says just because someone has done some bad things, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

At one point they sit side by side by the confessional at church. Henry admits to her that he has powers. He tells Patty that he can hear what people are thinking - all the time. It drives him crazy (and says people are always ‘pretending’ to be normal. The vibe is very much in tune with his speech in Season 4 about how everyone is just in a silly little play, all playing pretend with each other, all trapped in these notions of living their lives in a way that society thinks is acceptable or desirable).

As an example later on in a separate scene, he points to Karen and Ted and tells Patty, “she thinks he’s an idiot, and he’s scared of her.” He points to more characters in this scene and says more about them (like Claudia and Walter, Sue and Charles, maybe even Joyce and Hopper?) but unfortunately I can only remember Ted and Karen’s. 

Patty convinces Henry that his powers are not evil, and that he should be able to control them and use them for good. Henry then creates a "vision" for Patty, where she can freely sing with people listening, and everyone around her joins in and appreciates her talent (I think she sings "Dream a Little Dream of Me"? Unless this happens later on. There’s definitely a moment where she sings a bit of that song. Henry associates it with Patty.)

In this vision, even Patty's father is supportive of her and her singing, and it’s quite a funny moment how she imagines him dressed in a saucy red cape, dancing in a way that he *definitely* wouldn’t approve of in real life.

So it seems Henry is actually able to show people their dreams as well as their nightmares. It suggests his powers are his own at this point (at least to an extent), and not necessarily always controlled by the Mind Flayer. 

Victor sees Henry talking to Patty at school, and mentions this to Virginia. He describes it as “harmless, just Puppy Love”, a first crush. 

Virginia is still worried, and tells Henry to stay away from Patty (for her protection). Henry gets angry. We keep hearing his voice change when he changes, like a deep, monstrous voice. It’s creepy, like it’s not really him in those moments - it’s like the Mindflayer using Henry’s body, speaking through him. 

While in the attic (his new favourite spot), Henry keeps becoming influenced by the Mind Flayer. He travels to the void frequently, from where he proceeds to start killing animals - the first of which is Dustin’s mom’s cat. It’s just like the Vecna attacks in Season 4, snapping their bones and blinding them. 

Henry seems to be aware that he’s the one responsible for these killings, and he keeps on going back to the attic, and the void, to keep doing it - but it’s unclear just how aware or remorseful he is about all this, or whether it’s 100% possessed!Henry during those moments. It certainly seems like it’s the Mindflayer making him want to do those things. When he first approaches Prancer, he’s friendly, calm and softly-spoken. The attack happens very suddenly and afterwards, I think Henry sort of ‘comes to’ and cries out in distress/remorse? 

Either way, Henry is definitely under the Mind Flayer's control at that point, and you can see the Mind Flayer smoke flying around in the void next to him. 

After Claudia’s cat turns up dead, Hopper is immediately on the case, wanting to find the culprit. He starts questioning people, and ends up approaching Henry at school.

I want to clear Hopper’s name in something here! I saw someone say that, in the play, it’s stated that Hopper says he hates cats. Whilst this *is* something Hopper tells Henry at this point, it was clear to me that Hopper was only playing mind games in the way an investigator will try to get a suspected criminal to confess: ‘The truth is, I hate cats. So I actually just want to shake the hand of the person who did it - they’re a hero in my book!’ He’s totally bluffing, and it’s just meant to show that he’s already thinking and working like a detective. Regardless, the tactic doesn’t work, and Henry brushes him off. Hopper remains none the wiser. 

When more animals start being killed in the same way, Hopper is the one who figures out that they’re all pets of Hawkins High School students who are taking part in Joyce’s play. He goes to her to request her help, and she and Bob both end up going out to look for clues with him (complete with torches, this gave major Season 1 vibes). 

Joyce and Hopper’s relationship is mostly antagonistic, but it’s clear they like each other and they flirt a bit. Meanwhile Bob admires Joyce from afar, wanting only to impress her and to find the courage to tell her how he really feels. There's some love triangle imagery throughout with where they stand. (Note: Bob does eventually admit to Joyce how he feels at the end, but she casually rebuffs him. I'm so glad they eventually ended up together because Bob was just too pure.)

Henry continues to be haunted by images of a monster reflected back at him in a mirror. I think we’re meant to take that as a representation of Mind Flayer!possessed Henry. He’s clearly afraid of himself, and what he’s capable of. 

