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overwatchleaguesigns · 2 years

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Alright, let's do this. Personal Overwatch 2 review, one week later:

Back in 2016, when OW did a last beta weekend where they sent a bunch of codes to people who signed up for them before release, I finally got to try it for the first time, and I remember playing and jumping around and thinking to myself "this is the most fun I've had with a videogame in my life."

This feeling gradually faded over time and I feel like this is a sentiment that applies to many others. Even before every piece of bullshit news people heard about Activision Blizzard and that tainting the game, people were already done and actively hateful of the game. The sense of wonder and discovery was lost. You become more and more aware of mistakes you and your teammates do. Lack of updates and incentives to play. Anything new that drops feels like it makes the game Less fun with more and more CC and barriers.

I was kinda done. I didn't hate the game like many others, but it wasn't fun, so I just kinda stopped playing.

OW2 does feel like they did everything possible to revert every fuckup that brought up this feeling in terms of gameplay. Remove CC. Remove barriers. Rework things to deal event more damage and do cool things. Remove a tank and a player, less room for error and less unfun mechanics to worry about. Now for the first time in years I feel like something similar to how it was in 2016, when I just get to have fun and do stuff instead of being denied from playing. I get to rush in and start knifing people with Junker Queen like a crazy person and it's fucking great. This is very good.

Everything I have to say about OW2 gameplay and its maps is generally positive. Push is weird and maybe they can find ways to tune it more (maybe spawns getting closer or something?) but I don't hate it. I miss 2CP maps but it's mostly just visually, so maybe they can get reworked into a viable gamemode later, but that's just my personal hope for the future.

All in all, it's fun.

Now off to the main issues.

I have so many concerns about its progression and monetization systems. To say they're not good would be an understatement. It's not just stupidly greedy, but also just stupid in general as there's no incentive to keep playing and that's the main issue here. I have zero interest in anything in the season pass with the exception of maybe the Genji Mythic skin, but even then I'm not a Genji player so whatever. Let's say I want to buy (yet another) Mercy skin, and I either have to bust out 20$ OR grind the game for like... 10 months? Assuming I get every weekly challenge, which I'm most likely not going to do as I am sitting on one uncompleted challenge on reset day, so yeah no. The problem here is that the solution of "well just buy it" doesn't work because people fundamentally can't buy everything. Like, people are broke. People gotta eat. Some players might be like 12 years old and they don't have money. I live in a country with 1º a broken economy and 2º a +75% international purchase tax. Like this level of greed doesn't work here because it's assuming everyone has the ability to buy things, when in reality this is very much not the case, and grinding for 10 months to get One skin is unrealistic because I'm just going to Stop playing your game that is giving me nothing rather than continue playing forever for one goddamn Mercy skin.

This is just badly designed and it's going to fail. No doubts here.

Is the idea for a season pass and a shop inherently bad? Not really, no. Most games offer you free money on the season pass path, meaning that you could theoretically pay 10$ and continue to make that money on each pass forever and get all rewards with just 10$ once. Other games do offer periodic challenges that will just give you free stuff as an incentive to come back and keep playing, and in this case, maybe get coins to buy a skin for your main instead of an arbitrary reward that means nothing to you.

And this takes me to the thing to watch out for and potential fixes: The Halloween event is coming soon in about two weeks, and that's the opportunity to show exactly what a special event will be like in OW2. Let's say that they give you a bunch of temporary challenges that give you coins and you can get up to like 1000 (being generous here) for just playing during this time. This guarantees you being hooked for a while, getting enough currency to get the season pass (which guarantees even further engagement if you do take it), or you can choose to get something for the specific character you like, which for me is another incentive to keep playing because now my character looks cool and pretty and fuck yes let's do this.

There's not even an argument of "well they want to take your money here so of course they do this" because THIS DOESN'T WORK LONG TERM. People are just going to LEAVE and you make NO MONEY if people DON'T PLAY YOUR GAME. And you can be cynical about it and say that this is planned and they'll make it good once they got that initial cash-in on release, and you might be right. But honestly I care about this game, like, Living. Because I was there for Heroes of the Storm, and I know exactly how Blizzard can just fucking give up on a game that they themselves ruined.

Things, as they are right now, are bad. And if they continue this way (which I'm honestly thinking THEY WON'T because it's such a badly designed system it's baffling) the game will just die.

This is a terrible first impression.

PvE

PvE was promised years ago to be the main focus of Overwatch 2. So, where did that go?

Honestly, following the OWL community like I have for years showed me that Overwatch has a weird divide in terms of how people enjoy this franchise. You can almost split fans into two groups; the people who are here for a really fun game, and the people who are here for the characters and the world. And there's no right or wrong way to enjoy the game either, whichever does it for you is completely valid.

The problem starts with OW1 here. It is a mainly PvP competitive game, with just a few PvE modes for fun during certain time windows. But because the way the game is shown and advertised, it makes sense that it would give people the promise of way more content regarding its world and characters than they're given. But this also means that if you do try to branch off into more worldbuilding you will take resources away from the PvP players' content. This is the problem the game immediately faced, where instead of committing to one thing, they tried to sort of do both, and failed at both. There wasn't enough content for either.

Also, OW1 wasn't planned to be maintained as a live-service game. This means that every update, character, map, and fun events we got were more of a bonus rather than planned content in order to keep the game alive. The dev team mainly approached OW1 as a "we're going to take 6 years to develop this banger of a game and then release it and be done with it" which means that there weren't many plans to keep it alive from the get-go. You already bought the game, now begone. This is why we really just got the same events every year with just a couple of fancy new skins and that's it.

OW2 is trying to change that. Going F2P is essentially a promise that they will maintain this game with new content, but now we have to see what that new content is and how fast it comes at us.

So back to the main question, where's the PvE? Okay, here's a better question for you. How do you think the already established PvP playerbase would feel if OW2 comes out and it's exactly the same EXCEPT that now you have co-op story modes and that's it? That would change nothing for them, and I'd say that they are the main audience that continues to play.

The priority here is to finally commit to get new content to keep the PvP players happy. And they know a lot of people care about the lore, but realistically focusing on that first probably wouldn't be the best idea. It makes complete sense that PvP reworks come in first, and I think they did a great job as I said earlier because the game now just feels so much more fun. But PvE is just going to be delayed until whenever they can finish it because PvP is a priority and that's just the reality here.

Also, the game is just not a complete product. There's not enough content to call it a complete product. You can argue so many things were better in OW1 and I would be inclined to agree. If you ask me, the only reason why "Overwatch 2" is a thing is because they needed to push out an announcement out the door to stop people from badmouthing Blizzard. And maybe the call to make OW2 was already made the moment OW1 came out and the big suits saw dollar signs everywhere given how well the game did initially, but I think announcing the game when they did only made things so much worse long-term, because now we're in a weird "Overwatch 1.5" state while they're advertising this as something completely new and different when it's not.

I will say finally giving the PvP players this giant overhaul to make the game much more enjoyable is definitely a good thing and you can even say this was done in good faith by the new team if the alternative was waiting in limbo for an extra year which sounds terrible, but I don't know if this was the right call from every other perspective.

Closing thoughts are, I'm having mixed feelings on the game. I like the game, I have fun with the game, I feel so conflicted regarding everything else besides gameplay, and I'm facepalming at some of the decisions made here and I'm awaiting for them to realize how stupid they are and change them.

We'll see how this game develops. But as of now, I'm just going to play it, have some fun by myself or with a friend, and probably stop in like a week or two as I move onto something else as the game is not doing much to keep me in.

Please let me know how you feel about the game! I'd love to hear from other OW fans too.

Take care, and have fun y'all.

#overwatch 2 #boy that's a long post i'm sorry #i talk about a lot of things here sounding like i know everything but these are just mostly my personal thoughts #with some knowledge i've gathered over time from being around the OW community and games industry

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bellmo15-blog · 2 years

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At this point in 2020 I had gotten to the point where I was like "You know what, I've made it blatantly obvious I'm a fan of this series from my previous commissions I might as well make an OC around it!" And I did! Thayla the Half Genie OC of mine! And just like Charlotte I really haven't used her as much as I've wanted to. I don't know, Mikaela and my Sona just tended to have all the best ideas.

Original description: This is something I have been considering doing for a very long time now. And after having the idea in my head as well as the release of Shantae and the Seven Sirens finally, I have a Shantae OC. Thayla. Yep, it's not a Pokemon OC for once!

