#i might ?? call me crazy ?? attempt some of the one liners ?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stutterfly · 5 years

Text

Swipe Right 01 | Context Switch | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Fic Summary: Jungkook wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was and you don’t want to admit that he had you fooled. You quickly discover he has a lot more to offer than exchanging pleasantries and awkward small talk. In fact, he never seems to shut up.

For the better part of a year, he’s held your irritation hostage, never passing up an opportunity to deliver savage one-liners at your expense. When he discovers you’re on Tinder, he turns up the brattiness factor and intentionally seeks you out. Who knows? Maybe if you gave him a chance he could charm the pants right off of you. Then again, maybe he’s just a fuckboy.

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, like cannot stress enough Fuckboy Jungkook but gets soft later, dirty jokes, talk nerdy to me, PUNS, friendship feels, sexual tension, Jin being bad at copying Mario’s accent, Namjoon being bad at accents

CW: panic attacks, filthy language, this whole chapter is setup so like nothing too bad i dont think???

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (1/?- Ongoing) Do not repost. masterlist // next chapter

(A/N: This is part of my “Activate Your SIMcard” series. Each member of BTS has their own AU in which IT/TechSupport/NerdReader gets dating help/advice and ends up falling in love with them instead. As with a dating sim, the same characters are utilized--same professions, similar scenario placement-- but different interactions/pathways lead to different romances. ~Anyway here’s the Jungkook route.~ The Namjoon route, “Love Bytes” is currently in the works.)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Nerves wrack your stomach as you make your way down the hall, clinging to the man beside you. His strides seem gigantic next to yours and you find yourself struggling to keep up with him. “Stop walking so fast, Namjoon.”

The man laughs, but slows his pace just enough to allow you to walk side-by-side. “Sorry. I’m just excited for you to meet them.”

Digging your fingernails into the flesh of his elbow, you swallow hard. It’s been a couple months since the young English professor stumbled into your life holding the pieces of some very expensive, very shattered college property. State of the art technology, brand new, busted in less than a week of his arrival. He’d get the biggest chew-out of his life if he presented it to your boss, and you were too sympathetic to let that happen.

While you’d willingly paid for the whole thing out of pocket to cover for the newbie, it had definitely put a strain on your finances and what little social life you had. Within a week he’d worked up a repayment plan than spanned the course of a year. He even started buying you a coffee every Friday as an apology for how long it was going to take.

After a few months of bonding over kung-fu movies, life before Namjoon’s friendship seemed like a distant past, a hazy dream. It was natural that your new bestie wanted to grow your pitiful social circle. But there was a reason you didn’t let people get close to you. The fact that Namjoon had slipped past your defenses so fast made him an anomaly worth dissecting for scientific discovery.

Just the thought of having to now socialize with people you don’t know has your temperature boiling and your head spinning.

He attempts to tug his elbow away from you, and you stumble forward, keeping your death grip on him. “I know, but talking to people isn’t exactly my strong suit. Are you sure it’s best I meet all six at once?”

“You’ve already met Jimin,” he begins, clawing at your hand with long, veiny fingers until you release your hold on him, “but he’s not coming tonight, so don’t worry... you can relax a little.”

Your face twists into a sour grimace as you try to sputter out a response. “I-Pfft. I mean. Jimin’s a model. His face is on billboards and shit. Like… how is that supposed to not be intimidating?”

“Jimin is the world’s biggest sweetheart,” he laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets as you continue down the hallway. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. I have a feeling you two will get along fine once you stop being so shy.”

You huff and tick your jaw a few times before wringing your hands together. Maybe.

“Anyway. Taehyung is out of town on business, but you can meet him another time. He’s kind of quiet when meeting new people too. Hoseok and Yoongi texted they might be a little late. It’ll just be Jin and Jungkook you’re meeting now. And it’ll be just the four of us for a bit.”

A deep breath escapes you as you hook your elbow with his. “Okay. I just… I’m nervous.”

He stops at the door at the end of the hall and looks down at you. “Give them a chance. If you’re still feeling bad in an hour, then we’ll leave, and I’ll hang out with y’all separately from now on. Deal?”

You eye his extended palm peeking out from beneath the crook of your twined elbows before a smile creeps across your face. You shake his hand. He always knows what to say. “Deal.”

As Namjoon knocks, you leave the comfort of his side, realizing how your anxious clinging might be mistaken for a romantic gesture. You begin to shrink back, trying to hide in his shadow before the door opens. You’re about halfway there when a young, well-built man appears, prominent leg muscles bulging from beneath his basketball shorts as he props the door open with his foot. There’s a cup of instant noodles in his hands, and you’re pretty sure at least half of its contents are dangling from his mouth.

The scent of garlic and rosemary drifts into your nostrils, and you freeze as you cower behind Namjoon, realizing how long it’s been since you last had a decent home-cooked meal. You were promised free food so maybe it won't be so bad after all.

“Ah, Namjoon,” he greets and gestures with his head towards the domicile. “Come in--Oh!”

He chokes a chunk of noodles back into the paper cup as he notices your figure standing behind the tall man.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N,” Namjoon says, stepping to the side and pushing you out into the light of the apartment “I told you she was coming tonight, remember?”

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes widen and he pumps a fist into his chest a few times as he tries to get the remnants of spicy noodles dislodged from the back of his throat. Namjoon sent a bunch of texts this week making sure it was cool to bring someone to hangout night since he’d made a friend at work and wanted everyone to meet them. The way the texts were worded definitely didn’t give any indication that the friend he was bringing tonight was a woman. Maybe they did. Maybe he should have read more of them.

The muscular man before you holds the remaining food in his cheeks and waves bashfully with two fingers as he swallows. "Jungkook," he mumbles, as if the name itself is introduction enough and all but sprints from the room.

Seconds later, a new voice shrieks out from the other room. “What are you doing eating that?! Dinner will be ready soon! Jungkookie if you don’t put that down--!”

A dull smacking sound accompanies the clattering of silverware and plates. You swallow hard, trying to think about anything other than the way the young man had rushed out of the room at just the sight of you. Maybe you’re just that ugly.

“Hey! I’ll eat! I’ll eat! I promise!” Jungkook cries out. His voice drops an octave. “Namjoon is here.” Their conversation becomes indiscernible, but you can’t shake the feeling that you are definitely the subject of their quiet discussion.

You throw a worried glance in Namjoon's direction. "Did I do something wrong?" your voice is hushed as you work your sneakers off, trying to hold in the crazy amount of anxiety that threatens to unscrew the top of your head and send your brain exploding into the ceiling.

Namjoon shakes his head, unbothered by his friend’s odd behavior. "Honestly, I texted him a bunch this week to make sure it was cool and I got one-word replies so I'm wondering if he even read them." He bites his lip and spares a glance back at you, knowing he probably should have kept that to himself.

"Oh," your heart sinks into your stomach and threatens to fall out your butt as you straighten your spine. "If that's the case, should I... leave?"

"Leaf?!" A bright green piece of lettuce is thrust into your face. "How about a whole salad? You can't go before you try it! It's unbe-leaf-able."

You blink in rapid succession, trying to stifle a laugh at the cackle emanating from the man whose bony fingers are holding the lettuce. It sounds like a... windshield wiper? A giggle slips out, stronger than your will to keep it tucked behind your lips, and it only seems to make the grin on his face stretch impossibly wider. Heavy shoulders rise and fall with his laughter, causing the bright pink apron across his chest to wrinkle.

Namjoon groans. "This is--"

"Now do you smell that delicious flavor in the air? Because this just a taste of what you will find at my amazing restaurant 'Heart and Seoul'," he announces, cutting off the man beside you as he clutches the lettuce to his chest with eyes closed. "Where I give you a piece of my heart and soul... Some refer to me as Worldwide Handsome, others call me the God of Cookery. Some call me an angel and believe I fell from heaven." He bows with a flourish and takes your hand in his. "But you can call me..." He finally looks at you, a dark smoulder in his features that sets your cheeks on fire. "Later?"

He seals your fate with a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. Your jaw, which has been hanging open for some time, finally decides to snap itself shut.

"This is Seokjin, and he's going back into the kitchen to finish making dinner." Namjoon is already ushering his friend back towards the kitchen and chiding him as you purse your lips together to hide the smile spreading across your face. Did you just stumble into some alternate universe where all of the men you meet are ridiculously good-looking?

"It's nice to meet you, Seokjin," you call after them before letting your eyes wander around the room.

Paintings line the walls and photos sit on the bookshelf in the corner. As you approach the shelf to get a closer look, you realize those aren't books, but video games. There must be hundreds. Don't people use cloud storage for most of their games now? Your eyes curiously scan the photos on the top shelf. The man who had introduced himself as Jungkook is in all of them. There's another man in a couple that you don't recognize, but his gaze is piercing and cold when he's not smiling. You're able to pick Jimin and Namjoon out in a few, but it feels like looking at a family photo. Everyone seems so close; it makes you envious.

You lick your lips and can't help but admire the collection of video games underneath. You crouch to get a better look at the ones lining the bottom shelf. You're surprised to see there are games for all types of consoles: PS4, XboxOne, Switch, WiiU, Nintendo DS, SuperNintendo, PlaystationVita, PC... The list keeps going. Jealousy spikes your gut as you note a Mass Effect "SSV Normandy" ship figurine on the shelf above your head. You eye it with wonder and pride as your memories flood with the hours you spent playing the trilogy. Your fingers reach out to brush against the raised letters on the side of the ship.

"Have you played Mass Effect?" a quiet voice asks from behind you.

You jump in place and spin on the balls of your feet in a fluid motion that nearly sends you careening into the basketball shorts in front of you. Surprised by how close Jungkook is standing, you gasp and stumble back into the bookshelf, causing it to wobble and bring some of the frames filled with photos tumbling down onto your head. You wait for the impact but it never comes.

As you look up, Jungkook has several frames balanced on his arms and between his fingers, carefully maneuvering them away from you and back onto the shelf. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Namjoon told me you liked video games too and I saw you looking at the Normandy and I thought maybe you've played it. Ah, I'm sorry."

It's hard to miss the crestfallen way he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the floor once he places all the photos back on the shelf. You're still in shock that he caught everything before it smacked you in the head, but you force yourself to respond anyway. "No, it's okay. I'm just a jumpy person. It's my fault. I'm just glad I didn't break anything. I'm... asari? Get it? 'Cause like, I'm sorry... but also hot blue alien chicks, am I right?"

He smiles wide and laughs softly as he offers to help you up. As you take hold of his hand, you're quickly thrust to your feet with an ease you weren’t quite expecting. You steady yourself by reaching out to grip his arm, a movement you reverse the moment you feel the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt.

"Thanks," you mumble. Feeling his hand tense around yours, you take it back and twiddle your fingers. "So what decisions did you make? Renegade or Paragon? Rachni Queen? Samara's mission? Quarian and Geth dispute? Genophage?" You pause only to take a breath. "If you let Wrex die, we can't be friends."

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a relaxed smile. “Of course not. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

You allow a relieved sigh to pass your lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful after all.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You must have made a good impression that night. It’s been nearly a month and Namjoon’s friends have started pulling you into their group texts and Saturday night plans. This had been fine by you since you rarely had anything going on. Honestly it was kind of nice to be included.

While you still don’t exactly know everyone, you feel fairly comfortable talking with your new friends. Seokjin is absolutely hilarious. He’s so full of himself that his cockiness rides the line between charming and annoying; it’s hard to decide which aspect overwhelms his personality more. But you know that you find him irrefutably, irritatingly attractive because of it.

Jungkook is still polite and rather gentlemanly towards you. Your conversation about Mass Effect was enough to tide over any residual awkwardness regarding your initial meeting. He’s just a muscular, nerdy introvert who seems genuinely nice. However, Namjoon insists that Jungkook is still hiding a louder, brattier side when you’re around. He’s got this theory that since you’re a friend of a friend, Jungkook is holding back his usual antics for some reason. The harmless little crush you’ve developed on him has you secretly holding out hope that it’s because he wants to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’ve considered asking Jin what he thinks, but that man has no tact and honestly you’re afraid he’d just ask Jungkook with you standing right there.

Hoseok is a ball of smiling energy, one who has been begging you to visit his dance studio. It’s hard to say no, but you’ve managed for this long because of the very real possibility that you won’t be able to do anything but stare at the dazzling way he moves. He seems to take pride in his ability to make others feel good and absolutely beams when he’s the cause of his friends’ happiness. You can easily see yourself talking to him without Namjoon around to act as a buffer, which is amazing for someone with your level of social anxiety.

Yoongi is quiet, but when he speaks his words are sharp with purpose. Some people might mistake that for coldness, but you can tell he has good intentions and a soft heart underneath. His pointed remarks in the group interrogations have poked fun at you, but never in a condescending or cruel manner. And it’s certainly not in the way you see him absolutely roast the others. Maybe he’s taking it easy on you.

Jimin is still so beautiful to look at it devastates you, leaving a flustered, stuttering mess behind every time he leaves. Now that he’s become aware of the effect he has on you, he’s been testing the waters of your friendship with some teasing that borderlines flirtation. But you have a feeling he’s just screwing with you because he finds it funny to see you squirm. You’re hoping to build the confidence to dish it back some day.

Taehyung has been a little standoff-ish, but Namjoon had already warned you about that. You wonder if it’s because he’s a hundred times richer than you’ll ever be. Despite seeming like he’s in a different social class, he still seems deeply fond of his friends, and relatively down-to-earth. He’s a bit quirky, but he’s an artist, so you expect that kind of thing.

Namjoon says that he’s known almost all of them since college, so he’s been able to absorb most of the discomfort associated with meeting new people. He’s sweet, and more relatable than you originally would have thought for an English professor. He’s kind of like a pillar that you never knew your life had been missing. And now that he’s got your back, you can’t go back.

The smell of coffee pervades the air as you skim an article on your phone regarding the latest Halloween skins for Overwatch. You’re supposed to be meeting Namjoon here but Seokjin, and Jimin showed up and have been chatting about their plans for the weekend. Apparently they throw a Halloween party every year and it’s Jimin’s turn to host. Seokjin is supposedly in charge of planning the decorations due to his love for theatrics and has been discussing the possibility of a haunted house walkthrough. You smile at the thought of Seokjin popping out of the shadows to drop fake spiderwebs on people. It sounds like the kind of thing he’d get off to.

Namjoon flops down on the couch next to you. “You’re coming, right?”

You’re broken from your thoughts as you scroll further down the page. “E-Excuse me?”

“The Halloween party. You coming?”

You look up from your phone, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I mean… I don’t want to intrude on your group thing.”

“You’re not intruding!” Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon’s voices all stack upon each other and you’re taken aback by the sound.

Jin frantically scrambles to make you feel included. “Y/N, we just assumed you were coming. Of course you’re invited! You can help me get everything set up for the scary walkthrough. Please come.”

“Don’t give her work to do that you should have already figured out,” Jimin hisses before sending a warm smile your way. “I’ll text you the address later. It’s a costume party so make sure to dress up!”

Your bottom lip unconsciously protrudes in a pout as you pass a discouraging look Namjoon’s way. “What are you going as?”

He gives you a heartfelt, dimpled smile. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says with the worst british accent you’ve ever heard in your life. “World’s greatest detective.” He drops his accent and starts gushing. “The tweed suit is fairly iconic and most people will recognize the costume so I think it’s a safe option. Originally, I was going to go as Judge Di but Jimin kept telling me no one would get it. It would take some research to really get a feel for how he’d dress, but I’d be willing to put in the work.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Judge Dee? Like…. Judge... Ju...dy?” you trail off in confusion, immediately regretting your decision to ask.

Jimin throws his hands up as if this is the proof he’s needed to convince his friend that he’s wrong. “You see? I told you no one knows who that is.”

“Judge---! Really?!” Namjoon looks like he’s about to go off, but he shakes his head and sighs. “You know what? It’s okay. I look really good in a tweed suit. That’s all that matters.” He finished his statement by gesturing towards his chest.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re such a dork.” You turn your attention to the others and raise your eyebrows at them. “What about you two?”

Jimin drags his teeth over his lip and shyly smiles. “I’m going as Iron Man. Tae’s been helping me build my costume for a while now.”

“Jungkookie and I are going as Luigi and Mario,” Jin proudly states he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while tenting his fingers. “I’m Mario, of course, since everyone knows he’s the best.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds like you, Seokjin.”

“What will you come as?” he questions with a smirk, cocking a mischievous eyebrow at you.

“Well...” you hesitate, knowing that most costume shops will be sold out of anything interesting or slutty; at this point your options are limited unless you want to be a Crayola shit brown crayon. “I’m not sure yet,” you mumble, scratching your cheek sheepishly. “I only found out just now so I don’t have anything ready. I usually go over Jennie’s place, hand out candy in my pajamas and watch scary movies, so I don’t know if I should bail on her like that.”

Solid excuse. Great job, brain. Really. Can I sound like more of a loser?