The Mind Flayer appears to him as Patty, and taunts him by saying cruel things, like saying that he will end up killing her. In the vision, Patty starts pulling off her own hair until we see her brain. We hear a deep monstrous voice taunting Henry, saying he “will kill many, many more” - that they have seen it happen, and it is his destiny. (Time travel hints? The Mind Flayer can apparently see into his future, unless this was just an empty taunt that unfortunately came true, or a self-fulfilling prophecy). 

[Evidently, there’s something deeply disturbing at the heart of the human psyche about the possibility of uncovering the horrific within itself. When that horror is externalised… it creates a symbolic representation of our own nightmares, perhaps allowing us to tackle them more objectively and overcome those dark, disturbing impulses within us all.] 

[By investing fictional creations with the qualities we most fear - the horrifying, animalistic sides of our nature - we can, perhaps, face them more objectively and convince ourselves that we do, ultimately, have control over them… and ourselves.]

[... Perhaps the monster we fear most is the one we see reflected in the mirror. As Professor Mulrooney puts it: “The monsters in these tales are not necessarily the people we would call the monsters - Frankenstein’s creature or Dracula. The scariest part of these books is the humans.”] -Michael Davies 

The real Patty then interrupts the vision, and asks Henry if he can help her find her mother using his powers. He’s wary of doing so, but agrees to help her. He says she will have to come with him to his attic. 

Once inside, Patty tells him that it’s cold in there. Henry says he likes it cold. 

When Henry enters the void, he successfully locates Patty’s mom. She’s a singer, a show girl, working on a stage in Vegas. Patty asks him what she looks like. Henry says she looks like Patty. That she’s beautiful.

Suddenly, he loses control, and is once again visited by the Mind Flayer. Patty’s mom morphs into a terrifying figure who chases Henry through the void… and eventually catches him. 

We see the Mindflayer going into Henry inside the void, very similar to Will in Season 2 on the school field. (This happens either at this moment, or in a flashback at another point of the play. But it’s at some point!!) I think this was showing us that whoever Henry was, he’s fast disappearing into the darkness of the Mind Flayer, and vice versa - it’s like a fusion. 

Meanwhile, Mr Newby learns that Patty and Henry have been hanging out together a lot. He’s greatly displeased by this, and decides to go to the Creel House to fetch Patty and put an end to the budding romance. Romeo and Juliet vibes be vibing hard.

Downstairs, he speaks to Victor Creel, who is having a PTSD related episode and acting strangely. He says his wife believes the house is haunted by an ancient demon, and with everything that’s happened (and by how the lights keep flashing), he’s beginning to believe her. He feels like his demons have followed him from the war. 

Mr Newby then overhears the commotion from upstairs, and goes up to investigate. In the attic, Henry is holding Patty’s hand very tightly. He’s twitching and yelling as he fights against the Mind Flayer’s possession, and this frightens Patty. When her father walks in, he demands that Patty lets go of Henry’s hand. She tries, but he’s holding on too tightly. “I can’t!” Patty cries out.

Mr Newby is then attacked by Henry, controlled by the Mind Flayer. His body starts to rise up. Patty encourages Henry to fight back by telling him that she believes he is good, and that she loves him.

“Say it back!” she pleads to him. “Say it back!”

Henry responds and says he loves her too. Because of the love exchange, he manages to momentarily break out of the Mind Flayer’s control: Mr Newby drops to the floor, alive but badly injured. 

Joyce, Hopper and Bob were downstairs at this point, having followed radio anomalies to the Creel House (which they did via a machine that Bob built for them). They freak out and run away, and all come to the conclusion that creepy, crazy Victor Creel is the one responsible for Mr Newby’s injuries, as well as the string of violent animal deaths. 