Now Shantae OC's while not being as promanite as other kinds of Shantae content, are a thing. Though with the release of Seven Sirens and how the characters Plink, Vera, Zapple, Harmony and Fillin are half genies I honestly can't help but feel like it's gonna cause a surge in Shantae OC's. Mostly Half Genie OC's. I'm not saying that every Shantae OC HAS to be a Half Genie but a lot of them probaply will be all things considered obviously with different powers between them. My OC Thayla is one of them. Would you belive me I initinally used Soul Calibur VI's character creator to make her? So yeah if any of you start to compare her jacket to Talims from Soul Calibur that's why. Obviously this refrence was drawn though and you can thank ThatKinkyWeeBism

for that.

So a little bit about Thayla before I write a full bio on her. I don't know why I picked this power in particular but being able to reverse time. More specifically being able to go back a few seconds. It wouldn't be an unlimited power, I kind of imagen she's drained of some magic each time she uses it or hell even just making her tired. Think Ubisoft's Prince of Persia meat's Shantae. Or Tracer from Overwatch. I also kind of imagen her being a thief as well with this power, using it in case something goes wrong. Or she say's something humiliating. Does that mean I'd pair her up with Risky Boots? As business partners, maybe. As lovers, no. It's still early days for Thayla but for now this is what I have for her. Definitely going to use her when I get the chance for more art.

Artist is ThatKinkyWeeBism: https://www.deviantart.com/thatkinkyweebism

#Shantae #OC

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ow-anteater · 3 years

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Okay I tried it but I literally cannot stay away from Overwatch's robot characters for more than three seconds. How about your choice of Zenyatta or Bastion for your 50?

I Wish I Was the Moon by Neko Case for Zen!

I'm so tired / I wish I was the moon tonight

It rains a lot in the days after and he thought it would have made him feel cleaner.

“That isn’t nearly enough,” a bright eyed mechanic once told him on the streets of London, a gloved hand stretched out to catch the raindrops. “The rain won’t be enough for any omnic not modeled in the last three months.”

The cracks on him are too deep, too complex in a way that has yet to be optimized for any artful stream of rainfall to effortlessly clean out.

It hasn’t stopped him before. This world is but a dream and in his dreams, the rain trickles into every indent on his plating, flows like a glowing moat around every ticking gear.

The clouds keep hanging close too. Inevitable with the rainfall, he supposes. It still doesn’t still the unease in his core. He haven’t seen the stars in days.

He floats low over the ground and tries so desperately to struggle his way back to true tranquility. The valley is as beautiful before him as it’s ever been, even streaked in wet gray. He’s gone through the motions of an afternoon meditation a thousand times before.

Something scratches at his composure, like a metallic itch.

He isn’t cold, his body doesn’t mimick that particular biological response, but he thinks the thing sloshing around in his chest might be as close to cold as folks like him might hope to get.

The moon is a diffuse thing in the gray light. At least the rain isn’t actively falling right now. To think it once brought him comfort … Does still bring him comfort, he tries correcting himself. There is no time, no past and no present, no ends and no real beginnings. It sounds hollow. For the first time since he started following the teachings of the Iris, there’s an end that feels more definitive - more real - than the infinity his faith has shown him.

It rains a lot after.

He can count the years he’s spent existing on his hands and feet. Time is young in this world, his whole kind is new to it. And he is already tired.

He hits the ground with a quiet thump. If the rain had picked up again the sound would have been drowned out.

Genji can still cry. Zenyatta’s heard him curse the fact a million times, then heard him rejoice in it, in whatever scraps of humanity the world has left him with.

In this moment he halfway envies him the talent. The sky will have to do all his grieving for him. He knows it’s rarely that literal, how he is undeniably one with everything he touches and everything he doesn’t and yet it is an injustice to expect the world to show that in a way he can easily comprehend.

And yet, it’s easy to believe.

The rain will try to wash him clean, and Genji will look at him like he’s the wisest being to have ever walked the earth. And he’ll tell him how that attitude is directly counter to what he’s trying to teach, how every drop of wisdom is borrowed and bound to go back one day. How all of it resides in both of them in equal measure.

And he’ll be halfway a liar, cause he’ll spin all those tales and yet he’ll know in the pit of his stomach, that in this one moment, as the sky suddenly starts dripping heavy drops at his feet, the sky itself bended to weep for Mondatta.

#overwatch #ask #thank you so much for asking holy hell these are fun #zenyatta #again not really fully after the song but its about the initial vibes sometimes

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ja3minz · 4 years

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𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 ... 𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏 ♡

requested by anon.

so listen hyuck’s like .. almost rarely ever truly embarrassed or too shy to do something

but something like his (and your) first time having sex? it lowkey terrifies him

because to him it’s such a serious thing like it shows ultimate trust in a partner and he’s honored that you trust him so much

and he wants it to be perfect bc that’s what you deserve 🥺

it’s kind of a problem though bc he drives himself insane trying too hard to make sure everything is just right

when you tell him you’re ready, it doesn’t happen in that moment

you tell him when you’re just over hanging out and you’re watching him play overwatch thinking abt how much u love him and ur just like “hey...i think i’m ready to take this to the next level”

and he’s like stunned at first he doesn’t know what u mean but then it hits him and he’s like oH YOU MEAN—

“are you sure? really? you trust me that much?” he’s kind of ecstatic abt it lowkey tho u see this like overjoyed smile simmering on his face he’s trying to hold it back

you come and sit on his lap and kiss him and tell him you trust him with your life and he swoons <3

so your actual first time doesn’t happen until maybe a week or so after that because he wants the dorm to himself so nobody interrupts

lowkey asks johnny for advice that same day bc he’s kinda freaking and he’s like “bro what if it’s bad what if they hate it what if i bust too quick”

he’s so gentle the entire time 🥺 such a sweetheart making sure you’re comfortable, asks if it’s okay to undress you

he’s seen you naked before (kind of; u took ur shirt off during some heated makeouts) but this is so different

he’s in awe he thinks you’re a masterpiece he lets out this heavy kind of adoring sigh while trailing his fingers down your soft skin

“you’re so beautiful, i can’t believe it. it’s unreal.”

omg and he loves it when you compliment him normally but he extra loves it here

like he needs to know he’s doing okay so please remind him he’s doing amazing

loves it when you say his name, loves it when your body responds so easily to him because it means you’re enjoying yourself

so much kissing SOOOO much kissing and it’s kind of sloppy and a little all over the place he kind of just sucks on your bottom lip sometimes

gets shy when he’s fully undressed and you see his cock 👉🏾👈🏾 please gas him up

let’s be real his dick is probably a solid 6 inches anyways so

there’s a moment where you’re both naked and making out and still exploring each other’s bodies

he’s slotted between your legs, his cock is pressed up against your inner thigh and he’s so close to your core both of you start rutting into each other

it gets intense tbh the excitement and lust takes over the both of you and suddenly he NEEDS to be inside of you like asap

slides on the condom, has you in missionary and the sight of you laying on your back with your legs parted looking up at him

his heart kind of flutters like wow he loves you a lot

smiles this cute little shy smile and leans down to kiss you while he’s pushing himself inside of you

you’re both moaning into each other’s mouths and it hurts at first because it’s just so foreign you’re not used to it

so you’re kind of whimpering and squirming underneath him and he won’t do anything until you’re fully okay to go

he’s okay with sitting and waiting for you to adjust, stroking your hair and kissing your neck and whispering cute stuff to you

when you give him the okay that first thrust nearly knocks the breath out of him

it’s incredible it sends shockwaves through your bodies

it doesn’t take long for him to set a rhythm, he’s not going too fast but goddamn you feel like he’s so deep inside you it’s driving you fucking crazy

and listen if we’re being honest

hyuck is trying HARD not to cum too quick okay? he’s really trying

can you really blame him when you’re so hot and tight around him, you’re squeezing his cock perfectly and god the noises you’re making it’s all so erotic and he feels overwhelmed already

you told him before you guys even got here though and he agreed with you that it didn’t matter if you both came or not

it was more about the experience. sharing your bodies, intertwining in something so new for the first time

but honestly y’all don’t have to worry about not cumming because the way he’s fitting inside you and the way his cock is kissing your sweet spot

it’s making your toes curl and your eyes roll you’re loving every single second of it and you’re making sure he knows he’s doing fantastic

at some point though he gets kinda lost in the feeling and he picks up his pace but you don’t even realize it because it just feels so good

you’re really out of it at this point

the rooms filled with nothing but the your shared moans and the sticky sound of skin hitting skin

hyuck gets super duper whiny when he’s about to cum, real breathy in your ear too

and he starts grabbing onto you for dear life, in this case he’s squeezing your thighs

“i-i...think. i think i’m—fuck. fuck, i’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.”