“She can come too,” Jimin offers with a thoughtful tilt of his head and a warm smile. “It’s a very open party. Lots of people will be coming and going, so it’s no trouble if you want to invite more of your other friends, if that makes you comfortable.”

Other friends. Like you have more than this group and Jennie. You’re going to just pretend like you didn’t hear that part. You can already hear her shrieking at you to say you’ll be there. She loves dressing up and would be more than happy to exchange a night of handing out candy for a night of partying. You suppose you can always get some vampire teeth and dab some fake blood on your mouth, but it feels like a cop-out. It’s a solid back-up plan at the very least.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you murmur with a fleeting look of panic directed at Namjoon.

He offers a sympathetic smile and pats your shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t come. I’m just saying there will be free food.”

Your spine straightens and you perk up.

“Free food?” The words on you’re about to utter spill from a different source. A chin drops into the space between Namjoon’s shoulder and yours. Jungkook’s hair is still wet, but thankfully it’s not long enough to brush against your skin. The soft, sweet, almost floral scent of his body wash wafts into your nose as you turn your head to look at him. You surmise he’s come directly from work if he’s showering in the late afternoon. You internally swat the butterflies playing with your ribcage, trying to remember how to act normal.

Jungkook smiles sweetly, his eyes nearly closing with how high his cheekbones have risen. “Where is this food?”

“At the Halloween party,” Namjoon comments with a dismissing wave of his hand. “I was just telling Y/N that she’ll miss out if she doesn’t come.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and drops his smile as his surprised stare pierces your periphery. “Oh, you’re not coming?”

“I was thinking about it.” You immediately feel the need to defend yourself. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“So don’t wear--” Jungkook catches himself before the word anything comes out. “A costume,” he finishes simply, straightening his spine and clearing his throat. “I mean we can make an exception. No one’s gonna kick you out.”

A devilish grin spreads across Seokjin’s features. “I’m sure I can help you find a pink dress and crown if you’d like to be our lovely Princess Peach. We can give each other items.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at his friend and Jin stares back with anticipation, waiting for him to make the mushroom joke he clearly set him up for. Jungkook purses his lips and quietly regards you. As the moment passes, Jin’s brow furrows and he crosses his arms in a huff, wishing that he’d said it instead. It’s been too long since you’ve blushed for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll show up in a leotard, spiked collar, and fishnets as Bowsette instead.” You nearly snort at your own joke.

Jungkook and Jin spill their surprise over one another.

“Whaa? Really?” Jin’s mouth hangs open, the image already permanently searing its way into his brain.

“You what?” Jungkook clamps his hands over the edge of the couch, hulking figure looming over you.

While Jimin and Namjoon are both oblivious what a Bowsette is, the words “spiked collar and fishnets” have certainly grabbed their attention as well.

You blink a few times, realizing how serious everyone has become as you sputter out a nervous laugh. “Kidding, guys. Kidding.”

Jin tuts in disappointment, slinking back into his chair. Jimin simply smiles. Namjoon breathes a relieved sigh. Jungkook starts walking away, distracted by the signage on the counter promoting a cinnamon chocolate chip milkshake.

“Besides, I’m more of a…” A lightbulb flicks on in your head and the thought comes spilling out your mouth before you can process it. “Oh, I have a cosplay from the gaming convention I went to a year ago. Maybe I can wear that.”

All three men lean forward, suddenly very interested in the concept of you using a cosplay as a Halloween costume. Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction just as he extends his hand to give his money to the cashier, but he drops it prematurely, sending coins scattering across the counter.

The sound causes all of you to look over at him and he quickly turns back to the cashier. She raises her eyebrows at him as he scrambles to recover all of the money for her. His ears turn bright red from the attention and you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes, cringing at the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the thought of swapping places.

Spinning back to face the others, you find Jin and Jimin on the edge of their seats, staring at you. Namjoon blinks at you and tilts his head expectantly. “You were saying?” he prods. “Something about an anime costume?”

Suddenly you’re embarrassed for yourself rather than Jungkook. “Don’t be weird, Joonie. It’s just a Princess Zelda cosplay.” You scratch your cheek in contemplation, murmuring, “Actually, I don’t even know if it still fits since I’ve gained some weight since then.”

Namjoon pats your shoulder assuringly. “Ah you’re fine. Don’t worry too much about it, ok?”

“He’s right. Just bring your smile, cutie,” Jimin says encouragingly.

You blush at the nickname and grin in response. He said it innocently enough, but you get the feeling that you reacted exactly as he had hoped because he exchanges a smug smirk with Seokjin. “See? Bring that.”

“Ah, you guys are embarrassing me,” you mumble, diving back into the article on your phone. “I’ll talk to Jennie about it later.”

Jungkook listens carefully as he tongues his cheek and waits for his drink to arrive at the counter. Are you really going to show up in that? He pulls out his phone and starts skimming amazon. There’s no way he can pass up the opportunity, regardless of what’s at stake.

A familiar veiny hand sets the drink down on the counter, and he outstretches his palm. “Service was good, yeah?”

Jungkook looks up from the checkout page and locks eyes with Yoongi. He scoops a large portion of whipped cream from beneath the lid and pops it in his mouth thoughtfully, smacking his lips as he washes it down with a sip through his straw. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, but remains silent.

“Hmm, I’ve had better. Maybe if I had some more whipped cream?” Jungkook suggests as he tilts his cup forward and gives it the tiniest shake, shit-eating grin strewn across his features.

Unblinking, Yoongi squirts a puff of cream into the top of the container before loudly setting the can on the counter. Satisfied, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and fishes out some money for a generous tip. “See this is why you’re my favorite barista. You always make it just how I like it.”

Yoongi forces a smile as he stuffs the cash into the half-filled tip jar. “The Java Stop values your patronage, customer.”

He catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s phone screen before the younger man snatches it from the counter and walks away. What the hell is he up to?

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You curse your past self for choosing Zelda’s outfit from Twilight Princess rather than Breath of the Wild; style over comfort rarely is a good choice, but it’s a choice you often repeat without forethought. It’s tighter than you remember, and not just because there’s a corset sewn into the chestpiece. As you sit in the passenger’s seat of Jennie’s Civic, you fidget with the hem of your dress. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reaches over and slaps your hand.

“Stop it. You look great.”

You rub the back of your wrist and pout, knowing it does nothing to change her mind. You eye her tattered dress, wishing you could pull off something so slutty with the same confidence she does. White contacts make her look even more ethereal than she normally does. Natural waves and curls poke out from beneath the bent witch’s hat atop her head and you can’t help but admire her beauty.

“I look like a nerd,” you say, feeling shittier the longer you compare yourself to her. It’s not her fault. You’re just insecure and wish that you could be more like her rather than the you that you are.

“You are a nerd,” she laughs. “What’s wrong with that?”

You smile. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know why I’m so worried about it. It’s not like I’m gonna be getting laid any time soon. This costume solidifies it.” Negativity is something you’re used to dosing yourself with, but you know it’s an action you need to work at correcting.

“Hey if no one wants to fuck you in a Zelda costume, do they even deserve to fuck you?” Jennie asks, wagging her pointer at the ceiling as if scolding some invisible source above. “I don’t fucking think so.” She tuts for a second. “So speaking of… Which ones are off limits?”

You scoff and stiffen in your seat, trying to play dumb. “What? What’s off limits?”

“Y/N,” she starts in an accusatory tone. “I’m sure there will be lots of hot people there, but I’m talking about seven hot people in particular. Now if they came up to me and said ‘hey Jennie you so fine you wanna suck all seven of our dicks?’ I’d be like hell yeah I’ma suck all seven dicks. Get in a circle and let me at ‘em.”

You smack your hand to your forehead, wishing you could purge that image from your brain.

“Now I’m just saying in this hypothetical situation that I would never turn down going down on any of them if they asked. Unless I remembered that one time you told me you were crushing, maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t suck that particular dick.”

“We’re about to go see these people. I don’t want to be thinking about this while sipping my drinks across from Seokjin. That man can smell fear, shame, and insecurity,” you mumble, looking out the window at the trees lining the side of the road.

“So that’s why we get it out now before we get there. Can’t possibly slip out if you’ve already got it out of your system,” she explains with a confident smirk.

You cross your arms and give yourself a moment to truly think about the seven men. You certainly find all of them attractive, but crossing that line might make things weird. But maybe, hypothetically… “I don’t know… They’re all pretty hot in their own way…”

“You’ve got to be attracted to one more than the others,” she prods. “Come on, Y/N. Which one does it for you?”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you sigh. “I guess…” You subconsciously lick your lips and give it a few seconds before the memory of falling picture frames surfaces in your mind. An embarrassed smile flickers across your face as you give your quiet, honest answer. “J-Jeon… Jungkook.”

“The young one!” Her mouth falls open. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel excitedly and spares a delightful, yet surprised look at you for a fraction of a second before her eyes return to the road. “Really? I never would have guessed. But I haven’t talked to him much honestly. Doesn’t he work at that nerdy-looking gym you almost joined? What was it, Iron Kingdom? You could always sign up for personal training. Ya know, get some one-on-one time with those muscles...”

“He’ll think I’m dumb for not knowing how to do anything,” you mumble. “Besides that’s not why.”

You shake your head and pause to start counting the list on your fingers. “Okay so he’s got muscles, a cute laugh, he likes video games, he literally always smells so fucking good, he has a great smile, he’s nice, and like he’s so mature for his age. I’m so surprised.”

“I mean from the few times I’ve seen him, I thought for sure he’d be a tool and a major shithead,” she admits.

“I know, but seriously don’t judge a book by its cover. He’s been so chill and respectful and has made me feel so welcome over the last few weeks. None of that fuckboy shit you’d expect to get with younger guys like, he doesn’t talk over me, no mansplaining, he looks me in the eyes and not at my tits, and listens when I say something, even if it’s just me talking about my day.” You pause, registering the words you just said. “Wow, the bar is really low, isn’t it?”

“Sad, but true.” She nods, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard. It’s says you’re nearly there, but it’s kind of further out from the city than you’d both been expecting.

She laughs, mulling over everything you’ve said. “He seems kinda shy. You probably need to make the first move. Maybe you should tell him you have a big fat crush on him. Tell him you wanna hold his hand. Do you think he’d blush? I bet he would. I bet he has a cute flustered face. You should totally do it.”

Recalling the way his ears turned red at the cafe causes you to purse your lips, but the action can’t hide the smile curling at the corners of your mouth. So you have a little crush on Jungkook. Who wouldn’t? He’s practically flawless and totally swoon-worthy. Your heart races as you imagine his reaction to your outfit. Would he be taken aback by how good you look as one of the hottest, most iconic female characters in gaming history? He’s a huge geek so you know there’s a possibility that he could appreciate it. Sweaty fingers work their way down your wig, carefully smoothing out any loose strands. You hope he does.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Walking into Jimin’s place feels like entering a mansion. He told you that he lives with two other people from the same modeling agency, but you didn’t realize how big the place would be. Seokjin’s ability to gather this many decorations and display them with such attention to ambiance is certainly a feat worthy of praise. You find yourself lost in the orange and yellow lights that border each doorway and drape along the walls. Their soft glow is comforting as you walk down the dim hallway, exploring the house just enough to find the table filled with fruits and snacks.

Jungkook is nowhere to be seen and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you sip punch out of a red plastic cup, filling a plate with an excessive amount of strawberries, peaches, and other sweet fruits. Contrary to your previous belief that admission would mean freedom from the thoughts swirling in your brain, uttering the words out loud has made you paranoid that everyone now knows about your secret crush. You’re hoping that drinking will remove the worry from your brain, so you do your best to down the liquid fast and refill your cup.

Jennie immediately hit it off with one of Jimin’s roommates moments after walking in. You’re envious because holy fuck that guy is tall and jacked, and he’s wearing a Captain America outfit. Jennie is about to make out with Captain America and you’re gulping down spiked punch from a little plastic cup. You appreciate being able to silently agree to split, but know that you have each other’s back if either of you were to suddenly express interest in leaving, even if Captain America is balls deep.

She’s an extrovert. She loves socializing. Tossing a strawberry into your mouth, you eye the table of snacks again. You don’t. You love food. Food or sex would be a tough toss-up for you depending on the menu, and in this situation food definitely wins. There’s a buffet table of appetizers looping around the room and into the kitchen. It doesn’t get much better than this, especially knowing it was catered by Seokjin’s restaurant.

You remove a glove and tuck it beneath your armpit as you stuff your face full of sweet treats and survey the amount of people on the dance-floor. There are a good amount of people here --some with ludicrous costumes-- and it makes you feel better about being able to blend in.

You had arrived fashionably late only because Jennie may have passed the house a few times, thinking this place couldn't possibly be it. A hand skates around the periphery of your vision and you frown as it attempts to surreptitiously claim a peach slice from your plate. Following the hand to its owner, you find a smile quickly claiming your mouth in place of the previous sour grimace.

"There's plenty of peaches left over there," you say, pointing to the table of snacks beside you.

"Mmm," Namjoon hums as he pockets the fruit in his cheek. "But this pile is better. I can deduce that you've already picked out the best pieces, Zelda."

You look him over from head to toe, examining the details of his tweed suit. You hate to admit he's looking dapper as fuck in this outfit. Despite often wearing three-piece suits to work, you rarely have time to stop and really appreciate just how flattering they are on his frame. Your eyes settle on the dark brown silk carefully knotted around his neck. "Don't you get sick of wearing ties?"

His eyes widen and he blinks at you as if you'd just told him that he sat in some gum. "Do you think I should have gone with the bow-tie? I spent hours weighing the pros and cons to both and which would be more quintessential to the whole ensemble. Did I make the wrong choice?"

You open your mouth to respond, meaning to allay his concerns and tell him that he looks fine, but he interrupts rather quickly. "You know what, don't say anything. I brought the bow-tie as a backup. It's upstairs in the guest bedroom. I'll go put it on."

You grab his arm just as he's about to leave, noting the plate full of chicken wings precariously balanced on one hand. "Namjoon. Chill. Your tie looks fine. I was only asking because I would strangle myself if I wore one all the time. Now gimme some of that chicken."

His eyes dart from you to the plate in his hand and his anxiety seems to visibly melt away, replaced with a soft smile. "I'm overthinking again, huh?"

The words have never come easier than they do now. "No shit, Sherlock."

At that he offers a laugh. "How about a trade? I share the wings for access to the princess's treasury of peaches."

"Deal," you agree with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows up and down. "Wanna people-watch with me?"

He nods enthusiastically as he tosses a handful of fresh fruit directly from your plate into his mouth. "I was gonna wander aimlessly and socialize but this sounds way better."

"Glad we're on the same page," you murmur into the chicken wing at your lips, sucking the sauce off of it and scanning the room for any particular eye-catching costumes.

The flash of red, flowing satin catches your eye. Is someone wearing a bathrobe? Seriously? The taste of hot buffalo sauce causes your lips to tingle as you note the soft, fuzzy edges of the robe. It looks comfy, actually.

You elbow Namjoon in the ribs, directing his attention to the slender, black-haired figure gliding across the room. Namjoon opens his mouth as if to identify the stranger, but the flourish of the robe beats him to it. As the material spins, you catch a glimpse of tan skin peeking out from the chest, long legs exposed as he reaches for the sash at his waist.

The silk billows as it comes undone, cascading to the floor like a river of crimson. There's no mistaking it. You're now staring at the nearly nude, half-painted body of Kim Taehyung. You can't help the way you jaw drops open at the sight of so much skin being flaunted seemingly without a care in the world. Namjoon's hand flies up to cover your eyes, as if he's going to spare you the sight you've already taken in. Now that you've seen Taehyung in a thong, there's no going back.

Sauce-covered fingers pry his away from your eyes just in time to meet the piercing gaze of the man across the room. Is it mirth or anger that graces his features? It's hard to tell with a paintbrush trapped in the box his teeth make. He takes lazy strides across the room as you struggle to keep your eyes off the unforgiving fabric outlining every last curve of his dick. It's not until he's closer that you notice the thin belts crossing his hips, which appear to be holding six tubes of paint, three strapped to each side like gun-holsters. You have to admit they frame his crotch rather nicely.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to keep your eyes trained on his face. He carefully takes the paintbrush out from between his teeth and extends it to you. "Draw something pretty on me, Y/N. You too, Joon. Tonight I'm a human canvas on display for the universe."

Your eyebrow quirks as you exchange a look with Namjoon and set your plate down. "You know people are just going to draw a bunch of dicks on you, right?"

He scoffs, waving off your concerns. "Don't be so negative. I will have a beautiful mural by the end of the night. Mark my words."

"I think you're putting too much trust in the goodness of human nature," Namjoon comments, his lips pressing together in an attempt to hide the amused grin that is quickly spreading across his features.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side and leans forward with a lopsided grin. You're afraid he's about to get even closer and whisper some dirty secret into your ear. Instead he asks in a breathy, low tone, "Princess Zelda wouldn't draw such dirty things on me, would she?"