[Joyce has some basis for believing Victor capable of violent crime, based as this may be in her own father’s war experience… When Joyce opens her copy of the DSM, first published in 1952, she will find no entry for PTSD… Instead, the symptoms she might recognise from her father were incorporated into depression or schizophrenia, rather than their own diagnosis. Short of a name for what they were suffering, traumatised veterans were left to find their own way through nightmares - through violence, alcohol or isolation.]  -Beth Kelly (from the Stranger Things: The First Shadow programme)

After the commotion, Henry removes his blindfold. Patty's father has broken through the attic floor, and he’s seriously injured. Patty is very afraid and upset. After a brief time skip (to the next day or two I think), we learn that Patty is staying away from Henry, who is worried that he’s ruined everything. The Mind Flayer starts to creep back in. We see a possessed Henry back in the attic, and Virginia comes up to him and says that she wants to help him, but she doesn’t know how. She reminds him that he needs to stay away from people to protect them. She talks about Patty, telling Henry that he shouldn’t see her anymore.

Possessed!Henry smirks and asks her if she’s jealous. There’s something insidious and disturbing in the way he asks it. Virginia recoils from her son and her “everything-is-going-to-be-okay” facade crumbles. We see she’s absolutely terrified of who Henry has become.

Henry creates a vision, so that it appears as though his pet spiders escape from their jars, and they run all over Virginia as she screams. She flees from the attic as Henry’s dark taunts follow her.

Henry’s sister Alice comes to the mouth of the attic. "Where is Henry?" She asks.

Henry: "He’s right here."

Alice: "You’re not him."

At this point, it was like the Mindflayer had almost completely merged with Henry. The lines had become more and more blurred as the play went on, and now it’s becoming hard to separate them - the ‘real’ Henry is finding it hard to come through and fight the possession. The Mind Flayer is winning. 

This really reminded me of Will and his own possession with the Mindflayer in Season 2. How they described it like a virus taking over, and how Will could have continued ‘disappearing’ until there was no more Will left. 

After the incident with Mr Newby, and her terror with Henry in the attic, Virginia has finally had enough. She willingly hands her son over to an “interested party” who describes himself as a doctor (who we know is Dr Brenner). He vows to take Henry to Hawkins Lab, where he’ll be safe, and contained. 

When he wakes up in the hospital, Mr Newby reveals to Patty that he actually stole her as a baby (?) in an effort to revive his relationship with his wife by having another child to care for - but it didn’t work, and his wife left him. He feels guilty about it, and wants to confess this to her after he almost died.

He tells her that he was attacked by a monster who made him relive his worst nightmares, and that “the boy”, Henry, actually fought back and saved him from death. He then draws the Mind Flayer on a piece of paper, hands it to his daughter, and tells her that this is what he saw.

After learning that Henry actually saved her father, Patty returns to his house to search for him, but it’s too late - Dr. Brenner has already taken him to the lab. However, she is able to communicate by calling out to him.

Henry contacts Patty through the void, where she is able to both speak and see him, despite him being at the lab. She tells him that she knows he is still a good person, and that he should return home.

———

Act 2.

On screen:

Chapter Two: Captain Midnight

So here’s the thing - the play paints us a totally different picture than Season 4 did in regards to Henry/Vecna. 

Henry was not inherently evil, like S4 suggested to many people - he was actually just a regular boy until ‘an incident’ occurred when he was younger, which is what gave him powers and started his possession in the first place. The end of S4 makes us think that El sent Henry to the Upside Down, which is where he meets the shadow monster and morphs it into the Mind Flayer with his powers.

But that wasn’t Henry’s first time there, nor was it the first time he saw the Mind Flayer. That was all just a REUNION.

It’s revealed that Henry actually disappeared into another dimension (Dimension X/ Upside Down) for a period of 12 hours when he was just a kid. He got lost near some caves in the Nevada desert, and when he returned, he had "completely changed in personality". 

He came back odd, ‘not normal’, and couldn’t socialise well. He also returned with dangerous powers, which he violently inflicts on animals. The Mind Flayer had clearly started possessing him from that early point, way before he even came to Hawkins. 

Let’s go back to the very beginning of the play - to the soldiers on the ship. It was Brenner’s father and his crew that were aboard this ship, the USS Eldridge, which had accidentally travelled into Dimension X/The Upside Down as a result of electromagnetic activity. 

This is based on The Philadelphia Experiment, or Project Rainbow, said to have taken place in the Second World War. The programme had a double spread on this: 

[Allegedly, wartime experiments caused the supernatural disappearance of a US naval ship… Project Rainbow was based on Einstein’s research into unified field theory through which [he] hoped to create a single theoretical framework to encompass all fundamental forces, including electromagnetism and gravity.] 