he starts grinding into you in such a way that his pelvis is hitting your clit like perfectly

so every thrust makes you clench around him

he tries to hold on and wait for you, he’s really really trying but he falls apart almost instantly when he hears you call his name

it’s the way you say it; like you’re desperately keening for him. like you need to have him, like he’s your everything

he doesn’t even mean to cum but god when he does he cums so hard he swears he’s seeing literal stars

like his vision goes black and he yells out for you; clinging desperately to your body

he’s even trembling 🥺 panting heavily, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while he’s babbling on and on about how he loves you

you don’t have an orgasm that night but you’re more than satisfied so you have no complaints honestly

you’re spent, just like he is. he lays on top of you for a solid minute and both of you doze off for like a quick little power nap???

like you fall asleep there for a solid 10 mins but then you’re uncomfortably hot with his bare body laying on top of you

so both of you wake up half way just to situate yourselves better

he pulls off the condom and tosses it in the trash and attaches himself to your back like a koala

nuzzles his face in your neck and hugs you real tight to his chest 🥺 tells you he loves you one last time before falling asleep

when he realizes you didn’t have your orgasm he definitely eats you out thst next morning

like kinda wakes you up with it 😗 because you deserve it you’re his number one

#damn this got long #i did not mean for this #i just brain dumped all of that in like 15 mins 😭#nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #nct imagines #nct dream headcanons #nct headcanons #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #nct hard hours #haechan smut #haechan reaction #haechan headcanons #haechan imagines

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

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Oh, that bit about Karl’s powers and XD’s company at the beginning of the overwatch timeline made the karlnapity brain go brrrrrrr, bro!! Very long post ahead!!!! And I know the chatfic is coming soon, and I totally understand if you wanna reserve the blog’s attention for that once it comes out because I am also extremely excited for it, so publish this whenever you want!! Also good luck with the title and summary!!

So like, it’s a few years after Overwatch fell, and Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl are more or less content! They feel for Sam and the other original members, they do, but Overwatch and the omnics honestly weren’t a very big part of their world. They all made it through the omnic crisis just fine, and now they’re just going about their lives in the relative peacetime. They’re even engaged, vague plans of a marriage someday cobbling together bit by bit, but they’re in no rush. They’re happy!

And then Karl finds out about this interesting experiment that’s looking into real, live, actual time travel. Like!! Karl was psyched enough when space travel started getting big again; he knows just about everything there is to know about Horizon One for someone who’s never been there. If time travel turns out to be real? Karl wants in, and he wants in now.

Sapnap and Quackity are half-convinced it’s a scam or a gimmick or something. Sure, they personally knew what amounted to a superhero team a few years ago, but there’s a difference between a small group of skilled fighters and literal time travel. Especially since it’s an XD-sponsored endeavor, Quackity is certain there’s some catch. If nothing else, it’s probably a way to waste a lot of people’s time and money to get XD some good press again.

But Karl is so excited to check it out, neither of them want to try particularly hard to shut him down. They decide they’ll keep an eye on it, obviously, just in case, but they wish Karl good luck and a good time. So he heads out with high hopes and a little suitcase, promising to call every night and to see them soon.

And for the first few days, it goes great! Karl does call them every day and talks for at least an hour about everything he’s learning about this theoretical time travel and how it’ll work: a ship called the Slipstream, which is supposed to use teleportation technology to travel between places in negative time, thus creating functional time travel. Sapnap and Quackity reserve their doubts, but Karl’s having the time of his life either way, and they’re glad to hear him so happy. Especially when he tells them that he gets to get in the ship and take it on a test flight tomorrow - not to try out the time travel yet, but just to make sure he knows how to fly it. Karl gets to fly a ship!! He’s gonna be an actual pilot!! He’s so excited!!!

Karl hangs up that night, clearly over the moon, and Sapnap and Quackity resolve themselves happily to at least four hours on the phone tomorrow night, hearing all about the flight and how it went and what Karl is looking forward to.

And the next night, the hour comes, and Sapnap and Quackity settle on the couch with snacks and drinks, ready for a good long listening session. They wait for the phone to ring. And wait. And wait.

After an hour, they reason that maybe the test flight took longer than expected. Maybe Karl is tired out from flying it. Maybe Karl got distracted. Maybe he forgot to charge his phone. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Either way, it’s not like they had agreed that he’d call at this specific time. So there’s no need to worry. They’re not worried.

Another hour passes. And then another, and another, and soon midnight finds Sapnap and Quackity, sitting in the kitchen with mugs of tea long since cooled, watching a phone that won’t ring. Looking up the experiment or the Slipstream doesn’t bring up any bad news, which sets them both a bit at ease; no news is good news, right? At least for now?

Uneasily, they decide to go to bed. Karl will have to have called or at least texted by morning, surely. And if not, they’ll call him, and then they’ll call the number they were given for questions about the experiment. There’s no reason to worry.

Despite having no reason to worry, when morning comes without word from Karl, Sapnap and Quackity worry. When they call Karl, it goes straight to voicemail. When they call the number for the experiment, it’s disconnected. When they look up the experiment and the Slipstream and XD in general, they notice what they hadn’t last night: not only is there no news, there’s no mention of the experiment. The website Karl had learned about the experiment from is gone. XD’s website makes no mention of time travel. Even with all of Quackity’s investigative power, as far as the world wide web is concerned, there has never been a ship or shuttle with the name Slipstream.

It’s like the whole project never existed at all, and Karl Jacobs along with it.

Thus begins Sapnap and Quackity’s investigation. They call anyone who will listen, telling them that Karl is missing and it’s almost certainly the fault of XD and his company and please please please help them find out what happened. They become the most annoying thorn in XD’s side in months, calling every division in every company several times over, demanding answers. At one point, they’re discreetly contacted and offered hush money if they just drop it, and Sapnap has never screamed so loud in his life as when he told them exactly what they could do with that money. Quackity immediately tries to follow up, tracing the offer to gather proof that something must have happened if they’re trying to cover it up, and only runs into a brick wall. XD is infuriatingly good at covering his tracks.

What finally marks the turning point in their investigation is XD’s most common underestimation: common human decency between strangers. Quackity and Sapnap are anonymously contacted by someone who was working in the experiment’s division and heard about their search, someone who has access to Slipstream plans and blueprints. Through them, Quackity and Sapnap learn that Karl vanished because he was pressured into activating the time travel function on his test flight, despite the fact that it wasn’t ready yet. They’re also given early blueprints for the Slipstream, which include some of the plans for the time travel mechanism.

It’s this mechanism that Sam is able to study and rework and reverse engineer, eventually leading to the development of the chronal accelerator, which should, in theory, bring Karl back.

And it had been a rough time for Quackity and Sapnap, spending nearly all of their free time trying to gather resources and to find the truth and then to help Sam however he needed. They’ve undergone their respective breakdowns, supporting each other through them: Sapnap kept Quackity from burying himself too deeply in his work and his research, getting him to sleep and eat regularly. In turn, Quackity made sure he was available for Sapnap to talk and vent to, redirecting his steadily burning fury to constructive outlets. They’ve settled into an uneasy but manageable rhythm of getting through the days, haunted though they are by the uncertainty of where Karl is and when (if) they’ll see him again. And with the invention of the chronal accelerator, they’re both struggling with just how much hope they can afford. If this doesn’t work - if they get so close to finally getting Karl back, only to fail… it’s not something they want to think about.

So when Sam calls them down to his workshop, saying that he thinks he has a working model to recover their fiance, they arrive hand-in-hand, Quackity guarded, Sapnap cautiously optimistic. They gather around the workbench, surrounding Sam’s invention, a mechanical-looking harness with a glowing, green-and-purple spiral at its heart. Sam looks to them, hovering one hand over the activation switch, waiting for their signal.

They share a glance. Sapnap squeezes Quackity’s hand, steady and secure. No matter what, it promises. No matter what, I’ll still be here. I’m with you.

They both nod to Sam, and he flips the switch.

The harness hums and crackles to life, its spiral glowing brighter and starting to spin. Sam stands at the ready, watching six different monitors to ensure nothing goes wrong. Sapnap and Quackity lean on each other, nearly holding their breath, eyes glued to the accelerator.

Slowly, a figure fizzles into existence. Half-transparent, arms curled close to their chest, they glance around the room, looking lost and unsure, until they meet eyes with Sapnap and Quackity. Then their eyes go wide, one hand rising to their mouth, hanging open in shock.

Sapnap? says the ghost of Karl Jacobs. Quackity?

And in the next second, the ghost comes back to life, lungs filling with air, color rushing to his cheeks, solidity returning to his form. And Karl gasps, coughs, leans forward with one hand clapped over the accelerator, and his gaze doesn’t leave his fiances for a second. He extends one shaking arm, reaching for his fiances with an open hand. The tension shatters.