Twirling the thick handle of the paintbrush between your fingers, your eyes dip to the paints secured at his waist. His eyes chase the trail yours make down his side and his delight splits his mouth into a goofy grin. "Oh. Help yourself." He gestures to the colors available with a sweep of his hands just above his hips. "Feel free to use your fingers instead.” He pauses when your mouth falls open slightly. “You know, to paint... Just be careful what you grab, Princess," he jokes.

Removing your other glove with your teeth, you drape them over your shoulder and reach out for the tube of yellow paint, trying to hide the way your hand trembles. He looks down and smiles as the cold paint touches his skin. Before long you have the faint shape of 3 triangles at the center of his chest.

“How fitting,” he murmurs, offering an amused hum as you fill in the last triangle with a glob of yellow that threatens to run down his torso.

“Oops, sorry,” you apologize, moving to tap the brush against the excess, but he grabs your wrist before the bristles can make contact with his skin again.

“That’s alright. Let it do what it does. I like it like this,” he says, watching the clump of paint slowly slide down his midriff. “Besides I’m sure someone else can use it.”

“Like Sherlock!” you suggest, holding the paintbrush out for your companion.

Namjoon takes it begrudgingly and uses the excess yellow to draw a small smiley face beside the triforce symbol.

“Cute,” Taehyung laughs as he takes the paintbrush back from Namjoon. “I love it. Thanks guys.”

Just as he turns to find his next artist, a long object bars his path, pressing against his chest just above the collarbone. You follow the shape of the bar to its owner, revealing a grinning Hoseok clad in an officer’s uniform.

“That’s a bold choice Taehyungie,” he says, securing the faux nightstick into a loop at his waist. “Just make sure you keep that thing on…” He gestures to the small bit of material at Taehyung’s crotch and holds up a pair of handcuffs with his index finger before continuing, “or I’ll have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

“Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know,” Namjoon says, even as he’s reaching out to touch the shiny metal. “Wait. Where did you get these? Are they real?”

You squint at the device in Namjoon’s hands, looking for the safety release latch like the cheap pair you bought to use with your ex. You don’t see it. That can only mean that these are the kind where losing the keys would have real consequences. But you’re not about to out yourself as the kinky freak you are, so you bring your nearly forgotten drink to your lips and guzzle what’s left in the cup.

As the empty plastic hits the table, your eyes happen to trail across the room and land on a crowd of people gathering around a very impressive, fully-lit Iron Man costume. Jimin seems to be soaking the attention up as the crowd grows ever larger. The massive room has begun to diminish in size, and it’s as though the once comforting lights are now wilting and closing in on you, threatening to strangle the air from your lungs. The adrenalin spiking your veins is telling you it’s time to seek the comfort of open space and solitude. Fast.

You duck beneath Namjoon and Hoseok’s arms, carefully sidestepping around Taehyung to avoid brushing against the wet paint on his skin. “I’m gonna get some air. Try not to get cuffed, Sherlock,” you manage to joke with a smile before turning on your heels and booking it from the room.

If anyone responds to your joke or even acknowledges your exit at all, it’s lost on your ears. Sweat beads on the back of your neck as you hastily attempt to make your way down the hall. If you can just get outside, you can breathe. You’ll be fine. You know it.

Warm bodies clutter the path to your freedom and you can’t help but feel more and more breathless by the never-ending apologies spewing from your mouth as you squeeze past each blockade. You don’t feel like yourself, even as you speak. Taking in sharp, greedy breaths like this isn’t helping. Why is this place so devoid of oxygen? Your body moves on autopilot, seeing the faces of the people you pass, but not feeling their eyes on you.

You float out of the front door, your head as light as a feather, but your eyelids feel like they’ve been anchored. You’re positive you’re about to gracefully glide down the front steps, legs becoming amorphous blobs beneath you that will surely allow you to fly. Just as you’re leaning into the momentum of gravity, two pairs of hands steady your shoulders and criss-cross around your midriff.

“Deep breaths,” Jennie’s voice briefly cuts through the ringing in your ears.

“Do you need to sit down?” The other voice spills into your eardrum as a rushed whisper, one that’s dripping with concern.

Huh? You work on steadying your breathing instead of trying to answer.

“What did she drink?” the familiar voice asks Jennie, the brief flicker of panic quashed by the evenness of his tone. “How much has she had?”

“Relax, Yoongi. Not even our lightweight champion gets drunk that fast,” Jennie reassures him as they help you seat yourself on the top step. “Are you familiar with panic attacks?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and nods silently, backing up to give you some space.

“Jennie. I’m fine now. Thank you,” you mumble, shaking your head and regaining your sense of self. “I’m glad you have my back.”

“Of course. I saw you in the hall and I just knew.”

You jump when you meet the gaze of her white, eerie contacts, which causes both her and Yoongi to laugh. You look up at Yoongi. He shoves his hands into his pockets, long flowing shirt obscuring any flesh poking out from beneath it.

“Hey, you’re not dressed up,” you blurt, realizing he’s sporting a very goth, natural Yoongi look.

He scoffs before bending at the waist and baring his teeth. A single vampire fang is affixed to one of his canines.

You tilt your head like a dog hearing a strange noise. “What, only one fang?”

“Just as dangerous, princess,” he warns with a smirk, standing up straight.

You swear you see a wink, but then again maybe you’re imagining it. You have been known to exaggerate things in your head. Still your stomach somersaults and you focus your attention on Jennie. “I’m okay. I think I’m gonna chill out here for a bit. Get back in there and dance with… god what was his name? Jackson? Jae-beom?”

“Jin-young,” she corrects before biting her lip and glancing back towards the house.

“Go. Hottie McYoungie won’t wait forever,” you tease and point your thumb over at the man hovering above you. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine with toothless over here.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the nickname but nods at Jennie. The answer seems to be satisfactory and she gifts you with a tight hug. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Now go get laid.” You whisper to her before playfully pushing her back. Before you know it she’s scrambling up the steps and slips back inside, tattered dress swinging wildly with the sway of her hips, revealing just enough of her fishnet-clad thighs to draw Yoongi’s attention. There’s a fraction of a second where he wets his lips as he watches her go, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. You don’t have time to tease because his dark eyes fall to you.

“Is there anything I can do?” His face is stoic but you can hear the sincerity in his tone.

“Wanna take a walk with me? I’d like to keep away from the big crowd.”

“I know the perfect place,” he says, hopping down from the steps and offering you his hand.

You take it with a smile and rise to your feet, carefully moving down the steps as you dust off your butt. The night air is a bit chilly and you start to work your gloves back up your arms to fight the goosebumps forming there.

That’s when you hear it. You want to misread the sound for a flute, recorder, oboe, or even someone’s radio, but you know those are all incorrect assumptions. It’s an ocarina: an ocarina playing a crude rendition of the opening to ‘Gas Pedal.’

Turning slowly, nothing can prepare you for the sight before you. Jungkook stands on the top step of the porch dressed in a green cap and tunic, tan leggings, and the ugliest dark brown boots you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the ocarina nestled between his lips, slowly descending each step with a roll of his hips that accentuates the definition of muscles behind the thin material hugging the shape of his legs.

Your eyes are wide, mouth falling open in surprise. “Jungkook?”

As he jumps down the last step he stops the tune and cups the ocarina in his hands, bowing slightly. “Princess.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, biting back the intimidated voice in your head that’s telling you you’re being picked on.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks in a low tone, a crooked smile crossing his features as he takes a few tempered steps towards you.

You swallow. How are you supposed to answer that? You take a deep breath, trying to drive off the urge to run as he advances on you. Yoongi takes a few steps back and folds an arm over his torso, cupping his elbow as he brings a knuckle to rest against his mouth with intrigue. He couldn’t hold out for one more day? Should I step in? He brings his weight to the front of his foot, ready to diffuse the situation.

“It looks like you’re trying to fuck with me.” You stand your ground, clasping your gloved fingers and calmly resting them against your dress in true Zelda fashion.

Yoongi’s weight shifts back, retracting the step he had taken. A direct accusation isn’t exactly something he would have expected from you, but he finds himself pleased nonetheless. He certainly chose a difficult target this time.

Jungkook gets close enough that you can see the tick of his jaw and the part of his lips as he drags his eyes across your form, settling on the cleavage created by your corset. “Some of those words were right.” He pauses, leaning to whisper against the shell of your ear. “Can you guess which ones, Princess?”

Heat consumes your face as his posture straightens. He doesn’t budge past the space he’s already claimed as his, but he doesn’t move forward again to invade yours. He watches, basking in the full on show your face puts on for his own entertainment. First comes the confusion, next realization, and then shame.

It’s hard to tell if he’s coming onto you or picking on you. You swallow, throat growing drier by the second. “You knew I was coming as Zelda. Weren’t you coming as something else?”

He throws his head back enough to feign exasperation while keeping his eyes trained on you. “Come on. You don’t like my costume?”

Instead of giving you time to answer, he brings the ocarina back to his lips and blows an obnoxious amount of air through the hollow space inside, producing a piercing rendition of ‘Talk Dirty to Me.’

Your shoulders raise as you inhale, suppressing the irritation bubbling within your belly. You wince, turning your head as a particularly shrill note escapes the instrument. Yoongi’s expression sours as he plugs both ears with his fingers.

Jungkook immediately stops playing and offers a sheepish grin. “Oops. I learned that one for you. Maybe I need more practice. Do you want to help me?” He briefly pauses to wet his lips, presenting the ocarina to you. “I can show you how to blow.”

You grind your teeth as your jaw ticks back and forth a few times before answering, “No thanks.”

Yoongi silently tents his fingers over his forehead and tries to massage the secondhand embarrassment from his skull. This is a trainwreck waiting to explode and at this point there’s no looking away.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you as he stuffs the ocarina into a small brown pouch hanging from the flimsy belt at his waist. “Ah. Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to insult you. You’ve probably already mastered the art. Hah. Maybe you could show me a thing or two?”

Unable to form a proper response, your lips purse as the wheels in your head spin. Say something clever. Think of a comeback. Something. Come on. But here you stand, mind blanking for even the simplest of clapbacks. You’re having trouble coming to terms with the fact that your innocent little crush on the once “sweet” Kookie has come crumbling down with his facade, leaving your chest aching with the humiliation of your naivety.

He looks you over, admiring the artistry in the gown you’ve lovingly crafted. For a moment he’s lost in the embroidery stitched into the sash swaying in the breeze of a chilly October night. “I love your…” he trails off, eyes darting across your shape to capture every last detail of your attire.

He pays special mind to the gems adorned at your hips, and the heavy-looking chain belt which links the sash to your dress. He marvels over the color and velvet texture chosen for the purple corset at your torso. The sheer attention to detail and craftsmanship in your costume stuns him into silence for half a second.

His eyes reach the perky mounds of flesh peeking over the top of the corset. Miraculously his voice resurfaces. “...costume.”

The way his dark eyes linger on your chest isn’t lost on you. Your cheeks burn in the cool air, despite the goosebumps littering your arms. You cross your arms over your chest, higher than you normally would to combat his lurid gaze. The green hat atop his head folds over itself as he cocks to one side. Dark, hungry eyes snap to yours, voicelessly pouting at your blockade. For a split second a guilty excitement pulses through you, but you’ll be damned if you’re the cause of an obviously already inflated ego.

“You never said what you think of mine,” he prods. His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he slowly runs his hands along his torso, as if feeling himself up is going to sway your opinion.

You tell yourself not to fall for it, that he’s playing you for a fool right now. Still, your jaw is tight as your eyes helplessly follow the flow of his fingers down his body. His pinky purposefully catches on the flimsy pleather strap acting as the belt at his waist. An impish grin spreads across his face as he notes the way your chest stutters out the breath you’d unknowingly held. Satisfied, his hands continue their languid journey down his body. Your eyes are glued to the way he traces the contours of his thighs.

Finally his fingers dig into the meat of his those muscles and you feel the need to look away before answering. “I hate it.”

He sighs. “Hate is a strong word. Are you sure that’s how you really feel? Why don’t you look at me when you say that?”

Strengthening your resolve, you force your eyes back to his smug face. Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover how you’re feeling at this point. Biting back tears, you swallow hard and do your best to remain composed. Here he stands, a crooked smile amplifying the air of arrogance surrounding him. He’s playing you. He’s been playing you this whole time hasn’t he?

“I don’t even know who you really are, do I?” your voice cracks, only adding to your humiliation.

“I’m the bad guy. Duh.” With that he cackles as he pulls the ocarina from his pouch, proceeding to play the melody from ‘Bad Guy.’

You spin on your heels and storm past Yoongi, the blood rushing through your ears in a distraught rage, drowning out the bitter sound of the notes. A pang of guilt strikes the half-assed vampire as he stares at his friend. “One more day. You couldn’t make one more day?”

Jungkook shrugs, making his way back up the stairs. “If you see Hobi, tell him I’ll have his money tomorrow.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Dragging your hands across your face, you keep your gaze cast towards the ground.

How fucking idiotic, how self-absorbed have you been to assume that he’s been nice because he likes you and not because he was playing some game with you? He's probably just been waiting for an opportunity like this and you fell right into his trap. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder and you spin, ready to deck the person you assume to be Jungkook. Yoongi's eyebrows raise as you stand poised to punch. He ducks to the side just in time. As you realize your mistake, it's too late. The momentum brings you forward.

His arms come up around you in a soft embrace, one that you're quick to return. "It's just me," he mumbles, kneading his thumb against your back. "...Sorry."

You bury your face into his shoulder, allowing the tiara to slip from your head and hit the soft ground with a dull thud. Why is he apologizing? He didn't do anything wrong. You want to tell him that, but any sound you make might bring about a slew of tears you've been holding back. Instead you just squeeze your arms around him even tighter.

He awkwardly pats your back a few times, not quite knowing what to do with the hug that's lasting longer than anticipated. Sensing his discomfort, you pull away and adjust your wig as you offer an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

A figure approaches, bending down to pick up the forgotten adornment. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub the dirt off the tiara. Jin carefully places it on your head. "A princess should have a crown."

You look him over, noting the giant overalls, red newsboy cap and hideous fake mustache. You can't help but laugh as he forces a hard blink and puckers his lips, alternating lifting sides of his mouth so the mustache comically tweaks itself in a seesaw motion. "I like your costume," you manage between giggles.

He grins back, donning an over-the-top Italian accent. "I a-like-a yours too! A beautiful costume for a beautiful a-woman."

"Please stop," Yoongi groans.

Jin ignores him, fiddling with the corner of his mustache. "I don't-a know where my brother went. I think he's a-scared of the haunted mansion."

You roll your eyes at the joke. That's right. Jungkook was supposed to be Luigi. "He's busy playing a dick for the night."

A look of realization washes over him and he nods, puffing out air through overly inflated cheeks. "Hmm. You know what might-a make you feel better? Helping me scare-a the pants off of people!"

He folds his elbow and holds it out for you, tempting you to lace yours around it. Channeling your bruised ego and hurt feelings into scaring people for fun? That might just work. You feed your elbow through the crook in his. "Zelda and Mario working together."

Jin laughs. "The dream-a team!" He makes a motion to skip towards the outer entrance to the basement that he's dressed up with spiderwebs and a large, hand-made sign that says "MARIO'S GHOST HOUSE." Beside the entrance is a giant blown-up decoration of King Boo, its pink tongue flapping in the breeze.

As you're tugged in the direction of his creation, he stops abruptly. "Oh, we haven't had that many people though. So we have to make the few that come through count!"

Yoongi's eyes light up. "Hey. I’ve got an idea. I’ll get you a the best customer. But you have to really scare him. I promise it will make your night."

Puzzled, you furrow your brows and tilt your head. “Okay…?”

Jin grins like a maniac as Yoongi makes his way towards the front of the house. “Come on. I’ll show you the best spots to hide.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About twenty minutes have passed since Yoongi left in search of his promised customer. Only a few people have wandered in. You have to admit it’s therapeutic to watch people scream and jump when you bang on the false walls within the maze Jin has somehow constructed in this basement. Watching people run up the final stairs to safety leaves you with a feeling of satisfaction, always giving Jin a prideful high-five before returning to the beginning to await more guests.

“Ah! My-a new-a guests!” you hear Jin enthusiastically greet the latest people to stop at the entrance. “Are you a-ready to have fun?”

There’s some hushed whispering that you can’t quite make out from your hiding place within the set.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Yoongi chides loudly. “Seokjin made this. Do you really think it’s that scary?”

“P-Pussy?” Hoseok stares wide-eyed at his friend and scoffs. “Don’t be rude. I just know Seokjin. It will be worse than whatever I think”

Is that Hobi? You were kind of hoping Yoongi would get Jungkook to walk through. Knowing what you do now though, you have no doubt that Jungkook would be unphased by something like this. All you can hear in your head is the echo of his obnoxious laughter and a pang of hurt slices through your heart. God, you’re so stupid.

Yoongi points to the Boo’s tongue flapping in the wind. “It will be like that, probably. It’s silly to be so afraid.”

Hoseok bounces from foot to foot in uncertainty. Even a police uniform can’t steel his spine or guarantee safety. “Why should I do this to myself?”