[Carl Allen claimed to have witnessed a strange event in October 1943 involving the naval destroyer escort USS Eldridge and scientists who were working on highly confidential technology which would make ships invisible to the enemy by using powerful electromagnetic fields to ‘bend’ light around them. According to Allen, they succeeded in doing just that. In fact, Allen said the ship was also briefly teleported 275 miles away to Norfolk, Virginia, before reappearing in Philadelphia. …It’s been suggested that the Eldridge’s official logs could have been deliberately altered… with the whole of Project Rainbow moving beyond top secret clarification.]  -Catherine Jones

Brenner’s father is the only survivor of this terrifying event. After returning from Dimension X and taken to a hospital, injured and dying, we learn that his blood type is now “unique” from any other human being. He won't survive a blood transfusion. His ravings about Dimension X before his death haunted and inspired Brenner for the rest of his life. Brenner started an experiment focused on finding and travelling back to Dimension X; his ultimate goal was to "create a gate" to reach it again.

Brenner enacted these experiments in the Nevada desert, where one day, one of his agents ran away with some of Brenner’s equipment near some desert caves. The agent was never found, but a Captain Midnight spyglass was - which was the exact spot where Henry went missing in Dimension X as a little boy for 12 hours. Brenner therefore began searching for the mysterious Captain Midnight comic-book fan who went to Dimension X and returned, watching him and keeping an eye on him. This is what led him to Hawkins: following Henry. 

Brenner tells us that Henry’s powers emerged after he visited Dimension X, and just like his father, his blood type is “unique”. He collects several samples from him. He also tells Henry that his powers become stronger each time he kills, and that’s why he gets so much satisfaction out of it. Brenner also tells Henry that he would get even stronger if he kills human beings, rather than animals.

During one scene, Brenner uses special equipment to see into and hear Henry's mind. He pushes Henry to the limit so he can hear and catch a glimpse of Dimension X. We hear noises similar to the Mind Flayer in Season 2 when Will goes into the Upside Down on Halloween night. The shape of the Mind Flayer appears on the screen (or was it the head of a Demogorgon? It was definitely something Upside-Downy), while Henry convulses. After this incident, Henry asks Brenner, “Can you take me back there?" 

Brenner also introduces the idea of anger to fuel Henry's power. On several instances he riles Henry up to get him angry, insulting him - and the result is always violence. He succeeds in getting Henry to kill a mouse/rat, which explodes into a bloody mess inside its cage, and then tries to convince him to kill a criminal who has been transferred to the lab with an agreement to be killed (he has a date with the electric chair later that week regardless). 

Henry refuses. He’s been speaking to Patty in the void, who has convinced him that he’s good and that he should return home. Brenner is frustrated with this, and becomes sure that Henry has someone that is "holding him back". He vows to find and remove this obstacle. But after Henry leaves the lab, Brenner tells his agents to let him go. He cannot force Henry to kill. “It has to be his choice."

Brenner is shown to have significant influence over Virginia. He’s been providing her with medication/tranquilisers, and tells her that her son desperately needs his help. He encourages Virginia to tell him who the person Henry is attached to. She does. Brenner promises her that he will take Henry back into the lab and that he won’t leave again. 

After Henry returns home, he reads his family's minds and learns that they are all afraid of him and unhappy with his return. He goes into his mother's memories and learns of the last interaction she had with Brenner, including that she wonders if he “may never have been good”, and whether "this was who he was the whole time." He knows that she was willing to give him up to Brenner forever. 

This is when the Creel murders happen, just like they’re shown in Season 4. Virginia Creel and Alice Creel are both murdered at the dinner table - and we know Victor is going to be blamed for it.

Is this Henry’s own mind now, turned to darkness and hate, or is it the Mind Flayer intent on eliminating all of Henry’s attachments? A monster who’s made a monster. I think it’s all left open to interpretation on purpose. 

After the death of his mother and sister, Henry goes straight to Hawkins High to find Patty, hoping to reach her before Brenner does. While at the school, he runs into Joyce, who voices to him her suspicions surrounding the animal killings, and what happened to Mr Newby at the Creel House.

At first, Henry thinks Joyce has worked it out, and that she knows it was him all along. “I wish you hadn’t done that…” he says, stepping closer. But Joyce clarifies just in time that she believes Henry’s father is the one who is dangerous, and that she believes he’s responsible for the terrible things that've happened in Hawkins recently. Maybe this is what gives Henry the idea to frame his father. Either way, he leaves Joyce alive. 