Sapnap closes the distance in half a second, Quackity barely a breath behind. The fiances collapse against the table as the two of them all but tackle Karl. Because Karl is real, Karl is alive, Karl is here in front of them. The lingering doubts that have dogged their footsteps vanish. The fear in their hearts that three engagement rings would become two wedding rings dissolves. The aching absence they’ve felt between them for months melts away in tears and sobs and bone-crushing hugs, the three of them relishing the hard-regained closeness, pressing together as the weight of the world lifts from all of their shoulders.

They’re together again.

#dream smp #dream smp au #overwatch au #quackity #karl jacobs #sapnap #awesamdude #submission #an anon #oh god this is amazing #i love this so much #i'll cherish it forever #long post

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lizzy-frizzle · 4 years

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I’m going to start this by saying, I have bias. Everyone does. I do not intend for this to come off as “the thing you like is bad”, but moreso “the corporation that controls the thing you like is manipulative”.

My background; I am a 26 year old trans mom, I have a history with addiction, particularly gambling, and spend most of my time playing video games. I have gone to college for about 3 years for my psychology degree, and while I do not have my degree, I have been studying psychology for roughly 12 years. This is to say, my views will reflect this background. Just because I present this information like I do, does not inherently mean I’m right, though it also doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Try to view things with a critical mind, and know that most topics have nuance.

Ok, so lootboxes, booster packs, gacha games, all of these are gambling. This is not really an argument. You are putting money into a service of sorts, and receiving a randomized result. Be that a fancy new gun, that same boring legendary you have 5 of, or that final hero you’ve been trying to collect. You don’t know the outcome before you give your money. As defined by the merriam-webster dictionary: “Gambling; the practice of risking money or other stakes in a game or bet”

You are risking your money in not getting an item you want. There are ways this is handled acceptably, and ways this is handled poorly. Gambling is also illegal to people under 21 in a lot of places, but places online aren’t quick to tell you why. I don’t have any sources because every source requires a paywall to get any information, but pulling from my own personal experience and what I learned in college, it’s because children are very impressionable. I say “I like pokemon” and suddenly my 2-year old can’t go anywhere without her pikachu. I remember distinctly playing poker with my mom and her friends when I was 12. When you normalize gambling, what it does is lower the risk aversion of gambling. You are less likely to see a threat in playing that card game, because when you are that young you have no concept of money. You don’t know what a dollar is, so why not throw it away so you can have fun. This is...I hesitate to call it fine, but it’s mostly harmless. The issue is with children and their lack of knowledge of money. When I grew up and got a job, it’s a lot harder to tell my brain, “hey, don’t spend that money, you won’t get it back and you won’t get what you want.” Because my brain just acknowledges the potential for what I want. I want to buy the booster pack so I can have the potential to get that masterpiece misty rainforest. I want to buy that diamond pack so I have the chance to get the cute hero. I want to buy that lootbox so I can get the battle rifle that does a cool effect. These are harmless concepts, but very dangerous.

Make no mistake, companies know how psychology works, and will use it to their advantage. MatPat from game theory states that companies have even go so far as to have systems in place that change the odds as you’re losing, and monitor your skill level to put you up against harder opponents, to see the better weapons and go, “Oh I want that!” and entice you to buy more lootboxes. As it turns out I found an article covering what he was talking about, Activision had actually acquired a patent to arrange matchmaking to do just that [x], and the article says it’s not in place, but my trust in companies is not high enough to actually believe them.(honestly, matpat made a 2-part video series about lootboxes, and I’d recommend watching them)

So, companies are trying to manipulate you to buy more gambling products. There’s proof of it. It’s also more blatantly obvious in games like Magic the Gathering, where they release fancier versions of cards at rarer probabilities. To better explain it, from a collector’s standpoint, you want the fancy card cause it has value, it has value because it’s rare, rarer than the other versions, so if you’re on the lower end of the income ladder you buy a pack, or two. After all, you could get lucky and get it. On the higher end of the income ladder, you buy the card outright and hoard it. Maybe sell it off later if you notice the price goes down. From a player perspective, you see a card is being used by tournament players, you want to win more games, so you want those cards, which encourages you to buy products and try to get those cards. That’s predatory behavior. It’s predatory from the company’s perspective because that poor person might not be able to afford the card outright, but $5-$10 isn’t much, plus they always entice you with that Chance. They also further this desire for the cards by making it limited runs, such as the secret lair packs, if there’s a low amount purchased and it’s made to order, or worse, if they limit the order capabilities themselves, that drives up the value, and provides further incentive to buy the cards and packs. This not only creates an impossible barrier between the poor and the rich, but also heavily encourages people buy their gambling pack than people would have in other conditions.

For the record, I love magic the gathering, I’m not saying the game itself is bad, this is just a VERY predatory marketing tactic.

Let’s switch gears. Gacha games. I play AFKArena, because like I said, I have a gambling addiction and cannot stop myself. In AFKArena, you collect heroes, and battle with them in various ways. If you collect more of similar heroes you can rank them up. If I’m to believe what I’ve heard, it sounds like this is pretty common for gacha games. So what makes it bad. In AFKArena you use diamonds to summon heroes, now, you can acquire diamonds by beating specific story chapters, logging in every day, random limited time events, or paying for them with real money. AFKArena hero drops don’t seem that bad compared to the free diamond amount they dish out, which has resulted in me not spending all that much money on it, all things considered ($20 over 2 years). I believe that for a mobile game like this, that’s fair. I get way more enjoyment out of the game than I do most $60 games, so it balances out. However, this isn’t the case for every gacha game, and my trust in companies, as previously stated, is very low. The issue lies in them making the rates for good heroes so low that you HAVE to spend money on the game to really get over a roadblock of sorts. I do think that there is this issue in my game and I just didn’t notice it, someone with a lower tolerance or patience might absolutely have the incentive to drop hundreds of dollars on the game over a month. There are people of all different flavours, and it’s important to keep that in mind when discussing these topics, just because a marketing technique doesn’t work on you, does not mean it doesn’t work on anyone. After all, they have those $100 packs for a reason, you might not be that reason but someone is. That’s predatory.

I feel like I’ve gotten off track, let’s get back on the rails. Where was...gambling...predatory…ah, kids. So my biggest issue, is that Magic the Gathering is marketed towards 13 year olds. Not directly, but the packs say 13+. AFKArena and any mobile game for that matter, can be downloaded by anyone with a phone for free, with minimal mention that there’s microtransactions. AAA title games like Destiny 2, Overwatch, Fortnite, etc. are probably the worst offenders. A kid spent $16,000 of his parents money on fortnite in-game purchases, and that’s not the only time this has happened [x] [x] . More often than not, what happens is, the kid wants to play a video game, like halo on xbox, or destiny, or something, they ask their mom for their credit card, and the system saves it. I mentioned before that kids do not have a concept of money or its value, so giving kids unlimited access to the credit card is going to result in this kind of thing happening. I’m not blaming the parents for not being hypervigilant, sometimes you are really busy, or disabled, or whatever the reason, and you don’t notice the system just saved your card. I’m not blaming the kids cause their brains are literally underdeveloped. I blame the corporations, because they make the process as easy as possible to prey on kids and people with gambling addictions. (as a personal anecdote, I found that if I want a magic card in MtG:O, I’m way less likely to try and buy it if I have to get up and get my card, I’d recommend not saving your card if you suffer from gambling/addiction problems)

So after all of this evidence, how can anyone still view these things as anything but predatory? The answer is simple. You’re told they aren’t. Businesses spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on really good marketing, and public relations. I tried to google why gambling is illegal for people under 21, and got nothing, I got a couple forums asking the question, and a couple religious sites saying it’ll make them degenerates. I try looking up sources to prove the psychology behind these concepts, but they are locked behind paywall after paywall after paywall. Businesses and capitalism has made it so incredibly hard to discover the truth and get information you need, and it’s on purpose. They want you to trust that that booster pack is a good idea. They want you to spend money on lootboxes (look at all the youtubers that shill out for raid shadow legends, or other gambling games to their super young fanbase [x]). They want you to lower your guard and go, “well, it’s a video game, how can it be predatory?” “it’s a card game with cute creatures on it, surely it’s not that bad”

But it is. So why did I make this post? I dunno, my brain really latched onto the topic, I see so many people enjoying gacha games, but I’m worried that it’s going to ruin lives...I just want everyone to be informed and critical of what is going on.

#gambling addiction tw #addiction tw #this is probably a bad idea to post knowing how this site operates #but it matters to me

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yeojaa · 4 years

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ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack, smut. explicit.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities.

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020. 12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show. How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice. It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter.