Yoongi sighs. “I’ll help you look at new places and… help you move. I’ll even be your roommate if the rent is too high.”

Hoseok is beaming. How long has he been asking for help searching? Jin looks from one man to the other, hiding the subtle smile beneath his mustache. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t go in so easily, that something had to be offered up, but he really didn’t expect Yoongi to go so far.

Hoseok points at Jin. “You’re my witness. I go through this and he’s my roommate.”

“If the rent is too high only,” Yoongi tries to reason, but it’s too late. Hoseok has heard what he wants to hear. He grabs his friend and marches into the depths of the basement.

Immediately you bang the walls on their journey down, feeling Jin rush past you to set up for the next scare. Hobi screams. “Never mind! Never mind!”

Yoongi scoffs, dragging his friend forward. “Come on, officer.”

You listen for their footsteps as you circle the walls behind the maze. Hobi’s frantic yelling breaks through the room, slipping into loud curses. You pull your glove up and wait, peeking through the hole you’re hoping he’ll get close enough to. Even shrouded in shadows, Yoongi’s form peeks out from around the corner.

“Don’t think about the dark,” Yoongi says, slowly shuffling towards the wall with Hoseok crouched behind him, using him as a shield from any more scares. “Think about how you bet Jungkook he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get in Y/N’s pants, not even for one month.”

You freeze. Yoongi knows you can hear him, right? He has to know.

“Think about how well he was doing. You would have been cleaning his house tomorrow. Maid Hobi, bound by servitude.”

“I know…” Hoseok groans. “It would have been awful. He’s so messy! I wouldn’t even be getting paid! What was I thinking?”

“But instead, he bet you a month’s rent that he could,” Yoongi continues loudly. “He blew it tonight for the chance to dress up as Link and tease Zelda. He only had one more day.”

“He’s a dumbass,” Hobi comments with a nod, turning to look at the ceiling and making sure nothing is going to drop down on him.

You swallow, taking in the revelation Yoongi has just bestowed upon you. All this time you had spent thinking Jungkook was a sweet gentleman was actually due to Hoseok making a bet with him? You would rather have known Jungkook was a dick straight up because now the innocent, harmless crush you have on him feels so dirty and foul that you wish you could swipe it from existence.

It’s Jungkook’s fault. He lied. He pretended. You know this. But still you can’t help but partially blame Hobi for the bitter taste in your mouth. As Yoongi passes, you reach out, letting your fingers swipe down Hobi’s forearm and retract through the hole in the wall as he lets out a high-pitched scream.

“Hoseok, get off.” Yoongi tries to push away the man climbing onto his back.

“Something grabbed me! Something grabbed me!” Hoseok wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist and huddles close to his neck pointing. “Over there! It grabbed me from over there!”

“Let’s keep moving, then.”

“No! No more! I’m standing right here until the sun comes up.”

“How is it standing if your feet aren’t touching the ground? I won’t carry you all night,” Yoongi says, adjusting his stance to compensate for the weight on his back.

“You will, too,” he pouts.

Jin helps you position a furry spider decoration above them, slowly dangling it lower until it finally hits Hoseok’s shoulder. The wail that escapes this grown ass man almost makes you feel bad. Almost. He swats the creature into darkness as he spurs Yoongi on by digging his heels into his belly. “Get me out of here! Please!”

Jin’s shoulders move up and down with the sound of his laughter as he slaps your hand in victory. Scaring Hobi made you feel a little better at least.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The party has died down quite a bit and at this point Jimin has been passing you far too many drinks as he and Namjoon regale you with tales from college. Namjoon is clearly feeling toasty, laughing like a dork at every memory Jimin brings up. Apparently they were roommates and Jimin has a liberal arts degree from four years of being undecided.

Your head lolls around to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, your backs pressed against the bottom of the couch as Jimin sits cross-legged in sweats and a t-shirt on the floor before you, his costume laying discarded beside him. He’s spinning his latest story of how Namjoon had accidentally thrown up on some girl he really liked. Yoongi silently lays on the couch behind you, smirking with his eyes closed. You can’t tell if he’s sleeping or just relaxing as you struggle to stand, using Namjoon’s shoulder as leverage to prop yourself up.

“Bathroom?” you ask distractedly, searching the room like a door will appear if you look hard enough.

Jimin smiles pointing at the doorway across the room. “Go out that door, take a left down the hall. It’ll be on your right.”

Your head dips a bit as you try to take in the directions. Namjoon looks up at you as you stumble forward, clearly off-balance. “Do you need some help, geeksquad?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, hating the nickname he’s given you from work. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink my drink.” You narrow your eyes at Jimin and he blinks at you in surprise, like you’ve accused him of such a heinous, unthinkable crime.

Rounding the corner, you pass a grinning Taehyung being led upstairs by a cute girl in a red beret, black and white striped shirt, and miniskirt with suspenders. Art hoe? Mime? It’s hard to tell what her costume might be. While his skin is covered in a beautiful mess of colors, your tri-force symbol still stands untouched at the center of his chest. You smile as you watch him climb the steps, clearly distracted. But as his back is revealed, your eyes widen at the sight of a mural of painted dicks. Well. At least he can’t see them.

You walk down the hall for what feels like an eternity, passing a few closed doors on either side. Maybe you should try one? Knocking on the one closest to you once, the door swings in and you lose your balance, not expecting it to open.

“What took you so long? I almost came without you.” The voice is pouty and low, somewhat familiar. He gasps when he realizes you’re not the person he’s been waiting for.

You stumble forward, falling to your knees and catching the bed frame before your face smacks into the wood. As graceful as you can manage, you pull yourself up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realize it was open and I was just looking for the---” The will to speak leaves you as soon as you see him.

A very sweaty, very naked Jungkook crosses his arms and he leans back expectantly, smushing the pillows behind him into the headboard. Your eyes take in the pleased expression on his face, quickly scanning the muscles of his folded arms, his chiseled abs, his bulging legs. The pointy green hat he had been wearing earlier tents across his sculpted hips and pelvis, thankfully obscuring any shape hidden beneath it.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he says, licking his lips as he watches your form tremble, practically falling apart in front of him before adding, “...Princess.”

A devilish grin overtakes him at the sight of you spinning around a little too fast, staggering towards the door and holding onto the frame for dear life. “I hoped I wouldn’t see you again tonight.”

“I can’t say it isn’t a nice surprise. You don’t have to leave,” he coaxes. “Do you wanna see my Master Sword?”

“Grow up!” You make sure to slam the door shut behind you. You hate him so fucking much it hurts.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Jennie, how could I be so wrong about him?” you sigh, dropping your forehead against the kitchen table. It’s been three weeks since you’ve talked to him, but it’s still the only thing you can think about.

Jennie takes a sip from her beer. “Sweetie, you’re not good at reading liars. Maybe you should look at some dating apps. You could get good read quick.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you whine into the coated wood. “Why can’t people just be nice?”

“Because. People suck. Come on, Y/N. Jungkook ain’t worth the headache. Drink with me. I’ll show you how Tinder works. It’s not so bad.”

When you don’t say anything, she tugs your chair across the floor, dragging your form close to hers and setting her phone down on the table. You peek out at the screen as you raise your head and rest it on a lazy elbow.

“Swipe right on the hotties. Swipe left on the fuckboys and losers. Jungkook? He’s a swipe left. But look at all these good ones on here. These are all swipe righties.”

You nod as she goes through a few profiles and begin downloading the app on your phone. Maybe she’s onto something.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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romiithebirdie · 3 years

Text

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 2

Present day.

Inko Midoriya entered her apartment, softly closing the front door behind her after dropping her shopping bags in the hallway. A harsh breeze slapped her bare arms and she shivered, quickly removing her shoes and padding into the living room to close the window that she hadn't realised she'd left open.

Cheerful music rang out in the direction of the kitchen and she immediately followed the sound up towards one of her kitchen worktops. Within seconds, Inko slid her arm across the space and picked up the mobile device with a questioning frown.

UNKNOWN CALLER

Timidly, she pressed the Answer button and slowly put it to her ear;

"Midoriya Residence, may I ask who's calling?"

Her response came from an intangible grunt followed by loud rustling, like the caller was fumbling through plastic liners. She sighed, "Hello?"

"Y-yeah," the audio was fuzzy, almost like they had a bad signal connection from wherever they were calling from. "I'm looking for an Inko Midoriya."

"Speaking."

"I see."

Inko huffed, switching her phone into her other free hand; "So? Is there something you needed or-"

"You were his wife, right?"

And her instinct to slam the phone down at that moment faltered and she immediately was hit with old painful memories.

"E-Excuse me?" her voice was hushed, like she'd been winded by those words alone.

"Your husband. Hisashi Midoriya."

"Who is this?"

"Just somebody who wanted to talk."

"My husband hasn't lived here," since he disappeared, "for a while. I'm sorry if you were trying to reach him, I can't help you."

With that brief explanation, she immediately ended the call and dropped it on the table top. With a stifled gasp, she clamped a hand over her mouth and leaned over one of the kitchen chairs as if she were in pain.

Emotional pain.

She really needed Izuku right now…

UNKNOWN CALLER buzzed across her phone screen for the second time and a shiver ran from the back of her neck all the way down to her spine. Was someone trying to pull a sick prank or something? She had no clue.

Reluctantly, she pressed Answer once again and whispered an anxious, "Hello?"

"You know you cry way too much, right? Same old Inko."

Crying?

She gingerly touched her cheek and immediately felt the wetness. Then it dawned on her what this person had just said and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Who is this?" she repeated, firmer this time while brushing the back of her arm against her face. Somebody had been watching her, the problem was she had no idea where. "Listen," her voice was jittery yet she ignored it, "I don't know how you got my number or where you've seen me but if you don't stop right now, I will be calling the authorities."

"Call them," the voice cackled gruffly on the other side of the line, "besides, who said anything about having seen you? You shouldn't leave your window open when you leave the house."

The window.

It had been open when she'd returned home from her errand.

She lowered the phone from her ear, heart racing against her chest while her ears picked up every tiny sound coming from the floorboards, thumps against the walls from the neighbours and a slow ticking sound coming from the kitchen clock.

The front door was only along the hallway. Almost taunting her with the reflective rays of the sunshine outside.

Tick, tick, tick.

It felt like she was stuck in slow-motion, her legs trembling violently under the assumption there might be an intruder hiding somewhere in her home right now…

"You've gone quiet."

Was that this person's plan? To lure her outside?

"I-I…" Inko choked on her own words.

"Don't you like talking to me?"

No. I really don't.

"I like talking to you."

Inko closed her eyes and bit her lip before shaking her head.

"After all, we're practically family."

.-.-.-.-.

"You serious, Deku?" came the sneer of a young boy with spiky ash-blond hair. Behind him stood two other boys around the same age as they towered over a smaller boy with messy green locks. "You really think a weakling like you can do a fucking thing against the three of us?"

"He was crying, Kacchan!" the green-haired boy pleaded, wiping furiously at his tear-stained cheeks. "You can't keep acting like a bully; it's wrong!"

"The hell did you just say to me?!"

It was the wrong choice of words.

Something Izuku had quickly learned when dealing with Katsuki Bakugou, a boy that used to be his friend. However, when Izuku confided to the other child about the secret that greatly upset his parents, he was met with complete scorn and eventually became the class outcast.

Defenseless Izuku, the freak that saw dead people and nobody wanted to be friends with.

However, Katsuki's bullying tendencies halted after one of his friends, Tsubasa, vanished without a trace. The fiery boy grew more withdrawn and unsure, keeping Izuku at a great distance rather than choosing to torment him.

Katsuki Bakugou eventually moved away from Musutafu to live with his grandparents after a gruesome event that deeply traumatised him;

Early one morning, the remains of Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou were found along the coastal side of Dagobah Beach. The media kept a lot of the details brief due to the case's sheer horrifying nature.

Masaru Bakugou was found with his throat slit and hands cut off while Mitsuki Bakugou was covered in various stab wounds with her tongue removed. The forensics and autopsies had ruled out that they had been dead for quite some time due to the fact that their corpses were spread with heavy decay.

Izuku only remembered fragments of the dreadful news; his father being more reserved while his mother broke down over discovering their demise. From what he remembered, his mother and Auntie Mitsuki had met in Junior High and had remained friends in their adult life.

Despite Katsuki's ill-treatment of him, Izuku still found himself feeling concerned for the louder boy. Sadly, Izuku never got a chance to try and rekindle his friendship with the youngest Bakugou due to him immediately being sent away.

It was something that Izuku still found himself longing for many years later in his teenage years…

"Hi, everybody. My name is Izuku Midoriya and I'm visiting today to talk about things that have affected me since I was very young."

And I'd rather be anywhere else than here right now…

Izuku forced himself to smile, despite the overwhelming feeling of nerves tugging away at his chest that made him feel more like a wooden puppet than an actual person at this point. It was pretty on point, he'd been rehearsing his greeting for a while now anyway...

"Thank you, Midoriya, please take your seat," one of the group therapy leaders smiled, sitting forward while hunched over her thick clipboard in an extremely awkward manner. Izuku bared his teeth in another forced grin before sitting back down on his plastic chair, trying to ignore the burn of embarrassment scorching his freckled cheeks.

While various names chorused amongst each other, Izuku chose to tune out. His emerald green eyes focused completely on a particular spot on the floor tiles as voices blended into one incoherent fuzzy noise. Almost sounding like television static.

Therapy had been his mother's idea. Izuku hadn't been thrilled at the proposition but he knew how much it would mean to her if he tried it out. That was several months ago.

They had attempted medication and counselling in the past too, thus why Izuku was understandably growing more and more tired with it. It was the same old story to him.

While he had grown up seeing things that would be… odd to most, the idea for counselling had nothing to do with the invisible people that clung to him in desperation. They still talked to him, though Izuku often found himself tuning out more nowadays.

Maybe he was just crazy?

That would explain why his mother was always sad and his father cut them off years ago.

Perhaps it was the stress of dealing with a problem child?

Izuku shook his head, chiding himself internally for even daring to consider such a ludicrous possibility;

Both of his parents loved him.

His mother was still grieving her husband's disappearance, it had nothing to do with Izuku's quirky little ability to see dead people…

"Get a grip, Izuku," he muttered to himself.

"Uh, is everything alright over there, young man?" one of the counsellors blinked, everybody's attention solely on the greenette as he flushed in humiliation.

Add talking to yourself to that pile of issues too, Izuku thought miserably to himself while the group therapy session came to end. The second that the adults dismissed the teens, Izuku snatched up his bag and bolted for the exit door like his life depended on it. Luckily, it was a short ride on the bullet train back to the city of Musutafu's Tattooin Station and then a ten minute walk back to his apartment complex.

As he made his way along his neighbourhood street, he noticed a large number of people crowding around the apartment blocks, some people were filming while police were running around and taping the area off to the civilians.

What in the…

While he craned his neck to try and see what was happening, his shoulder bumped against another member of the public and they made a short, restrained grunt as they were pushed to the side.

"S-Sorry, are you-" Izuku froze, emerald orbs meeting an intense crimson that sparked an old feeling of anxiousness and bad nostalgia.

"It's fine," the guy muttered, lowering his head before turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction of the scene.

That was odd, Izuku frowned, watching the guy disappear amongst the sea of people flocking around the teen while using their phones to record.

Paramedics dressed in green appeared from the stairwell of the apartment complex and rushed across the lawn, pushing a stretcher on wheels. Izuku carefully pushed his way towards the front of the crowd and immediately froze in complete horror.

On the stretcher was his mother.

Thick gauze and towels were drenched in red that could only have been blood and she had an oxygen mask over her face. Izuku's vision suddenly swam and he clung to the nearest stranger, gasping for breath.

Police, paramedics and people were surrounding the entire vicinity. Realisation smacked Izuku as hard as a blunt object striking him across the face.

Holy shit. Who had done this?

His mother was being taken away on a stretcher covered in blood. He honestly didn't understand what was currently happening. Why was this happening?

The last that Izuku saw of his kind, gentle mother before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors were three random letters that had been carved into her arm;

A.F.O

#bnha fanfiction #ao3 bnha #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha #dfo #dad for one #afo is hisashi midoriya #inko midoriya #izuku midoriya #epilogue for the lost #my writing

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spookyold-saintjm · 5 years

Text

I’ll Always Come Back.

So uhh I’ve never written Star Wars before? Despite being a fan for over half my life LOL.

It’s big-time Poe Dameron yearning hours in this house lately. If you like it let me know and I’ll try to do more sometime?

Poe Dameron x reader

Summary: Poe hasn’t come back from his mission to retrieve the map that leads to Luke Skywalker, but you haven’t given up hope that he’s still out there.

Warnings: sexual references

Word Count: 2,393

You waited. And waited. Waited for what felt like years for a single sign that he wasn’t gone forever.

But if he was truly gone, you would have felt it, right?

You’d had many conversations in private with the general from the day you’d confessed that something was different about you. She’d instantly known, and had shared words of wisdom and instruction on how to understand and work in balance with your still-fresh Force sensitivity.