Both Brenner and Henry find Patty on the stage rafters, up on a high catwalk, ready to perform her part in the play. She’s initially wearing a set of wings as a prop, which are attached to the rafter to be lowered. Henry unties her from these wings, pleading with her to run away with him. An argument ensues with Brenner, where he attempts to convince Henry that Patty is his weakness, and that he needs to kill her to let her go. Patty tells Henry not to listen to him. 

During this argument, Henry loses control once more, and the Mind Flayer takes over. This results in Patty slow-motion falling from the rafters as the shape of the Mind Flayer overwhelms the stage. She hits the floor on her back, presumed dead. 

(The stage effects for this particular scene were absolutely incredible, by the way.)

Henry is later seen back at the lab. He’s fully subdued, confined to a straitjacket, mouth gagged, and sat in a wheelchair. Brenner says the implant (Soteria) is in, about to take effect.

If we believe what Season 4 showed us, the play skipped the part where Henry appeared dead alongside his mother and sister (just before Victor is then blamed and incarcerated at Pennhurst Asylum). So assuming that Brenner played a part in covering up Henry’s involvement in the Creel murders, Henry is presumed dead by the town at this point too. Unfortunately the play doesn’t address this, as instead we see Henry run immediately from the dinner table murder scene, straight to Hawkins High to find Patty. It’s a big inconsistency which I guess they want us to explain away with Henry being an “unreliable narrator” in the show. I guess he gave Nancy the abridged version of what happened!

Anyway, it appears that Henry later finds Patty in the void, despite Brenner telling him that he killed her. It seems she has successfully left Hawkins and found her mother in Las Vegas, just as she always dreamed of doing. She uses a walking stick, but otherwise appears alive and well. 

We hear and see static as Henry watches the scene unfold, and Patty glances over her shoulder, like she senses him. But then she turns her back and walks into the distance with her mother. 

An alternative take that I heard from someone, was that perhaps Patty is truthfully still seriously injured and is actually in a coma (similar to Max). They thought that maybe the final scene of Patty with her mother was actually just something that Henry was creating for her in her mind, as a sort of last semblance of goodness and love. I don’t think that’s what was intended, but it was an interesting take that I wanted to include! 

As the show nears its end, we’re presented with a series of newspaper articles relaying the tragic Creel Murders in Hawkins (possibly the same ones that Nancy and Robin find in Season 4). The Creel family all dead, Victor is blamed and sent to the asylum. The empty Creel House remains, a reminder of the horrors. It then shifts back to Hawkins lab, who are now recruiting pregnant women for experimentation. 

Brenner introduces a pregnant woman to Henry (who is still bound to a chair and fully subdued) and explains to him that the "blood transfusion" finally worked on a subject. He points to the woman's belly and remarks, “One, meet Two!" “You are as much a father to them as I am,” Brenner says at one point. Then, “Come… meet your brothers and sisters.” Even though we know Henry is not in any way related to the lab kids, they definitely played into the father/guardian/creator metaphor in the play. If not family by blood, then by circumstance. 

We see photos of the babies created in the lab, with their numbers underneath. We can recognise Eight as young Kali. Eventually we get to Ten, at which point the stage focuses on a now older Henry, wearing his recognisable Season 4 orderly outfit. He kneels beside a child with buzzed hair. 

"Hello, Eleven. Come with me.” He takes her by the hand, and they walk into the distance together. 

———

Some final thoughts:

Because of the incident with Patty during Joyce's play, we can infer that's why she is unsuccessful in her goal to impress the university, and remains stuck in Hawkins - just like Lonnie said she would.