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,” you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola. It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. Things have just been—” Crazy? Out of this world? Some kind of wonderful? “—hectic.” He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek. It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind.

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants. “It’s fine , Jay.” The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help. “I know you’re a busy guy. Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks. You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances. A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying. Not at first, anyway. But when he does? He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter. So you were a little bit better than him. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self. He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.

“You’re mean,” he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it. “And yet you love it.”

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice. He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?” You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his. It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago. “I’m good, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.

“Yes, Mom .”

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!”

“Do you even know how old I am?” Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged. They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages? Where you grew up? Your real names? That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen? Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?” You’re chuckling at your own genius. He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve . Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him. It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

It’s a joke. Obviously , it’s a joke. He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry. It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too. “I have something to tell you.” There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity. Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push. “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.” A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted. You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent. He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening. “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…” How does he start? “I’m not just… some guy.” Okay, that sounds bad. He’s backtracking. “I mean, I’m a guy. I’m normal.” This is going so poorly. His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip. “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy. I’m actually like, uh...”

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly. He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart.

“Jinny?” It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation. Still, nothing. He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way. “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own. You’re trying to be serious, he thinks. “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.” A beat. He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission. “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault. It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!” He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.” He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice. Somehow, it feels different. Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity. “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?” Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him. “Of course not. You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this. He’s a million miles over the moon. You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” There’s no venom in your words. “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.” There’s that unabashed need to hear his name. He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.”

“Is your real name Jinny?” He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin. Jinny’s just my nickname.”

“Well, Jinny—” He says it dragged out and silly. “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first. He snorts. “I live in Seoul .”

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked. It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more. At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020. 10 PM.

Does he smell bad? Should he have showered first? Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail. They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?” Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.

“Are you nervous?” Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face. He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “Of course he is.” Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!” The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you get going?” It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet. He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on. The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room.

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love. He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.” You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it. It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet. There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun. His heart stutters in his chest. He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance. It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband.

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are. It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist. You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed. He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume. Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home. You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips. Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw. He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence. They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head. He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas. It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district.

“Your laugh is even better in person.” You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.

“Yeah?” Can you see the hearts in his eyes? He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils.

“Yeah. But don’t let that get to your head, mister.”

“Already has - sorry.”

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red; how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty. He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour. You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny. You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down. You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face. There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him. You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on.

“Open up!”

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough. He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting. He probably looks stupid as hell.

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound.

“Too hot?” You coo, feigning surprise. You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you. “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing. It burns on the way down. “You eat one now.” He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.

“I don’t like squid,” you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours. You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago. He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food. You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen. He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover. You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?” You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip. He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you. “Of course.”

“I won’t post it anywhere.”

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t. Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth. You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose. “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his. You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb. It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp. “No need,” he mumbles, not quite looking at you. He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces.

“We’ll see about that,” you return, equally as soft.

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again. It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills. He should’ve booked you something later in the day. Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea?

“Right.” He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides. He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now. The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move. It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart.

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.

“Did you have fun?” He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab. You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect. You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.” There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back. It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.” There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection. Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall. Mozart would be proud.

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud. The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening. He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard. “I know.”

“You do?” He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.” You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin. “Can I kiss you?” Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.

“Hm.” The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. It’s better than his wildest dreams. It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful. You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River.

“I’m sorry.” It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation. He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this. He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible. Needs it like he needs air - or more of you. Either or.

“Thanks.”

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers. He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down.

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor. You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours. He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.” A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020. 2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior. There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else. No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival. Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away. You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,” Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily. “You haven’t even been inside. Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back. It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.

“It’s a candle,” you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots. “What for? Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has. I know your birthday.”

Right. Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge.

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical. He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear.

“I had them before I met you.”

“Right.” It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him. This is how the two of you are. Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity.

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?”

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold. If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.

“Fine, fine. Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride. It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him. You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary. There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him. There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece; there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground.

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space. Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti. A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should. Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact. There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen: limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise).

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?” He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles. You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank.

“Maybe.”

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork? Really?”

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up.

“What’re you doing?” You join him even as you ask. He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer. He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?” Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure. It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love. You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm.

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?”

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube. He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?” Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows.

“No.” Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.

“Why not?”

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear. It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.” He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle. He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves.

“Better?” You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world.

“Much,” he hums, unashamed.

“Welcome home, Kook.” The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest. He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet. There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room. It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game.

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game. He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in. He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew.

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.” He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.

You don’t move. He wonders when the last time you slept was.

“Jinny,” he repeats himself, a little louder this time. There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions. “Do you want me to take you to bed?”

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations. It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of.

Get it together , he scolds himself. In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No! Not yet.” You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly. It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.

“You want to sleep out here?” He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.

“No!” A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face. You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely. There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch. He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair. “I have a gift for you.”

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken. He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes. He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?” You’re looking at him with the strangest expression. He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does. It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him. “I do.”

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart. It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.

When he kisses you this time, it’s different. It’s urgent but not rushed; he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations. His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours. You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw. Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose. He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.” You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most. He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap. “You’re my dream girl, you know that?” The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands.

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind. You really could read him like a book. He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,” you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.

“Show me how sorry.”

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south. He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you.

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan. “Seriously - dream girl.”

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church. They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh. His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?” He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile.

You’re impatient though - always have been. “Straight down the hall. Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight. Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen. He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,” he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.” You say it a lot. He wonders if you really know.

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea. It’s not enough, though. He wants to show you - needs to show you.

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious. “Are you sure you know?” The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes. “Maybe?” You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do. It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?” He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a switch has flipped. For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour. A force to be reckoned with . “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer. You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?” You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one.

“Yes,” you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted. There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed. You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,” he says simply. It’s gone before you can think twice. Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was. The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist. “Please don’t hide from me.”

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?” He means your tattoos, of course. They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream. There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink. Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green. Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows. He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion. You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.” He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out. “My mom’s a big gardener. She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?” The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?” That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way. You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,” he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,” you retort - or try to at least. You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with.

“ Nicer , baby.”

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close. He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily. It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening; it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say.

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat.

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong. He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds. He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth. He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.

“Can you do that for me?” He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting. “What?”

“I said—” It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain. He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries. “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion. It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.

“Kook.” You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life. Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.”

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him. Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought. You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—” He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“What do you need? Ask nicely.”

“M-more. I need m-more .” A hiccup. “Please.”

“Like this?” You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat. “Or like this?” The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times. “Maybe like this?”

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.” Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system. He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb. Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him. He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

“Give me another, okay?”

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit. The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers. There’s too much stimulation. You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook. Jungkook .” His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips. He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot. He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving.

“Come on, baby. Let go.” The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut. You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort. “That’s my girl.”

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you. He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest.

“You did so good.”

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.

“I want you.”

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest. “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.

“I know what you meant,” he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately. “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep. Patience is key, remember?”

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there. It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed. “Fine.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.” It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave. “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly. “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs. He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.” You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more. Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly. The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place. “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes. the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic). this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple. as always, let me know your thoughts. xo

tag list. @letmebeyour-sun @teawithbucky

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howggswouldreact · 4 years

Text

🌈 How would married life with Yoohyeon be like 🌈

being Yoohyeon's girlfriend for a long time was a great honor for you

but as time passed by, everyone asked:

"when are you going to get married?"

you always looked at Yoohyeon for the answer

the answer was always a blush on her cheeks, a nervous giggle

even when her parents asked the same question she didn't know how to answer

you thought she didn't want to get married now, maybe because being an idol already came with big responsibilities

maybe because marriage was not on the top of her list

but inside her mind, you were happy to be dating and that was all

but what she wanted most was to marry you

then one night, while you were walking hand in hand coming back from a meeting with your friends, you were quiet

again the matter about “when will you marry Yoohyeon?” affected you and immersed you in thoughts

obviously, Yoohyeon noticed it

she knows you better than you know yourself

"I've been thinking... every time people mention the word wedding, you keep quiet. do you feel like you're being pressured, babe?"

gathering all your strength, you finally confessed:

"there is nothing I want more than to marry you."

and then, taking you by surprise, Yoohyeon kneeled on the pavement floor

"Y/N, I didn't buy any ring yet but..."

"for Christ's sake, you're kneeling on the dirty floor! get up!"

"...but I want to marry you!", she held your hand, ignoring your words. "will you marry me?"

"yes, Yoohyeon, of course I will! can you get up now?"

with a smile from ear to ear, she stood up

both of your hearts were racing

she hugged you and kissed your lips softly.