No, he wasn’t gone. He was somewhere out there, you just knew.

Poe Dameron was one of, if not the best pilot in the Resistance, and quite frankly, you were quickly catching up. You’d lost many to the First Order in your youth, seen far too much, and as soon as you were able you began training to join in the battle against them. You’d risen through ranks quickly, eventually being moved into one of the top squadrons in the Resistance. Your strong will and sharp eye made you a valuable asset, your quick wit made you likable.

Those things and then some captured Poe’s interest upon your first meeting.

You were a challenge, both in the air and otherwise, and he liked that. You were someone that wouldn’t immediately fall head-over-heels for any one-liner he could drop on you. In fact, the first night he’d sauntered over to you on a free night at the cantina, one arm leaned against the bar while you sat atop a stool beside him, you gave it right back to him without a falter. In fact, you’d hardly seemed interested at all. And it drove him crazy.

Of course, you went back to your quarters later that evening and spent far, far too long thinking about him and what those smooth-talking lips would feel like on yours.

It was a couple long months before he’d completely won you over, really meaning you’d finally given in one night and shoved him against a wall of the hallway leading to the conference room after a briefing. Bodies flush against each other, lips on lips, necks, collarbones, in the matter of a couple minutes before you’d both practically ran to his quarters. Fast. Quiet.

And that was the way things had to remain; your relationship would have absolutely been frowned upon, seen as a distraction. It was one of the reasons you’d been so hesitant to make a move, so eager to find any excuse to not allow him to creep into your thoughts when you were alone and thinking about nothing more than how much you missed someone by your side, tangled in the sheets with you in the middle of sleepless nights...

But it was more than the sex, though that was certainly something. The more you leaned about each other, both through missions together or masking your conversations as casual through through time off spent with other members of the squadron, it became more. You both realized you’d found someone to confide in, someone safe, someone who you could see yourself being around long after the war was over. And it killed the both of you to be forced to contain that assurance, that shred of hope, locked away behind closed doors, behind hushed words, ghosted touches, and glances across the meeting room that lasted a beat too long.

Poe had most recently been sent on what was his most important mission to date: to retrieve the missing piece of the map that would supposedly lead the Resistance to Luke Skywalker himself. While the mission had been painstakingly charted and planned, it was an exceptionally dangerous one. One that Poe might not come back from.

Of course, that was the case with any mission. The difference was that you weren’t joining him on this one. The general had asked specifically for your assistance at base in Poe’s absence, although you knew it was also so she would have more time to instruct you on the ways of the Force. You were grateful for the willing guidance from none other than Leia herself, and it absolutely wasn’t the first time you and Poe had been separated due to a mission, but this one in particular had filled you with a dark dread that you couldn’t escape.

You’d realized why when his comm abruptly went offline. When there was zero successful contact with his ship or his droid for hours, days. When you found yourself one night, and then another, perched on top of cargo crates in the hangar long after you’d finished your work, waiting for his ship to make its descent back to base. Back to you.

Yet another day was coming to a close. A couple of your fellow pilots had invited you to dinner, but you simply weren’t feeling up to talking to anyone that night, playing it off as need of a good night’s sleep before trudging back to your quarters.

You stripped off your gear and took a quick shower, allowing the hot water to ease some of the tension gathered in your back and shoulders. When you finished, you changed into black jogger-style pants and a white tank before grabbing your data pad to read over any new information you might have missed during the day.

You had finished checking reports and were preparing to settle back into your bed when you felt it. It was a tingling down your spine, a sudden, dull throb in your chest, and something more that you couldn’t describe.

You froze, your initial reaction to scan your room for any signs of something amiss. You laid a hand on your chest in an attempt to dull the feeling, but it was already gone, as fast as it had come. Something had happened, here, at the base. But what the kriff did it mean?

The feeling trickled through you again, and realization hit you like blaster fire straight to your gut. You were sprinting down the hallway without a second thought.

Once you reached the meeting room you were headed for, you slammed your access card against the panel that opened the door and burst inside.

“General—”

Leia’s back was to you as she stared down at a screen blinking with an influx of information. She turned toward you, not seeming at all surprised at your sudden presence or your informal dress as you approached her side.

“It’s—it’s him, isn’t it?” You asked. You forced a light cough the second you acknowledged the implication of the familiarity in your question and quickly added “P—Commander Dameron, that is. I…I felt it.”

“See for yourself." Leia gestured toward the screen she’d been staring down at when you’d entered. You quickly scanned the message, certain words standing out in your mind more than others: Kylo Ren. First Order. Captured. Crash. BB-8. Return.

Most importantly, he was on his way back to base at that very moment.

“What do you need from me?” You asked the general, and a small smile crossed her face as she gave you instructions on preparing things for Poe’s return. The next few hours were some of the longest of your life, but eventually you received word that he was beginning to make his descent.

You took off toward the hangar, as fast as your legs would carry you.

The droning alarms which signaled an approaching aircraft became louder as you turned the corner, making the final stretch to the hangar. A few others lingering around for the evening had come to see the result of the commotion, and you hastily pushed past them with a muttered apology. When you arrived you saw that the general was already there waiting, along with a group of other pilots, officers, and others who had been around at the time the alarms sounded.

The battered hunk of metal Poe had managed to procure touched the ground, and you felt as if your heart was going to burst straight out of your chest as you waited for the hatch to open. You anchored your feet when the commander himself emerged from the cockpit, dropping to the ground with slightly slumped shoulders, his exhaustion apparent in your eyes, but likely not to the others. When he slipped off his helmet, despite the disheveled hair and face covered in dirt and faint traces of blood, he looked like the same self-assured Commander Dameron that everyone had come to know.

You kept walking, slowly, not wanting to make a scene of your approach. Poe was speaking to the general, his exterior stern but behind his eyes…frantic. Panicked. Things hadn’t gone as planned. Well, obviously, but there was more to the story. You knew you would find out later. Right now, all you cared about was him.

He caught sight of you when you were still a few yards away. He had stopped speaking mid-sentence, had excused himself from the general, had waved away the medical droid that had rolled over to his side. His eyes locked onto yours as you walked towards him.

He moved aside one of his officers and met you halfway.

“y/l/n.” He used your last name in greeting, the same way you always did in front of others. His lips were just barely parted as he stared down at you, his eyes taking a quick moment to scan your face, the outfit you were wearing, then back to meet your own eyes.

“Commander.” Your chest was trembling inside, your breath coming out in broken pants from running as you scanned over his bruised and bloodied face. “Wh—are you—“

The breath was sucked from your lungs when he suddenly pulled you in, your body thudding against his chest when he threw his arms around your frame, and you could practically feel the relief flooding his veins, and your own. His chin rested on your shoulder, and your own arms folded around him, your fingers digging into his flight suit, all of your senses taking in every part of him; Poe was here, he was okay, he was alive.

“I—I felt you out there.” You admitted, keeping your words at a whisper both so others wouldn’t hear and because you were afraid your voice would crack if you were any louder. “I tried and tried to call out to you, to make sure you were okay—“

“I know,” he murmured, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your back. “I know."

You stepped back, forcing him to lift his head. His hands drifted to wrap around your arms, just below your shoulders. You studied his face, and reached to trace your finger along the gash on his cheek.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” he asked lowly, eyebrow cocked in amusement at the pure longing in your face as you stared up at him.

Your gentle caress quickly turned into a light, playful tap against his cheek, your expression shifting into a playfully mocking smirk.

“Not even in your wildest dreams, flyboy.”

“Mm, and if I haven’t had some wild dreams about you…” He leaned into your palm that somehow hadn’t separated from his cheek, his rough lips ever so gently pressing against the spot between your thumb and index finger. You felt a chill run down your spine, and this time it wasn’t the Force talking. Oh, stars. He’d been back all of five minutes and was already driving you mad.

You quickly shook yourself out of it and dropped your arm back to your side. “Poe, you need rest.” You sniffled, crinkling your nose for effect. “And a shower.”

Poe chuckled. “Alright, alright. But don’t think this is over.”

“I could never imagine you giving up so easily.”

The two of you began to walk towards the door that would eventually lead to Poe’s quarters when you saw the general from the corner of your eye, bringing you to a screeching halt.

She looked at you from across the way with knowing eyes. Of course she knew; you should have realized by now that you couldn’t keep it a secret from her. You’d given it away the second you’d burst into the communications room that evening, the connection that you had with him.

You weren’t sure how to respond, if you should walk over to her, or simply continue on and prepare for the reprimand of your life later. You quickly glanced back at Poe, who was still, tiredly, approaching the opposite side of the hangar.

When your eyes met Leia’s again, her expression had softened. With her arms crossed in front of her, she jerked her head in Poe’s direction, the faintest smile crossing her face.

Go. You could almost hear her say it. You followed her command, jogging to catch back up with Poe, who had noticed your absence at his side.

“What was that about?” he asked, looking over your head to where the general had been standing, but she had already disappeared. He looked back to you. “Are you guys doing some kind of weird Force-stuff now? You gossiping about me or something?”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. Poe only let out a low chuckle in reply.

Once you’d gone back inside and turned the corner, his fingers were intertwined with yours until you reached his quarters and you were promptly led over to his bed. He hovered over you, his kiss deep and slow and heavy with need, his hands braced on either side of you.

When your lips parted, he stared down at you with eyes full of devotion. “I missed you so much.” A kiss to your nose, your forehead. "I will always come back to you, y/n. I swear it.”

You stared back up at him, your breaths already shallow. You managed to let out a contented sigh just before he pressed his forehead against yours.

“And I’ll always be with you,” you promised, your eyelids nearly fluttering shut at the pure ecstasy of being near him again. Of knowing that the man you were now certain you loved had returned to you. That no matter what, the Force would keep you bound together. While the end of this war wouldn’t come easily, you would do whatever it took to ensure a future with Poe by your side.

#can't believe i'm doing this #i may add to this idk #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x male reader #poe dameron imagine #my writing

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introvertguide · 5 years

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Fight for My Entertainment

Over human history, people have found entertainment in a lot of different things. Tastes have changed over time but love of music has been present since the rise of man. Games of athletic prowess have provided drama and amazement for centuries. Even dancing has been a great source of entertainment to the population in some form throughout recorded history. One other thing that seems to keep an audience’s attention is the good old fight to the death. Although there are extreme fighting sports that are popular today, actual murder is severely frowned upon to say the least. Movie audiences still like to see portrayals of the fight to the death and there have been many movies, both good and bad, that satisfy this blood lust. I just wanted to go over some of my personal favorites (and some that really suck):

Ben-Hur (1959) is one of my least favorite movies, but I got to give respect to that chariot battle. I have been to Rome and seen the Circus Maximus field where the movie was filmed and where actual chariot races once took place. The horses and the outfits were great but the real interest to the audience in ancient Rome was the real chance of horrific trampling death with every turn of the race. Visually amazing with dramatic appeal. If this movie was only this, it would be a masterpiece, but there is almost 3 hours of boredom attached around it that really didn’t interest me. Great scene, though.

Spartacus (1960), on the other hand, is one of my favorite movies. It is another epic film and lasts a little bit long, but there are many huge battle scenes with thousands of extras and great one on one gladiator battles. Kirk Douglas is amazing as a gladiator turned general who took on the Roman army. There are a lot of one-on-one fights in this film and, despite the age of the film, still seem pretty realistic. This film is the reverse of Ben-Hur for me, having only 15 minutes of boring material surrounded by great scenes. Fantastic movie.

Edit Note: After rewatching, there are a lot less gladiator fights than I remember. In fact, I only now remember two, maybe three. There is also a lot more preparation for battle than actual battle. The best fighting part is likely when the gladiators first attempt to escape. This movie focuses much more on the repercussions on forcing people to fight instead of actually showing the fights.

Enter the Dragon (1973) has to be mentioned because it has freaking Bruce Lee. A martial arts phenomenon that passed away far too early, Bruce Lee fights in a tournament to have a chance for revenge. Unlike many fights in which the action was sped up, he is rumored to have been told to slow down so that the camera operators could keep up. This doesn’t have massive crowds but there are still fights to the death for the entertainment of others. I do want to mention that this film is kind of racist and is exploitative along the lines of stereotypes, but the skill is so amazing that I think it rises above the B movie genre and is one of my absolute favorite movies.

The Running Man (1987) is a movie that is absolutely amazing but not what I would call good. The script is weak, the dialogue is corny, and the acting is laughable. However, it does have Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jesse Ventura in the same movie. I mean, c’mon. A bunch of guys who are serving prison terms are put in a maze with professional killers that have weapons like chainsaws, fire suits, and electric projectiles. And this is all for the pleasure of a TV audience. Very much the modern day Colosseum scenario and a lot of fun to watch.

Bloodsport (1988) is not a good movie but it is the reason that Jean Claude Van Damme is a household name. The “Muscles from Brussels” really shows off his high kicking skill in a tournament that features more than one fatality in the ring. Look at how much air that guy is getting...the athleticism can’t be denied. The film has a pretty strong cult following and it is another “fun” movie to watch because it does show a lot of very interesting matchups. By the way, the murderous villain in both Enter the Dragon and Bloodsport is played by the same Hong Kong martial artist turned bodybuilder, Mr. Bolo Yeung. A great fighting filming needs both a great hero and a powerful villain and this movie does have both of those things...but that is about it.

Mortal Kombat (1995) is based on the video game of the same name and boasts supernatural fighters that end their bouts with gory fatalities. It totally delivers exactly that. There are no promises of nice sets, interesting back stories, or special effects and that is good because that doesn’t happen. The one-liners are cheesy, the martial arts are very good, and the soundtrack bumps throughout the entire film. Good enough for me.

Gladiator (2000) “We who are about to die salute you!” I guess that you can’t have a list of gladiator movies with putting in this one. Russell Crowe plays a disgraced Roman soldier named Maximus who loses his family and is thrown into the ring to die. He works his way through to eventually take on a Roman leader and the whole thing is epic. There are a lot of battles in the Colosseum and they are all glorious. As far as realism and quantity of fights, I think this might be the best. Directed by Ridley Scott, it really takes the viewer and thrusts them into ancient Rome. “Are you not entertained?”

Battle Royale (2000) is the film that so many people cough under their breath when somebody brings up the Hunger Games. This film features a class of children that tormented their teacher so they were all shipped by bus to an island to kill each other until only one person is left. Warning, there is a whole lot of murder and suicide with sharp objects involving children. Each kid also has a choker that blows out their throat if they stop moving. Far and away more gory than its American counterpart, this film does not hold back nor are the contestants prepared for their predicament in any way. Very interesting but really makes the viewer feel that this kind of competition is wrong. Not a “fun” watch.

Ong Bak: The Thai Warrior (2003) is a fantastic martial arts movie starring the great Tony Jaa as a fighter who partakes in underground street fights in an attempt to find the head of his village’s sacred statue. He takes on some crazy opponents who are much bigger than him, but he is one of the most high flying fighters I have ever seen. His flying knee attacks are just phenomenal. When this guy fights, I am entertained and I am not afraid to admit it.

The Hunger Games (2012) is the story of youths in a dystopian future who fight to the death representing their district. This is all for the pleasure of the super rich who watch and give help to those players that they like. I think that the premise is so interesting but the heavy helping of teen angst amongst the child death seems weird. The desperation for companionship in the face of death was so much better in Battle Royale, but I still enjoyed this movie. The build up took too long for me, but the last half of the movie is gladiator arena glory.

Thor: Ragnarok (2017) is a movie that I just thought of last minute but it does have a planet where warriors fight in an arena for the entertainment of Jeff Goldblum. There is a battle between Thor and the Hulk and that is all I really needed to know to be interested. Apparently this fight is amazing to everyone, even aliens on a trash planet. You know that audiences have a taste for carnage when they want to see two superheroes battle.

This list is by no means anywhere near complete so feel free to add on any other great gladiator films. These are just examples of how movie audiences seem to have a little bit of a blood lust and shows our tastes in entertainment have not changed as much as we might think since the days of the Roman Colosseum. I am not immune, but I am glad that my desire to see fighting can be quenched by acting without the need to see somebody actually die.

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creepercraftguy · 4 years

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If Our World is Ended had an English Cast

So while in quarantine, I’m going back and attempting to catch up on the many games I got for Christmas and my birthday, that I haven’t played as of yet. I recently finished Fire Emblem Three Houses and am almost done with Astral Chain. The next game on my list is a game called Our World is Ended and I’m only like 30 minutes in and I already love this game! I’ve somehow gotten the added bonus of owning the Limited Edition artbook through buying it, so I’ve already taken a good look at the members of Judgement 7, a small company group of game designers, and have basically got the rundown on what their characters are like. My only qualms with the game so far are that it has a severe lack of cult following. Like, seriously, this game is really good, why is no one talking about it!? And the second is that there is a significant lack of an English casting. I don’t mind the Japanese dialogue, but if I play this type of game and hear it constantly, then it gets a little too much to handle, so for my playthrough, I turned voices off. However, I was wondering if the game did end up getting a localised dub, which probably won’t happen but IF IT DID then here’s who I think would voice the main members of the group.