Lonnie is awful, and I’m in two minds about how he’s handled in the play. They did a good job to show he’s always been a douchebag, and unlike what I’ve seen some people say, I actually think it was horribly believable that Joyce (who they establish likes 'bad boys') ends up going back to him and having kids with him. We know from Season 1 that there’s emotional abuse with Joyce and Lonnie, and to me, it makes horrible, horrible sense that it all ends up the way it does. I’m just not sure how I feel about Lonnie being used as any kind of comedic effect in the play (he makes a brief reappearance at the police station, where he’s been lying drunkenly handcuffed on some chairs the whole time during a scene... “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!" he says, or something to that effect). I feel like using him in that way diminishes how truly awful he is as a character. Maybe I’m just being too sensitive, but I’d much rather they had kept all the laughs and jokes for the other characters, and treated Lonnie completely seriously the whole way through. I don’t want to see him in any way ‘likeable’ or ‘relatable’ or ‘funny’, you know? Not even for cheap audience laughs. This is a guy who called his own kid son a f*g. Let's treat that with the gravity and solemnity it deserves, please.

Louis McCartney and Ella Karuna Williams as Henry Creel and Patty were great, and Isabella Pappas as Joyce was amazing. Dr Brenner was nicely emulated by Patrick Vaill (I personally think he was one of the most believable characters from stage to show). The best performance of all though was Christopher Buckley as Bob. Like, damn, give that kid all the awards! He was so believable as a young Bob, I actually forgot it wasn’t somehow a young Sean Astin on stage. *chef’s kiss*

As previously mentioned, all the parents of the kids are present in the play (and already coupled up). None of these characters are particularly fleshed out, and I think they’re mainly just there as fun ‘Easter Eggs’ to connect it with the show. E.g having Claudia own another cat that gets killed, seeing Ted Wheeler ironically as some kind of jock god who gets all the ladies (and cheats on Karen with, by the way!), Joyce holding an axe prop near the end mid-rant (“Why am I holding this??”) and Hopper making a remark about breaking his own foot (which he does in Season 4). 

They definitely seemed to be going back on the whole ‘it was Henry/Vecna the whole time’ thing from Season 4: the Mind Flayer has been pulling the strings from way before El sent Henry to Dimension X/Upside Down. We even see the Mind Flayer in the shape of a giant eldritch spider during the play, way before Henry appears to ‘shape’ it in Season 4. However, I think it’s also possible that Henry DID actually manage to take control of the Mind Flayer the second time he arrived in Dimension X (as we see at the end of S4). At that point, he’s killed all the lab kids and staff at Hawkins Lab, so he will be much more powerful now compared to the Henry from the play. By now he’s completely embraced the Mind Flayer’s philosophy, and is acting in its stead entirely on his own volition. Honestly? I think they’re going to leave it ambiguous on purpose. I think that’s why the play is technically canon, but totally not necessary before seeing Season 5. I think Henry and the Mindflayer are 'one' (lol) at this point - I think that’s what Vecna technically is. He’s like an amalgamation of this terrifying eldritch being that we can never begin to understand, but at the same time also something that is still deeply, deeply human.

The Henry side of him seems to be lost, but in a way Brenner was right - his feelings for Patty, whether ‘Puppy Love’ or real - was his one redeeming weakness in his early teen years. Judging from the play, I think it’s possible we might see a tragic sort of redemption moment in S5 (which I personally have mixed feelings about). But I do believe the play is supposed to be entirely separate, and that it’s possible Patty will continue not to be mentioned or relevant in the show (I hope I’m wrong). I just can’t help but be cautious in assuming the Mind Flayer is still the one in control after what they set up at the end of Season 4 (especially with Will saying, “it’s weird to know who it was this whole time” re: his own kidnapping and possession). I think Henry has become his darkest self as Vecna.

Speaking of Will… there were noticeably a LOT of parallels with him in Henry. Henry wears pretty much exactly Will’s outfit from Season 4, yellow tones with beige and brown. Meanwhile Patty wears a blue cardigan and a blue dress - at least in Act 1. I’m not hugely into the blue-and-yellow thing in a serious way, but even I noticed there were blue and yellow motifs for Henry and Patty. She wears a bright yellow top with her blue cardigan at one point too. I think there was definitely a mixture of both Will and El in Henry’s character.

Meanwhile Patty had noticeable similarities to Mike. She’s rebellious, outspoken, loves comic books, and worships superheroes.