"you know you didn't have to kneel, right?", you said

"of course I had to kneel! it's supposed to be something romantic!"

she knows romance better than anyone and that's why not only the wedding but the honeymoon were extremely romantic

she sang a song for you at the ceremony

a ballad song

looking directly at you with her puppy eyes

which made you cry like a baby

the honeymoon was in scandinavian countries

knowing all the historical places and taking pictures, filming videos and declaring love to each other, with words, kisses and much, much, muuuuch more

every day, you keep remembering and feeling more and more that you are Yoohyeon's wife...

now you have couple rings

and are married

bought a house

and live together

occasionally you learn new things about Yoohyeon and vice versa

you admire her clumsy way 24/7

whenever she drops something, you joke

"are you nervous in my presence, Yoo? it must be because you are in love with me!"

she always responds with a laugh and calling you silly

calls you silly at every possible opportunity that may appear

and even if there is no opportunity at all, just silence, she will call you silly

it's just a Yoohyeon thing

likes to mix languages while talking to you

and you join her in this game, of course

every time Yoohyeon learns a new language, it's something new for you too

and, you know, she is very romantic

likes to write little texts full of her love for you in different languages and you have to “google translate” it to know the meaning of all those new words

she loves to do it especially if she’s on tour with the girls

even with the distance, she knows exactly how to make your heart melt

calls you by different loving nicknames in different languages

and you end up having to research alone what these words mean because she is always mysterious about it

when she studies a language at home, you admire her while she’s sitting with a book, computer, paper, pencils and pens, all focused on that

you analyze her serious countenance, her eyes so immersed in the content that she doesn't even notice when you approach and kiss her under her ear, calling her to bed

(‘cause it’s past 11PM and she needs to get up early to practice for the next comeback)

the same thing happens when she starts studying new instruments or improves on those she already know how to play

"did you know that you look even more beautiful when you are learning something?", you say

she laughs and all that comes from her mouth is the small sentence:

"you silly”

as everyone knows, with marriage comes the responsibilities

especially if the person you are going to marry already has children

in this case, Yoohyeon has Pie

then you became one of Pie's parents!

which is great, to be honest

for you, there is nothing more cute than watching Yoohyeon taking care of Pie, interacting with her, petting her

and for Yoohyeon, there is nothing more cute than YOU doing the same thing with Pie

and Pie loves her parents

when Yoohyeon has to go on tour, events, whatever, you take lots of pictures with Pie while taking care of her

and when you're not at home, she does the same

and if Yoohyeon is recording a new MV with the girls, you and Pie show up

(most of the time Yoohyeon talks to the manager for permission to do so but your presence is always welcome)

although you guys use to go out, what Yoohyeon likes to do most is spend time at home with you

because she loves playing games with you

overwatch, pubg, lol, whatever it is, she will want to play it with you

sometimes you’ll buy her something related to computers like new headphones

because you know she loves games

(even if she’s not very good at most of them)

but the main reason of liking to stay at home with you is not only games

it’s warmth

a warmth that is different from the warmth a sweater gives you, for example

and that warmth makes her feel good

because it emanates from you

she doesn't know if love is taking a real shape or something like that

but she loves that warmth

and only feels it when it comes from you, when she is with you

loves the bond you created with her mother and loves to see you talking to each other

feels comfortable opening up to you about her personal problems

in you she finds all the support and strength she needs

long making out sessions

she loves to hold your face while kissing you, even if it's just a peck

and loves to kiss you in the face

loves to be touching you

she likes to feel you close to her

sex with your wife Yoohyeon:

she may have the eyes of a puppy most of the time, but when it comes to sex...

Yoohyeon gets misty eyes from pleasure

however, she makes love in a slow and romantic way

rarely does it in a hurried or purely carnal way

she likes to feel connected to you and likes to have plenty of time for that

a switch

like it when you fuck each other

for her, it’s very important that your bodies are well attached

likes to kiss you during the act

and if she is not kissing you it's because her mouth will be busy sucking you

she moans loudly, so you can't have small adventures outside the four walls of your bedroom

likes it when you choke her lightly

prefers to come on your fingers during a kiss

despite moving the lips away from yours to moan

after sex

she always gets a blush on her cheeks

feels veeeeery shy for moaning so loudly

and hides her face in your neck

likes to feel your hands caressing her back

slow and passionate kisses

#dreamcatcher reactions #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher scenario #dreamcatcher moodboards #dreamcatcher headcanons #yoohyeon reactions #yoohyeon headcanons #girlgroup scenarios #girlgroup reaction #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop imagine #kpop headcanons

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ozzdog12 · 4 years

Text

2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year.

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out.

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so.

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

#videogames #control #grindstone #tlou #doom eternal #gears tactics #ghost of tsushima #ps4 #ps5 #xbox one #switch #nintendo switch #playstation4 #GOTY #spiderman #astro playroom

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prettyboongi · 4 years

Text

Small Hours

Reader x Jeon Jungkook

Word Count: 1,438

Genre: Angst (w/ brief fluff)

Warning: Emotional cheating and some strong language

[A/N: I wanted to post a fic to hold you guys up until I’m finished with the requested ones. This story is actually inspired by a personal experience. While it definitely worked out at the end for my boyfriend and I, it was still one of the hardest things I had to go through. Also I might make a second part to this but we’ll see. Hope you guys enjoy!]

You weren't surprised when you got a text from your boyfriend Jungkook that he was on his way to your place. Even though it was close to 1 a.m., you were used to him showing up this late, especially after working the late shift from his part-time job. He also didn’t have to worry about you being asleep this late since you tend to stay awake into the late hours of the night. What did surprise you was opening the door to find a disheveled and tense version of your typically tidy and cheerful boyfriend.

You gesture for him to come inside and, after shutting the door, you gave him a comforting hug. "Is everything alright, babe? You look terrible"

Despite giving you a soft smile, Jungkook still couldn’t hide the anxiety bubbling inside of him. "I really needed to see you," he opens. "Can we talk?"

While escorting him to your bedroom, a variety of worse case scenarios plagued your mind. Is he in trouble? Did something happen at work? Is he dying?! You tried to mentally stuff down these intrusive thoughts but it was a losing battle for you. Once you two reached your room, you sat at the edge of your neatly made bed, watching Jungkook nervously pace in front of you.

A moment passed before you finally broke the stressful silence. "Can you please tell me what's wrong? You're scaring me," you said with a slight laugh, an attempt to pass off your fears as a joke.

Jungkook walks over to you and sits close to you on the bed. He looks at you deeply into your eyes. His own eyes were glassy and tired, a little bloodshot even. "Things have been pretty stressful lately," he solemnly confesses, "it's getting too much to bear."

You took his hand and lightly caressed his bony knuckles with your thumb. "Go on, honey," you said, encouraging him.

You let Jungkook vent about his troubles to you. About how he feels overworked from his job. About his sleeping troubles. And about the many responsibilities he had to take care of. The more he talked, you hear his voice becoming increasingly shaky. When he finally let himself break down, you pulled him to your chest and stroke his slightly fizzled locks. As always, you felt terrible that he had so many things weighing on his shoulders and wished that you could take a lot of his worries away. But during moments like these, all you could really do is hold him tight and tell him he’s going to be okay.

Once his sniffling dies down, he slowly sits up and looks at you. “Thanks for listening to me,” he says while wiping his tear stained face with his sweater sleeve.

“Of course, Kookiepants” you smile warmly at him, “It’s what I’m here for.” Cupping his face, you slightly lift yourself off your bed to give him a gentle kiss on his forehead. You figured everything was okay until watch his smile gradually fade away.

“I have to tell you something,” his expression changes into a serious one. Knowing how rare he displays such a look, your mind again goes to thinking of the worst scenarios possible.

“What?,” you asked cautiously.

Jungkook takes a moment before continuing. “You know the friend I made online? The one from Germany, Alice?”

“Yeah I know her,” you rolled your eyes derisively. Of course you knew her, she was his Overwatch buddy. When they first began playing together a year ago, Jungkook would go on and on about how kickass of a player she was and back then you didn’t think that much about it. It only started bothering when the two began regularly messaging each other on Instagram. It’s not that you didn’t like Alice; it just kinda annoyed you that some other chick was getting so close to your boyfriend. Jungkook knew how jealous you’d get and assured you that his relationship with the girl was strictly platonic. And of course you trusted Jungkook. In the many years of your relationship, he never gave you a reason otherwise.

“What about Alice?”

Although he hesitated momentarily, he doesn’t take his gaze away from you. “Well me and her have been talking a lot lately and… I think I’m growing strong feelings for her.”

