#it’s based off a nancy drew cover

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 7 all chapters

I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in.

–Jane on Mr. Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bront��

-It's no real mystery, why you dig out your beloved old copy of Jane Eyre. From the early 1900s, it had seen better days when you’d scored it in the local used book store, many years ago. You’d been a teenager then—and those days were long behind you. It seems you never outgrew your liking of a dark and broody anti-hero.

It’s safer to read about it though, than pursue the real thing.

Lately every time Mr. Wick comes into the shop you feel slightly agitated, as though you don’t quite fit into your own skin. You remember the sensation of his fingertips on yours, like a burn.

Mr. Wick sees you reading your tattered novel on your break, but doesn’t comment. You’ve seen him with old classics in hand and reckon he must be something of an aficionado.  

You put it away in your shoulder bag in the back after the break.

The next day, it’s gone.

You know you left it in your bag. Where the fuck could it have gone? Why would someone fucking steal it?

A couple of weeks later, it reappears on the counter by the register you favor.

You hardly recognize it at first, for it has received an encompassing makeover. It has new leather covers with gorgeous embossed gold lettering, and marbled end papers, and the tattered thread of the binding repaired. There are gilded arabesques on the spine and delicately drawn climbing flowers on the cover. You wouldn’t have even thought it the same book, if not for the intricately printed title page unique to your edition, with an old pencil mark in the corner you recognize.

Such a restoration would have cost a fortune.

You knew, because you’d looked into it.  

Further compounding the mystery, there is a beautiful jacquard embroidered ribbon bookmark inside. It’s on the page where Rochester has sat Jane down in the arbor, and is telling her that she has rejuvenated him from his unhappy existence without actually admitting anything, asking in the most roundabout way possible if it would be so very bad to take a second wife who would make him a new man, while his first is still living, the big idiot.

“Is the wandering and sinful, but now re-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world’s opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?���

Jane tells him, of course, that a man shouldn’t base his redemption on another person, but within himself. You are not sure you would have had the strength to speak so frankly to a man you secretly loved.

Well, maybe you would.

You are utterly mystified by the whole thing, to say the least.

But later, you are browsing the local book store, and the owner is reading Anna Karenina in what looks like freshly bound leather. The style looks familiar.

“Did you have that restored?” you ask, feeling like Nancy Drew hot on the trail of a fresh lead.

“Yeah, that new guy in town, John Wick did it for me. He says he’s just a hobbyist, but he does amazing work. Usually you have to send off to Florence for quality like this, seriously. It’s a dying art.”

Darren lets you look at the book, and you are impressed by the craftsmanship.

The spine decoration matches yours. There is a plate in the back that proclaims: Bound by John Wick.

The sneak.

You are touched to the tips of your toes, your heart filled with butterflies. Was the bookmark purposely left on that page, or just a random placement?

You hardly dare hope, and tell yourself it’s an invention of your own fancy. The gift of the book is magnificent enough. No need to further muddle things with secret communications that aren’t really there.

The next day you approach Mr. Wick’s table with hands on your hips, affecting annoyance. “You stole my book.”

He actually has the grace to look sheepish about it, casting those lovely dark eyes downwards.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. I really love it.” It’s the understatement of the century.

He looks up through his hair, the surprised sparkle in his eyes taking your breath away. Suddenly, he looks ten years younger.  

“Yeah?”

The corners of your mouth twitch. This man speaks like he’s paying five cents per word, you swear. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me you bind books?”

He just shrugs, and you cannot help but laugh.

“I’ve never owned anything so fine. Thank you, truly.”

 He nods again, and you sense that you’re maybe making him uncomfortable with your gratitude. You suspect it’s not why he did it at all.

“Will you show me sometime? How you do it?”

There is a flash of something dark in his eyes before he turns his attention back down to his own book. It feels like dismissal, but you have no idea what he’s hiding underneath it all.

Still waters run deep.

“Anytime you want,” he offers as you turn to go.  

You smile at him over your shoulder as you go back to your station, a secret lightness fluttering in your heart. On your break you flip through your refurbished book once more, taking even more pleasure in it knowing that John poured over every detail of it. You don’t know much about bookbinding or leather work, but you suspect he freehanded the little flowers on the front, and that moves you to your toes.

You flip to one of your favorite scenes because you find it so funny, when Jane puts out the fire that nearly burned Rochester up in his sleep, because undoubtedly he’d drank too much earlier to easily rouse, the lovesick scoundrel. Afterwards he doesn’t want her to leave but can’t outright keep her in his room without behaving an absolute blackguard.

“Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look.”

You cannot help but glance up at your tall dark bookworm in the corner, an aching warmth spreading in your heart for the sight of his furrowed brow, his concentration (you think) focused on the tome in his hands.

You know you are a ridiculous thing.

[ndconceptarchive]

Adventure Classic Gaming Interview with Megan Gaiser, Carolyn Bickford, and Sheri Hargus

Adventure Classic Gaming was,

"the premiere website dedicated to classic and retro adventure gaming. We seek to be a comprehensive online resource on classic adventure games and interactive fiction. Our site covers all gaming platforms, both computers and consoles. We cover games by both independent and commercial developers."

It appears that it's now defunct seeing as the most recent articles were uploaded in 2014, but you can still access the website even though it appears to be missing a CSS file.

Here is an interview from the website with Megan Gaiser in promotion for Stay Tuned for Danger published on June 12, 2000:

Founded in 1995, Her Interactive has taken a pioneering role in attracting girls to computer technology through attractive role-playing. The mission of this Washington-based publisher is to design, develop, and market intelligent interactive games for girls.

In 1997, the company has obtained a license from Simon & Schuster to develop an interactive mystery game series based on the legendary teen detective Nancy Drew. Its flagship titles, Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill and Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger, have received high praises from both critics and parents.

In this exclusive interview, Megan Gaiser (President), Carolyn Bickford (VP Sales and Marketing), and Sheri Hargus (Development Manager) speak about the company's unique mission, the popularity of Nancy Drew, and what holds in the future for this interactive series.

Sheri Hargus, Development Manager; Carolyn Bickford, VP Sales and Marketing; Megan Gaiser, President (left to right).

What (or who) is the inspiration behind the idea of taking Nancy Drew onto the computer screen?

Megan Gaiser: There are many reasons why we chose Nancy Drew to star in her own computer game series. History was one. Nancy Drew has fascinated girls for generations. We remembered as girls how eagerly we looked forward to getting our hands on the next Nancy Drew book - and realized that if we could create the same kind of anticipation for our games we would have major hits. Also, Nancy Drew is a powerful role model - she's brilliant, intrepid, and successful.

The Nancy Drew mysteries fit our search for content that was non-violent and that didn't rely on gender stereotypes. And, last but not least, mysteries make a great foundation for intelligent entertainment. Their complex plots provide infinite opportunity for adventure, exploration, and problem solving. There's a ready-made sense of community, as players seek help and advice from characters inside the game, from friends and family, and from online resources. Community is key to our plans to enhance our online presence.

Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger is developed and published by HerInteractive.com. HerInteractive.com has a unique mandate in developing non-violent games specifically for girls. Can you explain more fully about your company's unique mission? How do you plan to accomplish this mandate?

Megan Gaiser: Indeed, we are the only developer in the U.S. focused exclusively on the girls market, which is rather bizarre. There are more than 70 million girls in our target age range, and they have about $45 billion to spend each year. All of this potential has been largely ignored by the computer game industry, which found it could sell a lot of violent action games targeting the male audience, and has stayed in that rut ever since.

The market penetration for male-targeted games is near the saturation point. But there's still a wide-open opportunity to target the female half of the population. A recent study published by the American Association of University Women found that girls were largely turned off by the violent and repetitive nature of most games. If they're not buying games in large numbers, it's not because they don't like to play games, it's because few developers are designing games that appeal to them.

And those that do tend to rely pretty heavily on pink packaging, boy-talk and clothes. To assume that those are the only things girls are interested in is absurd. Our games don't use gender stereotypes to appeal to girls. Instead, they rely on the intrigue of a good mystery, and a smart, gutsy heroine. We believe that there should be as many types of games as there are types of girls. That creates such an exciting opportunity, and Nancy Drew is just the beginning.

For those readers who are unfamiliar with Nancy Drew, can you tell us a bit about the background of the legendary teen detective?

Megan Gaiser: Nancy Drew has been solving mysteries and inspiring millions of avid fans for 70 years.

Back in 1905, a writer named Edward Stratemeyer started a company that developed series of books for children. Edward would dream up plots and characters, and hire ghostwriters to write the books under pen names. He created the Hardy Boys in 1927, and just a few years later, he created Nancy Drew. When he died, his daughters ran the company and continued the Nancy Drew tradition.

Edward Stratemeyer's daughters, Harriet Adams and Edna Stratemeyer, made all decisions about what would happen with the Nancy Drew character. This was back in the 1930s when it was highly unusual for women to run a business. Their first ghostwriter for Nancy Drew was a strong, independent woman named Mildred Wirt Benson.

She was an athlete and a journalist, and she wrote Nancy to be just as adventurous as she was. As a matter of fact, at age 94 she's still a journalist, writing for her small town paper. HerInteractive.com sent her a copy of our first title, Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill - and she loved it! "Your computer game does exactly what I did when I was writing the books," she wrote. "It makes girls feel like they ARE Nancy Drew!"

In 1979 the Stratemeyer Syndicate signed a deal with Simon & Schuster to publish new books in the Nancy Drew Mystery Stories series. In 1982 Harriet Adams died, and in 1984 Simon & Schuster purchased the Syndicate, becoming both owner and publisher of Nancy Drew. Pocket Books gave the heroine a new look and updated the setting to appeal to Nancy's most recent generation of readers.

Her loyal girl friends Bess Marvin and George (Georgia) Fayne are still at her side, as is her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson. Nancy Drew's popularity spans the globe — she is currently translated into French, Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish, Dutch, Spanish, German, Brazilian, Portuguese, Czech, Hungarian, Polish and Malaysian. Over the years, she has been featured in movies and on television, and even had her own board game.

The core of the Nancy Drew publishing program, the Nancy Drew Mystery Stories, continues to be published six times a year by Pocket Books' Minstrel Book imprint. There are several other Nancy Drew series currently in publication, and a hot market exists for out-of-print copies of the original Nancy Drew books.

In 1998, HerInteractive.com brought Nancy Drew to the computer screen with the publication of Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill, followed in 1999 by Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger. Our goal is to make sure that the legendary teen detective clicks with a new generation.

Obtaining the license to use Nancy Drew must be a triumphal accomplishment for the company. How did you do it?

Megan Gaiser: We made a strong case to Simon and Schuster, convincing them that we had the talent, and the passion, to faithfully adapt their teen icon to the computer screen. The critical success of our earlier work played a big part. We have a highly qualified development team.

In addition, we demonstrated a clear understanding of what girls were looking for in computer games, based on extensive focus group research and input from our Teen Advisory Board.

Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill and Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger are two titles from the Nancy Drew: Interactive Mystery Games series. How many titles are planned for the series? At what stages of development are they now?

Megan Gaiser: Nancy Drew: Message in the Haunted Mansion is in development and scheduled for a September release. There are over 140 books in the Nancy Dew series - so we certainly have a wealth of content for future games. We believe that we can create a new generation of Nancy Drew fans who eagerly await each new interactive mystery. And now broadband and the Internet offer Nancy a whole new environment to explore, and we intend to take her there.

How long did it take to develop each game? Are all designing tools developed in-house?

Sheri Hargus: It takes from nine months to one year to develop each game. This is the total time from game conception to shipment. The entire team participates in the design process and we spend a good deal of time up front in developing the plot, characters, environments, puzzles and game flow. We have found that early attention to the entire design allows us to stay on schedule and create a superior product.

The art team uses mostly off-the-shelf tools such as Photoshop and 3D Studio Max. The programming is done in C++ and is built upon a proprietary game engine that has been developed internally. DirectDraw is also used and installed as part of the game installation.

At what age of audience do your games aim? What do you feel are the key attractions of the Nancy Drew Interactive Mystery Games?

Megan Gaiser: Our games are designed for girls ages 10 - 15. We are finding that their appeal is actually much broader than that; younger girls are playing them with their sisters or their moms.

And women who grew up devouring every Nancy Drew mystery are eagerly buying the games for themselves. Many computer games portray women in very limited roles - women are too often just the "prize" or the damsel in distress. Nancy Drew breaks many of these molds — she's smart, self-reliant, adventurous — and in the end she is always successful.