Also, please note, I haven’t got very far into the game yet, so if you’ve played this then please refrain from spoiling me on important plot points.

Sekai Owari: Todd Haberkorn

Sekai Owari is the main programmer of the group, and his basic character is that he’s a massive pervert. He’s bluntly honest and always speaks his mind and somehow has the strange ability to guess the measurements of any woman at first glance. In the original dub, he’s voiced by Tomokazu Sugita, but I feel the voice of Todd Haberkorn would really suit him in an english dub. Haberkorn’s repertoire consists of characters like Natsu Dragneel from Fairy Tail, Shiro Iori from Kill La Kill, Haruka Nanase from Free! Death the Kid from Soul Eater, Italy from Hetalia, and many many more. He also did the voice of a similarly perverted character in the second Danganronpa game, Teruteru Hanamura.

Iruka No.2: Patrick Seitz

No, his real name is not Iruka No.2, but it’s the name he uses when he’s in the office. His role in the group is the planner/script writer for the games, and he’s a fan of fantasy worlds and anime. In the Japanese dub, he’s voiced by Yoshitsugu Matsuoka. One of his most notable features is that he’s quite...well...large. He’s a very big character, and his overall appearance makes me think that he’s someone that Patrick Seitz would voice. Some of his big roles include Ragna the Bloodedge from BlazBlue, Franky from One Piece and Agil from SAO, not to mention Endeavour from My Hero Academia, Gamagoori from Kill La Kill and Dio from the English Dub of Jojo Part 3.

Asano Hayase: Kari Wahlgren

Ayano is the unfortunate sound designer, who is not only sad and lonely in reality, but also has a weird power to absolutely wreck any machine that she touches, who is voiced by Eri Kitamura. She’s also quite hot headed and fiery tempered, and the minute she was on screen, she gave me pretty heavy vibes of Kagami from Lucky Star, so I figured maybe she could be voiced by Kagami’s English VA Kari Wahlgren. Wahlgren has also done a lot of background voices of minor characters in many american TV shows, and has also voiced Kitana in Mortal Kombat 11 and also Saber in the Fate series.

Natsumi Yuki: Molly Searcy

Now call me crazy if you’ve played this game, but right from the get go, Natsumi is already my best girl for this game. She’s stoic and hard-hearted, and honestly she’s been nothing but rude to me so far, but to be honest, there’s an air about her that has left me entranced. Of course, I believe I’ve stated somewhere before that I don’t really tend to fall for fictional characters, but I am entranced nonetheless. While voiced by Saori Onishi in the original, I feel like someone like Molly Searcy would work for her. Searcy is no stranger when it comes to voicing stoic characters, since she did the english voice for both Akame in Akame Ga Kill and Isuzu Sento in Amagi Brilliant Park. Alongside that she has many reprisals as Magical Sapphire in the Fate/kalied liner series.

Tatiana Alexandrovna Sharapova: Janice Kawaye

Good luck saying that name aloud. At the point I’m at, I’m yet to be fully introduced to Tatiana, and all I really know about her is that she’s a Russian foreigner, is the sub-programmer of Judgement 7 and is the youngest of the group. She’s also voiced by Yumiri Hanamori in the original japanese version of the game. If there was an English Dub, I personally believe someone like her could easily be voiced by Janice Kawaye, who has previously voiced characters like Peko Pekoyama in Danganronpa, Lysithea Von Ordelia in Fire Emblem Three Houses and Shizuku in HunterXHunter. She also does the voice of Jenny or XJ-9 in My Life as a Teenage Robot.

Yuno Hayase: Abby Trott

Voiced by the amazing Ayane Sakura, Yuno is the first major character in the game that you get introduced to, other than the protagonist Reiji Gozen. She’s your stereotypical bubbly natured, air-headed company assistant with a pretty impressive figure, which trust me, is something that the game points out to you several times. She’s pretty good at cooking and housework and works as a part-time assistant for Judgement 7. When it comes to characters like her, my mind immediately goes to characters that are voiced by Abby Trott, like Annette from Three Houses, Maya from Ace Attorney and even Nezuko from Demon Slayer.

Reiji Gozen: Josh Grelle

I was considering Bryce Papenbrook, but honestly, Josh Grelle fits this better than anyone else can. Reiji Gozen is the main player character of this game, and is voiced by Ryota Osaka in the original version. His job is Assisting Director, meaning he is to carry out literally any chores given to him. Josh Grelle works the best because he’s previously voiced characters like Yukiteru Amano from Future Diary, Tanukichi Okuma from Shimoneta, Yuri Katsuki from Yuri on Ice, Armin Arlet from Attack on Titan and Shido Itsuka from Date a Live, all of whom in a manner of speaking are kind of submissive, somewhat wimpy characters similar to that of Reiji. However, every protagonist has a bit of badass in them, and I highly doubt Reiji is any acception, making Grelle who has also voiced Fumikage Tokoyami in My Hero Academia and Issei Hyodo from Highschool DXD, an even better fit for the role.

I might make a second part for this as I go through the rest of the game, but I seriously recommend this game to anyone and I really want there to be more fanart of it on Tumblr and Reddit, so GO DO THAT!

#our world is ended #sekai owari #iruka no.2 #asano hayase #natsumi yuki #tatiana alexandrovna sharapova #yuno hayase #reiji gozen

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fanaticfangirl001 · 5 years

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The One and Only Ms.Mercury pt 2

Rami x reader (Freddie’s daughter)

Author’s note: Let’s do this guys!

Vocab words: Take away- delivery food. (In the Uk you can get more than pizza delivered)

Also for future reference: Dad refers to Freddie, Papa refers to Jim.

Ps: This one seemed short, but it also seemed natural to stop it there.

Thought you guys might enjoy this.

@queen-irl-af

@kiillerqueeen

@rami-malek-trash

*I guess I’ll use the same gif because the other gifs aren’t loading.

Y/n kicks off her shoes near the front door and goes up the stairs to her room. She flops onto her bed and picks up her sketchbook from the night stand. Grabbing a pencil she sketches a simple drawing of her dad’s, based off a picture inside a little pink frame that’s laying on her desk. Y/n is sitting on Freddie’s lap. Both of them are wearing plastic tiaras and feather boas,eating cake. It’s from her second birthday.

Her art style has varied during her four years on YouTube but it typically stays within a cartoon like style, roundish characters with thick outlines. Many of her professors hated the style but she never really cared what they said, as most of the artwork that they preferred were sad people, or too pretentious for Y/n’s liking. She didn’t really show many people her artwork offline in “real life” due to many of their “criticisms”.

Y/n sets down her sketchbook, and walks over to her cabinet of art supplies, mostly gifted to her by the companies for reviewing it, or from art subscription boxes. She pulls out two watercolor palettes one for the skin tones, and another for bright metallic neons. Y/n tosses some fine liner markers onto her bed followed by the pallet.

She drops herself onto the bed and starts erasing the lines lightly so she can line them with the markers. Rolling the kneaded eraser in her hands, Y/n starts thinking: This movie is going to change things. The only reason I’m not hounded by reporters is because I stay in and stay out of the spotlight. Me helping on this movie, thrusts me into some spotlight. I’m also a woman so there’s that added pressure.

Y/n puts down her eraser and closes her sketchbook. She walks to the bathroom and stares into the mirror. She rubs the bottom of her chin, bumpy due to the acne that wanted to stick around and takes the pony-tail holder out of her hair. Spotlight, do I need an esthetician, or a glam squad when I leave the house? Am I British Kardashian? I mean I have the ass of one, and that’s from take-away. Are people going to expect me to dress like my dad?

Y/n shakes her head of all the crazy thoughts and started the water for a nice soothing bath. She finds the four bath bubblers from Lush and crumbles them under the faucet. The bubbles and foam threaten to overfill the tub. Y/n strips off her jumper and jeans. She carefully sinks into the bath. Her phone rings to the custom ring meaning that her Uncle John is calling. Y/n carefully stands up and grabs her phone.

“How was the business dinner?” John asks once Y/n picks up.

“You knew.” Y/n says exasperated shaking her head.

“You didn’t?” John adds.

“Nope, disguised it like a family dinner. There’s gonna be a Queen movie, by the way.” Y/n adds.

“Are you going to be on set?” John asks.

“No I’m just gonna let them fuck my dad’s image up the arse.” Y/n sasses her uncle.

“Language Y/n, who the fuck taught you those words.” John sasses back.

“Did you just want to sass your niece or is there a reason for this lovely phone call?” Y/n asks

“Luke said you seemed upset after the dinner, and I wanted to check up on you.” John says.

“Uncle John, you’re getting sappy.” Y/n teases.

“Let a grouchy old man care about his niece, who needs to visit him more.” John replies.

“I’m sensing you also want me to visit because I made chocolate cake and brought it the last time.” Y/n muses.

“Call it a consolation prize.” John offers.

“Are you saying that you were suffering because my presence was not there.” Y/n says dramatically.

“Severely.” John sasses her with his dramatics.

“I’ll come by more.” Y/n adds, “ With cake.”

The typical goodbyes are said and Y/n hangs up the phone to enjoy the rest of her bubble bath.

She carefully gets out and grabs a towel to dry off, then puts on a fluffy purple robe.

I need to edit, record a voice over, and then go back to the drawing.

Y/n walks over to her desk and sits down ready to edit. The video she filmed yesterday is a review of a subscription box and using the art supplies in it. The sketch went well but as she went on to color it, something seemed off and it looked better in black and white. This sometimes happened when she worked with a supply she wasn’t familiar with like makers. She speed up the sketching and erasing portion of the video and shortened the thirty minutes of drawing down to fifteen minutes, including the initial opening and swatching of the materials. Y/n takes a sip of water and plugs in her microphone to record her commentary.

She begins introducing the video and its main contents being the box and the challenge of using all the materials in it to make something. Y/n during the swatching section says the colors of markers: a mustard yellow, olive green, and a cranberry red might be a little difficult to use together, and that she isn’t very comfortable with markers but she’ll make the best of it. The first idea for her challenge is to draw a person but every practice attempt was erased because she didn’t like the head, or the proportions.

Y/n finally decided on drawing a badger wearing a yellow bobble-hat, sitting on a moss covered log, eating berries. Her commentary ranged from artistic decisions, to wonder what badgers actually eat, or if a badger could comprehend the color yellow and all it’s majesticness. Most people that watch her videos enjoy her ramblings in the background as they see a piece go from a brainstorm to a finished project, because she seems so genuine and a little odd. Y/n signs off from her video in the traditional way with “ Stay weird, Stay Mad, and always draw with Mercury.”

She chose the name Drawing With Mercury, for two reasons: one, Y/n’s favorite Disney movie has always been Alice in Wonderland, especially for the character, Mad Hatter, and two, she wanted to use her last name since, it’s a pretty cool last name, and you only live once. She uploaded her first video and received a warm welcome from her subscribers. In the beginning there were a few mean comments but they weren’t about her appearance as she only showed her hands in her videos.

Y/n splices the audio with the video and rewatches herself draw, erase, draw again, ink, then color her drawing. She uploads the video and waits for it to be complete which for this video and with her wifi connection it would take around an hour. She opens her sketchbook back to the drawing of her birthday with Dad and takes out her water color pallet. Dipping her water brush pen into the paint, a small tear dripped from her eyes, fell from her cheek and onto the corner of the page.

“I miss you, Dad.” Y/n says to no one as she fills in his face with color.

There was no copying the photograph perfectly. Freddie in the pictures, looking down at his messy daughter with chocolate cake on her face, his face shows nothing but adoration and pure happiness. It was his idea for a princess party, since every Sunday the three of them would have tea parties and Y/n always loved dressing up. Y/n looking up at her dad with same look in her eyes as his.

Y/n rubs her eyes and continues painting the party outfits, even the feather boas and tiaras. She puts the sketchbook on her dresser letting the paint dry and falls onto her bed. She opens her small jewelry box on her nightstand and takes out her silver heart locket with a smaller heart diamond on the front. Y/n opens the locket looking at the small picture of her Dad and Papa.

“I miss you, Papa.” She says again, to no one.

She lightly kisses the locket and puts it back in the box, and puts it in the first drawer of the night stand. Y/n pulls the covers tightly around herself and slowly falls asleep to the rain hitting the roof.

#rami malek x reader #rami x reader #rami malek imagines #rami malek #plus-sized reader

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soundsof71 · 6 years

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TURN IT UP! Joe Walsh with The James Gang, “Walk Away”, 1971

The James Gang was one of those bands that hit so much harder live than on their studio records that it’s almost impossible to believe that they’re the same guys. Their two 1971 albums offer the perfect contrast, Thirds (from whence comes this glorious single), and James Gang In Concert, recorded in May 1971 at Carnegie Hall and released later that year.

I’m surprised the hall was still standing when they were done. It’s the loudest slab of vinyl I’ve ever put on a turntable -- even with the volume turned all the way down, the racket coming straight out of the needle scraping through the grooves unamplified was flat out unbelievable. Very much in keeping with the ethos proclaimed in the liner notes of the previous year’s James Gang Rides Again, “Made Loud To Be Played Loud.”

This performance from Germany’s Beat Club, first aired July 24, 1971, somewhat splits the difference between the civilized, if still loud, studio band, and the utter savages (in a good way!) of James Gang on stage. Surely you’ve already pressed play, and heard Joe Walsh absolutely ROAR into this thing. If all you know of him is what you’ve heard on the radio or with the Eagles, you’re in for an eye-opening, and ear-opening delight.

I had once thought of this song as a pleasant bit of science fiction. The MAN in the song is the one who wants to talk about his feelings and where the relationship is going, while “you just turn your pretty head and walk away.” Riiiight. Because that’s how men are. Just won’t shut up about relationships. ‾\_(ツ)_/‾

Well, maybe Joe really IS that way, because the song sounds pretty damn persuasive, and other than being a little condescending, it’s not especially mean, which automatically sets him above most men of the day.

(1971 was the first great year for a wide swath women artists in classic rock, but women as a lot were alas still not faring well at the hands of male writers. Still aren’t, either, which is a story for another day.)

I actually started rethinking this song when I read what Stevie Nicks had to say about Joe Walsh, who she describes as "the great, great love of my life.”

She said of their breakup: “It nearly killed me. We had to break up or we thought we’d die. We were just too excessive. We were busy superstars and we were doing way too much drugs. We were really, seriously drug addicts. We were a couple on the way to hell.

But there was no closure. It took me years to get over it — if I ever did. It’s very sad but at least we survived.

He was the one I would have married, and that I would probably have changed my life around for a little bit, anyway. Not a lot.

[my note: the fact that she concedes that she’d have changed only a little bit, and only “probably”, suggests that she’s maybe not exaggerating the rest.]

There was no other man for me. I look back at all the men in my life, and there was only one that I can honestly say I could truly have lived with every day for the rest of my life, because there was respect and we loved to do the same things. I was very content with him all the time. That’s only happened once in my life.

This man, if he’d asked me to marry him, I would have. There was nothing more important than Joe Walsh — not my music, not my songs, not anything. He was the great, great love of my life.” (more here)

So on top of being better at relationships and rocking harder than you might have thought, he’s also a terrific technical guitarist, and a hilarious storyteller. I heard him tell a story on the radio in 1988 or so, involving him and George Harrison, that I’ve never seen documented, but I dropped everything I was doing to listen.

I even remember exactly where I was -- in the back room of the bookstore I managed in Washington, DC, way past time to go home, but I didn’t want to miss the end of the story during the long walk to my car.

This is paraphrased, but it’s pretty damn close. I started telling this story to everyone within earshot right away, and you’ll get why.

(btw, I don’t have a picture of Joe and George together, although they shared a stage a time or two. There are quite a few pictures of Joe and Ringo, though -- not only did Joe play in some editions of Ringo’s All-Star Band, they’re married to sisters! Marjorie and Barbara Bach, so yeah, they’re brothers in law.)

Anyway, Joe said that the one piece of advice he gives every guitarist trying to learn the instrument, “Learn to play every song The Beatles ever did, and sound exactly like they did. Doesn’t matter if you hate The Beatles or don’t want to sound anything like them when you’re done, but once you can play everything they played, exactly the way they sounded, you can do anything that it’s possible to do on a guitar.”

Well, there was one song that was vexing him, the very last one that he still couldn’t figure out -- “And Your Bird Can Sing” from Revolver. When he finally got it, he was beside himself. He called up George Harrison to make sure he was home (both fellas were living in Los Angeles at the time), said, “Stay there, I got something you gotta hear!”

He packed up his amps and his guitar, drove over to George’s house, and started setting up. “What is it?” asked George. “Just wait,” replied Joe, and kept setting up.

When Joe finally unleashed a note-perfect “And Your Bird Can Sing”, George fell out of his chair laughing. “How the hell did you do that?” “Well, it took me long enough to figure out,” Joe said, “so I was going to ask YOU how YOU did it.”