Seeing the play hasn’t impacted my beliefs or hopes for Byler in any way. I think there are potentially good things to be taken from the writing, and potentially bad things too. My current confidence has neither been raised nor lowered, but what I will say is that it’s undeniable that the Henry x Patty relationship mirrors both Mileven and Byler, but especially Mileven. Hentty is obviously a star-crossed tragedy, deliberately set up like Romeo and Juliet, which we know is NEVER a good thing. I do find it interesting that their love confessions were an exchange, unlike Mike’s monologue. Patty is the one ‘present’, whilst Henry is the one trapped in the void with his eyes closed/blindfold on. It’s a high stakes moment. Patty tells Henry in desperation that she loves him, but she follows this up by pleading with him to say it back. I didn’t see anyone else talking about this, but it really stood out to me.

The play’s themes and messages still reflected what I believe the show to be about: rejecting forced conformity (it dealt with people’s ideas about what it means to be “normal” to fit in, about sex not being taboo, harmful black and white morality, and the damage that can occur from enforcing religious dogma)... and of course, like Joyce said, that love will ultimately conquer fear. Over and out!

[This kind of introspection throws up unsettling and complex ideas about the nature of human morality. What does it mean to be human? Who gets to decide who is “other”? How do we treat those who are different from us? These are huge issues, and far too esoteric for most of us to deal with in abstract. So the way we choose to explore them is in stories.] - Michael Davies

#stranger things: the first shadow #the first shadow #st: tfs #tfs #tfs spoilers #spoiler #spoilers #stranger things #byler #< target audience #personal

[ganondoodle]

since i cant stop thinking about things i care about and also i cant shut up ever im gonna say my bit about the "well of COURSE they destroyed everything shiekah after botw bc it nearly killed the entire country DUH do you not understand basic worldbuilding??" type of comment i had directed at me (mostly on twitter to no ones surprise and almost exactly worded like this)

--how would you even destroy it, the only thing you can actually damage with anything are guardians and nano-guardians, anything else cant even get scratched, hell you cant even climb the darn things, are you seriously trying to tell me they somehow completely pulverized not just the shrines but titans (divine beasts), the shrine of life and the pillars holding the guardians in storage around hyrule castle and the dome beneath it (whereever that went lol) when it was built to and DID last over 10 000 years ... and if you did somehow find a way to dismantle literally all of it why would you not ... use its parts for something else and also research it (lets be real here, purahs new towers are just the sheikah towers but more impractical and would by all means not need all of the material from all the missing stuff and the purahpad is just ... literally the shiekah stone but looking more like the switch and also worse bc its got almost none of the functions the shiekah stone had) they were so integrated into botws landscape removing them and their chambers would have been so much effort better spent in other places and just so unnecessary (think of the shrines at the twin mountains, removing all of that would be so dangerous and difficult to do), removing the pillars and the dome under the castle would endanger it collapsing no? there also would have needed to be a giant mechanism down there to make the pillars rise up, why would you go and try to destroy that instead of focusing on rebuilding the most important infrastrucutre

(on a sidenote, yes there are holes to the underground in the place of some shrines but its by far not all of them .. .even so there at the very least should be some rubble of them lying about at the bottom plus in most of their places its just plain earth, or sometimes even a cave locked by some puzzle which is.... so weird)

really the only explanation would be that it all just ... disappeared after zelda sealed ganon, which wouldnt only be hella unsatisfying as an answer but also again pose the problem that i would have caused the castle to collapse considering how shiekah tech was so integrated into it... unless it turned to earth somehow ... which would explain that but still be as satisfying of an explanation as 'it was all just a dream uwu' additionally, the zonau stuff under the castle wasnt even that far down so it must have intersected with the shiekah stuff, like the pillars or the dome?? but no its all just zonau ruins now wahoo

if literally all traces were gone and totk was a paralel to botw but with zonau instead of shiekah OK, they still called it a sequel tho, they still talk about the events of botw but in a way that sounds like it was just another lost legend, the tapestry exists as well, and there are a few old guardian parts on top of the hateno institute (still feels like an oversight considering how cleanly everything else was wiped off the map), plus purahs towers and the purahpad are clearly based off of it, so it cant really be some time fuckery either, some things still remain; it just doesnt add up and its frustrating as hell .. ... especially if you were like me completely thrilled and intrigued to learn more about the ancient shiekah, what WAS that dome under the castle for?? what WAS ancient energy really and why was it found in these specific places only?? did they know about ganondorf?? if they built stuff down there shouldnt they have inevitably come across the old tunnels?? the monks literally talk to link in botw why would they withhold that info, what reason could they have?