In the gaming industry, until recently, girls were never really asked what they wanted in computer games. We asked, and heard they were not satisfied with the status quo of computer gaming: the violence, the lack of storylines, the secret rules. This led us to breakthrough ideas that are a step forward for the gaming industry as a whole. We incorporated all of this knowledge into the Nancy Drew games. And we listen carefully, and then act on, all of the feedback we get from every game.

What is the style of game play in Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger?

Sheri Hargus: The game is a visually stunning single-person adventure and problem-solving interactive mystery. The player navigates smoothly through different game locations, seeing everything through the eyes of Nancy Drew. Each location has rooms and environments to explore; it's loaded with clues, puzzles and other characters. Interaction with characters is through a dialog box where the player is allowed to select different responses and questions while engaged in conversations with the game characters.

The player has the ability to turn completely around in any node by clicking on the left or right sides of the game window. Player input occurs through mouse clicking on hotspots with occasional keyboard input also needed. The player can fail the game in several ways but it is always possible to restart and try again from the same game position. On the average, it takes 10-20 hours for a player to successfully solve the mystery and complete the game.

Both Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill and Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger won numerous praises from critics, but what kind of feedback have you got from parents?

Megan Gaiser: We just found out that Nancy Drew: Stay Tuned for Danger is the winner of this year's prestigious Parents' Choice Gold Award for software in the 10 - 18 age group. That reflects the positive reception we've received from so many parents. Our games are cool without cruelty, the perfect answer for parents who would like to give their teen a non-violent game that's not totally lame.

We have heard from moms and daughters who have had a great time solving our interactive mysteries together. It takes on average about 15 hours to crack the case, and two heads are always better than one. Mothers tell us they really like sharing the Nancy they grew up with their daughters. Plus, they have a lot of fun playing the game. We have found that moms (and even dads) are avid participants in many of the online chats about the games - so we know that girls aren't the only people playing our games!

How can we order these games? Are they available only online (rather than retail sales)? If so, why?

Megan Gaiser: The games can be ordered through our own website, http://www.herinteractive.com They are also available through many online retailers, including Amazon (where Nancy Drew Stay Tuned for Danger has been in the Top Ten Children's Titles ever since it's release), eToys and Beyond.com.

Bricks and mortar shelf space has been hard to come by; we're a very small publisher in an emerging category. But we are making progress toward obtaining broader distribution by this Christmas — the critical and online sales successes of our first two titles are starting to open some doors.

What holds in the future for Nancy Drew (i.e. sequels)?

Megan Gaiser: Looking beyond the September release of Nancy Drew: Message in the Haunted Mansion; we have a long list of Nancy Drew stories that would translate into fabulous interactive games. We're also looking at other licenses to expand the game playing options "for girls who aren't afraid of a mouse." There are lots of different types of girls, and there are so many wonderful characters that could star as our next interactive idol!

[whisperingspinesliterary]

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the library.

As far as wrap-ups go - I'm a little late. And as far as intro posts go, well - I'm not quite sure this is the best way to start. But here we are. You may call me Whisper; I'm 28, a life-long reader, self-taught writer, an avid gamer, and a movie enthusiast. I've been in a years-long reading slump, and finally managed to crawl my way out of it in early 2024. Trust me when I say, my love of reading is something I never want to forget about myself again. So here I am!

I had a blog years ago, but I couldn't even tell you what I used to write about. I decided, in order to keep in my rediscovered booksphere, why not start a blog to log my adventures in reading and maybe even talk about my own books that I'm crafting and movies that I love? A catch all place for story lovers. I'm also starting a YouTube channel, which you can watch HERE. It has some new videos, as well as some old writing videos from last year when I originally started posting on it.

I'm so excited to be diving into this endeavor!

As a whole, 2024 was a hell of a ride. Both in life and in books. I spent most of 2024 unemployed, which hasn't happened since I was a teenager. (I still am unemployed; it is a rough market out there...) But I also found some new favorites and read books that I will gladly never touch again. I started tracking my progress on StoryGraph (you can follow HERE). It's an app and website that was created and is owned by a black woman. I find it much more intuitive and user friendly than GoodReads. It also gives more in-depth breakdowns of your reads up to the current! Honestly, I can hardly navigate the GoodReads app.

Last year, I tracked 12 novels, 29 manga, 1 audiobook, 2 novellas, roughly 17 short stories, and only DNF'd 2 books. Pretty solid for just rewetting my feet. My goals this year are to read 25 novels (about 2 a month), 3 complete manga series, and double the amount of short stories I read. I think they're pretty reasonable goals, and I'm looking forward to challenging myself!

I have a bad habit of judging books based off their covers. My very first read of last year caught my attention because of its stunning cover. It was the whole reason I bought it. A Botanist's Guide to Parties and Poison is a detective novel set in 1920s London. It follows 23-year-old Saffron Everleigh as she struggles with being a woman botanist working at University College London in a time when women in the sciences weren't respected. She finds herself wrapped up in a mystery when a department head's wife is poisoned at a party she's attending, and the professor she works under is the main suspect.

A Botanist's Guide to Parties and Poisons is Kate Khavari's debut mystery novel. Honestly, you can tell a bit in the writing, and especially in the way that Saffron handles certain aspects of her mystery. But overall, I really enjoyed the book. I found Saffron delightful to follow and her seedling romance with Alexander Ashton to be adorable. I liked it so much that I bought and read the subsequent sequels - A Botanist's Guide to Flowers and Fatality and A Botanist's Guide to Society and Secrets. I'm looking forward to A Botanist's Guide to Rituals and Revenge, which is releasing later this year.

I'm a huge fan of Carolyn Keene’s Nancy Drew, Agatha Christie’s Poirot, and Franklin W. Dixon’s Hardy Boys. So these books absolutely tickled my fancy. Each mystery gets more intriguing, and the world around Saffron keeps growing and getting richer. My only issue is that in Flowers and Fatality and Society and Secrets Saffron just seems to get angry for no reason. Everything irritates her, and her character is slightly changed from her original personality in Parties and Poisons. As a whole, I give the series a 3/5 and definitely would recommend giving it a read!

I followed Up A Botanist's Guide with a complete genre leap. I dove head long into My Sister the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite. It was her debut book, which may be why it falls a bit flat. Just as the title suggests, we follow Korede as she cleans up after her sister, Ayoola, who has a tendency to kill her boyfriends. As a massive horror fan, I was so disappointed in this book. I really, really wanted to like it. It was such a good premise, and the beginning was so strong. But that's all it has going for it in my eyes.

Ayoola decides to go after the man that Korede has a crush on at work. We're supposed to follow Korede's moral push and pull in the wake of another of her sister's murders while keeping the man she loves from being killed. However, it's never really felt. It's just a bit of wishy-washy back and forth inner dialogue. The climax didn't really hit a screaming pitch. It just kind of...comes and goes and then the book is over. Leaving us with an unsatisfying ending. You end up right back at square one, where the novel began. This is one book I would say not to waste your time on.

Luckily, I wasn't disappointed for long. I discovered a new favorite completed series. It was advertised comparing it to Howl's Moving Castle - which is my all-time favorite book and movie. I didn't think twice before I bought the first book. The Lord of Stariel is a gaslamp fantasy series. It has a historical type of fantasy setting, where magicians, enchanters, and illusionists practice true magic. Fae are still creatures of myth, but it doesn't stay that way for long.

The series follows Hetta Valstar, the estranged daughter of the Lord of Stariel. When he dies, she has to go back home to the estate of Stariel - a sentient Fae land that bonds with a person. The first book suffered similar to A Botanist's Guide to Parties and Poisons - when the climax came, they talked it out instead of it actually being climactic. But each subsequent book in the series gets better.

It has dangerous magic, a swoon worthy suitor, and an utterly whimsical world to get lost in. It even has a spin off book, A Rake of His Own, which follows Hetta's brother, Marius. I devoured all five books in about two months. I simply could not get enough. As a series, it's a 5 out of 5 and I can't recommend it enough if you like fantasy.

Sometimes, in the middle of reading a long series, you need a bit of a pallet cleanser. I broke up my reading with a book set in our own world. My Roommate Is a Vampire by Jenna Levine is a monster romcom, a genre I didn't even think existed outside of comics and manga. The book follows Cassie Greenberg, who's an artist struggling to make a living. She finds an advertisement for an apartment and quickly learns that her roommate is a bit of a weirdo. It definitely gave me a chuckle and had a bit of unexpected spicy. There are parts where the story gets serious, and the tone shift can make it a little muddy. But it's one of those books I'd recommend for anyone looking for a light read. The companion novel, My Vampire Plus-One, recently came out and I can't wait to sink my teeth into that one!

In real life, I don't have ton of friends who read books and most of those who do don't read the same books. So, I was surprised when my friend's wife let me borrow her copy of The House on the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune. And even more surprised by how much I loved it. It's a cozy, enchanting story about a man named Linus Baker, who works at the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. He goes and evaluates orphanages that home magical youth. Every day he trudges through a never ending, grey storm. But one day he's summoned by Extremely Upper Management and sent to a house on an island, where he must decide if the children there are too dangerous.

I cannot put into words how charming this story is. I love all the characters, how warm the world feels, and the soft, subtle way that Linus and the head of the orphanage, Arthur Parnassus, fall in love. This was another book that I absolutely devoured. I can't sing its praises high enough. It's just a fun, feel good read. I loved it so much that I bought the recently released sequel - Somewhere Beyond the Sea. I haven't read it yet, but it's on my TBR. I can only hope that it lives up to the same standards as the first one.

Right at the end of December, I managed to squeeze one last book. I Was a Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones was my final read of 2024. It's a memoir written by adult 30-something-year-old Tolly Driver as he reminisces about 1989 - the year he became a slasher. I liked the idea; seeing everything from the killer's point of view, finding out what was going through their mind. However, I was sorely let down.

Tolly's narration is a stream of consciousness. Apparently, the whole thing is supposed to be type out on receipt paper. He bounces around from 1989, to previous years, to his present adult self and back. There were spots I had to read three or four times before I released which time period everything was taking place in. There were spots where the sequence of events or the actions of the character were unclear.

As a whole, I found the whole thing a bit ridiculous. It's supposed to be a horror thriller, a serious story about a serious character. But reads like a parody/comedy horror that's taking itself way too seriously. There were supernatural elements that could've been interesting. Tolly's transformation into a slasher was like an infection and the "powers" it gave him just pulled me out of it. I just found that the whole story fell flat. I read the whole book because I was too curious what ludicrous thing was going to happen next.

I'm normally a huge fan of horror comedies, but not when I go in expecting it to be a real, solid horror story. Anybody looking to read a decent horror book, I'd say pass this one over. But if you're looking for a horror parody, then you came to the right place. I'm disappointed since I've heard such good things about Stephan Graham Jones as a horror novelist. However, this was just not the book for me and ended up with a 2/5 on my StoryGraph.

As you can see, 2024 was definitely a wild year for my reading list. I found new series that I absolutely love and some books I will happily never read again. I'm looking forward to many more adventures this year, and I can't wait to see where those books take me. I especially can't wait to bring you all along for the ride!

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope to see you again soon!

- Whisper

Let Me Know: Have you read any of the books in my wrap-up? If you did, what did you think? What books did you read in 2024?

____________________

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~

[argonianprince]

I’m really sorry to hear about the new Nancy Drew game. I’ve been sitting on a few of those games and never got around to playing them, but I read tons of Nancy Drew as a kid and love the character. It’s sad that HerInteractive seems to have fallen apart like that.

As for the older games, are there any in particular you’d recommend? Or an order I should play through? I got pretty much all of them for crazy cheap in a bundle a couple years ago, so could definitely use a pointer from an expert :)

Omg yes @mallosoar, there are some great starting places with the original games!! I like to recommend them based on setting preference and overall educational theme, out of a few standout ones that I think really encapsulate what the series is like in spirit (and have excellent story, characters, puzzles, and secret locations to find, and a nice balance thereof):

Creepy woods (forestry and American gangster history): Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake

Foggy seashore (marine science and conservation): Danger on Deception Island

Southwestern US ranch (Old West and ancient peoples, animal care): The Secret of Shadow Ranch

Tokyo (Japanese culture, horror, lots of logic puzzles): Shadow at the Waters' Edge

The list of games I would actively steer a new player away from is relatively short tbh. Play order doesn't matter at all, except that some cute little callbacks to prior games might be missed. The first 2 in the series are fun, but they didn't have the formula down yet, so they are a little different. If you really want that OG Nancy Drew experience from the books, Secret of the Old Clock is set in the 1930's. It's a combination of the first ever book of the same title, and Mystery at Lilac Inn. All the games are based on one or two of the books, so if there was a book you remember really fondly it might be worth seeing if there is a correlating game (there is an easy list of the books each of the games is based off on the Wikipedia page). My school library growing up only had like 8 of the books but I remember being ENGROSSED.