You suddenly stopped stroking his hair and looked down at him. “What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

He started to tear up again. “What I mean is that, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

“...What?” You feel your body go cold from pure shock. It was as if the world had come to a complete stop and only you and him were in motion. “You’re in love with her?”

��But I still love you! Just somehow I feel the same way for the both of you. It just happened,” his voice breaks. He then holds his head in the hands and starts to cry again. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“And how does she feel about you?,” you asked despite knowing what the answer will be.

He snivels. “She told me she feels the same way.”

At that moment, you feel an intense mix of emotions. Sadness. Anger. Disbelief. Confusion. How could this happen?, you thought. How does a man have such strong feelings with a girl he’s never met in real life and only been talking for a year? The same feelings he has for the woman he’s been with for almost a decade? You actually had a history with Jungkook; you two have gone through so much and more. Compared to you, what did he have with this Alice girl? You tried to add things up in your head but nothing made sense. This situation doesn’t make any fucking sense.

A normal person would tap into their raw emotions and start bawling like crazy or even start screaming. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. Sure you were completely devastated but the shock hasn’t sunk down deep enough for you to cry just yet. You also weren’t much of a screamer.

Repeating your actions from before, you took Jungkook into your arms and gently rocked him to calm him down. He holds you back tightly, as if he was afraid of letting you slip away.

“I don’t wanna be in love with her, Y/N. I only wanna be with you,” he says between sniffles. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you, Jungkook,” you responded quickly. “I’m just mad at the circumstances. If what you’re saying is true, that you’re in love with this girl, I really wished it hadn’t got to this point between you two.” You stopped talking for a minute as you listened to him whimper into your chest. You then push him back a little, causing him to look up at you. “I am happy that you’re being honest with me. You could’ve hid it from me and do something behind my back. But you didn’t.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he says while wiping his tears away. “I love you. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He leans forward and lightly pecks on the lips before resting his forehead on yours.

You felt the tears you’ve been desperately holding in finally spill from your eyes. “I love you too.”

You and Jungkook sat on your bed holding on to each other for a little bit longer. During that time, you told him that he couldn’t talk to Alice anymore. He promised to end the friendship and to block on every social media account he followed her on. When he finally calmed down, you found yourself going into “doting girlfriend mode”. You suggested he should take a relaxing shower while you washed his laundry. And when he came out of the shower, you made sure he had a nice, hot meal waiting for him. The two of you talked and hung out for awhile before finally deciding to turn in. However, you waited until Jungkook was fast asleep before you quietly snuck out of bed, heading towards the bathroom.

After flicking the lights on and closing the door behind you, that was when you finally let yourself fall apart. You slid down against the door and silently sobbed to yourself. You still weren’t sure if these were sad or angry tears, could be a depressing mixture of both. As you wept alone on the bathroom floor, your head leaning on the cold wall next to you, the same questions repeatedly echoed inside your head, “Why? What did I do to deserve this? Why is this happening to me?”

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts reaction #bts reactions #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts x reader #reader x jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk #bts angst #bangtan seonyeondan

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emachinescat · 4 years

Text

Explosion + Hands + Jack

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 22 - burned

Summary: A bomb Mac is disposing of goes off prematurely – and Mac’s hands pay the price. Or, the time when Jack has to be Mac's hands.

Characters: Mac, Jack

Words: 2,945

TW: Relatively graphic description of burns

Note: This story is based loosely off a scene from classic MacGyver. Also, please take the vague MacGyverism with a grain of salt. I did some research (and also wrote this before Mac made the same thing a different way on the newest episode), but I also took some creative liberties.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

"These have to be the stupidest bad guys I've ever met," Jack griped. He sat in an old dining chair, ankles lashed together with rope and hands tied behind his back. MacGyver was his mirror image, tied similarly, in another chair, back to back with his partner. Their bound hands had been connected to each other, so every time Mac moved, working the ropes, Jack's arms jerked with him.

Even though he couldn't see Mac's face, he could clearly picture the raised eyebrow in his mind's eye as Mac responded dryly, "And you're… complaining about it?"

A cramp ran through Jack's upper back, and he instinctively rolled his shoulders. Mac squawked indignantly as Jack's movement impeded his progress. "Hey, watch it! You almost made me stab myself!"

"Sorry." Jack paused for a brief moment, trying not to think about why Mac was working so feverishly to cut through the thick ropes with his knife – seriously, they hadn't taken his knife before they'd tied them up! – without cutting himself or Jack. "You about got it, hoss?"

Mac's voice was strained with concentration when he responded. "Just … about," he grunted. "Keep talking."

Jack smirked. "Can't get enough of hearing ol' Jack's wisdom, huh?"

"It's more like white noise, but if it makes you feel better…"

"It does." Jack continued on his earlier line of conversation. "I'm just sayin', man, these lunatics didn't leave nobody here to keep an eye on us, and they left Angus MacGyver tied with regular ol' rope with his SAK in his pocket and a room stock fulla toys he can use to escape." When he spoke, Jack's Texas drawl was thicker than usual. He'd noticed that his accent got more pronounced when he was nervous or in a rough situation. He'd mentioned it to Mac once, and his partner had quickly informed him that it was more than likely a coping mechanism, Jack's way of unconsciously trying to keep himself calm. Jack disagreed. He was convinced that his cowboy twang got heavier in nerve wracking situations because he was actively channeling the spirit of Clint Eastwood and his mind and body were preparing him to do some insanely awesome hero stuff to fix the situation.

"Yeah, well… they also left a bomb in the room," Mac reasoned. Jack could feel the sawing motion as Mac carefully made his way through the rope. Any other time, Jack knew that he would have cut through it in half the time, but with all four of their collective hands gathered together in one bundle of scratchy rope, Mac had to move slowly, methodically, so he didn't cut either one of them. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem for him to take his time, but as Mac had so helpfully pointed out, there was the matter of a ticking bomb just out of arm's reach. And they had no idea how much time was left.

Jack tried to paint their situation in a better light. "It's just a little one. The explosion won't even be all that big."

"No," Mac agreed, "but with all the gasoline they scattered around us, I think it's a safe bet that the size of the explosion won't matter, since we'll burn with the warehouse."

A snap, a sigh of relief, and then Jack felt Mac move in the chair, and knew he was bending forward to untie his feet. As soon as he was free, Mac pelted forward so quickly that he pushed the chairs back a couple of inches, Jack and all. He didn't stop to untie Jack – no time – but he did leave the SAK in his palm. Jack immediately started sawing at his own ropes.

He was still working when he heard Mac swear loudly from somewhere behind him. A queasy dread settled in Jack's gut.

"Talk to me, Mac!"

"No time!" Mac spat, and Jack knew, heart stuttering, that his partner wasn't just saying that he had no time to talk – there was no time on the bomb.

"I can't disarm it!" Mac yelled, his voice growing farther away as he ran, presumably with the bomb in tow, away from Jack. "I'm going to try to contain it!"

Jack continued to cut at the ropes – almost there! He heard the sound of something metal being pried open, and he remembered that there was a large dumpster near the door of the warehouse, one of those industrial ones. Hope rose cautiously within him. Mac had done similar things before; there was no reason why it shouldn't work this time!

The one thing that he didn't factor in, however, was the bomb's timer running out before Mac could close the dumpster.

He heard the explosion, a terrible, anguished scream, and then, the worst sound of all – low, uncontrollable, rocking sobs of pain.

Jack cut himself three times in his haste to get free, but he made it to Mac's side in less than a minute. What he saw made his stomach curdle and his hands shake as he pulled Mac back, further from the smoking dumpster.

Mac had curled into himself on the floor, his hands gnarled before him in pain. Once they'd moved a safe distance from the mostly contained bomb, Jack took a closer look at them and nearly vomited – not from the blood or the burns themselves, but from the knowledge that these were Mac's hands that had been caught in the explosion, burned, blistered, and bloody almost beyond recognition. Jack knew he should be grateful that all of Mac's fingers were intact, but it was hard to feel thankful for anything when Mac's hands could serve as a suitable stand-in for ground beef.

Mac's head was low, chin flush against his chest, his shoulders trembling in pain. Jack remembered when Mac had sustained first and second degree burns pulling his dumb ass out of a crematorium. Jack too had been burned on the bottoms of his feet, and the healing process for both Mac and himself had been one of the most painful experiences either of them could recall in recent memory. There had been debriding, cleaning, bandages, antibiotics, and, in Mac's case, a few sessions of physical therapy.

This was so much worse.