George said, “The way *I* did it was John and me playing in unison, and then double-tracked! I can’t figure out how you did it by yourself, even though I just saw you do it!”

Well, Joe was left feeling pretty good about himself, managing to sound like the equivalent of four Beatles guitarists all by himself, if a little exasperated to have spent so much time figuring out something that he should have known better than to try -- but he did it anyway. THAT’s Joe Walsh for ya.

I hope you’ve already hit play AGAIN on that blistering take on 1971′s “Walk Away” up top, because Joe really was killing it that year. There’s more to him than you probably think, too, so if you’re into the heavy guitar thing, you should definitely do some exploring.

Led Zeppelin fans in particular, I’m looking at you. Joe and Jimmy were friends from Jimmy’s days in The Yardbirds, and it was Joe who said, man, you’ve gotta quit monkeying around with that Telecaster. When you’re ready to rock, switch to a Les Paul -- and indeed, Jimmy bought his first Les Paul (known as “#1″) from Joe in 1969, for $1200, which Joe says he flew out to hand-deliver to Jimmy. Says Jimmy, “Joe brought it for me when we played the Fillmore. He insisted I buy it, and he was right."

(btw, nifty pic from Joe’s Twitter feed of him and Jimmy hanging out after LZ’s February 12 show at The Garden in 1975!)

I wouldn’t want to say that Led Zeppelin’s approach to live jamming was necessarily influenced by James Gang, but I’m saying that they were similar and Joe got there first. LOL And seriously, if you dig live Zeppelin, you NEED to know more about live James Gang and early solo Joe.

(More details about #1 than anyone but a gearhead would want here, here, here, and here, but hey, maybe you’re a gearhead!)

To give you a head start for exploring more James Gang and early solo Joe, I’ll add one more video, from 1972, “Turn To Stone” featuring Fanny’s Jean Millington on bass absolutely slaying dragons on this monster. As Joe told Rolling Stone,

"Turn to Stone" was written about the Nixon administration and the Vietnam War and the protesting that was going on and all of that. It's a song about frustration. Also, I attended Kent State. I was at the shootings. That fueled it, too. In those days it felt like the government's priority was not the population. They had an agenda that was about something other than doing what was necessarily good for the country.

A few years later [in 1980], I decided to run for president myself. [Ed. Note: Walsh pledged to make "Life's Been Good" the new national anthem.] I thought it'd be a great idea and I had fun with it. And the reason I did it is because there was, and there continues to be, a very apathetic attitude toward voting. There's a total separation between the federal government and the people. So running for president was an attempt on my part to get people to care enough to go vote. But people just don't bother. And that's why it's not working.

TURN IT UP!

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Oh what the heck, and one more from July 20 1971, from the French TV show Pop2, “The Bomber” (from 1970′s Rides Again) which includes a quick little nod to “Beck’s Bolero” along the way. (Well, technically I suppose, Ravel’s “Bolero”, and indeed, Ravel’s estate made them remove the reference from initial pressings of the album!)

And another note for LZ fans: Joe does some crazy stuff with his bare hands at around 2:30-3:30 going into “Bolero” that Jimmy did with a violin bow. THAT’s Joe Walsh for ya.

TURN IT UP!

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blackjack-15 · 5 years

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Curtain Call — Thoughts on: The Final Scene (FIN)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are notspoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: FIN, mention of SSH, ASH, non-spoiler mention of STFD, CAR, RAN, TRN, DED, GTH, SPY, LIE.

The Intro:

The Final Scene is the fifth game in the Nancy Drew series and the game that caps off the Classic Nancy Drew games (according to my own very non-scientific divisions of the Nancy Drew games), as the games that follow are bigger, longer, and more complex — not to mention they start tying themselves together, opening up Nancy’s world, and at least make some use of her “amateur detective” title rather than always being set up for the mysteries, or having her stumble upon them while on vacation.

For full disclosure, I will start off here by saying FIN is one of my least favorite games in the Nancy Drew franchise for one big and a few small things, so I’m going to attempt to be as measured as possible, addressing its good points just as much as the bad points.

From here on out, Nancy Drew games grow more but they also grow more unevenly, making jumps in some areas and failing in others. FIN is slightly uneven, but it’s still more balanced than the games that are to come, and I quite enjoy that balance in this game.

FIN is also the game where Her Interactive realized that just having Bess, George, and Ned (apart from one or two throw-away characters) as phone contacts was going to become dull very quickly. Eustacia is an attempt at bridging that gap, but it’s the next game that actually solves the problem, opening up the Nancy Drew world with the addition of the two most enduring (and endearing) phone contacts of the series – Frank and Joe Hardy.

Complexity-wise, FIN is closer to STFD and MHM, taking a step back from TRT’s complexity and richness of location and character. It’s the last “small” game, as far as location goes (excepting a few later games like CAR, RAN, and DED), with the tiny theater feeling almost claustrophobic.

This feeling is compounded with the lack of puzzles in the game; it’s mostly a “sleuthing” type game like STFD, but without the variety of sleuthing locations and continually refreshed locations that other heavy sleuthing games like GTH or LIE have.

While the Royal Palladium Theater is as important to the story as the Mansion from MHM or the Tower in TRT, it just doesn’t have the atmospheric presence that the other two locations do. The theater is gorgeous, but it doesn’t feel like a character.

This is the last “small” game for Nancy in-world as well — between the moderate publicity she got at the end of TRT and the enormous amounts of publicity she gets for this game, Nancy has moved up in the world. She’s still an amateur, but she’s no longer a small-town or anonymous amateur detective.

FIN attempts to be a game that rides on high drama, and it largely succeeds — except for the fact that a few large logical gaps in the game cut the tension and the drama, leaving the player happy but always wanting it to be a little bit More.

The Title:

As a title, “The Final Scene” is a decent one — we’re dealing with the final “scene” of the theater, the final “scene” of the three-day deadline, the possible “final scene” of Maya’s life — and the final scene of the culprit’s time at the theater, as well. It’s a cinematic title, fitting for such a cinematic theater.

That does lead us to the question — what “final scene” is the title talking about?

As a kid playing this game with my sister, I probably would have said that the “final scene” is that climactic moment when the police are clearing the theater and Nancy has to hide, where she finds Maya, and where Joseph confronts Nancy, raving about the theater and his ultimate, insane plan.

As an adult, nearly two decades later, the phrase “final scene” has a bit more of a somber tone. Although this issue will be addressed fully in the “fix” section, it should be mentioned here.

Joseph is in the “final scene” of his life, via his age, and has determined that this — this three-day madcap abduction, featuring a clueless cast of know-nothing know-it-alls and a hapless demolition crew armed with a 2,400 pound closing curtain — will be the ultimate Final Scene.

Viewed that way, the title is just as effective, but it’s a somber title — matched in tone by “Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon” and “The Silent Spy”. This isn’t a problem in and of itself, but it is a problem that the tone of the game doesn’t back it up.

Ultimately, it feels like “The Final Scene” was picked because they were like “oh, theater pun! Tip the intern .05c for that, Timothy!” rather than “this fits in many different ways, providing nuance to new and returning players”.

The Mystery:

When the game starts, much like TRT, there is no mystery — but that doesn’t stay true for more than 20 seconds. Nancy’s visiting her (and Bess’ and George’s) friend from high school, Maya Nguyen, in St. Louis, where Maya is interviewing cinematic “hunk” Brady Armstrong.

When Maya goes into Brady’s dressing room, however, she screams — and when Nancy gets in the room, she’s gone. Maya’s disappearance is punctuated by a threatening call from her kidnapper (abductor? Maya’s too old to be kidnapped, per se) telling Nancy she has to stop the demolition of the theater or else Maya will be killed when they knock it down.

From there, Nancy abandons any of the usual whispers of tact that she employs and straight up yells at the other people in the theater (and the police outside), trying to find Maya through what seems to be sheer intimidation tactics rather than Actual Sleuthing, desperate to beat the 3 day deadline.

It’s not easy, what with no one but the old caretaker of the theater, Joseph, cooperating with Nancy — not even the police, despite a witness to the kidnapping testifying of, well, the kidnapping. Nancy uses her smarts and a bit of luck (along with a lot of snooping) to solve the question of who kidnapped Maya and what every one of the people within the theater were hiding.

As a mystery, FIN is gripping — a personal stake, a strict mission, and four people hiding things explicitly from Nancy, rather than each other. It’s a shame that the mystery is a little undercut by a scarily easy-to-figure-out culprit — and the mystery that their state of mind brings up.

The Suspects:

Joseph Hughes takes care of the Royal Palladium Theater and has for decades. He’s the first suspect that Nancy meets — over the phone, right after Maya’s kidnapping — and is the first to know about the kidnapping.

Joseph is an obvious culprit, but obvious in a different way from any of the previous games. In the past, it’s about the 1/3 mark that the culprit becomes stunningly obvious, and it gets a little old watching Nancy treat others as if they’re equally (or more!) suspicious. Joseph, however, is not only obvious as the culprit immediately — he’s the closest when it happens, for one thing — but he’s also obviously insane.

There are several culprits where the first reaction might be “wow, they’re crazy”, but Joseph is obviously suffering from clinical dementia, exacerbated by the looming fate of the theater and losing the thing most familiar to him. It’s not that I expect this fact to be treated with delicacy in an early Nancy Drew game — or the early 2000s as a whole — but the fact that it’s not even touched is concerning to me.

This isn’t really touched on in the fandom as well. Joseph is Obviously Unwell and needs medical help and care for his condition, but even the ending of the game just plays it off as “wow, what a crazy culprit, good thing Nancy caught him” instead of “wow, this Ill man really needs help and it’s tragic that his dementia led him to endanger multiple lives”.

He’s an uncomfortable suspect and an even more uncomfortable culprit, and he really just bothers me. A lot of people class him as their favorite “sympathetic” suspect, but the question of how much “Joseph” there even is left is both one that’s incredibly important and incredibly overlooked.

It makes rating Joseph as a suspect hard, and even harder to rank him as a culprit. Other than the shortness of this game and its lack of puzzles, Joseph is probably the biggest reason I don’t replay FIN. He makes the game significantly less fun, and is alternately disturbing and pitiable.

He’s also the one that Her Interactive decided to “trick” the fanbase with, as he follows the “early cleared suspect who becomes Nancy’s helper” trope…with the exception of being cleared even a little bit.

I appreciate the attempt at subverting the formula — though since the formula started in the 3rd game, subverting it by the 5th might feel a bit early — as it shows a willingness to come up with new and fun ideas. I just wish it worked here.

Simone Muller is Brady Armstrong’s hard-liner agent, running every part of his life and fame — and doing, by all accounts, a fantastic job with it, as he’s the hottest rising star in Hollywood. She’s catty, awesome, practical, and cunning; she’s an unflappable woman willing to do what it takes — teenage detectives crawling out of her wardrobe or not.

Simone doesn’t really do anything the whole game other than be incredibly entertaining with her fake names for Nancy (Fancy Jackson is so disco, but she could totally work it) and order a funeral wreath for Maya — which, macabre or not, is a total power move.

Simone might not be the most moral person (though she’s hands down the most moral suspect in FIN) in the world, but she knows what she wants and gets it, and is one of the two active suspects (as Brady and Nick are passive), which already makes her more likable.

She also is the first to bring up “Samantha Quick” (as a stage name for Nancy), marking the first (but certainly not the last) time we’ll hear of the superspy.

Simone is the most moral and innocent of the bunch, and is (not coincidentally) the only one with a love life — a very successful-seeming love life, if her PDA notes are anything to go by.

She is also in all probability a Domme. So that kind of rocks too.

As a suspect, Simone is a decent one, seeming shifty without hiding something, and ultimately self-interested. She couldn’t have been the culprit, as she had no need to make Brady more famous in connection with the theater, but she was more than willing to spin a bad situation to her gain.

Simone is entertaining, competent, and even has a few character traits (her willingness to take a chance on making a hot dog seller into a star; her relationship with Georgie-Bear, etc.) that make her delightfully 3D.

Brady Armstrong (Thompson) is a hot-dog-seller-cum-actor discovered a few years ago by Simone and (secretly) the descendent of the theater’s owner, JJ Thompson, setting him up as the legal heir of the theater and the person behind the demolition.

Brady is, without exaggeration, an idiot, whose “big idea” for the land that the Royal Palladium is on is “Planet Tinseltown”, an idea that he’s very proud of for its originality, even though it’s not an original idea at all.

He’s alternately sheltered and taken advantage of by Simone, but you can’t really feel sorry for him, because he’s an enormous douchebag who wants Maya out of the way because she discovered the truth about him.

As a suspect, Brady is decent; secret past in relation to the theater, surprisingly unscrupulous for his general personality, and out to silence Maya. It’s nice that he is kind of the villain in that he refuses to stop the demolition even while lives are at stake, but that he’s not an over-the-top cackling maniac.

One of the best decisions Her Interactive made in this game was to have their suspects each be guilty of something Bad but not the ultimate Crime, rather than having them like Rose in MHM who is so innocent as to be boring. Brady’s a good example of that, and it saves him from the garbage heap.

Brady ultimately is a dumb bro who thinks that everyone wants his dick, but he’s just dumb enough to think himself intelligent, which is a dangerous trait that leads perfectly into his actual villainy. He very much could have been the big bad, but it works out better for his character that he’s not.

Nicholas Falcone is the founder of the incredibly niche organization “Humans Against the Destruction of Illustrious Theaters”, named specifically to spell “HADIT”, who’s still moping about his grandmother’s past with the Royal Palladium and has, according to police records, actually kidnapped someone in order to stop a demolition before.

Though a fan-favorite, I never really understood the pull to Nick; he’s just the “crunchy hippie” type douche to Brady’s “slimy prep” douche — he’s still a douchebag, all things considered. Maybe it’s the facial hair, which I believe is the first for the attempted “scruffy yet handsome character”, and the second overall (after Jacques in the last game).

Maybe it’s the tragic-yet-legally-questionable backstory, inspiring sympathy in all of us that were young enough to see the matter as black and white.

Maybe it’s the horribly cringe-y slang even for 2001.

The ‘happening’ slang is a weird point with Nick; while it’s probably intended to make him seem ‘hip’ and ‘with it’, it has the opposite effect when Nancy, a recent high school graduate (and thus younger than Nick) has no idea what he’s saying.

Sure, Nancy’s a square who doesn’t really use slang herself (though that’s relaxed a bit more as the series went on), but she went to high school. She’s gonna recognize modern slang, as observant as she is — which leads the player to the only conclusion possible: Nick is using horrifically outdated slang and trying to make Nancy seem even less ‘hip’ than she is already.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone, buckaroo.

It turns out that Nick’s grown up at the theater, so Joseph refuses to tell him to leave despite the fact that Nick has literally kidnapped someone to stop a theater demolition before (which honestly should be a huge clue who the villain is).

He’s harboring a grudge against JJ Thompson for never compensating his great-grandmother Louisa Falcone. While it’s a douche move, Nick has no legal right to the theater (see below), so it does come off a bit “…huh?” at the end for him.

As a suspect, Nick is one of those suspect-of-the-times characters that made a lot of sense back in the early 2000s and hasn’t made any sense…since. While he has his motivation in his grandmother being slighted, he’s mostly just there to spout slogans and sound ‘radical’. In 2019, he’d be a #keyboardwarrior, competing with Simone on Twitter and Instagram over who could “get the word out” most effectively. #corporategenerica #cancelcharmstrong

Whether Nick works as a character largely rests on if you can overlook the unsigned contract and if you find his spiel charming or annoying. He’s a time capsule of turn-of-the-century Seattle activism, and Her Interactive nails that…but it’s just not interesting to me.

The Favorites:

While this game is one of my least favorite among the entire series, it has plenty of high points that are incredibly enjoyable.

The design of the theater and the secret rooms is fabulous. The Palladium Theater is based off an incredibly sumptuous real life theater, and the animators went to great lengths to represent it accurately. The music, the colors, — these are great, and go a long way to making the game great to look at. The fun little knock-off posters in the lobby are a great example of this.

Nancy yelling that RUBBER IS SHOCK PROOF when absolutely nobody asked is a fun little moment that I look forward to, as well as Simone’s hilariously over-the-top funeral wreath.

The fact that the flower people were just like “hmm a Quirky Message” and not like “…call the cops” just shows that absolutely no one other than Nancy (and even not even Nancy sometimes) is taking this kidnapping seriously.

Eustacia Andropov is a bright, shining star in this game and remains, almost 30 games later, one of the most memorable phone characters that the series has ever produced. Her morbid sense of humor, dry tone, and absolutely awesome voice actor all combine to create a character that is possibly my favorite in the entire game, and definitely sits in the Phone Contact hall of fame.

There’s not really very many puzzles in FIN, so The Amazing Monty might take the title of my favorite by default.

The best overall moment of the game is Nancy being like “gross used gum” and immediately putting it into her inventory. Disgusting, Nance.

Though Nancy’s pretending to be Brenda Carlton is a high point as well.