Outside of starting with one of the really great entry points above, just choosing play order based on title/cover or description is totally valid. You'll have an idea of where in time each game was published as Nancy's technology level changes (whether she has a dumb- or smart-phone, what kind of computers are usable in the game, etc)

If you play any, I would be OVERJOOOYED if you'd let me know which one you start with and what you think of it!!!!!

Thank you for the condolences ❤️❤️❤️ I'm genuinely crushed ;--; they did our girl detective so dirty ;---;

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 14 Rewatch:  “Blood Bank”

The basics:  A shootout on a yacht owned by Arkady Kolcheck gets NCIS’s attention.

Written by:  Samantha Chasse co-wrote "Kill Beale Vol. 1" and wrote "Impostor Syndrome" and “Murmuration”.

Directed by:  Benny Boom directed "Ghost Gun", "767", "Fool Me Twice", "Pro Se", "Hail Mary", “Groundwork” and “Perception”.   

Guest stars of note:  Duncan Campbell returns as NCIS Special Agent Castor from “Let It Burn”, Vyto Ruginis joins season 14 as Arkady Kolcheck.  Matty Cardarople returns as Danny, who sold pastries in season 10’s “Into the Breach” and computer supplies in “Imposter Syndrome” in season 12,.  Kathleen Garrett as Miraslava Borisova, Dalia Rooni as Riffat Murad, Nikolay Moss as Kostas Orlov, Jonathan Kells Phillips as Rupert Richardson and Emily Morales-Cabrera as Assistant

Our heroes:   Deal with more Russian nonsense.

What important things did we learn about: Callen:  Giving a deposition. Sam:   Running a taskforce. Kensi:  Nancy Drew on the boat. Deeks:  Swedish nobility. Fatima:   Late. Rountree:   Bodyguard. Kilbride:  Appalled by Arkady’s safe house.

What not so important things did we learn about: Callen:  Now working on Sam’s taskforce. Sam:   Absent. Kensi:   Wields a mean serving tray. Deeks:   Wields a mean sword. Fatima:  Coffee fan. Rountree:   Lost the excuse book. Kilbride:  Found the excuse book.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Not a mention, though I bet she knew Mira Borisova.

Who's down with OTP:  Kensi dropped her “Mom Tone” when she had to separate Arkady and Mira Borisova.  Kensi and Deeks were fine.

Who's down with BrOTP:   Fatima and Rountree have plans for covering for each other.  Fatima made a friend waiting for coffee.

Fashion review:    Callen wears a dark blue, long-sleeve tee.  Kensi has on an oatmeal pullover sweater that probably looked better in person than on the TV.  Deeks started the episode in a pale pink tee before wearing his Swedish Nobleman blue suit.  A red quarter-zip for Fatima.  Rountree started the episode with a black tee and what looked like a blue lightweight rain jacket before wearing his all black bodyguard gear.  Tell me if you’ve heard this before – blue suit, pale blue dress shirt, medium blue tie for the Admiral.  He also wears a trench coat and looks fantastic. 

Music:   "Makaha” by the Tikiyaki Orchestra is playing in the bar when the Admiral arrives to rescue Arkady.  Deeks and Arkady walk into the auction house with “Rasputin” by Boney M. playing.  A bit of the “Titanic” soundtrack pops up at the end.

Any notable cut scene:  Not today.

Quote: Arkady:  “Grisha?”

Kilbride:  “Guess again.  What sort of a moron decides to make a safe house from...whatever this place is?”

Arkady:  “Am I alive?”

Kilbride:  “Judging by the looks of this table, barely.”

Arkady:  “Listen, a Russian would not look for another Russian in a bar that serves rum-based drinks.  It is a brilliant and delicious plan.”

An Arkady-Kilbride spinoff would have worked.

Anything else:  On a yacht, a Russian woman is showing off the 43rd of the Czar’s Fabergé Eggs to buyers.  There are only 42 known eggs, she has the 43rd which “no longer exists, yet, there it is.”  She is looking for $7 million for the egg.

She wants to share champagne with her buyers but when she calls for one of her yacht staffers to bring a bottle, there is no answer.  The buyer and his bodyguard pull out guns and shoot the woman and her security staff.  They race off with the egg. 

The woman, however, is not dead.  The large necklace she wore acted as a bulletproof vest.

Walking into the office, Kensi and Deeks are debating Rosa watching a dating reality show.  Kensi assures Deeks that Rosa knows the show isn’t real.  This is news to Deeks, who thinks the program is real.  The two debate the contestants, including a “meatball specialist”.  A very amped up Rountree joins them, asking about going into the burn room.  Since it is 9AM on a Monday, neither Kensi or Deeks have a reason to do any early week burning.  Rountree tries to exit but is forced to explain the notebook he shares with Fatima.  It is a track of their excuses for when they are late.  “It’s the only way we can keep our stories straight!” 

Kensi mentions texting each other but Rountree thinks Kilbride would find a digital trail.  Fatima is late and he’s not sure what the excuse of the day will be.  And he needs that right now since Kilbride is looking for Fatima.  Rountree starts with a car appointment but that would mean Fatima scheduled it during work hours, angering Kilbride.  He changes to medical appointment but that worries Kilbride.  Suddenly Fatima has a dog – for an undercover operative, Rountree is bad at this.  And the dog was hit by a car.  Kensi and Deeks offer thoughts and prayers.

Fatima, however, is getting coffee.  Fatima chats with a woman waiting for coffee.  Riffat works for an agency finding housing for refugees from Afghanistan.  After trouble with the barista, Fatima is on her way.

Kilbride walks into an empty Ops, except for Rountree.  Based on the case that just arrived, Rountree wanted to do the debrief alone.  Two Russians were found dead on a yacht in Marina del Ray.  Demetri Fedrov and Simeon Babanin, former Russian military and now with the Wagner Group, are persons of interest in moving cultural and historical pieces of art.  The boat, the Diamond of the Ocean, belongs to Arkady Kolcheck.  “Why am I not surprised?”

Kensi and Deeks enter Ops with news that Arkady was attacked.  They know nothing about what happened on the boat the way Rountree and the Admiral know nothing about the attack on Arkady.  There is a “Who’s on First” vibe going on.  Arkady was attacked at his house that morning but was able to move to a safe house.  He contacted Callen, who wants Kensi and Deeks to ping Arkady’s burner phone.  Callen is giving a deposition so he’s unavailable. 

Deeks thought Arkady was out of the spy business but Kensi thinks it could be his past causing Arkady trouble.  The Admiral isn’t so sure that Arkady is out of the spy business.  Rountree offers to call Callen but the Admiral is going to find Arkady himself.

In a Tiki bar, a rather overserved Arkady is looking for “Grisha” but gets Kilbride instead.  Kilbride is wondering what kind of “moron” makes a Tiki bar a safehouse.  Arkady is wondering if he is alive.  Explaining himself, Arkady tells Kilbride that a Russian would not look for a Russian in a place that serves rum-based drinks.  “It is a brilliant and delicious plan.” 

Ignoring what has led the two of them to “this idiotic moment”, Kilbride wants to know what happened.  Leaving his house that morning, two men with guns came up to Arkady’s car.  He high-tailed it out of there, running over one of the gunmen’s feet.  Kilbride asks if that’s what caused the shooting on Arkady’s boat.  Arkady is confused, he hasn’t owned a boat for 40-years.  “Must be another Arkady Kolcheck.”   Saying he is just a typical ex-KGB Agent who defected to America, “who could want me dead?”

On the maybe not Arkady’s yacht, the original thought is murder-suicide.  Looking at the lack of blood spatter behind one body and the way the blood pooled, Kensi thinks this is a set-up.  The investigation says there was no video but that doesn’t make sense.  A boat this big and fancy would have security cameras, according to Kensi/Nancy Drew.  Deeks tries a mirror but it is one way, not two.  Kensi found a camera in the smoke detector – “Nancy Drew you did it again.”

In the boat shed, Arkady is finishing a call with Anna as Callen pours some coffee.  Arkady isn’t a fan of the boat shed because it smells like a crab shack.  His safe house has blended drinks.  On the plasma screen, Rountree and an arriving Fatima have the footage from the camera Kensi found.  Most of the footage is useless, it was over there table where the Russian woman was showing the egg.  The woman, however, drags herself into the camera’s range.  Fatima has facial rec but Arkady already knows – “Mira.”  And he claims to know her biblically. 

Mira is Miraslava Borisova, a Moscow museum curator turned black market antiquities dealer.  With Borisova’s access, Arkady was able to put her in contact with people interested in buying what she could provide.  But that was 40-years ago.  Callen wants Arkady to set up a meeting.

Outside of a fancy hotel in Beverly Hills, Callen is surprised Borisova would hide in such a public place.  Being a well dress, wealthy woman, Arkady thinks she’d fit right in.  He’s a bit nervous about reuniting with Borisova.  Callen offers some advice and help but Arkady remind him that he was doing this before Callen was born.  The roach coach is now a plumbing company van with Kensi and Deeks inside with a lot of surveillance equipment.  Callen tells them that Arkady dated Borisova before he met Anna’s mother. 

Rapping on the door, Arkady finds it opened.  He calls for Borisova as he walks inside.  She has a rather heavy coffee table book and starts beating him with it.  Callen asks Kensi and Deeks what’s going on and they’re not sure.  Back in the room, Borisova is furious that Arkady finally calls and it the day she was almost killed.  To get her attention, Arkady pops her with a couch decorative pillow.  She returns the favor. 

Kensi yells that “they’re fighting” – Borisova thinks Arkady set her up in Malta and set her up today – while Deeks is enjoying the “geriatric WWE”.  Kensi wonders if they should go in.  Callen isn’t sure.  Deeks brings up the time Arkady made them de-booby-trap his car because Arkady couldn’t remember how he booby-trapped it.  Kensi brings up a failed mission in Chechnya.  Callen talks about Arkady cursing his engagement to Anna.  They’re going to let Arkady and Borisova work things out for a while.

After Borisova picks up the luggage rack, getting NCIS’s attention, Arkady threatens to remove the tag from a rare Beanie Baby.  When he does, Borisova really starts knocking him around.  Callen, Kensi and Deeks walk into the hotel room just as Arkady goes flying.

Near Ops, Fatima runs into the Admiral while she tried to evade him.  She apologizes for her tardiness.  Fatima tells him her dog is doing well.  The Admiral, a dog lover, wants her to bring in the dog as he recovers.  In fact, he insists. 

In Ops, Rountree apologizes for freaking out and going with the dog.  Fatima is more concerned about finding a dog.  On the big screen, Kensi and Deeks are in the boat shed.  Rountree identified the missing object from the yacht – it is one of eight missing decorative eggs, made for the Russian royal family.  While killing Borisova to steal the egg makes sense, why go after Arkady?  Fatima sends a picture of the egg to Callen, who is interrogating Mira.  Arkady is on the back deck in a time out.

Callen shows Borisova the egg.  She plays dumb but knows she’s been caught.  Callen asks why was the boat registered to Arkady.  Again, Borisova plays dumb until Callen says he’s going to turn the yacht over to the DOJ.  They have a special taskforce that confiscates Russian belongings.  After explaining it is her boat, Borisova tells Callen that she has put Arkady’s name on everything she’s bought – from condos in Cape Town to safe deposit boxes.  For all the world knows, they’ve been partners in crime for 40-years.  It is the perfect revenge – “petty but effective.” 

Bringing up the attack on Arkady, Callen believes someone going after Borisova tried to kill Arkady as part of her fake partnership.  Since the men who robbed her thinks she dead, she’s not interested in talking.  Callen is – the men are still after Arkady and it is Borisova’s fault.  

The men on the yacht were new clients and vetted by an auction house.  Callen is surprised – why would an auction house be involved.  Antiquities have to be stored carefully not in a storage locker rented by the month.  The only people who knew about the sale were the auction house, buyers and the seller, Alexey Pasternik.  Pasternik was motivated – he wanted the sale.  Moving the item quicky meant selling at a discount.  And that means he’s the problem.

Alexey Pasternik died three-days earlier.  He “threw himself” from a 12-floor condo by going through the window.  A suspicious death.  Fatima has a map of billionaires like Pasternik who left Russia days before the Ukraine invasion.  More than half are dead. 