--by far my biggest annoyance with that excuse is that ... if you are so afraid of tech you dont fully understand being taken over by the bad guy again to the point you destroy not just the titans you basically worshipped as divine protectors but also immovable shrines that literally couldnt do shit to harm you even if they were pumped up to the brim with malice/miasma after they have already become non threatening/non functional anyway... HOW could you just go and fully trust and personally play around with new tech that LITERALLY rained from the sky out of nowhere, from a group of people no one knows shit about (like at least the shiekah were still existing and had a small part of recorded history) and never cared either until now that they are suddendly everywhere, even if it cant get corrupted somehow (kinda disproven by the spirit temple) how the hell would anyone know that?? if anything this would be a reason to be MORE afraid of it

even the ancient king that persecuted the shiekah bc he was afraid of their tech when they invented it didnt order them to destroy it, just bury it, despite them of all people knowing the best of how to completely destroy it??? and zelda doesnt seem like the type that would order old history and relics to be destroyed liek that??

it would have been such a golden opportunity to show that hey, the ancient shiekah based their tech on that of the zonau, they found the mines and tech and reasearched it to built their own from it, strucutres that show they were down here building the shrines from underground, titan prototypes, you cant do anything with it, its old and broken, but its there, environmental storytelling and all that

the shrine of life especially pisses me off bc thats like .. ok it was kinda not the best maybe but it still saved links goddamn life, even if it all became useless for some reason at least leave it there as a sign of respect, if there needs to be a cave have it be half collapsed after the cataclysm or something wheres the problem

(also idk if im the only one with that but in botws true ending when zelda says that vah ruta, i think, has stopped working it seemed like a good setup for more? and that she wanted to investigate that in the sense of ah shoot i want it to keep working tho and not in the sense of hell yeah lets smash it to pieces i know this is theory territory now but it seemed like it somewhat confirmed that the titans need a pilots strong spirit to work since they are not connected to the ancient energy network and the spirits of the champions passed on at the end ... the idea that ancient energy was spirit energy either gained from luminous stones or directly spirits is so neat, and i loved that idea of hey the reason why all of the energy went out all of the sudden is bc ganondorf is breaking free after having been kept in a stasis to use either his malice or his strong spirit to fuel it all has never left my mind since i first read about it bc its such a good setup for intrigue, like oh heck the ancient shiekah werent so coolio and 100% perfectly good either, maybe they knew about gans 'future' or history and hey why not trick him or sth into being sealed against his will so that problem is out the way and whoop hes pretty much an infinite source of energy nice lets use that for our research and not tell anyone oh no we created a monster (calamity gan) l guess we are gonna use the tech we fuel with his own life against him lol, OR you could have connceted it to the zonau maybe doing the sealing first and the shiekah discovering him later and being like oh neat an endlessly rich powersource we arent gonan tell anyone about weehoo

it would have tied into the ancient shiekah stuff, explained why it doesnt work well anymore, give a reason to explore the underground and discover it all, give a reason to why it was kept a secret bc no one wanted to admit yeah we made this monster ourselves whoops, give ganondorf a reason to be this angry and make it all more nuanced bc yeah ok maybe the zonau knew about gan and in their effort to prevent it caused it instead by sealing him before he became a problem and it all started a domino effect of disasters leading into all this mess that now poor zelda and link gotta solve

im not saiyng this is the better version or that i am better but again you can literally do so much with the setup for it all and what totk ended up doing with it feels so ... not even underused but straight up backwards treading you had it right on front of you INFINITE POTENTIAL AAARGH)

theres only so much fun gameplay and fantastic music can save and man can you imagine what could have been if the story got the same polish as the gameplay and music ;__;

#ganondoodles talks #ganondoodles opinions #zelda #totk #the best part of totk is the yiga clan and the music #fuck the music got me more emotional than the actual happenings #anyway compeltely random thought #but why was the gerudo temple light-mirror themed and the lead up to the spirit one lightning themed #what #again i LIKE this game #but i want to LOVE it #and yeah fun gameplay is important #a good story can save bad gameplay and great gamplay can save a bad story #but you know whats even better #good gameplay and good story #its not somethign that cant coexist #and yeah a bad story can diminish the fun im having with the gameplay #some people seriously argued -imagine playing video games for the story- to me and i ????? what #this all got way longer than i wanted again ... #longpost