"Mac, buddy," Jack entreated, trying to keep his voice steady for his partner's sake. His accent was slathered liberally on every syllable, his voice gentle and quiet, like he was approaching a startled horse. "I need you to look at me. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Mac didn't respond, just heaved in a great gulp of air, and the breath rattled in his lungs like the last throes of a dying man. The sound clenched its icy fist around Jack's heart. He reached out, placing his index and middle fingers carefully beneath Mac's chin and lifting his kid's head to look him in the eyes. What he saw there nearly killed him.

Jack had been Mac's overwatch for a long time, and he'd seen the kid in a lot of less than ideal situations – roughed up, sick, shot, you name it. But never had Jack seen the level of fear and pain blazing in Mac's eyes as he did now. Tear streaks ran down his face, which was sooty and a bit red, especially around his forehead, but the burns on his face were superficial. Definitely first-degree. He'd managed to shield his face and eyes from the blast.

But his hands… Mac had to have just let go of the bomb to drop it in the dumpster for his hands to look like that but still be basically intact. Jack moved his hand from Mac's chin and cupped his partner's face in his hand, gently brushing a tear away, trying to get Mac's attention on him, to calm him down. "Mac, talk to me." He had no idea how he was keeping himself from crying right alongside his friend. "I need to know you're with me."

Mac hiccuped, took a deep breath through his nose and made a visible effort to calm himself down. When he spoke, every bit of the agony Jack saw in his face translated to his voice. "I–I'm okay."

Jack chuckled, but there was no humor to it. "I don't believe that for a second. But you will be, ya hear me?"

Mac nodded shakily, a low, keening whine building at the base of his throat like a wounded hound dog. He choked out, "It h-hurts."

"I know, bud. Can I see your hands?"

Mac shook his head, pulling his hands closer to his body. "Not yet. We n-need to find a way out of here f-f-first." Mac's teeth had started chattering, which sent a whole new wave of fear tearing through Jack's body. If Mac was going into shock, they were really out of time. And as much as Jack wanted to get a better idea of the damage, figure out what they were working with, he knew Mac was right. In all the chaos and worry, he'd almost forgotten that they were still locked in the warehouse with a smoking dumpster slowly turning the air against them. From where they sat on the floor, the air wasn't bad yet, but they needed to kick it into third gear – it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Okay," Jack agreed. "How do we get out? As I recall, they've padlocked all the doors from the outside, and this whole place is made of steel. Can you figure out how to make something to bust those doors down?"

Mac's eyes, glazed with pain, darted around the warehouse, which had until very recently been one of the stashes of the cartel that had captured them. "Uhhh…" His voice broke, and Jack saw Mac's hands twitch in a painful spasm out of the corner of his eye. Fresh tears welled up, and Mac blew out a shaky breath. "Okay. Yeah. We should b-be able to make a blowtorch to c-cut us out of here."

Jack shot Mac a dubious look. "You're not makin' anything hoss, and I sure as hell don't know how to make a blowtorch. Think you got it in you to walk me through it?"

Mac didn't look so sure, and Jack's stomach flipped as he saw how much the trembling had increased. Still, MacGyver was never one to admit defeat, and he nodded. His voice was thick with pain, dry and raspy, but he managed to walk Jack through a collection of basic supplies, all of which were readily available in their current space – an empty syringe, a thumbtack, pliers, lighter fluid, and Jack's own lighter, which the bad guys had left on him. Seems the only things they'd actually taken were their prisoner's phones.

By the time Mac had coached Jack through the process of actually building the DIY blowtorch, an incredibly precise and delicate venture that Jack barely managed with his sausage-like fingers, smoke was beginning to gather in earnest, and Mac was shaking so badly that he sounded like he was working a jackhammer when he talked. But Jack had finished it, and to his shock and utter relief, it worked – he'd not doubted Mac, of course, but his own ability to bring Mac's idea to fruition – and Mac had offered a pained, crooked smile at him, and said, "S-s-see, we m-make a p-p-pretty good t-team." Then, whether from pain or shock or hyperventilation, he passed out, and Jack only spared enough time to check his vitals before he used his lighter-turned-blowtorch to cut his way through the steel wall of the warehouse.

It was a slow process, and Jack burned himself no less four times, but at last he'd carved their escape route. The men who'd left them here to burn had gone. Jack hoisted Mac onto his shoulder, taking extra care not to jostle his mangled hands, and set out in search of a phone – he knew there was a gas station a few miles away.

Mac just had to hold on until then.

***

24 Hours Later

Jack was there when Mac woke up from his first surgery.

Jack was always there when Mac woke up in medical.

Mac peered at him through groggy, drug-hazy eyes and gave his partner a weak smile. "Hey, Jack."

Jack fought the urge to pull the kid into the tightest bear hug he'd ever experienced. Only a glance down at Mac's heavily bandaged hands lying delicately on his chest kept him where he was, in the cushioned hospital chair that played at being comfortable but really wasn't after ten minutes. Jack had been sitting in it for nearly sixteen hours, give or take, not counting bathroom breaks and coffee runs. Others had stopped by at various times, too – Matty, Bozer, and Riley chief among them – but right now it was just Jack and Mac. The way it had always been.

The way it would always be.

"Hey, kiddo. How're ya feelin'?"

Mac thought about this for a long moment, his brow furrowed in concentration like he was trying to figure out some complicated equation. Finally, he answered, "Weird."

Jack threw his head back and laughed, though what Mac had said in no way warranted the kind of reaction he was getting. It was like all of the stress and fear and uncertainty and trauma of the last day were riding the shockwave of that almost manic laugh.

Mac's eyebrows creased further in concern. "What's so funny?"

Jack scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, not sure if his eyes were watering from laughing, or if he had started crying somewhere along the way. "Nothing, hoss. What feels weird?"

"Floaty?" Mac answered uncertainty. From where Jack was sitting, Mac looked all of seven years old, tucked into the hospital bed in the Phoenix recovery ward, hair messy, eyes tired and confused.

Jack patted Mac on the shoulder, and Mac stared at the hand like it was the most surprising thing he'd ever encountered. Damn, they had him on the good stuff. He told Mac as much.

Mac's eyes were already drifting shut, the pull of the drugs too strong. "You go to sleep," Jack said softly, unable to keep himself from brushing a stray lock of hair from Mac's reddened forehead. "We can talk more when you wake up."

Mac, for once, did as he was told.

***

Jack spent the night at Mac's side, of course, despite Matty's urging that he go home and get some sleep. He wouldn't have been able to sleep, anyway, even if he had been in his own bed. He couldn't stop thinking, stop remembering. When he looked at Mac now, he saw pristine white bandages and the kind of tentative peace that could only come from whatever drugs they had him on – probably morphine and a cocktail of antibiotics, if he had his guess.

The problem was, Jack knew what lay beneath the bandages. He had seen, once he had finally found a phone and called for help, the extent of damage that had been done to Mac's hands up close. And it terrified him.

Even now every time he closed his eyes, even to blink, he could see his kid's hands, covered in burns, some so deep that Jack swore he could see tendons. They were bloody and blistered and the angriest shade of red Jack had ever seen.

He also saw, whenever his body betrayed him and he started to doze off, the way that MacGyver had writhed and twitched and moaned even while unconscious as Jack tried to examine them. His mind dragged him back to the Phoenix chopper, where a medical team immediately gave Mac painkillers and started debriding the burns. Mac had woken up then, thrashing and screaming the most terrible, guttural, animal screams, and Jack had been forced to hold him down while the medics worked, and he'd cried alongside Mac, and after they'd landed and Mac had been rushed in, Jack had found the nearest trash can and puked his guts out.

Even now, one surgery down, it was far from over. The doctor's prognosis had been hopeful, but cautious. Mac should be able to gain control of his hands again, should be able to build things and destroy Jack's phones and return fist bumps and high fives, and open doors and climb and pick things up and shoot hoops and anything else he wanted to do… but it would take time.

Six surgeries, minimum, to repair damage to tendons, do skin grafts. Mac's hands would always bear some scars, even though Phoenix had flown in the best surgeons in the country to rebuild the hands that usually did the rebuilding. And the few sessions of physical therapy he'd been through the last time he'd burned his hands were child's play to the PT he had in store in the coming months.

Jack sure as hell hoped the world would hold it together until MacGyver healed. He knew that it might as well have ended if Mac hadn't made it out of that explosion alive. Jack's world would have, at any rate.

But, Jack reminded himself as he watched the steady rise and fall of Mac's chest, despite all of the pain and physical therapy and surgeries in his future, Mac was by far the strongest person he knew. He had no doubt that the cautionary "should" the doctor placed on Mac's recovery was more of a "will definitely," because Mac didn't let anything slow him down for long.

So Jack had to be strong, too.

"I'll do it for you, Mac," he said aloud. He carded his fingers gently through mussed blonde hair.

It was a promise he intended to keep.

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