Callen tells Borisova about Pasternik’s untimely fall.  She tries to joke about the Russian national bird being a flightless bird because of all the falling Russians.  Callen wants to know what Pasternik was trying to get away from.  Borisova explains that the billionaires had their loyalty bought by the Russian government.  Lots of money was given to these people and now with the sanctions causing financial pain in Russia, the government wants the money back. 

The government was hiding their wealth with the billionaires – they are blood banks.  Since the government was not happy with the way Borisova was selling off the assets, they went after her and her partner, Arkady.

Doing a ton of exposition, Deeks explains that the money given to the billionaires to invest and spend was reclaimable.  Once the billionaire dies, the money goes back to Russia.  All the murders of the billionaires all over the world was to get back the money.  “This is so much bigger than we thought.”

In his office, Kilbride tells Kensi and Deeks on his smaller plasma screen that the DOJ will not be cooperating with NCIS.  With tactical nukes on the table, NCIS has to be involved in a discreet investigation.  An investigation without Callen, since he is joining Sam’s joint task force.  It is Kensi, Deeks, Fatima and Rountree on this one.

Since they don’t know the gunmen or how to smoke them out, Deeks thinks they should approach the auction house since the auction house still thinks Borisova and Arkady are in business together.  Arkady could approach the auction house to get an item and the insider in the auction house could tip off the gunmen.

Borisova is willing to help but only if she’s running things.  The auction house will have rules for wealthy clients and a well-dressed Deeks – fancy suit, tie, and a medal of some sort around his neck – is just that client as Swedish nobility.  She reminds everyone that the auction house protects objects, not people.  The fire suppression system removes all the oxygen in a room to stop a fire.  If there is a person there, well, that’s a problem for the person.  For her cooperation, Borisova wants a second chance.

Dressing in the boat shed restroom, Borisova brings Arkady a special suit.  He apologizes for leaving her in Malta.  She sort of does the same with today’s assassination attempt.  “Let’s just call us even.” 

Walking into the auction house wearing a tan three-piece suit, a light blue dress shirt and a red paisley tie, Arkady introduces himself to the woman in the reception area.  He is followed by Deeks and Rountree, who is all in black, dressed as a bodyguard.  Asking for Rupert and giving his account number, provided by Borisova in the plumbing van with Castor, Arkady and Deeks welcomed in.  Rountree must wait in the reception area – company policy.

In a waiting area, Rupert is excited to greet Arkady after working with Borisova on his behalf for years.  Rupert starts speaking to Deeks in Swedish – that goes poorly.  Rupert is going to speak to Deeks while Arkady opens his locker.  Arkady is freaking out – he doesn’t have the key.  The earwigs are failing – the building is secure.  When Kensi asks about Borisova, Castor is shown out cold and Borisova is gone.

In the vault area, Arkady is met by an armed Borisova. 

With no response from Arkady or Castor, Kensi and Rountree are going to move into the auction house. 

Entering the locker behind Borisova is Arkasha, the man who shot her on the boat.  Arkasha thought he was going to have to kill Borisova twice that day but she cut a deal with Arkasha today.  She would kill Arkady, turn over her client list and she gets back the egg and her freedom.  Arkasha suggest she shoot Arkady in the head.  She doesn’t.  Instead, she knees Arkasha where it hurts, turns on the CO-2 suppression system and sets off all sorts of alarms.

Making his way through the building, Rountree gets to the vault but can’t open the door.  Rountree shoots open the vault door to find Arkady.

When the alarm goes off, so does Rupert.  He pulls a sword from the wall before Deeks can get his gun out. 

Rountree finds Arkasha and subdues him before they both suffocate.

Arkasaha’s men have Arkady and Borisova.  Kensi causes a distraction and takes one henchman out. 

Deeks finds his own wall sword and he and Rupert duel.  Deeks wins in a way too short scene.

Kensi is stuck between Arkasha’s two men.  Arkady tosses her a silver platter and a vase.  She takes them both out before Deeks arrives.  Promising to make a scene to distract Kensi and Deeks, Arkady wants Borisova to flee.  She’s not going anywhere.  Kensi puts her in cuffs.

Back in the office, Rountree asks Fatima for friends dinner - tacos or udon.  She has to pass -  she’s having a friends dinner with Riffat.  Rountree thinks that’s great.  He also found a shelter that lets people borrow pets – she could use that for the Admiral.  Fatima is just going to tell the truth.  That’s when the Admiral arrives with the excuses notebook.  He also noticed all the same frappuccino cups in Ops so Fatima needs to come on time.

On the back deck of the boat shed, Kensi asks Arkady if he is alright.  He has Anna, Grisha – his family.  He wouldn’t rewrite one minute of his life if it meant he wouldn’t have them.  Kensi asks about Borisova.  She will always be on his credit score with all the accounts she took out.  Besides, that means she is thinking of him.  He shows her the beanie baby.  Kensi tells him she knows it is worthless and so does he.  She says goodnight.

Arkady watches Kensi leave and pulls the beanie baby apart.  Inside is a very expensive necklace.  With the soundtrack from “Titanic” playing, he holds it over the water.  Then decides it was too expensive to drop into the water.  Instead, Arkady takes it with him as he leaves.  Anna calls.  Suddenly, he wants to talk about the open bar at the wedding.

What head canon can be formed from here:    There is a continuity issue because in “Answers”, Deeks joked about writing for a reality series.  Now he’s shocked to find out they are scripted.

My goodness this was a chatty episode.  TV should be show, don’t tell.  This was all tell, tell, tell.  And a generic tell, tell, tell.  This episode works completely in season three.  In season six.  In season nine – you get the point.  A mention of Callen’s wedding here and there but otherwise, Hetty could have picked Arkady at the bar, Sam or Callen could have been on bodyguard duty instead of Rountree. 

And I know the lack of Sam (all) and Callen (a lot) in this episode has to do with the upcoming crossover episodes but just have Sam up on the big screen in Ops telling Callen to drop everything, he’s needed. 

It wasn’t a bad episode – and anytime Arkady shows up, the fun level goes up, up, up – but it just wasn’t much of an episode.

Episode number:   This was episode nine of season 14 (though it was filmed after “A Long Time Coming”), episode 311 overall.

[ao3feed-nace]

Perfect Cover

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/509qU36 by Reviewdiaries When Nancy gets a case that sends her off to a weekend house party, Ace tags along as her perfect cover fake date. It'll all be fine, she's a professional, she can cope with pretend dating Ace for forty eight hours. At least, that's what she tells herself whilst the case unravels and they find themselves in ever more compromising positions. Words: 19262, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Nancy Drew (TV 2019) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Nancy Drew, Ace (Nancy Drew) Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, There Was Only One Bed, The couple that sleuths together, Roadtrip, Friends to Lovers, AU - based in canon, canon adjacent, Fluff and Smut, Solving mysteries and falling in love read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/509qU36

[heartofarcanum]

@it-lives-week Here’s my MC, Jamie, for Day 1 of It Lives Appreciation Week!

We all play together

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Based of this idea I had.

Imagine the reader getting continually distracted by Steve being shirtless and Eddie being all like...

😑😒 and those big brown eyes are all sad and he's just a pouty, jealous, baby boy

Most importantly he does not die in this.

Warnings; Jealous Eddie, he's a pouty, grumpy baby boy. Teeny tiny bit angst, Clueless reader, mutual pining. Fluff.

If you enjoyed this then please consider giving it a reblog. It is very much appreciated 😘

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

💖💖

You would think that being in the Upside Down for the first time would be the thing that she focused on most but it wasn't.

Instead, that accolade went to Steve who was shirtless and covered in demo bat at bites.

She really shouldn't look but she couldn't tear her eyes away.

When did he get so hairy? it was a good look on him it's just since last year when they met she never noticed it.

Maybe because at that time they were fighting for their lives at Starcourt and this time they... were still fighting for their lives but now he was all shirtless and being distracting.

Eddie was beside her, she could smell his Old Spice aftershave and instinctively stepped closed to him but notices his jaw is tight and he has the cutest pout on his face and big sad eyes.

What happened? Some small part of her told her that he noticed she was looking at Steve and a thrill goes through her. Was he jealous?

Something about him drew her in and they spent a lot of time together because Dustin, Lucas, and Mike were in Hellfire and she would take over picking them up on Friday if Steve was working.

She had started to fall for him but had no idea if he felt the same.

He looked so adorable and grumpy all she wants to do at this precise moment is kiss him.

The ground started to rumble bringing her out of her reverie. Steve grabs hold of Nancy and Robin.

The impact of the ground shaking knocks her off her feet and into Eddie who captures her in his arms as they both hit the ground.

His arms are tight around her waist and she peers up at him - at those gorgeous doe eyes and has the urge to kiss him.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly then darken with something that makes her ache deep down in her core.

Robin clears her throat smirking at them and Eddie helps her up.

She thanks him then turns away her heart racing as she focuses on Nancy who is working out a plan.

Steve's chest is also still very distracting and she sneaks a glance at him.

Suddenly Eddie's denim vest flies toward Steve hitting him on his chest, it knocks him back a few steps.

Eddie's eyes are flashing and he looks very angry.

"For your modesty dude," he stalks away as they begin their walk to the Wheeler's house, and her stomach fills with butterflies at his reaction to her and Steve.

Maybe things weren't as hopeless as she thought on the feelings front?

💞

It had been exactly four days since Vecna was defeated and the upside down was closed for good.

Four days since the demo bat attack almost claimed Eddie's life when he had put himself in danger to distract the bats from getting to Nancy, Robin, and Steve while they lit Vecna's Grinch-looking ass up.

Jim Hopper was back, which was a surprise to a lot of us because we assumed he died in the explosion last summer, El promised she would tell us the full story once Hopper told her.

Since he was back and reinstated as chief of police he had cleared all the false charges against Eddie for the murders that Vecna caused.

Even for a town as strange as Hawkins, it would be hard to explain that a monster called Vecna who was once a human called Henry Creel and supposedly dead- now very dead) was the culprit.

Eddie brings her out of her thoughts as he settles beside her. He's just out of the hospital but is still very sore.

"Jesus h Christ what a fucking week" he groans and she nods.

"I know, will be nice to have some peace and with the Upside Down closed thankfully none of us has to take that trip again"

He huffs.

"I'm sure there were some things that were interesting to you" he grumbles and she stares at him for a second.

"What?" did he mean her looking at Steve?

"Steve has a distracting chest, I get why you like him, he's a good guy, handsome, good with chicks, you dig the bush on his chest," he says and he looks so cute and pouty that she sighs.

"You're a butthead, Eddie Munson" she replies, how can he not see it's him she likes? Sure Steve is handsome and she was distracted by him but she liked Eddie.

"You wanna know my type?" he perks up and looks at her intrigued.

"Steve..." she shakes her head and sighs then lets all the feelings she has pent up out in the open.

"Not Steve, no. I like a hot metalhead who has the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen. Who's kind and sweet and so fucking handsome and I adore him. Who I've been falling for and never thought he liked me"

He looks stunned for a second then moves closer to her and kisses her.

"Never thought I like you? Now who's the butthead" he smirks and she rolls her eyes but is still beaming.

"I adore you, princess. That's why I was so jealous" he presses a light kiss to her nose then back to her lips and she wraps her arms around him feeling like she is home- that being in his arms is the best feeling in the world.

[butler-on-beale-street]

Unforgettable | E!Austin Butler X Plus! Reader | Part 1

Warnings: some vague descriptions of plus sized body. Aside from that, just the beginnings of a wonderful story.

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: I have enjoyed writing this so much--it's probably been my favorite fic I've written so far. This fic is not exclusive to only plus readers, however it was intended for that audience in mind. I received several fic requests for a plus! reader, but this story is specifically based on a request from @im-just-star-dust. You may interpret this fic as Elvis himself or as Austin's version. This fic will end up being several parts. I have written nearly 10K words already and it's just the beginning. Dig your claws in and stay awhile.

Where’s the manual for what to do when the most famous and most beautiful man in America walks into your bookstore like a neighborhood regular? 

“Evelyn!” you shouted across the storefront, buried in stacks of new books that had just arrived off of the truck. At this pace, you would be in the position for several hours. So, considering how dead the book shop was, you decided to slip off your mary janes and walk around in your socks. “Evey! Gimme some help, will ya?” Loading several boxes on a single dolly, you decided to do the work yourself without her, sticking your tongue out of your mouth to concentrate. You wheeled the rickety dolly to the book stacks, heaving a sigh before getting down on your knees to place the books on the shelves. 