The Un-Favorites:

My least favorite part of this game is that Nancy, in order to not make the game last five minutes, doesn’t ever consider Joseph a suspect, and instead confides everything in him, even setting him up to be in charge of giving evidence to the police.

When that evidence disappears, she doesn’t suspect him for a moment — that alone kills the game, and it’s the worst feeling in the world when you have to consider that the game makes Nancy stupid in order to have a game at all.

The Falcone part of the game is another part that is my least favorite — and not just because no one pronounces “Falcone” correctly (darn you, Seattle-based Her Interactive!).

Louisa Falcone’s name is on the contract, yes, but she never signed it. That means that the contract isn’t legally binding…and also means that Nick has no right to the theater, either. The fact that Her Interactive didn’t even bother to fact check this does sour the whole storyline for me, which is unfortunate.

The last “unfavorite” in this game is how empty the theater feels. The lack of more than a dozen puzzles and far too few things to click on, look at, or investigate (in some ways, the opposite problem that STFD had) makes the game feel even shorter than it always is, and takes away some of the enjoyment I have (and the potential to have) of the Theater as a Character.

I don’t really have a least favorite puzzle in this game — though if I had to choose, it’s the endless identical keys at the very high-stress ending sequence. My absolute least favorite moment in the game is when Joseph’s giant head appears over the trapdoor and Nancy’s forced to stare at it for upwards of 30 agonizing seconds.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Final Scene?

The biggest single, contained thing to fix would be The Joseph Problem. Not only does he make it over distances that a sprinter would struggle with in too small a time to even teleport, but there’s also the whole dementia thing, along with Nancy blindly trusting him and never treating him as a suspect.

Besides the issue of Joseph’s apparent Instant Teleportation, which is a common problem in Nancy Drew video games, the most game-breaking problem with Joseph is that Nancy trusts him implicitly, refusing to consider him a suspect even a little bit — even though he tells her to— instead choosing to make him her partner in…solving crime?

A simple fix would to be to make her not do that, but I’d actually prefer to change as little as possible about these games in the fix section, so instead I propose this fix: make it explicitly in-character for Nancy to do this.

It would make sense for Nancy to be weak to people of a certain age; her father, given the timeline, would have to be slightly older (a young lawyer during Alexei’s trial as a 20 year old), Hannah is elderly as well, her Aunt Eloise — the backing for this in-story is fairly strong.

So if Joseph reminds her of these older people in her life (and make her say this at least three times during the game), it then makes sense as to why Joseph would be above suspicion.

Sure, the player would still have the ability to see her trust of Joseph as a mistake, and it might even be a little frustrating still, but then at least the reason isn’t “Nancy is an Idiot”, it’s “Nancy’s making a mistake” — and a mistake justified in-story.

The Final Scene fails as a game — literally, as a game— because of its lack of, well, detecting and puzzles and other game mechanic stuff. Sure, it’s a snoop-heavy (versus puzzle-heavy) game, but there’s not even much snooping to do. Play a few mini games, talk on the phone, and you’re at the culprit confrontation before you expect it.

Alternately, miss noticing one tiny thing and you’re stuck on Day 1 without the ability to progress.

Obviously, including a few more puzzles is a great way to help this problem (Houdini was involved with the theater! Why aren’t there more secret locks and false walls and stuff?), but that should be added along with making the progression from day to day smoother.

Give Nancy a concrete goal that establishes itself at the beginning of the day, and prevent it from being able to happen until a few other tasks/conversations have happened as well. Making this obvious prevents the sense of time/urgency from being lost while Nancy wanders the theater playing mini-games.

Giving the police more of a presence would be a good idea as well. Nancy, despite lack of visual confirmation of a kidnapping, still qualifies under the law — then and now — as a witness of a kidnapping.

The police coming in on the second day didn’t ruin the plot or shut down the theater; a few detectives coming in on Day 1 wouldn’t do it either. It’s pointless for the police not to have a presence — it’s not like Nancy’s not gonna investigate anyway.

A junior police detective at the very least to add in as a “bonus character” that Nancy can interrogate/work with would be a good compromise. I know an extra character is a big “add”, but it’s better than hours with faceless police jabbering.

The Final Change (geddit?) is more thematic than concrete, and thus wouldn’t take more than a line of dialogue here and there.

“Rot” is present, thematically speaking, throughout the first part of the game: the theater is falling apart, there’s the “rotten” person who kidnapped Maya; Joseph’s brain is succumbing to age-driven “rot”; Nancy even calls out Brady as a “rotten fraud” (which he is). Simone represents the “rot of Hollywood”, and Nicholas, besides being a “rotten” person (kidnapping), is also stuck in the past of the theater — a past rotting away.

Bringing this to the forefront, reinforcing it through dialogue and Nancy’s own musings (or to Bess/George/Ned, working their characterization), would go a long way to thematically tying these character to this game. Making the characters and game inseparable is the mark of a successful Nancy Drew game — think GTH — and FIN is in sore need of it.

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #clue crew #the final scene #nancy drew meta #FIN #video games #my meta

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mariosomething · 5 years

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MISTAKES I MADE AS A COMIC OR NOTICED AS A BOOKER...

(NOTE: Never say never, but I can’t imagine getting back on stage again. However, now that comedy is returning to clubs--and potentially booming here in Austin--I think this is worth repeating. Especially #15. Enjoy!)

So, I might be hopping on stage again for my own, personal reasons. Number one being distraction from the crushing loneliness that comes with self-employment. Woo! On the first page of my newly-purchased comedy notebook, I started making a list of things I don’t want to do this time around. The comic I don’t want to be, should I continue performing. Getting in my own way with unfounded beliefs about my abilities or lack thereof. I will—NO DOUBT—repeat some of the following blunders out of muscle memory, and if you catch me doing so, by all means, call me out! In no particular order:

1- Worrying about who’s heard this bit before. One cure for this is to never stop writing new stuff. Also, it’s the JOB of a comedian to repeat the same shit with the same zeal and sincerity for different crowds…crowds that probably don’t attend comedy shows as often as we perform on them.

2- Worrying about making the comics laugh. This is still the hallmark of a great comic to me…the person we’ve all seen before but stop the chit-chat when they get on stage. It’s the opposite of a “crowd-pleaser.” In a perfect world, I can please both—as some do—but ultimately, we don’t get paid to make the back of the room laugh. If I’m building a half-hour, those comics may ‘check out’ during my set, and that’s to be expected. If I concern myself with their approval, I’m ignoring the audience, and by extension, disrespecting them. THEY bought a ticket. They deserve my best attempt.

3- Starting your act with a risky joke. Are there exceptions for these “rules” of mine? Absolutely. But they are just that…exceptions. This one always drove me nuts when I ran the Velv. Especially when the rest of one’s act is relatively benign! Would you lead with your “crazy” on a first date? Talk about all of your flaws on a job interview? Or with music you like…if I wanted to get you into Tom Waits, I’m not gonna recommend The Black Rider—an album only die-hard fans might appreciate. I’d start with something accessible, like Small Change or Rain Dogs. Get them on your side first with your palatable stuff, then give ‘em what you want. (Now go listen to Tom Waits’ Small Change and Rain Dogs.)

4- Worrying about looking stupid. This is the big one for me. Even though I KNOW the audience WANTS us to look foolish; even while I KNOW they want us to be both vulnerable and confident about it, I have a crippling fear of embarrassment. And this is NOT a good quality for any comedian. I learned that words account for only 7% of communication. The rest is body language, facial expressions and tone. I’ve always hidden behind my words, and have given up on bits that require me to be more animated. So dumb. Which leads me to…

5- Not doing enough ‘act-outs’ in bits. When I watch amazing comedians, they all have this in common. They perform or act-out dialogue. More show than tell. They don’t just recite jokes or one-liners. Even Steven & Mitch & Todd do/did act-outs in their own, low-energy styles. When you start looking for them, they’re everywhere. So much rolling, sustained laughter derives from act-outs. They don’t have to be BIG, they just have to be well-delivered.

6- Writing what I think they might like, not what I like. Another big ‘duh’ but worth repeating. I fell in this trap on the road. I was lovingly told to “write a dick joke already!” when I was a new, quasi-clever comic. And man alive, did I ever make up for it! Some may have had a fake nose and mustache, but they were dick jokes nonetheless, and I wasn’t proud. But they got laughs, and more laughs meant better comment cards, which meant return visits. Awesome way to remain a road comic…shitty way to evolve or get industry to pay attention. It’s also a fast track to burnout. If you’re not doing stuff you like, resentment builds and ambition wanes.

7- Not having goals. A new, tight 10 minutes is my goal today. If that goes well, a new 30. Then maybe an album. When I DID have things to strive for, they “magically” happened. I kept comedy goal lists on my wall, and most came to fruition. Then I got in my head and stopped making those lists. The more I was learning about the biz, the more inadequate I felt. I stopped writing, stopped going to mics and eventually stopped touring. With no new goals, I lost steam and confidence. I was a competent middle, but a spotty headliner…THAT is my ceiling for now. I’d love to be a rock-solid, reliable closer with at least one killer album to show for it. It’s feasible, but I need to start with that initial aim of a new, polished, consistent 10 minutes that I like.

8- Not watching more pros. Something that baffles me about so many new comics. You have the option to catch A-list comedians for FREE at Cap City, your home club, etc…why would you not take advantage? You learn by watching pros, even if it’s what NOT to do. Or what’s being done to death. You can learn structure, pacing, opening and closing. I used to watch comics I knew I wouldn’t like, but came away with respect for how they did things. People forget or don’t know that the late, great Bill Hicks used to be a clean-ish, set-up/punch kinda comedian. He learned the rules so he can break them effectively. Even at his viscous best, he was still super-polished. It’s respect for the craft, dammit. All of your heroes have it.

9- Getting jealous of your friends’ progress. There is sooo much leap-frogging in this business, there’s no need to denigrate yourself for not keeping pace with a peer. “Comedy is the closest thing there is to justice,” according to Colin Quinn, and I 100% agree. If you’re funny, consistently funny, you will get work. Period. When producers run and book shows, they want reliability more than anything. There is no island of misfit-but-actually-brillant comedians out there, waiting to be discovered. Funny gets noticed by EVERYbody. If you’re not getting booked, start looking inward. Seriously. When Cap City demoted me from headliner, I didn’t fight it. I thought they were right to do so because I knew my 50 minutes was about 15 shy of reliable material. Challenge your beliefs about your own act. Maybe you’re better than you think, but maybe it’s just the opposite. It’s worth asking, “What am I doing wrong?” if you’re having trouble getting past open mics. Maybe you are indeed funny, but still too green or inconsistent. Maybe you had a bad showcase set and your friend killed. Your friend may get Montreal before you, but you might get a manager first. You just don’t know! Keep plugging away, because there’s too much out of your control.

10- Not being humble. Jeezus H. Christmas, where did all of this unearned confidence come from?? Not only will I never relate to this, I will continue to chastise and scoff at it. Don’t assume your shit is crushed fruit, especially when you’re new. Don’t trash talk other comics, it WILL bite you in the ass eventually. Or immediately in some cases. Don’t think you’re immediately entitled to the same things that other comics took years to obtain or achieve. There is always something to learn, even from people you disagree with…it’s the definition of being open-minded. There are comics I detest personally, but goddamn if they aren’t great performers/writers. And I’ll probably get push-back for this, but I never called myself a “comedian” until I was able to quit my day job. Until that happened, I was just a dude who “did comedy.” I wanted to earn that title, don’t you?? Skip the business cards and build your act.

11- Not taking chances on stage. I’ve heard from too many comedians that if you’re always killing up there, you’re not taking chances. When I booked a room, I wanted to reward comics who tried new stuff every open mic, or was tweaking it. If a comic kept going up with well-worn bits, I ignored them for a few weeks or longer, even if they got laughs. It’s open mic, the point is to experiment! When I worked the road, I stopped doing mics when I was back in town. Big mistake. I was afraid to try untested jokes in clubs on the road, and too lazy or complacent to take chances at open mics. I stunted my own growth.

12- All agenda, no punchlines. I remember watching a well-known comic in NY struggle with Jesus jokes. He could NOT have been in a more welcoming arena for such, but he wasn’t funny, just angry. So he said, “Oh, I guess you guys don’t like religious jokes,” To which my friend replied, “We do! We keep waiting for one.” I think comedians can be the most insightful people on the planet, and the great ones don’t berate, they put funny first. It just makes sense! If you really really really want your message to be heard, then it’s in your best interest to make it funny. Funny cuts through. Or maybe you just wanna use the stage as a soapbox, in which case, quit comedy.

13- Not presenting both sides. I once told an established headliner he couldn’t return to the Velv, despite the numbers. In fairness to us, it was Valentine’s Day weekend, we were packed anyway. He never gave me a chance to explain why, but here’s why: he was too angry about women and wasn’t self-deprecating enough to balance it out. Conversely, I had a female comedian come through a couple of times, and the bulk of her act is male-bashing, BUT, it’s tight and well-crafted and funny as shit…AND she sprinkles in enough self-effacing humor so as not to divide the crowd. If the guy I banned was her parallel, I would’ve re-booked him. But I’m a freak about balance. While I don’t believe ANY person or group of people is above criticism, you can’t just point fingers at others while patting yourself on the back.

14 - Not putting more of ‘me’ in my act. Trends are fun as a reference, but full bits built around them have a tiny shelf life. It’s fluff and filler at best. Relationships will never be hacky. Aging will never get old. Folks! We all have specific quirks or approaches to life in general, why not explore those approaches? That’s when a ‘comic’ graduates to ‘comedian.’ When they stop saying funny things and start saying things funny. Not my line, but damn accurate.**

15- Knee-jerk hating and never asking WHY? Okay, this one’s a personal lament. When I found comedy, I found harmony. Anyone funny was welcome. I didn’t see us as men or women or gay or straight or black or white, we were comics, and I fucking loved it. We were equals from every walk of life, and no jerks allowed! I found a circle of curious, liberal-minded pals who were always asking why. Friends who would call out each other’s bullshit or hypocrisy or bad bits, then laugh about it at Mugshots. Friends who preferred brutal truth over blowing smoke. It was bliss for someone who values sincere feedback and funny, earnest people. Comedians we respect and adore are always challenging norms of behavior and tradition. Pryor, Chapelle, Carlin, Rock, of course, but even Larry David, who’s the king of offending people by rejecting small, societal niceties.

I’m starting to see too much division and moral cowardice in comedy--on and off stage--and this is antithesis to its value, in my opinion. Everything I hated about high school. Cliques and whispers and spiteful exclusion. I will echo what I wrote earlier: NOBODY IS ABOVE CRITICISM. This is the salty to the sweet of “Everyone welcome.” Comedy is a LOT of failing, tons of real-time rejection, and that SUCKS. But if you think it has anything to do with anything but your act, you’re not asking Why. It’s easier to say, “Well, it’s clearly ‘cos I’m ________.” Really? Maybe it’s ‘cos you’re not funny, or not funny YET. Maybe it’s because you haven’t written a new joke in months, or refuse to change the ones that never work. Maybe you think there are no rules to comedy, and you can just get up there and people will love you because so-and-so does it that way. Maybe you don’t have so-and-so’s natural talent or likability. Or work ethic. Or self-awareness. If your first response is to blame a crowd, a booker, society, or whatever, ask yourself: are there successful comics who look like me? Why them and not me? What are they doing differently? My first guess is: they’re addicted to the craft so they keep their head down and write and tweak and fail and ask why and learn from mistakes. Stop complaining and start paying attention. At the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for your career. If you believe women aren’t funny, I pity your ignorance and sheltered life. If you think men have it easier, tell that to the thousands of male comics who go nowhere in this business.

Maybe I’m an idealist hippy dippy doofus, but I believe that what we admire about others is pretty universal stuff. Regarding comedy, we all like someone who’s fearless on stage. Confident but not cocky. Capable. Quick. Genuine. Someone who keeps writing and honing their act. Someone who connects with people. Someone who comes back once a year with 30 new minutes. Someone who plows forward, not consumed with the opinions of others. Are these gender or race-specific qualities?? Hardly. And when you’re a top shelf, A-list comedian who’s paid their dues, it’s all preference at that level. It’s Gin vs. Vodka vs. Bourbon vs. Tequila, no one is “better” than the next. Maria Bamford is Bill Burr is Dave Chapelle is Carrot Top. They’re all pros who never stop working.

I’ll leave you with this…Comedy is a powerful and special thing, and I’ve always been crazy-grateful to be part of this tiny, uniquely rewarding world. Even if this experiment crumbles after a few months, even if I can’t vanquish some personal demons, it’s been a pursuit I’ve yet to regret. If you’re just starting out, or five years in, or going on the road, relish every minute. Meet all the people. Make all the friends. Get over your fears, get over yourself and get better. xoxo mario

**This is how I first heard it. Comic/comedian or vice versa. You get it. Though I personally feel that “comedian” sounds more like an official title, while you can’t spell “comic” without “mic.” Just sayin’ is all.

#standupcomedy #comedy

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