“Stupid girl,” you sputtered to yourself. Too busy writing love letters to her darling, that’s what. Wish that was me. As you knelt, you kept pulling on your hose and stockings, just to make sure you were covering yourself modestly. You wanted to be like every other small, dainty girl who wore pretty little outfits and got away with showing a tad too much skin. You wore a sky blue cotton blouse with a peter pan collar. Delicate embroidered cherries adorned the fabric. It was one of your favorites, so you wore it often. You wore the top tucked into a navy blue wool skirt that just barely grazed your knee. It was a cute outfit, but the skirt fit you tighter than it should and your knee high socks kept rolling down your legs, reminding you that you were just a bit too large to fit the style of the time. You sighed and sat on the floor with your legs crossed, reaching for the boxes of books. You pulled each title up to the shelves one by one, meticulously organizing them label by label, author by author. You had left a small notebook tucked in one of the boxes so that you could keep track of inventory, writing down the serial number of each copy before putting it on the shelf. Only, when you checked, it wasn’t there. You looked into the boxes several times, hoping that it would appear upon second check, but you had no such luck. Looking up at the stacks, you saw that edge of the notebook hanging over the edge of a higher shelf. You reached a hand up to one of the shelves to pull yourself up from the floor, but it was a bad mistake. The entire shelf tilted precariously, falling with you. “Oh no!” you yelped, reaching for the gigantic shelf in a feeble attempt to right it. 

“Woah, woah, woah!” a voice boomed, from the other side of the shelf, pulling it away from you so that it wouldn’t topple completely. To your dismay, all of the books on the shelves tumbled to the floor in mess. 

“Mercy!” You spat, pulling your hands up to your face in frustration. “Ugh.” You bent to pick up the books and start again, loading them each back on the shelf. As you bent again, a hand reached down to the mess, picking up a pile of books. “Nancy Drew. Hmph,” You heard as you pulled more books into your arms. “How long you think they’ll keep writing these?” 

“As long as they’ll fly off the shelves I reckon-” you responded before being choked to silence when you stood up straight to see who stood in front of you. “Elvis Presley.” You said, plainly, as if he were the embodiment of the Lord Messiah in front of you. You were shocked into speechlessness. If you hadn’t caught yourself, your internal dialogue would have slipped out of your mouth right there in front of him.

“Yes, Ma’am. How’d you know my name?” He said with a sly wink, bending down to pick up more of the books that had fallen. “I’m just kiddin,’ doll. What’s your name?” He gave you a kind smile as he placed the books on an empty shelf. 

“I- I’m Y/n.” You said, still reeling at the fact that the most famous man in America and maybe even the world was standing directly in front of you. 

“Hmm.” He said, biting his bottom lip, pondering over a thought. “Can I call you Cheeks? You’ve got big ole cheeks just like me. Real pretty.” Embarrassment raked through your body. It felt sinful to finally have a man comment on your appearance, let alone Elvis Presley. You nodded shyly, avoiding eye contact. 

“Colonel don’t let me out often,” he said in an almost whisper. You watched as he poked his head around the end of the stacks, eyeing the entrance of the bookstore. “I came in when you had no customers.” You furrowed your eyebrows, still confused as to why this man was in the middle of a Memphis mom-and-pop bookstore. “Tired of hiding from everybody, you know?” He asked the question as if to get words of agreement, but in reality, you really didn’t know what it was like. You still nodded. 

“Are you looking for something in particular, Mr. Presley?” You asked the question, finally finding enough courage to speak. He almost recoiled when you called him by his last name. 

“Please! Just Elvis. I don’t even let my lawyers call me by my full name. And surely a pretty girl like you. You can call me Elvis.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, inserting it into his mouth. “Want a piece? It’s clove flavored. My favorite.” He stuck out the candy to you and you took it, thanking him. “So what do you say I help you pick up these books and get this all back in working order?” He said, smacking audibly on his gum. 

“Oh, no. No, don’t worry about it. I can clean it up–”

Elvis reached out his hand and took your forearm in reassurance. “I want to. I’d like to feel useful. Something outside of the newspapers and radio.” He bent and picked up more books and you let him. 

“It’s about to be lunch hour. It’s going to pick up.” You warned him in a soft tone.

“What if I asked you to close for the day? Maybe I could help out a bit, clean the place up? Dust off some shelves. Idk…look pretty?” You paused at the proposition. 

“Uh, it’s not my place. This is my uncle Harold’s store.” You answered. 

“Is he here, maybe in the back? I’ll be happy to speak with him.” You observed him, how his eyes lit up at the idea of working the most boring job known to man. 

“No, he’s home for the day. Me and my little cousin are working today.”

“He got a telephone? I’d be happy to pay for a full day’s loss–even more.” He practically jumped out of his sports coat. 

“There’s a phone in the back office,” You said, stepping out of the way of the books and onto the sales floor, letting him follow you from behind. “Are you sure you want to help out? I just sell books.” 

“Well, Cheeks,” He said, trying out the nickname. “I love books. I don’t look the type, but like reading all kinds of books. And I need a break from the world. From the noise.”

Uncle Harold didn’t believe him at first, even when Elvis took the phone from you. “Hiya, sir. This is Elvis Presley…yes sir. Yes. Yes sir. Yes, that’s me. I got my social security card on me if you’d like to see it,” He chuckled, causing your insides to stir. You struggled to look at him. How in the hell was he more gorgeous in real life than on television or in the pictures? You cleared your throat as if he could hear suspect thoughts swimming in your head. “Yes, I’ll cover today two times over. Your niece,” he paused, forgetting your name, putting his hand over the phone. 

“Y/n,” you reminded him with a smile. 

“Y/n! She is lovely, sir. Seems like the type to put me to work.” He winked at you before focusing back on the call. “Come over for dinner?” You heard him say the words, and you immediately felt like you were going to vomit. “Well, I’d love to.” You leaned against your uncle’s desk as they continued to chatter on the phone. “Mississippi pot roast?” He said, raking his hands through his sleek pompadour, messing it with the tips of his fingers. “I’m a Mississippi Man myself. Mm–Yes sir. Yes sir. Six o’clock?” He looked at you while he spoke. “I’ll be there. Mmmhmm. Yes sir. See you then.” He hung the phone up on the wall. 

“Looks like I’m having dinner at your place tonight,” he said, chewing on his gum, looking proud of himself. 

“Looks like you are,” you said wide eyed, bewildered at what just happened. 

“You said that your cousin works with you? Is she a ghost?” Elvis said, stepping out of the office, his hands tucked in his pockets. “No, she’s probably smoking by the back door.” You stepped out of the office and turned a sharp corner into a dark, wood paneled hallway that led to the back staff entrance of the bookstore. The back door, just as you suspected, was pulled ajar and you could see a ray of sunlight beaming through onto the linoleum floor. “Evelyn.” You said out loud. “Evelyn,” you said louder, jutting open the door. 

“What on earth do you want?” She asked, turning and grabbing the door, swinging it open. She blew a puff of smoke in your face as she held a lit cigarette between two fingers. You fanned it away. “It’s not like we were busy.” In her other hand, she held the most recent volume of Confidential magazine with Elvis on the cover. You looked down at it, amused at the surreality of the moment. “He is so dreamy,” she said, taking another puff of her cigarette. “Not afraid to shake things up a bit. Little bit of a bad boy. Wonder how many woman he has to tear off of him on a daily basis.” 

“Quite a lot, miss. But today, I’ve gotten a bit of a break.” Elvis finally spoke, stepping into the light. 

You watched with a raised eyebrow as Evelyn dropped the magazine to the ground along with her cigarette. Her jaw went slack as the man from the cover materialized before her. “No. Way.” She said, splitting both words with a pause in the middle. “Elvis goddamn Presley,” she blurted, the obscenity carelessly falling from her mouth. 

“Evey!” You scolded her. 

“Okay, so uh. When were you going to tell me that you were hiding him?” She said, stomping out her cigarette and closing the heavy door, leaving the magazine forgotten on the concrete. 

“I just walked in with my own free will if you’d imagine it,” Elvis said with a smirk. “Business wasn’t exactly boomin,’ anyhow.” 

“Hold on a second, let me get this right,” Evelyn said, walking beside the two of you as you walked back into the store front. “You’re literally the most famous man on Earth right now and you choose this hell hole?” 

“Evelyn, watch your mouth.” you warned, glaring at her. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just shocked.” She said, throwing her hands up in front of her. “How am I supposed to react?” 

“Well, Little miss Y/n took it pretty well, I think,” Elvis said, looking down at you with a grin. You didn’t usually like men to look at you. You knew what they were thinking most of the time. You were too chubby. Your curvaceous figure wasn’t attractive, and even when someone would show interest, they were never convicted enough to go steady with you. You liked the way Elvis looked at you, though. His demeanor was relaxed and charming, and he made an effort to look you directly in the eye when he spoke. 

“I knocked over an entire bookshelf trying to get up from the floor. Elvis saved me from becoming a pancake,” You said, his name feeling slippery and insecure on your tongue. You felt his arm swing around your back, taking you by the shoulder and pulling you in. “Glad I could swoop in and save the day. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to Captain Marvel Junior.”

“Who?” Evelyn said, her face scrunched in confusion. 

“You don’t know who he is?” You and Elvis both said in Tandem, looking back at one another before looking back at her. 

“He’s my favorite superhero. Loved him growing up back in Tupelo.” Evelyn eyed Elvis with half suspicion and half admiration, unsure of what to say next. “Say, uh,” Elvis began, leaning against the nearest wall with his pointer finger resting under his nose in thought. “You girls know where I could get something to drink in here?” Two minutes later, you were back in the tiny back room behind uncle Harold’s office drinking cold bottles of Coca-cola. 

“There ain’t much better than a fresh coke, I’ll tell you that,” Elvis said, tossing back the bottle for a large swig. He leaned against a tall filing cabinet. 

You sat on the corner of the kitchenette counter, slightly more aware of your body now that there wasn’t much left in terms of introduction between Elvis and yourself.. You tugged at the hem of your skirt and tried your best to be subtle with your attempt to pull up the knee-highs that were constantly rolling down your calves. “I know where there’s something a bit more…interesting.” You offered with a flirtatious wink. 

“Oh yeah?” Elvis responded with a wide smirk, his eyebrows raised with mischief. “And just what are you up to, Cheeks?” 

“Cheeks?” Evelyn asked, her eyebrows knit together with confusion–or jealousy. She looked at you, her eyes wide with disbelief before looking back at Elvis. 

“I know where uncle Harold keeps his booze,” You said with a wicked smirk.

“Are you old enough to be drinkin’?” Elvis asked, stepping forward off of the cabinet. “You’re just a pretty little thing.” You were 19, but appeared younger than you actually were.

“You gonna tell?” You fired back, challenging him. You were always a wallflower, but something about the man standing in front of you made you feel like you needed to prove that you deserved to be speaking to him. You wanted him to find you attractive and cool. 

“You are a wild one, aren’t you? Maybe I should call you my little wild cherry,” he said, stepping towards you, pinching the fabric of your shirt, referring to the embroidered fruit. He stole the air from your lungs as he stepped close to you. Though you stood calmly, it took a moment for your brain to stop its internal panic. He let out a belly laugh. “Oh you’re so cute. Not used to the flattery, are you, Cheeks?” You averted eye contact with him, offering a modest smile. “Go fetch the stash for us!”

You walked out of the kitchenette, letting your body finally sag in a massive release of breath. What the hell is Elvis Presley doing in my bookstore? Chatting it up with me–flirting with me? You couldn’t help but argue with your internal dialogue as you fished through your uncle’s office drawers, finally finding a bottle of whiskey tucked behind a stack of undesirable bank statements. You pulled the bottle out and swished its contents back and forth, walking the bottle back into the kitchen. “Not much left,” you said, holding it out in front of you.

“That’s alright,” Elvis said, gesturing for you to hand it over. “I’ll buy him another.” He turned around and peered at the acrylic overhead cupboards. “You got any glasses?” He asked, opening up the doors to the cabinets, peering into them. 

“Coffee cups,” Evelyn said with a shrug. Elvis looked back to her over his shoulder. “Well, it ain't the Taj Mahal, but it’ll do.” He pulled down three mismatched coffee cups, blowing puffs of air into each one, clearing out any settled dust. “Don’t tell your daddies I let you drink on the job.” 

“I smoke. I drink. I’m one step away from a reprobate,” Evelyn said, grabbing a coffee cup, waiting for Elvis to pour her her share of liquor. 

“Meanwhile your little cousin here,” He eyed you as he poured. “She’s an angel.”

“She’s two years older,” Evelyn corrected him, taking her cup to her mouth and taking a swig. You watched as her eyes twitched as the bitter-sweet alcohol went down.

“Are we gonna get any work done?” You asked, a bit uncomfortable with the conversation. 

“Oh, work. That’s right,” Elvis said, handing you a coffee cup before tipping his back to his lips, looking at you from over the rim. You took a swig of the whiskey, trying your best to not make a face. 

***

“Damn,” you said with your hands on your hips as you looked down at the mess of books still strewn out on the floor. Evelyn let out a big sigh. 

“I’m not cleaning that up. Not even with Elvis Presley in the building.” She winked at Elvis, biting her lip. 

“Go off and write totals in the ledger, then. It’s fine. I made the mess anyway.” You crouched to begin picking up the rest of the books from the floor, noticing that Elvis was still standing there. “Oh, you can go hang with Evey, I got it.” He watched you for a moment before crouching down with you. “Ah, but you know.” He said slowly, considering his next words. “I kinda like this mysterious girl. I wanted to learn a bit about her. Can’t really do that when I’m crunching numbers with her cousin, can I?” 

You looked at him for an extended moment before clearing your throat and describing the organizational system. “Nancy Drew. Goes above the label “Na.” We’ve got nine copies in stock right now.” You handed Elvis the stack of books for him to order on the shelf. “Make sure the copies equal what’s on this,” You said, holding up the notebook from earlier. 

“Yes, ma’am. Put me to work,” He responded. 

You spent several minutes organizing the shelf back to its previous condition-perhaps even more tidy than before. You found out quickly that he knew how to make you genuinely laugh. It was a rarity that you found hilarity in your daily banter with others. Elvis, however, was extremely charismatic and authentic. 

“Looks pretty damn good if you ask me,” He said, clapping his hands together, signaling work well done. You nodded your head. 

“Tell me, Elvis. Need a job?” You asked with a wide grin, that only seemed to grow bigger when he threw his head back in a throaty wallop of a laugh. 

“I’m destitute, Miss. Please, oh please hire me.” He said, throwing his hands up in a beggar’s fist.

You rolled your eyes playfully before checking off the inventory list in your notebook. “So uh, what do you say we close up shop.” Elvis said softly. 

“Elvis, It’s only been like half an hour.” You replied, raising your eyebrows.

“And? What if I said I wanted to take you girls out on a joy ride. Maybe buy you a little thing or two. On me, of course.”

“I really shouldn’t. We told Uncle Harold that we’d still be worki-” Elvis brough his pointer finger to your lips. 

“Shh.” You did as he asked. “You’re with Elvis Presley. It may be big headed of me, Cheeks. But I like you. And I don’t wanna waste the day twiddling thumbs in here, even if I was originally trying to get away from fans.”

“So you want to run from them with us?” You asked him, crossing your arms across your chest. “Mm, might be fun to have two pretty girls like yourselves around my arms while we walk downtown.” The thought of being paraded around town with fans flocking around you made you absolutely queasy. 

“Oh, I- I don’t know,” you hesitated. 

“Oh come on, Y/n. He took your hand, sending bolts of electricity through your consciousness. “Take a chance. For me.” He willed you to look up at him, his cerulean eyes flooding your mind body and soul, daring you to say no to the man in front of you. 

“Okay.” You decided.

“Okay?” He repeated, his eyes lighting up immediately.

You nodded with a smile. “Yes.” 

“Ha!” He patted you enthusiastically on the back. “I knew it. There’s a spark inside of you, Y/n. I can hear it buzzin.’” He shook his finger in the air, emulating electricity. “We just gotta get it out of you.” 

End of Part 1.

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[nancywheelersgirlfriend]

the pleasure is mine (to die by your side)

(3,103 words) read on ao3 :)

It was 1994 and Robin Buckley woke up with no blankets on her side of the bed. She wasn’t particularly surprised - even when the harsh winter weather wasn’t raging outside their bedroom window, Nancy was infamous for stealing the covers over the course of the night. It wasn’t her fault. It was innate. Some secret urge to be warm. Robin ran hot, anyway. Her metabolism made her a human furnace.

So when she blinked awake at a bleary six in the morning, eager to turn back over and frankly not wake up again for the next three days, Robin simply turned over on her side. She tossed a haphazard arm over where she guess-estimated Nancy’s shoulder was underneath the pile of fabric. She pulled the lump closer to her chest and let out a contented little hum; just like a furnace.

Robin hand pawed at the comforter, yanking it down far enough to both ensure Nancy’s ability to breathe and press a kiss to the side of her warm neck. She splayed her fingers out at the base of Nancy’s collarbone where her ratty sleepshirt had slipped over the course of a turbulent night. She nuzzled her nose against Nancy’s curls. They spread out over the pillow like a biblical halo.

“‘m up,” Nancy mumbled. She clearly wasn’t. Robin pressed her responding grin into her hair and nodded encouragingly. “Did you have good dreams?”

“Yeah,” Robin said. Her foot, reaching forwards in exploration, hit the end of the comforter. Score! “I dreamt I got to wake up next to the most beautiful girl in the world, cold as shit.”

“Aw,” Nancy drew out the word, trying and failing to turn herself over in the mass of comforter and limb. “Baby, ‘m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Now you can warm me up,” Robin replied, mischievous toothy grin carefully disguised by the dark room as her absolutely freezing foot dug its way underneath the comforter and landed on Nancy’s leg. Nancy immediately sprung upwards, yelping as she leapt into a sitting position. Robin nearly got herself knocked off the bed.

“You bitch!” Nancy accused, but it was hard to sound serious when she was laughing so much. Underneath the comforter, which had flown half up in the chaos, Robin took the opportunity to slip completely underneath. Inside the blanket it felt like a womb. Nancy’s laughter was dimmed but no less beautiful. Robin lunged on her legs, shimmying up her hips, her waist. She pressed a quick kiss to the mole on Nancy’s left hip. Her face popped out from the line of the comforter.

Robin grinned up at Nancy, hair all mussed and arms coming to wrap their way around Nancy’s waist. Together they tumbled back down onto the bed, Robin and Nancy no longer two people but one ball of warmth.

“Let’s sleep in,” Robin suggested. Nancy turned Robin’s head with her hand to press a smacking kiss to her cheek. 

“Let’s stay here forever,” Nancy added. Robin’s hand squeezed her thigh in a resounding ‘hell yes’.

* * *

Robin -

Yes we’re fine and no, we don’t need money. Come down and visit us sometime. New Hampshire isn’t that far from Greenwich, seriously. Plus you guys have a car - pretty lucky for that. Mike wants to save up but I don’t see the need. If we had a car, we’d have to go to Hawkins. That sounds like Hell. So we got a cat instead. Picture included, of course. But you’ll have to come down to touch her. Mike says I should enclose a bit of her fur as a test sample for you two. Why do I love him again?

* * *

Robin looked up at Nancy’s hazy form, disguised by the steam coming off of her abnormally large coffee mug. She was gorgeously tired. Sat in a little cafe somewhere in Bath, where the brick walls peeled themselves apart and the barista gave up her post to chat up the guy working the pick-up window, they had breakfast.

“You want a bite of my croissant?” Nancy asked. She was picking apart her pastry. The little flakes fell to the plate. 

“Let’s trade,” Robin agreed. She pushed over a bite of her cinnamon roll. Nancy dropped a piece of hers into Robin’s open palm, brushing their fingers together as she did. They ate them at the same time and smiled around their food.

Nancy nudged the side of her foot against Robin’s big combat boots. She scribbled something down on the open and inked-up notepad on the desk in front of her.

“Whatcha writing?” Robin asked, nodding down at the offending paper. Nancy passed it over to her, laughing as she watched her quickly lick off the sugar icing as to not dirty the pad. Robin squinted her tired eyes, red-faced and fresh. A child. “Hm. Red wheelbarrow. Red hair. Who’s got red hair?” She tilted her head. Nancy reached over and tugged representatively at a strand fallen out from behind Robin’s pink-tipped ear.

“You’re so red all the time,” Nancy said.

“Is that a good thing?” Robin replied. She leaned down to take a tentative sip of her burning hot coffee. It scalded her tongue. It reminded her of being alive. She smiled into the rim of the mug.

“What color am I?” Nancy asked, moving forward to rest her chin on her open palm. Robin hummed contemplatively and dipped a finger in Nancy’s tea. It was equally hot and swirling. Nancy paid no mind.

“You’re green,” Robin said decisively. Nancy raised a questioning eyebrow and stole another piece of Robin’s cinnamon roll. “Like the forests back home.”

“And the forests here aren’t green?” Nancy asked, laughing.

“It’s a different kind of green,” Robin elaborated. She passed Nancy back her notepad, watching as she jotted down two words - different greens - in the margins of her work-in-progress poem. “It’s a warmer green. Even though you run cold.”

“You’re not red just because you’re burning hot all the time,” Nancy protested. She held up her tea cup in offering. Robin took it and tasted it experimentally. It tasted like floral. It smelled like Nancy. The green coloring swam in front of her eyes. She loved this coffee shop.

“We’re Christmas colors,” Robin gasped. Nancy stole her coffee mug out from underneath her hand. 

“I’ll toast to that.” When they knocked their mugs together, the liquids splashed into each other. 

* * *

Anyway, El’s been begging to go see the beach, so I think we’ll head out soon enough. She’s just finishing her last exams and then we’ll have the winter off. She finally decided she wanted to study biology. I think it’s perfect for her. And Lucas’ book - it’s great. Just great. If you want, we can send you a copy. He’ll sign it and everything. He’s very excited. I hope you’re doing well.

Love always,

Mad Max

* * *

Robin tucked her nose into the warm fabric of her scarf. On the cobblestone street of their little backwater town, the ground was getting littered with snow. Nancy was a few feet in front of her, gloved hands picking at a haphazard stack of books outside. They rested atop packed cardboard boxes, scribbled on with unreadable words and backlit by the yellow-stained windows of the bookshop they were in front of. A red, messy sign that read ‘ONE DOLLAR’ was taped and half-off the main table. 

“Anything good?” Robin asked, words muffled by the thick wool. Her scarf was roughly knit, a gift from Joyce Byers (who was attempting to find something else to do with her hands besides chain-smoking). 

“A signed copy of Frankenstein,” Nancy said, shaking a small paperback around enticingly.

“Signed?” Robin repeated incredulously.

“I didn’t say by who,” Nancy laughed. Robin snatched the book from her willing hands, cracking it open to the inside of the front cover. Therein lied a note written by blue pen: to suzie christmas 1960. “Wonder why Suzie gave it up.” Robin furiously flipped through the pages, uncaring that it was decades old. As she did so, a group of about twenty pages suddenly came apart from the spine and fell onto the snow-covered ground. The two women watched it flutter down, barely holding back their laughter.

“Probably that,” Robin said. She handed Nancy the book, who tucked it back into the book Jenga game in front of them. “You wanna go in?”

“Did you even have to ask?” Nancy replied. As they squeezed their way through the tiny, handbuilt doorway, Robin let her fingertips brush Nancy’s waist. It was a dangerous game, even in their sweet, sleepy little town. The older woman at the register seemed seconds away from passing out. Robin let her fingers stay on Nancy’s waist. 

“History section?” Robin suggested, letting her eager eyes stray down the stacks of bending bookcases. She caught a glimpse of a book about ancient Europe and nearly foamed at the mouth from excitement.

“Science fiction!” Nancy argued. Robin followed her dutifully.

“Haven’t you lived through enough?” She groaned dramatically, leaning on the shelf as Nancy shifted meticulously through the books. Robin registered how far back they’d gotten in the bookstore - nearly at the back. They were completely alone. As she watched Nancy pick out the leftovers of the shelf in front of her, she shook off her scarf.

“They’re raising the prices,” Nancy muttered absently, flipping with fast fingers through the Ks and Ls. Robin draped her scarf around Nancy’s neck. The wool fell in front of her eyes.

“Guess who,” Robin sing-songed. Nancy’s hand came up to yank down at the fabric, smirking up at her much taller girlfriend. She stepped back so that her back hit Robin’s chest, pressing them together. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Nancy said, tilting her head up to meet eyes with Robin. The scarf fell to the floor, completely forgotten. Robin’s hand drifted to grab at Nancy’s chin, holding her face in place as she leaned down and connected their lips. Nancy laughed at the position, spinning in place to fully face Robin in between the tight bookshelves. Robin squeezed her chin and then dropped her arms to wrap them around Nancy’s waist. She yanked her closer. They melted together.

Robin slowly pressed Nancy into the bookshelf, wooden grooves and all. She tilted her head and suddenly her mouth was falling open in pure contentment, Nancy responding tenfold. Her hands shot up to grip at Robin’s hair - a habit Robin loved teasing her about. 

She whimpered into Robin’s mouth, a quiet little noise Robin heard like a bomb. She pushed her farther into the shelf in reply. One of her hands balled up a bit of Nancy’s sweater in her fist, fingertips skimming her skin. As they tussled against the stack, a group of hastily stacked books fell to the floor.

Robin pulled back, eyes deer-like and scared. But the woman at the front made no move to come back and see them. She kept Nancy close to her chest, both blinking back to the present.

“You make me forget where I am,” Robin told her as Nancy bent down to grab at the poor, damaged books. Nancy set them back onto the bookshelf with a final pat to their covers.

“You make me forget I’m alive,” Nancy retorted. She scooped up the scarf and tossed it around her neck with a wink. It looked much better on her, Robin thought. Everything was beautiful on Nancy Wheeler.

* * *

Nance and Rob,

We’ve got a guest room with clean sheets if you want it. Come out and escape the New Hampshire snow.

Jon and Argyle

* * *

The dimly lit sign nailed up outside the teensy church said the Christmas candlelit service was at 8 o’clock. Robin tilted her head to check it out, admiring the lopsided Jesus figure atop the sign. She resisted the urge to fix its position.

“Snowball?” Nancy offered from a few feet away. Robin turned on her heel just as Nancy was pitching back and tossing said weapon, which she’d balled up from the multitude of snow at her feet. Robin raised her hands too slowly. The snowball hit her square in the chest, soaking through her coat. She grinned challengingly and made a ‘come here’ motion with her hands. “No, no, I already gave it to you!”

“I want to return the favor,” Robin protested, bending halfway over to scoop at snow blindly - she couldn’t tear her eyes from a pink-cheeked Nancy even if she wanted to.

“You really don’t have to,” Nancy reassured, but it was too late. Robin threw the snowball way over her head - it hit the back of Nancy’s hip as she shrieked and leapt away.

“No, no, you ran away,” Robin said, words dipped in laughter. “Come back, let me get you again.”

“I think one was enough!” Nancy squealed as Robin rushed forwards like a bull, hands piled high with snow. “Rob!”

“Come here, you coward!” Robin accused, but it hardly held any weight with how much she was giggling. Nancy dodged again. Robin scooped up more snow and stumbled forwards, puffing out her cheeks and turning a little green. 

“Rob?” Nancy asked, all concerned. She stepped forward, hand on Robin’s shoulder. Robin grinned mischievously up at her for a second before she made a gagging sound. She pretended to throw up the snow all down Nancy’s coat, stumbling into her and her hand. Nancy gasped from the sudden cold. “Robin Buckley!”

“It’d sound better with Wheeler after it, wouldn’t it?” Robin said, grinning like a fox. Nancy rolled her eyes affectionately. She let Robin pull her in close, pressing their equally soaked chests together for warmth.

“I dunno, I think Nancy Buckley has a good ring to it,” Nancy mused. Unbeknownst to Robin, she began to shuffle snow with her heels. 

“You would never give up your last name,” Robin argued. Nancy hummed in agreement, reaching up with one hand to cart her fingers through Robin’s shaggy hair. As her girlfriends’ eyes shut in contentment, Nancy reached down with her other hand and grabbed loosely at snow. She slammed it down onto Robin’s head. The snow leaked down onto her face as her eyes snapped open, betrayed.

“You traitor!” Robin shouted. She barreled into Nancy, sending them both tumbling onto the snow. They rolled around in the snow, tussling for control and better access to ammo, getting increasingly colder and wetter as they went. Robin shoved snow down Nancy’s sweater along her spine. Nancy managed to get a few flakes into Robin’s open, accusatory mouth. 

“Truce?” Robin gasped, chest heaving as she flopped onto her back in the snow. The steeple above, towering over them like God himself, peered over her. Nancy’s face, flushed and beautiful, appeared for a moment before she was flopping down beside her. 

“Truce,” Nancy agreed, equally exhausted. Her gloved hand flopped out on the snow to grab at Robin’s hand. Their fingers tangled together. It was a ball of warmth. Robin shut her eyes and let out a sigh, breathing in the smell of snow.

* * *

Robin, please please please let me come over and visit. I’m so sick of Oregon. Okay, that’s a lie. I love Oregon. I love teaching. But I want to see you. Maybe become a Robert Frost. Maybe read some Nancy Wheeler poetry. Maybe ordain your wedding? Kidding. Kind of. Call me!

Your best friend, 

Steve

* * *

Robin squinted into the lit fireplace, embers sizzling as it kickstarted itself. Outside the snowstorm raged. On the coffee table in front of her was a spread of letters and postcards, collected from friends. All waiting to be responded to. They’d been silent for too long.

But as she watched Nancy putter around in the kitchen, cooking up a batch of rocky road cookies and working on another round of coffee, Robin couldn’t help wishing they were the only two people in the world. Living in this little cottage off the side of the road, surrounded by mountains and wind and birch trees, it felt like they were. She smiled to herself. Nancy swore as she burnt the tip of her pointer on the hot, rumbling oven.

“Cookies are almost done!” Nancy called out, turning her head in Robin’s vague direction. She knew where she was. She looked almost shrunken in the low doorway from the living room to the kitchen, the doorway Robin had to duck through everytime she passed - or hit her forehead on the rim as a consequence of not thinking. Still Robin appreciated the hobbit hole. She liked feeling so close and so small. She’d never been able to feel that way before, at least not positively.

It was hard to believe anything had happened. Hard to believe it would never happen again. She let herself close her eyes and shift on their lumpy couch, head to the plush back and body warmed by the fire. The letters spoke like her friends. Robin wished they were here, in person. Then again, it was nice for everybody to be somewhere else.

“You wanna lick the spoon?” Nancy asked, waving around the spoon enticingly. She pretended to drop it into the sink, laughing as Robin’s face twisted up in childish pain. “You know I would never!”

“Nance, you’re evil,” Robin promised. She managed to get up off the couch anyway, stumbling through the doorway (ducking her head) to reach her girlfriend. She came to stand beside Nancy in front of the oven. The cookies within rose like little babies. Nancy passed her the spoon. Robin gave her a kiss on the cheek as thank you. She devoured the leftover batter like a starved man. Nancy just laughed. She looked adorable in her overalls, too big for her body and perfect for her soul.

“You’re a child,” Nancy retorted, leaning up against the counter a with a grin. Robin shrugged, unaffected. She dropped the spoon into the waiting bowl, which had been disposited in the sink. Soapy water splashed up onto the sides of her long sweater sleeves.

“You love me,” Robin challenged. Nancy reached up to twirl a bit of Robin’s hair around her finger and nodded in easy agreement.

“I do,” Nancy said. “I will.”

“Forever?” Robin asked. Nancy pursed her lips, the smile on her face that seemed permanent whenever she looked at Robin. She stepped closer and watched. 

“Longer than that,” Nancy promised.

“Cheeseball.”

“Nerd,” Robin replied snarkily. When she leaned down to kiss Nancy, she met her halfway - arms around her neck, feet stepping on each other, the whole shebang. The oven dinged tellingly. Robin tightened her grip on Nancy’s waist. There was no point in letting her go. 

[favefandomimagines]

Hidden (ace.)

Summary: after the run in with the wraith, you hide the fact that you’re injured from Ace. Until it’s impossible to hide it anymore.

AN: takes places in the beginning of season 2 after the whole thing with the wraith in the woods. It was both Nancy and the reader on the bus when the wraith attacks it, reader gets hurt pretty badly but covers it up.

Reader and Ace are in an established relationship

Request: @clairbear2002 “Hey, I was wondering if you could do Nancy drew ace x reader maybe where the reader gets hurt or cursed and tries to hid it from ace please?”

You weren’t afraid to throw yourself into a dangerous situation. Almost every time you and your friends are faced with something life or death, you’re the first to put yourself in harms way.

It was what made you and Nancy so close, because she was prone to doing it too. You joked you were born under a gold star because you have never once gotten hurt; yet. George thought you had some weird death wish, Bess tried to psychologically diagnose you based on your family situation but Ace was just Ace.

He was supportive, yet knew when to tell you something might be too much for you. Though he hated it when you were so quick to risk your life especially when you didn’t have to. But he knew that you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t ready to protect and help your friends.

Now, apart of you believed that your luck was starting to run out when you were trapped in a bus with your best friend, a supernatural creature attempting to kill you both. You thought you both came out physically unscathed, but you soon felt a deep stinging in your side and felt the blood seeping through your shirt.

You couldn’t tell you friends, especially with everything that’s going on with the Aglaeca. Your injury was very low on the list of worries you all had right now. But Ace could tell the second you were all walking out of the woods that something was wrong. You walked a bit behind the rest of the group and it seemed as if your mind was elsewhere.

It wasn’t until you got back to The Claw when Ace confronted you about your behavior. You were sat in a booth near the window and you were pale, your skin was slicked with sweat. He knew that something was not right.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sitting across from you. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You lied. Ace knew you well enough to know when you were lying and you definitely were. “Tell me the truth, Y/N.” He said.

You paused for a moment before signing and lifting the sleeve of your shirt. On your forearm was a deep, bloody gash that did not look good.

“Y/N,” Ace started. “I know, okay? I should’ve told you when it happened.” You said. “Why didn’t you?” He asked “I don’t know. I guess I never thought my good luck streak would end.” You answered bashfully.

Ace stood up and grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen. He sat back down next to you and began working on your arm.

“Y/N I love you. Which is why I need to tell you that you’re not invincible and your not indispensable. You matter to so many people and I hate seeing you put yourself in danger all the time. If anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t know what to do.” Ace said.

You watched him as he cleaned the wound on your arm, afraid of you looked up your tears would fall. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I just don’t want to lose you.” Ace said wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ace. I guess I never thought how me acting so recklessly would make you feel and that’s so selfish of me and-“ You stared before Ace cut you off.

“Stop that. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t throw yourself into dangerous situations. It scares me to death, yeah, but that’s the Y/N I fell in love with.” He said. “I love you too.” You replied. “Now, let’s get this cleaned up I before it gets infected.” He said.

You smiled up at him, wondering how the hell Ace was able to put up with you the way he did. But you were grateful that he does because you couldn’t do it without him.

[moonlightreal]

Why the Nancy Drew Games are so Great

I searched the internet for articles about “why the Nancy Drew games are so great” because they are great and I was sure someone out there had articulated why.  I found an article or two, but nothing that quite covered what I was looking for.  So I banged together this list.

Why the Nancy Drew games are so great, by Cupcakedoll

I think it comes down to “they are so very wholesome and pure.”

-Nancy is relentlessly upbeat.  Even when scary things happen Nancy is only a little bit nervous.  Her friends are always supportive.  Ned worries about Nancy but never tries to make her give up her sleuthing.  There is no friend or boyfriend drama.  Even the villains are rarely trying to cause real damage.  Many of the cases are based on misunderstandings or good intentions gone awry.  After the first game nobody dies and the rest of the cases are mostly about Nancy investigating sabotage or mysterious events, a few missing person cases but you know they’re going to be fine.

-Nancy is happy to do your chores. Need someone to dig clams, update your website, paint reproductions of masterpieces, cook any meal, clean hotel rooms, sheer sheep, teach English, assemble a model skeleton, catch gophers, gather gear for a disaster kit, go ice fishing, mix (nonalcoholic) drinks, dance onstage in a catsuit, gather bait, sort bug parts, or feed a tracking device to a pigeon?  Nancy Drew is ready to help!

-The games are weirdly feminist by being unfeminine.  Nancy never voices any particular interest in fashion, makeup, or being on stage.  When you can choose Nancy’s clothes the outfits are as goofy as they are pretty, and she famously has mom jeans in her suitcase whenever we can look in her suitcase. Even in Danger by Design there’s no attention to “prettiness.” Nancy sounding like a responsible adult adds to this lack of teenage girlosity.

-The world of the games is full of repeating characters and products.  With the games made basically on top of each other the creators could throw in lots of references back and forth creating a world that feels like a world.  You can phone Nancy’s friends in the games and they’re always the same so you get to know them and look forward to hearing what they’re up to while Nancy is off solving mysteries.  Between this and the environments, the games are really immersive.

-The minigames and puzzles are fun. Well, mostly.  In every game there’s at least one that I decide must be bugged because I can’t figure it out.  But there’s often also one I come back to because it just has this nice meditative feeling to it.

-They try to be educational but really… aren’t and it just comes off so charmingly out of touch.

-There are a million of them.  The games were coming out two a year so every time I went to the office supply store I could pick one up without really thinking about it. They’re all different enough, different vibe, characters and setting, that there will be some you just love.  And they’re all the same enough to feel comfy and you don’t have to learn new mechanics.

Alas that is the series’ past; there have been changes at HerInteractive that may mean the series has ended or may just mean we need to wait several years between games, like with every other game studio.

If you play the games you may never know the strangeness surrounding them.  There do be some strangeness.

Lani Minella voiced Nancy in all game but one… and Nancy sounds so mature because Lani was in her sixties when she stopped voicing the character.  She had some kind of magical 4-octave voice so she can do that.  She also did some roaring for monsters in Subnautica, among many, many other game credits.  But about the time Ms. Minella stopped voicing Nancy she made a post about “chemtrails,” suggesting she may have gone a little batty in her senior years.

HerInteractive also made a Vampire Diaries game, proving that everything is six degrees of separation from LJ Smith.

And the games were, for a long time, not making money.  The company was funded by a Mysterious Benefactor who thought that the games were worth putting into the world.  Nobody knows who that was, and they’ve probably stopped benefact-ing nowadays since HerInteractive has shrunk down the way it has.

For more, this video:

My favorite game, so far, is Shadow at the Water’s Edge, because Japan.  White Wolf of Icicle Creek also holds a place in my heart.  I haven’t played Midnight in Salem, a game I approach with some trepidation after seeing reports that it isn’t just like all the other ones.  Really, what we want are games that are just like all the other ones!

[ndfan3]

“Why, Nancy, Burt, wha- what are you doing here?” Jim stammered, looking up wide eyed as the girl sleuth and her companion at last revealed themselves by striding noisily into the forest clearing. Nancy eyed the hole close to the base of the hollow oak, a spade thrust into the overturned earth and Jim’s right hand placed on the handle of the tool. “I don’t think we need to ask you the same question, do we, Jim?” the detective responded accusingly. The young man still on his knees, his trousers caked with mud, quickly thrust the artefact he was holding into a pocket. “Let’s see that!” Nancy exclaimed and Burt quickly ran past the girl and grappled with Jim briefly before prising the metal object from his grasp.

“Give that back!” Jim protested as Burt handed the item over to Nancy. “You have no right!” The girl scanned the piece of metal and quickly worked out its significance. “It’s a Mesquakie ceremonial bracelet.” she confirmed. “Part of the treasure that the dig is looking for. No wonder our “guide” here sent them off in the opposite direction.” Jim looked abashed but said defiantly: “Those California professors are idiots! They know nothing about Illinois Native American culture or its value! I could make thousands on the private collector market!” Nancy gave the man a cold look. “Not now you won’t, Jim.” she told him. “I think you will find that unofficial treasure hunting of Indian treasures is strictly illegal in this state.” Jim looked downcast and said nothing more. Nancy turned to Burt and pressed the bracelet into the man’s hand. “Hurry and try to catch up Professor Andersen, Burt.” she urged. “This is clearly the real site. It’s not too late for them to uncover the whole of the Mesquakie Horde before their dig license runs out.” Burt looked past her shoulder at the miserable looking Jim. “Will you be all right alone with him?” he asked, eyes narrowing. Nancy nodded. “Don’t worry, Burt, I’ll tie Jim up after you have gone - just to be on the safe side - I promise.” she answered. “I’ll be fine.” Burt smiled. “I know, I should be more worried about him than you, Nance!” he laughed, and turned and took off at a trot in the direction the archaeologists had been headed after being misdirected by their cunning guide. After Burt had gone, Nancy picked up a coil of climbing rope and looked severely down at the glum looking and seated Jim. “Stand up, my friend,” the girl detective told him, “I’m going to tie you up so you don’t cause me any mischief while we wait.” Jim gave her a bitter look, but slowly rose to his feet and placed his hands behind his back without being asked.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to The Message in the Hollow Oak, The Nancy Drew Mystery Stories #12 (1935 and 1972)

[naceisonthecase]

40s/Film Noir-esque Nace AU

Summary under the cut

Nancy Drew, lone woman at the Horseshoe Bay Detective Agency, prefers to work alone. That is until, her boss, Everett Hudson, decides to pair her off with a returned WW2 soldier and code breaker only known as Ace.

The two are assigned to the case of heiress Diana Marvin’s missing necklace. Simple. Everyone that has passed through the Marvin estate is considered a suspect, including Diana’s great-niece Bess — Ace’s friend from his time overseas in the war effort. Ace vouches for Bess, against Nancy’s better judgement, and she is brought onto the case as a confidante.

Together the three of them work though and solve the case and the missing necklace is returned. Things can return to normal and Nancy can once again work alone.

Then, Bess turns up evidence that there is something more notorious going on and the simple jewelry theft was a cover up crime. She sends a request to meet at The Claw (the diner they’d used as a headquarters to pass information). When Ace doesn’t show and based on the new evidence, Bess and Nancy worry that the local gang, The Road Back, must be holding him hostage or worse.

When they do locate him at an old warehouse, Nancy finds Everett Hudson there. She reveals that she has realized that he is The Road Back's leader and that she has already called back-up to to take him into custody.

Meanwhile, Bess finds Ace tied up on the warehouse grounds.

After, Everett is detained, Nancy helps Bess untie Ace.

As three leave the scene, Nancy is shown to have plans to leave the HBDA and work independently. Possibly with a partner.

[literaticat]

When an author's series becomes popular, then it starts being written by ghost writers, does the author still earn the regular percentage of royalties for the ghost written book minus a one-off payment for the ghost writer? Or are the royalties split between the author and ghost writer? Or does the author get a one-off payment for those books?

Haha well, I have repped popular series, but I can't say that I have ever been in this position, all mine are definitely written by the author... and actually I believe that all the series we rep as an agency are entirely written by the author.

So, just for what it's worth, I don't think this is really a thing unless a series is INCREDIBLY lengthy, or it is a packaged series or an IP project, where it is conceived like this from the jump.

I also suspect that there are as many different ways that the financial situation might be arranged as there are ways the writing situation might be arranged. There are just lots of different models. For ex:

Nancy Drew / Hardy Boys were written by the Stratemeyer Syndicate - basically the first "book packager" (as far as I know!), robust in the early 20th century. So, "Carolyn Keene" is a name owned by the syndicate, and they have a large group of freelance writers cranking out these books, editing them, quality-controlling them, whatever - and then they basically sell/license them to Dutton or whatever publisher puts them out. Those writers probably got paid either a flat fee per book, or a page rate, something like that. They certainly got no royalties, nor were they ever credited in any way.

Sweet Valley High - Francine Pascal is a real writer who really wrote YA books. This series was conceived by her - she created the characters and the "bible" for it, she wrote the stories / outlines / whatever - and then she gave that info to ghostwriters - because they were publishing a book a month! So she's the point person, and she's credited on the cover, and I assume royalties go to her. Obviously I wasn't there so I don't know the details of how they were paid, but I presume that those writers, again, were paid some kind of flat fee per book. Nowadays in the Kindle editions of these old books, there's an author's note from Francine basically describing the process, and a writer's name on the inside with "Created by" credit for Francine. Though of course ... she's still on the cover.

Babysitters Club - this was an idea conceived by editor Jean Feiwel at Scholastic, who got Ann M Martin (obviously a real, legit, amazing author) on board to write. She did the first 35 books or something - but at a certain point it's gotta be too much, as there were like hundreds of these books including all the spinoff series! However by that point, the series is well-established, the characters and the formula are rock solid, so it wouldn't be hard to get other authors in there to ghost so they could crank out the HUNDREDS of books that were ultimately in the series.

Interestingly, sometimes if a book is conceived of by a publisher (an IP Project) -- they keep the copyright and many/all of the rights - they still might pay a normal advance and royalties, but ultimately they "own" the book. But in this case, Martin does have the copyright, at least for the books she wrote - but I don't know what the rights situation was, or if she still got her beak wet on the books that she didn't write anymore, or what.

Warriors - "Erin Hunter" is a collective pseudonym for multiple authors who work through a packager, in this case Working Partners (something like the ol' Stratemeyer Syndicate but with more care for the creators involved). Modern packagers usually work something like this: The packager thinks of the basic idea / spine of the story. They collaborate with great authors - the authors create some material for a fee of some kind, it gets edited, polished, etc - and they sell the whole package to the publisher. The copyright is held by the packager, so they "own" it -- the authors can't just go off and write more books about these characters or anything. But, the packager does split or share profits with the writer(s), they may get a larger fee or a chunk of the advance if/when the book/series is sold, and a portion of royalties and sub rights sales etc. How much they share depends on the company.

James Patterson -- your boy publishes like 3-5 books a month or something bonkers -- he has a content farm, out of which come MANY books, and at this point he mostly does "co-authoring" -- Now what that means in practice, is probably that he whips together an outline or a basic concept, and the "co-author" does the work. However the nice thing about this is that he does generally credit the co-authors, and that's gotta be a nice boost for them to be able to say, "My first book was a NYT bestseller!" or whatever. Like - yes, it's a James Patterson book - but they ARE listed on the cover. I have no idea how they are paid, but James Patterson is a quadrillionaire and he seems like a nice guy based on his philanthropy, so I'm guessing he's somewhat generous with a fee... but also keeps a tight rein on all rights and royalties.

I'm sure there are lots of other ways it can work!

[xplrvibes]

Im personally starting not to trust Stas based on things ive seen lately, she knows what people think about her and Colby because she reads through all her comments on all 3 major social media platforms, and will angle her pictures to make it seem like she is eating with another person when in fact its her roommate because her roommate always posts her pov too. She knows people assume everything she does is some hidden message pertaining to Colby and instead of clarifying she keeps it going. She posted some tiktok where people swore she was snuggled up to Colbys shirt, but then another account posted an old photo of her wearing that shirt when she still had blonde hair. Her recent snaps she posed with the shirt next to her and then another snap out to lunch which she later replied to on twitter but again its angled and her roommate posted the same thing. It’s like following a Nancy Drew mystery except this one has no bases or actual mystery. Katrina today posted a pic that debunks one Stas posted which made it seem like her and Colby were alone. Actually is all pretty sad, not sure what she’s trying to achieve with this but i dont see anything good coming out of it once Colby goes back to posting with Shea, or Amber, or another beau.

Oh, both her and Colby clearly know what's being said/speculated about them on socials. I think they actually alluded to it on that infamous drunken livestream they did on Kat's twitch that we shan't talk about, lol.

To be fair, I don't know how much of what she does is calculated beforehand, so much as she may be taking advantage of the consequences of her postings after the fact, you know what I mean?

Take the shirtgate thing, for example. I doubt she really put much thought into that shirt vaguely resembling Colby's when she decided to make that tiktok. But once the comments started rolling in, and the conspirators starting conspiring, she may well have seen all that and decided, for whatever reason, "Let me throw them a couple more bones here," instead of just straight up telling everyone that she wasn't rolling around in Colby's shirt on tiktok as some secret nod to the fans that they're together.

This reminds me of my favorite conspiracy theory of all time: the Paul is Dead theory. If you've never heard of it, check it out- it's wild. Basically, fans became convinced that Beatle Paul McCartney was killed in 1966 and replaced by a lookalike Paul, and that the remaining 3 Beatles left clues to the "truth" throughout all of their subsequent album songs and covers.

Now, the Beatles themselves did not start this rumor, and they have kind of tried to debunk it over the years...but there have also been times when they've leaned into a bit. Why? Who knows, they're all whacky lol. I guess if people are going to make you front and center in their conspiracy theories, you might as well reap the benefits that come with that kind of dogged visibility. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, while I do think she does set out to egg this shit on sometimes (as does the King of Egging Shit on, Mr. Corgi Book), sometimes I think things happen accidentally and organically, and she just allows it to continue, rather than clearing things up. Do I stan that decision? No, everytime I hear about this stupid shit, it takes another year off my already dwindling life. Do I understand in a weird way (even if I don't agree) with why they do this shit? Well, yea. Views, engagement, visibility, and getting your name out there is the name of the game they're all playing, and this kind of crap is a cheat code to the boss fight, as the kids say. They're gonna speculate anyway, might as well give em something to keep em speculating.

To sum it up: she's Paul McCartney, and the flannel shirt is her "barefoot on the Abbey Road album cover."